Chapter 5

The cellar door rotted through and came down with a crash, and the blizzard poured in behind it, heavy with the reek of rust. Three Cleansers, wound in the black soul-shackles that choke off wolf-power, closed in like debt-collecting devils.

"Kill her. Her and the abominations she's carrying — clean it all up together."

The shadow of death fell across my belly. The cold of it sank into my marrow, and every cell in me shook — but only one thought was left in my head: no one touches them.

I could feel it — that thing inside me. For nine years it had been locked in the deepest part of my soul, behind a seal I could never quite reach, sleeping, silent. Now it slammed through my veins, screaming to be let out.

Loose it, and I could kill every one of them.

But Elara's words came at the same time: you've been burning yourself down like a lantern… keep on this way and the children starve first.

My fingertips hovered in the air, shaking like dead leaves in wind. Use it, and I might burn them dry. Don't, and these men would tear them apart where I stood.

Then let them live through tonight first.

"I'm sorry," I said to my belly, without a sound. Then I snapped my hand up, palm out.

The seal shattered in that instant. The world lost its color, leaving only a searing silver colder than moonlight. The soul-shackles shrieked the moment the light touched them and split apart like brittle ice. Blades of silver burst from my palm and passed soundless through all three bodies — the ancient power wiped away even the throats that would have screamed.

The corpses hit the floor. Blood spread out through the silver glow.

And as the power surged out of me, I felt it turn and bite back — not at me. At the three burning embers in my belly. Like a starving beast it killed my enemies with one mouth and drank from my children with the other.

I stumbled. Blood climbed my throat and dripped off my jaw onto the runed stone. My lungs felt lit from the inside. But I locked my spine and refused to bend.

Beyond the cellar, footsteps burst like thunder — Nightfell's court guard, flooding in. When they saw what was inside, every one of them stopped as if a hand had closed on his throat, nailed where he stood.

It wasn't only fear. I heard the whimpers rising all around me — Nightfell's most savage warriors sinking to their knees on pure instinct, heads bowed, submissive growls low in their throats. Even the moonlight in the air seemed to give way, as though welcoming home a sovereign too long in exile.

Only one man didn't kneel.

Draven stood at the front of them all, his black coat snapping in the wind. There was none of that looking-down-from-above appraisal in his eyes now — only a near-dazed awe. And yet he didn't retreat the way he had on the snowfield. This time he came toward me, step by step.

"That bloodservant killed the wards!" the council head shrieked behind him. "She's a plague — execute her, now—"

Draven didn't turn. He drew the sword at his hip and leveled its point backhanded at the guards edging closer, his black cloak sweeping across the pooling blood like a hawk's wing.

"She is under my protection," he said, cold as iron. "Touch her, and you declare war on Nightfell."

The hall went utterly silent. Everyone could hear it: this was no wolf king pitying the weak. This was a declaration to the whole continent — this land will go to war for her.

But I couldn't feel his protection. All I could feel was the silver light draining out of me at terrible speed; all I could feel was the hollowed-out exhaustion rising like a tide; all I could feel was — low in my belly — those three familiar flutters.

I dragged up the last of my strength and lifted my head to meet his eyes. He didn't retreat again. He dropped suddenly and caught me as I toppled, folding me into his arm, his voice so low it was nearly breaking — as if he were speaking a forbidden thing, something against the laws of the world:

"Silverblood… that line was supposed to have died out centuries ago."

He held me. But I could barely hear him anymore.

The last thing I felt before I fell into the dark wasn't victory.

It was those three flutters in my belly, the ones that had stayed with me all along—

and one of them going still.