A Darker Shade of Magic (Shades of Magic, #1)

by V.E. Schwab

“Isn’t that dangerous?” “In this place,” he’d answered, “everything is dangerous. But if the doors deny you, at least the fall won’t be as steep.”

But that was the problem with forcing people to do things they didn’t want to do. You had to be so specific. They had no choice but to follow orders, but they probably weren’t inclined to go above and beyond them. A slow smile drew across her lips.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Beloc,” she said. “Don’t make me.” “I wish I didn’t have to.” He squared himself to her, holding his sword with both hands, his knuckles white. “You’ll have to go through me.” Lila growled and gripped her knife. “Please,” he added. “Please go through me.” Lila gave him a long hard look. “How?” she said at last. His brows went up in question. “How do you want to die?” she clarified. The fire in his eyes wavered for an instant, and then he recovered, and said, “Quickly.”

“You’re going to die, Kell,” said Athos when he reached the courtyard. “You might as well die trying.”

“Good-bye, Astrid,” she said, plunging the blade forward toward the queen’s chest. But before the tip could tear the white tunic, a hand caught Lila’s wrist. She looked down to see Astrid Dane’s pale blue eyes staring up at her. Awake. The queen’s mouth drew into a thin, sharp smile. “Bad little thief,” she whispered. And then Astrid’s grip tightened, and searing pain tore up Lila’s arm. She heard someone screaming, and it took her a moment to realize the sound was coming from her throat.

“I will take that black eye of yours,” said Athos, “and wear it around my neck.” He lashed out again, and Kell countered, will to will, stone to stone. But Kell was fighting two fights, one with the king, and the other with himself. The darkness kept spreading, claiming more of him with every moment, every motion. He could not win; at this rate, he would either lose the fight or lose himself. Something had to give.

A shadow, and in the midst of it, a broken piece of black stone.

Lila knew she was going to lose. Lila knew she was going to die. But she’d be damned if it counted for nothing.

Honestly, what had happened to her? The Lila Bard of south London looked out for herself. That Lila would never waste her life on someone else. She’d never choose right over wrong so long as wrong meant staying alive. She’d never have turned back to help the stranger who helped her. Lila spit a mouthful of blood and straightened. Perhaps she never should have stolen the damned stone, but even here, and now, facing death in the form of a pale queen, she didn’t regret it. She’d wanted freedom. She’d wanted adventure. And she didn’t think she minded dying for it. She only wished dying didn’t hurt so much.

Give in, said a voice in his head. His eyes drifted shut, and he swayed on his feet. And then he heard Lila’s voice calling his name.

“How did you know?” she asked, looking down at the rubble of the queen. “How did you know she wasn’t me?” Kell managed an exhausted smile. “Because she said please.” Lila stared at him, aghast. “Is that a joke?” Kell shrugged slightly. It took a lot of effort. “I just knew,” he said. “You just knew,” she echoed.

“I’ll be okay,” she said tightly. “Now, hurry up before someone notices we’ve killed the monarchs.”

He fought the darkness, but the darkness fought back. And it was winning.

Stop fighting, said a voice in his head. You’ve already lost. No, thought Kell. No. Not yet.

“Hello, Kell,” said the darkness, the words not in English or Arnesian or Maktahn, but the native tongue of magic. And finally, Kell understood. This was Vitari. The thing that had been pulling at him, pushing to get in, making him stronger while weakening his will and feeding on his life. “Where are we?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “We are in you,” said Vitari. “We are becoming you.” Kell struggled uselessly against the dark ropes. “Get out of my body,” he growled. Vitari smiled his shadowy black smile and took a step toward Kell. “You’ve fought well,” he said. “But the time for fighting is over.” He closed the gap and brought a hand to Kell’s chest. “You were made for me, Antari,” he said. “A perfect vessel. I will wear your skin forever.”

“It’s too late,” said Vitari. “I already have your heart.” At that, his fingertips pressed down, and Kell gasped as Vitari’s hand passed into his chest. He felt Vitari’s fingers close around his beating heart, felt it lurch, darkness spilling across his tattered shirtfront like blood. “It’s over, Kell,” said the magic. “You’re mine.”

“Isn’t there a word for this?” Lila’s voice echoed through his head. “What is it? Come on, Kell. Say the blasted word.” Kell forced himself to focus. Of course. Lila was right. There was a word. Vitari was pure magic. And all magic was bound by rules. By order. Vitari was a creation, but everything that could be created could also be destroyed. Dispelled.

Vitari wasn’t simply a spell. He was the source of all the stone’s power. Dispelling him would dispel the talisman itself. It would all be over.

“You can’t,” said the magic desperately. “I am the only thing keeping your brother alive.”

Kell hesitated. He didn’t know if that was true, if the bond he’d made with his brother could be broken. But he did know that Rhy would never forgive him for what he’d done, and it wouldn’t even matter unless they both made it through.

Kell summoned the last of his strength and focused not on Vitari trying to crush his life, or on the darkness sweeping through him, but on Lila’s voice and the cold ground and his aching fingers and ...

Everywhere, the magic left a trail of bodies. In the streets, they staggered and collapsed. Some crumbled to ash, all burned up, and some were reduced to husks, empty inside, and a lucky few crumpled, gasping and weak but still alive.

