As his books had instructed, he guided his breath along every line of his body, every sinew, every bone. Now. His eyes snapped open. Twisting strands of light, thin and smoky, floated through the air before him. Heart racing, Simon held the princess close with one arm and reached out with the other. He listened to his blood, for it knew the way just as it knew to step, to swallow, to breathe. He felt through the night for the correct threads of here and there. Somewhere before him lay a road, hidden to his eyes but known, unquestionably, by the power that thrummed in his veins, and if he could
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