Memories of Ash (The Sunbolt Chronicles Book 2) by Intisar Khanani Read Free Book Online

location?”
    Mages. Probably Blackflame’s supporters. Biting down on a curse, I cast around, searching for something hard. I’m not about to let a mirror betray me to him again.
    “I’m working on it.”
    No time— not if they’re using a locator spell. I slide my blanket off my bed and sweep it over the glass in a single move. Ignoring the muffled exclamation, I flip the blanket-shrouded mirror over and smash it on the brick beside my bed, knocking the little wooden crow statuette aside .
    The voice on the other side cuts off mid-sentence.
    With trembling hands, I check the black mound of my blanket. The light has gone from within it, the connection broken, but there’s a comfort in certainty. I take a shaky breath as my fingers find the sharp edges of the broken glass.
    Think , I command myself.
    At least one of the men was a mage skilled enough to try to pinpoint my mirror. But was Stormwind’s mirror stolen, or has she already been convicted after a single day? And did the mage have enough time to complete his locator spell?
    I gather up the blanket and climb down to the main room. It probably doesn’t matter if they were able to trace the mirror to this valley. If Blackflame can find out from the High Council where Stormwind made her home, he’ll send someone to see what he can find regardless of the spell’s results.
    At least I have one thing working in my favor: even if Blackflame’s men departed the moment Stormwind presented herself, they still won’t reach our valley until tomorrow. We’re too far from the portal for faster travel than that. I have a little time to do this right.
    First I bury the mirror beside the goat byre, the shards still wrapped in my blanket. By the time I stamp down the dirt on top of it, I have a clear plan for leaving. I pause only to trace a protective ward over the broken glass, sealing it from any tracing spells.
    Next, the animals. I pour out extra feed for the goats and chickens and open their pens. It’s possible predators will get them, but better a chance to graze in the wild than death by starvation.
    I race up the short path to the cottage. With a half-thought command, every glowstone in the house blazes to life. In the loft, I grab my daypack with the charms and string of wards already inside. I add a spare set of clothes, the crow statuette, then pause. I’m not sure where I’m running to yet, but … it would be wise to be able to pass for a mage if need be. I retrieve Stormwind’s spare set of robes from a trunk, holding them out at shoulder-height. The bottom edge puddles on the floor. Stormwind’s a good head taller than I am. No matter. Hems can be adjusted.
    I take a final look around and remember the pouch with its brooch and necklaces. I retrieve it, shoving it into my bag with the robes. Stormwind will likely never return here. It makes no sense to leave them behind, and perhaps I’ll be able to take them to her. The gold itself might serve her well.
    Downstairs, I fetch sewing supplies to shorten the robe. I pack a few days’ worth of food and water, then toss in the contents of the coin jar by the window. I run my hands over my hair, trying to think, then race back up the ladder to fetch my comb. Back downstairs, I wrap my knife in a bit of leather and add it to my pack, then lift my cloak down from its peg.
    I make myself walk around the cottage one last time and come to a stop in front of the medicinal cabinet. Of course— hadn’t Stormwind made me help her pack for a reason? I fill a few empty pouches with herbs for fever, pain, stomach upset. The salves are too heavy to carry, but I take the herbs I might need to make a paste to treat burns and open wounds. That’s enough. If I need more help than that, I won’t be able to treat myself.
    I complete my circuit and come at last to the books. My stomach twists with regret. They’re too heavy, and I’m out of time. I gather them all and hide them behind a pile of pots at the back of a