In the palace, the magic dressed as Gen had just reached the royal chambers, his blackening hand on the door, when the darkness died and took him with it. And in the sanctuary, far from the castle walls, on a bare cot in a candlelit room, the prince of Red London shivered and fell still.

Lila was saying something, and for once she didn’t sound angry, not as angry as usual, but he couldn’t hear her over the pounding of his heart

and Lila, with her arms flung around his shoulders for an instant—and only an instant, gone before he could appreciate their presence.

“Lila,” he said, stiffening. “I don’t know if I can take you with me.” The stone had guaranteed her passage through the worlds, made a door for her where none should be. Without it, the chances of the world allowing her through …

“Then I’ll find my way,” said Lila. Kell nodded and led her to the courtyard wall. He made a mark on the pale stones and dug the Red London coin from his pocket. And then he pulled Lila close, wrapped his broken body around hers, and tipped his forehead against hers. “Hey, Lila,” he said softly into the space between them. “Yeah?” He pressed his mouth to hers for one brief moment, the warmth there and then gone. She frowned up at him, but did not pull away. “What was that for?” she asked. “For luck,” he said. “Not that you need it.” And then he pressed his hand against the wall and thought of home.

Kell swallowed and looked down at the token in his bloody hand. And then he threw it as hard as he could. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. And then he heard a voice. Her voice. “Never thought I’d be so happy to smell the flowers.” Kell blinked and spun to see Lila standing there. Alive, and in one piece. “It’s not possible,” he said. The edge of her mouth quirked up. “It’s nice to see you, too.” Kell threw his arms around her. And for a second, only a second, she didn’t pull away, didn’t threaten to stab him. For a second, and only a second, she hugged him back. “What are you?” he asked, amazed. Lila only shrugged. “Stubborn.”

They stood there a moment, leaning on each other, one keeping the other on their feet, though neither was sure which needed more supporting. Both knew only that they were happy to be here, to be alive.

“Magic does not make people strong, Rhy. Trust me. And you have something better. You have the people’s love.”

“It’s easy to be loved. I want to be respected, and I thought…” Rhy’s voice was barely a whisper. “I took the necklace. All that matters is that I took it.” Tears began to escape, running into his black curls. “And I could have ruined everything. I could have lost the crown before I ever wore it. I could have doomed my city to war or chaos or collapse.” “What sons our parents have,” said Kell gently. “Between the two of us, we’ll tear the whole world down.” Rhy let out a stifled sound between a laugh and a sob. “Will they ever forgive us?”

She still looked a bit like a starved bird, but she was clean and fed and mended.

Rhy laughed silently. “I apologize for anything I might have done. I was not myself.” “I apologize for shooting you in the leg,” said Lila. “I was myself entirely.” Rhy broke into his perfect smile. “I like this one,” he said to Kell. “Can I borrow her?” “You can try,” said Lila, raising a brow. “But you’ll be a prince without his fingers.”

“Will I see more of you, Delilah Bard?” called the prince. “Perhaps our paths will cross again.” Rhy’s smile went crooked. “If I have any say in it, they will.” Kell rolled his eyes but thought he caught Lila actually blushing as he guided her out and shut the door, leaving the prince to rest.

“You don’t belong here, either,” he said simply. She shrugged. “I’ll find my way.” And then she tipped her chin up and looked him in the eyes. “Will you?”

They got to their feet, neither willing to walk away just yet, and Kell looked down at Delilah Bard, a cutthroat and a thief, a valiant partner and a strange, terrifying girl. He would see her again. He knew he would. Magic bent the world. Pulled it into shape. There were fixed points. Most of the time those points were places. But sometimes, rarely, they were people. For someone who never stood still, Lila still felt like a pin in Kell’s world. One he was sure to snag on. He didn’t know what to say, so he simply said, “Stay out of trouble.” She flashed him a smile that said she wouldn’t, of course. And then she tugged up her collar, shoved her hands into her pockets, and strolled away. Kell watched her go. She never once looked back.

Tieren had said there was something in her. Something untended. She didn’t know what shape it would take, but she was keen to find out. Whether it was the kind of magic that ran through Kell, or something different, something new, Lila knew one thing: The world was hers. The worlds were hers.

And she was going to take them all.

And there, tucked between them, she saw a proud, dark ship, with polished sides and a silver banner and sails the color of night, a black that hinted at blue when it caught the light just so. That one, thought Lila with a smile. That one’ll do.

Ned knew. And perhaps that was the test of faith, to know, and not to say, to live with knowing, and let the truth live only in one’s head.

For example, the item on her desk, which resembled nothing so much as an old but rather ordinary book, was in fact a purchase of the rarest order, and quite possibly the most dangerous thing aboard the Ferase Stras. Even after all this time, it still smelled of ash and cold stone. Of a world lost. Consumed. Abandoned.

The book should have been destroyed, but then Maris was a collector, a curator of the forbidden. It was not her task to destroy it. Centuries after the order that all Black London artifacts be purged, so little remained, and so much of it had found its way here, onto her ship.

It could have been anything, this book: a biography, a guide to war, a treatise or a record or a family ledger. But it was none of those things. It was, of all things, a children’s book. A Collection of Tales for the Young.