“I wouldn’t let him.”

“Think of all the pain you could have avoided if you hadn’t chosen him. But I’m in a forgiving mood. I may yet take away your memories and let you fall in love with me.” His smile cuts through the night, blacker and colder. “And then I’ll give them back and let you lose Finn all over again. Over, and over, and over, for the rest of your life, as punishment for choosing him.”

He takes off his hat, pouring water out of the brim, and then puts it back on his head. “Now then. My book. Hand it over like a good rabbit, and I won’t destroy Melei.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t let soldiers kill the people who stepped aside and let our entire culture be stomped underfoot? I wouldn’t let them harm the people who let a visiting noble rape and abandon my mother? I wouldn’t let them destroy the people so infuriatingly weak they cannot even take care of their own? I would. I will. Give me the book.”

I look into his eyes, a dead black that reflect no light, not even a flash from the lantern. “You threatened everyone that I love. You killed my bird. And you took Finn from me.”

I drop the book on the ground, raise the lantern, and smash it down. The glass shatters, spilling kerosene, which immediately catches fire. The whole book is consumed.

“No!” Kelen screams, shoving me aside. He stomps on the flames but the oil won’t be smothered, the choking harsh scent of the smoke overpowering the wet earth around us.

Cursing desperately, Kelen reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of sugar. He whispers a word and flings the sugar outward. It hits the book and the flames eat higher.

An inarticulate howl of rage tears from Kelen’s lips. He throws both hands in the air and screams a single word, releasing all his power, trying to turn flame into water using a stored-up spell.

One of the spells I changed in Sir Bird’s book.

The rain pouring down ignites in droplets of fire, and as they connect with more water, the magic spreads. The puddles around us shoot up in crackling, hungry flames, and Kelen’s sodden clothes turn into an inferno.

He screams, dropping to the ground and rolling, but the water around him lights on fire, fire and more fire, devouring him alive, a bright and burning beacon in the night.

My umbrella catches, and I throw it to the side, the wet hem of my skirt igniting. I turn in a desperate circle, but there is nowhere to run. I am surrounded by flames and will meet the same fate as Kelen.

A spurt flares up next to me, and I cringe back, bracing myself for the burn, when darkness rises in front of me like a shield, blocking the flames. I gasp as Finn’s shadow wraps itself around me, covering me with the cold pins-and-needles sensation.

If Finn is dead, how can his shadow still protect me?

I run from the flames, my skirts smoldering beneath Finn’s shadow, and do not stop until I am well out of the fire’s range. I kick off my outer skirt, and then look down at where an extra layer of shadow lies on my skin.

“Thank you,” I whisper, but the shadow dissolves as I watch. I grasp at it, desperate to keep it—him—here with me, but I cannot hold on to anything.

The flames eat higher, the sizzling and popping of water meeting heat a discordant night chorus. I sit on the ground and watch. Another Melenese custom we were forced to abandon was the funeral pyre. Kelen does not deserve the last rites of a warrior. But I think he deserves this death.

I won.

And I lost.

And I cannot find it in me to feel anything but dead. That is one of the words for love I forgot. The word that means a connection so strong that when your love dies, your body goes on but your soul sinks into the ground after them.

I stay there as the local constables come and put out the flames. I stay there as Eleanor rushes out with a blanket to wrap around my shoulders while I numbly repeat my statement that Lord Downpike perished in flames of his own making in an effort to cover up his crimes. I stay there until morning when the sun breaks through the clouds, and I can see—once and for all—that I have only one shadow.

Thirty-five

“BUT WHY A SCHOOL IN GALLEN? SURELY THE ONE here will have you back.” Eleanor’s voice has a distinct note of whine in it.

I set down my pen from where I am writing a letter to Mama about my plans to attend school in the capital of Gallen. I have suggested that, as she no longer has payments from Milton Miller—a man I have not been able to spare tears for, though I do not think he deserved to die—she ought to come live with me and give me the chance to take care of her as she always took such excellent care of me. I hope she accepts. I would like to build a new relationship with her as an adult.

I feel very old these days.

I shake my head at Eleanor. “Gallen is much more liberal in their acceptance of women scholars. I haven’t the energy to fight that battle here anymore. You should join me. I hear there is drama to be had where Gallen men are involved.”

She laughs and sits on the desk next to my letter. “I already cannot keep up with all of the invitations for visits and tea times. Everyone wants to hear about Lord Downpike’s secret, evil plots. I never thought I would say this, but I think I am tired of being Avebury’s most prestigious gossip.”

“Spirits’ blessings.” I smile but avoid her eyes. It feels false letting her spread details of Lord Downpike’s death when I know that the real one died years ago. I wonder often whether I did the right thing in concealing Kelen’s role in it all. But I wanted Melei left out of this entirely. It was never our fight, though Kelen and I managed to become the central figures.