A Conjuring of Light (Shades of Magic, #3)

by V.E. Schwab

“I’m to be a lure?” said Rhy, pretending to be aghast. “What?” teased Kell. “You’ve always liked people fighting for you.” “Actually,” said the prince, “I prefer people fighting over me.”

“And, Alucard,” he called, when the captain had reached the door. Alucard glanced back, his features pale but set as Rhy said, “Do try not to kill my brother.” A small, defiant smile flickered across the captain’s face. Laced with humor, with hope. “I’ll do my best.”

I will come back, he thought, and for the first time in a long time, he knew it was the truth.

“Anyone else?” asked Holland darkly. “I wouldn’t mind a go—” started Alucard, but Kell cut him off.

This is not how I die, she told herself as, in a thunder of hooves and fogging breath, the horses plunged into the night.

“My name is Berras Emery,” said the man. “How may I serve you?”

“Oh, look,” he said. “A welcome party.”

“Oh, come on,” said Lila. “Every ship needs a pet.” Kell threw up his hands. “Fine. He can stay.”

“Three Antari get on a boat,” singsonged Alucard, as if it were the beginning of a tavern joke.

“We are—the royal guard. We—do not hide. If we are not—strong enough—to brave the dark—we do not—deserve to serve—”

He did the only thing he could. He stayed.

For a long minute, neither spoke. At last, Kell sighed. “I still can’t stand you.” Alucard laughed with relief. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“So what are they, then,” asked Lila, “these Sea Serpents?” “Swords for hire. They sink their own ships right before they attack.” “As a distraction?” asked Lila. He shook his head. “A message. That they won’t be needing them anymore, that once they’re done killing everyone aboard and dumping the bodies in the sea, they’ll take their victims’ boat instead and sail away.”

And every week, King Gorst opened throats in the blood square, a tithe to the dying world, as if that sacrifice—a sacrifice that wasn’t even his—could set the world to rights. As if the spilling of their blood was proof of his devotion to his cause.

“I never sent you friends,” he said. “Only enemies.”

weeks before,

it’s only been WEEKS since then?!

“Love and loss,” he said, “are like a ship and the sea. They rise together. The more we love, the more we have to lose. But the only way to avoid loss is to avoid love. And what a sad world that would be.”

Maris’s attention drifted toward him, and she began to answer, then squinted. “Ah,” she said, “it seems you’ve found my old coat.” Kell’s hands rose defensively to his collar, but Maris waved it away. “If I wanted it back, I wouldn’t have lost it. Thing’s got a mind of its own, I think the spellwork must be fraying. Still eating coins and spitting out lint? No? It must like you.”

At last, she flashed a small, sharp smile. “Hey, want to make a bet?” “No,” said Kell and Alucard at the same time.

He’d never been much of a drinker. Never thought the during was much worth the after.

“It’s a race, then,” she said. “May the best Antari win.”

When Lila moved, Holland felt her path. When Holland feinted, Kell knew where to strike. They were blurs of motion, shards of light dancing around a coil of darkness. And they were winning.

A myth without a voice is like a dandelion without a breath of wind. No way to spread the seeds.

Ned started, certain he’d misheard. He’d dreamed a hundred times of this moment, of being wanted, being needed.

Arnesians had a dozen ways to say hello, but no word for good-bye. When it came to parting ways, they sometimes said vas ir, which meant in peace, but more often they chose to say anoshe—until another day.

Anoshe brought solace. And hope. And the strength to let go.

Acina strengthen the soil, so that other things can grow.”

His heart slowed, winding down like a music box, a season at its end.