Kingsbane by Claire Legrand

Author:Claire Legrand [Legrand, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781492656661
Google: t3ZvDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B07HJQ85MB
Goodreads: 40523458
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2019-05-20T23:00:00+00:00

28

Eliana

“I have heard tell of beasts that run wild in the night. Horrors from children’s stories, thrust suddenly into the waking world. It does not surprise me, that now we must add monsters to the list of terrors wreaking havoc upon our world. I’m convinced we did something terrible, long ago, something ancient and unforgivable, and that these interminable years of war are punishment for it.”

—Collection of stories written by refugees in occupied Ventera, curated by Hob Cavaserra

In the city of Karlaine, Eliana could not sleep.

She lay on the hard, cold ground, under a pale dawn sky slashed with black pines. They had made camp in a small cluster of vacant buildings on the outskirts of Karlaine, slipping into the city in small groups of two or three, so as not to attract undue attention. The atmosphere in Karlaine was already tense and watchful. The smoke from Caebris stained the horizon, and the explosions had surely been audible to those living in the city.

Eliana closed her eyes. Once, she had been good at sleeping, no matter the time of day or her state of mind. Those days were long gone, and as she lay there, her spine wedged against a tree root, legs and arms tightly crossed, her mind filled with the sounds of battle.

Explosions, possibly of her own making.

Wood shattering, watchtowers collapsing with a groan.

The crackle of flames, the clash of swords, the snick of a blade catching against flesh, the cries of bullets hitting bodies and bodies falling to the ground.

The opening and shutting of doors down an endless hallway—faster, harder, closer. Relentless.

Corien’s voice in the dark: There you are.

And Jessamyn, watching her curiously: Nothing’s finished.

Eliana turned onto her side, tucking her thrumming hands close against her chest. Her castings had not quieted since the raid of Caebris, and she still couldn’t be sure if they had caused those initial explosions, or if Patrik had abruptly decided to use more bombardiers than just the one, or if, perhaps, Eliana had been imagining the number of explosions she had counted. If she could trust her own mind.

She clenched her fists, ignoring the pain of her healing burns, and closed her eyes. It was an odd, unsettling feeling, to love and hate a thing so passionately and in such equal measure. These castings she had made with her own hands.

These weapons she did not trust, imprisoning her.

She tried to remind herself of a few simple, glad truths.

In total, they had saved nine prisoners from the Fidelia laboratory.

Of the refugees who had traveled aboard the Streganna, more than three-quarters of them had survived the battle, and those who hadn’t yet left for the city now rested peacefully in this copse of trees and in the little buildings nearby—a stable, a feed shed, two tired cottages, one of which was inhabited by an old man and his husband, who had soap and potatoes and had at once set to work gathering well water and starting a fire.

Jessamyn was alive, and Patrik too.

Harkan slept beside her, curled up on his side and lightly snoring.

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