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

by V.E. Schwab

But it was true, wasn’t it? As much as it pained him. For all his caring, and for theirs, the fact remained he was a weapon, a shield, a tool to be used. He was not a prince. He was not a son.

“What do you want? Pity? You won’t find it from me.”

“Love doesn’t keep us from freezing to death, Kell,” she continued, “or starving, or being knifed for the coins in our pocket. Love doesn’t buy us anything, so be glad for what you have and who you have because you may want for things but you need for nothing.”

And for the first time, Kell saw Lila. Not as she wanted to be, but as she was. A frightened, albeit clever, girl trying desperately to stay alive. One who had likely frozen and starved and fought—and almost certainly killed—to hold on to some semblance of a life, guarding it like a candle in a harsh wind.

The admission left him strangely gutted, and in that moment, he just wanted to go home (and it was a home, far more of one than Lila probably had). To let the queen touch his cheek, and the king his shoulder. To swing his arm around Rhy’s neck and toast to his birthday and listen to him ramble and laugh.

He had made a mistake. He had put them all in danger, and he had to make it right. Because it was his duty to protect them. And because he loved them.

There was nothing left but ash and smoke. The inn, and everything in it, had been burned to the ground.

It was a measure of thoroughness that reeked of Holland’s own hand. The same hand that had ripped the London coins from Kell’s throat and cast them away into the dark.

She didn’t seem to hear him, and he didn’t know if it was because she’d abandoned their protective shroud or because her world had narrowed to the size and shape of a small bloodied watch. He watched her sink to one knee and take up the timepiece with shaking fingers.

Southwark

Magic was a truly beautiful disease. But only when the hosts were strong enough. Pure enough. The people here were not.

His family insisted that he had too vivid an imagination, but he held that the rest of the world simply lacked the sight, the sense for magic, which he, obviously, possessed. Or at least endeavored to possess.

“More fun to steal from enemies.” Enemies was a fair word. The strange thing was, they could have been partners.

“Some people steal to stay alive, and some steal to feel alive. Simple as that.”

In the magic’s wake, she felt … empty. Lila was used to hunger, but the stone left her feeling starved in a bone-deep way. Hollow.

she had the Black London stone and the White London token. Now all she needed was Kell.

Delilah Bard looked like a king.

“Not anymore. Tell me where the stone is.” Kell froze. “I never told you it was a stone.” Heavy silence fell between them. Rhy held his gaze. And then, finally, his lips drew into a small, dark smile, twisting his face in a way that made it look like someone else’s.

Battles may be fought from the outside in, but wars are won from the inside out.”

She lifted her gaze, risking impertinence to look the queen in the eye, and saw there a subtle gleam. The same shimmer she’d seen in the eyes of the guard after he’d slit Fletcher’s throat. Some kind of spell. Had no one else noticed? Or had no one else been brazen enough to stare so baldly at the crown?

There was still something. All the warmth went out of Kell’s body. But so did the hesitation, and the confusion, and the fear. He knew what to do. Knew what he had to do. “Give me the stone,”

Save him, he ordered the stone. Power sang through his blood, and smoke poured out from under his fingers. It snaked up his arm and around Rhy’s ribs, turning to blackened rope as it tangled around them. Tying them together. Binding them. But Rhy still lay there, unmoving. My life is his life, thought Kell. His life is mine. Bind it to mine and bring him back.

His shirt was open, his stomach and chest streaked with blood, but under that, a black symbol, made up of concentric circles, was branded into his skin, directly over his heart. Lila looked up at the cot. The same mark was scrawled over Rhy’s bloody chest.

“It’s because you’re a human,” he snapped. “Because you may be the bravest, boldest soul I’ve ever met, but you’re still too much flesh and blood and too little power. Astrid Dane is made of magic and malice.”

“What is wrong with you?” he asked, sounding honestly baffled. “Do you care so little about your life that you would throw it all away for a few hours of adventure and a violent death?”

“You will be trapped there,” he said. “When it is over.” Lila shivered. “Perhaps,” she said, “or perhaps I will go with you to the end of the world.

“Then the world will be as it should,” he said, sadly. “Instead of as it is.”

Kell didn’t want Lila to see how scared he was, but he thought she saw it anyway.

“What are we waiting for?” Lila was leaning against the wall. She tapped the bricks. “Come on, Kell. Door time.” And her casual air, her defiant energy, the way, even now, she didn’t seem concerned or afraid, only excited him, gave him strength.

“Do you know what makes you weak?” said Holland. “You’ve never had to be strong. You’ve never had to try. You’ve never had to fight. And you’ve certainly never had to fight for your life. But tonight that changes, Kell. Tonight, if you do not fight, you will die.

Kell staggered to his feet as Holland collapsed onto the damp street. A horrible sadness rolled through him as he crossed to the Antari’s body. They had been two of a kind, a dying breed. Now he was the only one. And soon, there would be none. Perhaps that was how it should be. How it needed to be.

Holland knew. He’d seen the attack coming, and he hadn’t stopped it. The instant before the metal struck him from behind, Holland had stopped fighting. It was only a second, a fraction of a breath, but it had been enough to give Kell the edge, the opening. And in the sliver of time after the metal pierced his body, and before he fell, it wasn’t anger or pain that crossed his face. It was relief.

“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.” Kell managed a ghost of a smile. “Thank you, Lila.” “For what?”

Their empty eyes followed her as she moved down the hall as calmly as possible. As if she belonged there. As if she had not come to kill their queen. She wondered, as she moved past them, how many wanted her to succeed.

“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.”

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 pieces fused back together, the cracks untracing themselves until the surface was a smooth, unblemished black, and in its wake an immense power—clear, beautiful, and sweet—poured through Kell’s body, bringing with it a sense of right. A sense of whole. It filled him with calm. With quiet. The simple steady rhythm of magic pulled him down like sleep. All Kell wanted to do was to let go, to disappear into the power and darkness and peace.

He wanted to kill Astrid Dane. But more than that, he wanted her to suffer. For his brother. His prince. Because in that moment, staring into her wide blue eyes, all he could see was Rhy.

“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.”

Lila, with her arms flung around his shoulders for an instant—and only an instant, gone before he could appreciate their presence. “Miss me?” whispered Kell, his throat raw. “Sure,” she said, her eyes red.

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.

“What sons our parents have,” said Kell gently. “Between the two of us, we’ll tear the whole world down.”

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.

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.

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.