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Black London. The language of magic had belonged to them.
It made him shiver now, to see it drawn as it was meant to be, not in letters, but in rune.
“If magic had a name, it would be this,” he said, tracing the symbol’s lines. “Vitari.”
Kell’s own magic had bled out through the wound across his ribs, but the stone sang with power, and thick black smoke poured between his fingers.
Using the stone’s power, Black London magic!
Vitari. It is the word for magic. It refers to its existence, and its creation. Could it also mean the act of creating?
The golden rule of magic said that it couldn’t be created. The world was made of give and take, and magic could be strengthened and weakened, but it could not be manifested out of nothing. And yet …
The talisman was gone. Breathless and bleeding and exhausted, Kell looked down at the kerchief clutched in his hand. He couldn’t believe it. He’d been robbed.
Lyla took it!
Lila Bard might have been a thief but she wasn’t a beggar.
A life worth having is a life worth taking.
“One of your eyes is lighter than the other.”
Kell managed to focus his eyes enough to see Lila standing there, clutching an iron bar with both hands. “Am I late?”
She's the hero!
everything ached in a steady, horrible way, as if he were nothing but a bruise.
In Grey London—your London—humanity grew strong and magic weak. But in Black London, it was the other way around. The people there not only held magic in their bodies, they let magic into their minds, and it took them as its own, burning up their lives to fuel its power. They became vessels, conduits, for its will, and through them, it twisted whim into reality, blurring the lines, breaking them down, creating and destroying and corrupting everything.”
An entire generation slaughtered before they realized that, without the doors, such magicians would be their only way of reaching out.”
“Because I want to see the world, even if it’s not mine. And because I will save your life.”
“You don’t know anything about these worlds,” he said, but the fight was bleeding out of his voice. “Sure I do,” countered Lila cheerfully. “There’s Dull London, Kell London, Creepy London, and Dead London,” she recited, ticking them off on her fingers. “See? I’m a fast learner.”
“I’d rather die on an adventure than live standing still.”
“Well, I mean, it’s another world, isn’t it? Another version of London? Is there another version of me?” Kell frowned. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“I’m not going to die,” she said. “Not till I’ve seen it.” “Seen what?” Her smile widened. “Everything.”
The wall gave way, and the traveler and the thief stepped forward and through.
Seems right somehow, she’d said. You gave me something of yours. I give you something of mine. Now we’re linked.
“Thou shalt not use thy power to control another,” he recited, flashing a cold and crooked grin. For such a crime, the crown showed little mercy. The guilty were bound, branded with limiters designed to tourniquet their power.
But Fletcher’s were broken.
They weren’t playing for coins, of course. The table was piled high with tokens and trinkets and rare magic. A vial of hope sand. A water blade. A coat that concealed an infinite number of sides.
Did Kell win the coat in a game?
You didn’t have to win fair. You only had to win.
“I’m not a member of the royal family,” he snapped. “I belong to them.”
The king and queen may not be my parents, but Rhy is my brother. I would die for him. I would kill for him. And I have.”
Several years ago, a group began to form. They called themselves the Shadows. Half a dozen men and women—some with power, some without—who believed the city burned its power too brightly and with too little care, squandering it.
“That’s the thing about my brother. He’s headstrong and thinks with every part of his body but his brain most days, but he’s a good prince. He possesses something many lack: empathy.
and they set out—one mind in two bodies—first through the pleasure house, and then through the night. Yes, he had been busy. He could feel himself spreading through the city as he made his way toward the waiting red river, the pulse of magic and life laid out like a promised feast.
Creating an army
“And you already have a knife,” he pointed out. “So?” asked Lila, admiring the grip. “No such thing as too many knives.” “You’re a violent sort.”
Fletcher had the rare and dangerous ability to control bones, and therefore bodies. It was an ability that had earned him the binding scars he was so proud of breaking.
Battles may be fought from the outside in, but wars are won from the inside out.”
“Kingdoms and crowns are taken from within. The strongest fortress can withstand any attack from beyond its walls, and yet even it is not fortified against an attack from behind them.
“Perhaps you are right. Perhaps your half of the stone is not enough.” Kell’s blood went cold. “My half?” Rhy’s mouth curled into a smile. “Haven’t you noticed that it is broken?”
he found the stone. Broken in two, yes, but, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, its state has not stopped it from working. It is magic, after all. It may divide, but it does not weaken. The two halves remain connected, even when they are apart. Each half is strong enough on its own, strong enough to change the world. But they want each other, you see. They are drawn together through the wall. If a drop of your blood is enough to make a door, think what two halves of the stone could do.”
“Why not use Holland?” he asked, trying to buy more time. “To smuggle the stone here? He obviously delivered that necklace to Rhy.” Astrid drew Rhy’s lips into a smile and ran a finger lightly over Kell’s cheek. “I wanted you.” Rhy’s hand continued up and tangled in Kell’s hair as Astrid leaned in, pressed her stolen cheek to Kell’s bloody one, and whispered in his ear, “I told you once, that I would own your life.”
My life is his life, thought Kell. His life is mine. Bind it to mine and bring him back.
“It’s called a soul seal. Spells can be broken. A soul seal cannot. It’s a piece of permanent magic.
“The girl has power in her,” offered Tieren without looking back.
“How did you lose it?” he asked. Lila frowned. “Lose what?” His weathered fingers drifted up beneath her chin. “Your eye.” Lila pulled her face from his grip, her hand going to the darker of her two brown eyes. The one made of glass.
Omg that means sbe's probably Antari too! Missing eye was the black one
It soared through the air and found its mark, striking Holland in the back with enough force to pierce through cloak and skin and bone. It protruded from Holland’s chest, the metal and blood obscuring the seal scarred over his heart. The silver circle clasp broke and tumbled away, the half-cloak sliding off Holland’s shoulders as his knees folded.
Broke Holland’s seal, no longer bound to the twins?
“I hope you made him suffer,” she spat, turning toward the looming castle. No, thought Kell as they set off. He suffered long enough.
“Are you ready?” she asked, spinning the chamber. Kell gazed through the gate at the waiting castle. “No.” At that, she offered him the sharpest edge of a grin. “Good,” she said. “The ones who think they’re ready always end up dead.”
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.
Kell sucked in a breath as Athos Dane’s head slumped forward, the terrifying king reduced to nothing but a rag doll corpse.
Athos is dead
A shadow, and in the midst of it, a broken piece of black stone.
Kell has both stone halves now!
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.
The queen smiled a knifelike grin, and Lila gazed up in horror not at Astrid Dane, but at the mirror image of herself.
Deep cracks formed across the queen’s face, jagged fissures carving down her body, and when his fingers tightened, the stone statue of Astrid Dane shattered under his touch.
