“Lhean,” Graelalea said, “the Galadheon has possessed a muna’riel before. Gifts of such are not unknown. Just rare.” The Eletian’s gaze fell unwaveringly on Karigan. “The first one that came into your possession was destroyed. But this one? How did you acquire a second?”

“It came to me from my mother,” Karigan said. “I don’t know how she got it.”

Something changed in Graelalea’s regard. She murmured softly, almost imperceptibly in Eletian, her hand caressing the light emitting from the moonstone. “It is a precious thing,” she said. “The gift of a muna’riel to one who is not Eletian is singular. The gift of two is unheard of and signifies something greater.”

“But they did not come to me from Eletians.”

“Perhaps not,” Graelalea said, “but that does not mean they were not meant to find you. It is not coincidence. You are Laurelyn-touched.”

There was murmuring among the Eletians, and Karigan could not tell if they were agreeing or disagreeing with Graelalea. In addition to Graelalea, Telagioth, and Lhean, there were three others, the exact number King Zachary had been told would be entering Blackveil. He had picked six Sacoridians to match them.

Karigan recognized another of the Eletians. Spines jutted from the shoulder pauldrons of his armor. Last time they’d met, he’d tried to kill her. She backed up a step, ready to flee, but he did not indicate in any way that he knew her.

Eletians and their strange ways, she thought.

“However your muna’riel came to you,” Graelalea said, “it will guide you well along dark paths. Alas, I fear we shall have many of those in the days ahead.” She paused and cocked her head listening. “Others seek you. We shall see you in the morning.”

“Wait!”

But the Eletians extinguished their moonstones and melted soundlessly into the forest. Karigan dropped her own moonstone into her pocket and darkness fell over her like a blanket.

“Karigan!” came a far off cry.

She gave her eyes a few moments to adjust and turned back toward the encampment at a much slower pace than she had left it, and found herself surprised at how far away she’d gotten. Voices rang out into the woods calling her name, the voices of her fellow Riders.

She sighed, sorry she had worried them. When she reached the edge of the encampment, she encountered Alton first, his lantern revealing lines of concern on his forehead.

“Karigan! Thank the gods. We thought you were lost.”

She walked around and past him. “I wasn’t lost.”

“Hey,” Alton said, striding up beside her, “I’m sorry you found out about Estral and me the way you did.”

Karigan did not want to talk to him.

“When she came, we just sort of took to one another.”

What did he want her to say? That she forgave him for leading her on and choosing her best friend instead?

“It’s not like you wanted me,” Alton persisted. “You never said anything, even when you did write.”

Not helping, she thought. She kept walking, hoping to find her tent very soon.

“I’m not a mind reader!” The pitch of Alton’s voice rose higher. “Talk to me, will you?”

She swung around to face him. “No.” Then she was off again, but Alton pursued her.

“I believed you were in love with someone else,” he said. “You never cared for me that much. You just wanted to be friends.”

She didn’t care for him that much? Like the hells. But she did not respond.

“Damn it, Karigan,” Alton said. “Talk to me.” He grabbed her arm.

Karigan reacted without thinking. She broke Alton’s hold, seized his wrist, and hurled him to the ground. The glass of his lantern smashed, and suddenly the other Riders appeared, witnesses to it all. Garth stomped out flames licking at pine needles.

Karigan was horrified and she glanced at her hands as though they had betrayed her. It was all the training that had been drilled into her by Arms Master Drent. If someone grabbed her, she got his hands off her. It was that and nothing more.

Wasn’t it?

To her shame, she realized it had felt good to lash out.

“Fight!” Yates cried with enthusiasm.

“Shut up, Yates,” the others shouted in unison.

“Alton,” Karigan said, “I didn’t mean to. I’m ... I’m sorry.”

“No harm,” he muttered. He rose, dusting off his trousers. “I asked for it. I forgot you’re practically a Weapon these days.” He gave her a rueful smile.

“It’s not all right. I’m sorry. But I also can’t talk to you right now. I just can’t.”

She started walking again. This time Alton did not follow.

“Can you at least tell us what those lights were in the woods?” Dale called out after her.

“Eletians,” Karigan replied over her shoulder, her stride never slackening.

At last she found her tent and stepped inside. She stood there in the darkness with only a low glow from the stove playing across the wooden platform floor. Trace was gone. Karigan did not know whether to laugh, cry, or throw her cot out of the tent. No, she wouldn’t throw the cot—she’d probably want it tonight.

Having made that decision, she lay on it. Thoughts of Alton, Estral, Eletians, and Blackveil whirled in her mind and she could not settle on one thing. It was going to be a restless night.

A voice from outside broke into the maelstrom. “Karigan?” It was Estral.