This was the only power that was left to me, one that had never really been mine. An echo, a joke, a carnival trick. It’s something you took from him. “I don’t need to be Grisha,” I whispered, “to wield Grisha steel.” With one swift movement, I drove the shadow-wrapped blade deep into the Darkling’s heart. He made a soft sound, little more than an exhalation. He looked down at the hilt protruding from his chest, then back up at me. He frowned, took a step, tottered slightly. He righted himself. A single laugh burst from his lips, and a fine spray of blood settled over his chin. “Like this?”
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