could see her Stone’s faint aqua glow, beckoning from the bed. Her hip brushed the edge of Nocturna’s dressing table. The vials and bottles on top of it rattled; she stopped again, and held her breath. More rustling, this time from the bed. Two weasel shapes turned around, then settled again.
But something else had caught Jemma’s attention.
In the middle of the dressing table was a glass jar, in which two cylindrical crystals were immersed in dark liquid. In all the times Jemma had brought Nocturna’s breakfast tray to her, she’d never noticed them before.
Take the crystals out! Take them with you!
a voice in her head urged. No—she mustn’t falter now. Not for anything. But the voice insisted:
Do it! Take them!
Jemma reached for the jar and hastily removed the crystals. They were cloudy and gray, about three inches long, and pointed at each end. She slipped them into her pockets, and quietly replaced the jar. Just steps away from the bed, she crept toward it again.
Nocturna lay sprawled across her four-poster island, satin sheets in twisted disarray as if they’d been besieged. Her face, illuminated by the soft aqua of Jemma’s Stone, was beautiful, but her chest was now covered with a livid rash.
It’s as if the Stone is attacking her skin
, Jemma thought,
now that I’ve realized it’s mine
.
More rustling, as the other two weasels stirred. They started snoring, gently at first, then louder, like the saw Drudge used to cut up carcasses. No wonder Nox slept in his own room.
Nocturna groaned and turned over, then started thrashing her arms and legs. Jemma stiffened, but Nocturna rolled onto her back, arms splayed, revealing her own amulet lying on her chest, next to Jemma’s. The weasels snuffled, stirred, and continued their rattling snores.
Jemma stood beside the bed, and leaned in. Her Stone’s clasp lay on Nocturna’s shoulder, tangled in her hair. AsJemma inched her hands toward it, her Stone’s light began to pulse. But so did Nocturna’s, blood-red glowing from deep within its blackness.
Jemma found the clasp, her fingers working fast. The blood-red pulse grew stronger, its heat burning her hands. Suddenly, Nocturna’s eyes shot open. She sat upright, arms and torso stiff, and stared straight ahead of her.
“
Jem
-maaah!” she hissed, her eyes like glass. She was still fast asleep.
Jemma held her breath, petrified, while her fingers kept working. But now Rook had woken, and fluttered frantically under his blanket.
“Caw! Caw!”
Nocturna began to shake as if possessed.
“CAW!”
With one last frantic scramble, Jemma’s fingers freed the chain’s clasp. Her fist closed around her Stone. Nocturna keeled backward in a dead sleep, her face reflecting the fierce, red glow of her own amulet, which throbbed under her chin like a warning signal.
Jemma dashed from Nocturna’s room and leaned against the cold wall of the corridor, clutching her precious Stone in her left hand. Waves of euphoria flowed through her. After a few gulps of air, she hastened toward her Bed-Chamber. Lightning flashed through the hall windows below, illuminating the upstairs landing.
Someone was outside her door, holding a candle. Nox. He turned, and saw her.
“Jemma—you’re up!”
Jemma’s mind leapt into action. She glazed her eyes, stiffened, and glided past him.
“Jemma?”
She continued along the East Corridor toward Marsh’s tower.
“Jemma!” Footsteps hurried behind her. “Flamehead, are you asleep? It’s me, Papa!”
Nox touched her shoulder and gently turned her to face him. Jemma widened her eyes and gripped her Stone harder.
“Flamehead, wake up!”
“Mmmm?” Jemma blinked. “Oh, Papa!” She looked around. “Why—what—?”
“You were sleepwalking,” he chuckled.
“In Mord’s name!
Really?
”
“Yes, really!” Nox smiled. “And with your eyes wide open! You should see how they’re glowing—like beautiful blue-green lamps. Now, to sleep with you, my little storm
But something else had caught Jemma’s attention.
In the middle of the dressing table was a glass jar, in which two cylindrical crystals were immersed in dark liquid. In all the times Jemma had brought Nocturna’s breakfast tray to her, she’d never noticed them before.
Take the crystals out! Take them with you!
a voice in her head urged. No—she mustn’t falter now. Not for anything. But the voice insisted:
Do it! Take them!
Jemma reached for the jar and hastily removed the crystals. They were cloudy and gray, about three inches long, and pointed at each end. She slipped them into her pockets, and quietly replaced the jar. Just steps away from the bed, she crept toward it again.
Nocturna lay sprawled across her four-poster island, satin sheets in twisted disarray as if they’d been besieged. Her face, illuminated by the soft aqua of Jemma’s Stone, was beautiful, but her chest was now covered with a livid rash.
It’s as if the Stone is attacking her skin
, Jemma thought,
now that I’ve realized it’s mine
.
More rustling, as the other two weasels stirred. They started snoring, gently at first, then louder, like the saw Drudge used to cut up carcasses. No wonder Nox slept in his own room.
Nocturna groaned and turned over, then started thrashing her arms and legs. Jemma stiffened, but Nocturna rolled onto her back, arms splayed, revealing her own amulet lying on her chest, next to Jemma’s. The weasels snuffled, stirred, and continued their rattling snores.
Jemma stood beside the bed, and leaned in. Her Stone’s clasp lay on Nocturna’s shoulder, tangled in her hair. AsJemma inched her hands toward it, her Stone’s light began to pulse. But so did Nocturna’s, blood-red glowing from deep within its blackness.
Jemma found the clasp, her fingers working fast. The blood-red pulse grew stronger, its heat burning her hands. Suddenly, Nocturna’s eyes shot open. She sat upright, arms and torso stiff, and stared straight ahead of her.
“
Jem
-maaah!” she hissed, her eyes like glass. She was still fast asleep.
Jemma held her breath, petrified, while her fingers kept working. But now Rook had woken, and fluttered frantically under his blanket.
“Caw! Caw!”
Nocturna began to shake as if possessed.
“CAW!”
With one last frantic scramble, Jemma’s fingers freed the chain’s clasp. Her fist closed around her Stone. Nocturna keeled backward in a dead sleep, her face reflecting the fierce, red glow of her own amulet, which throbbed under her chin like a warning signal.
Jemma dashed from Nocturna’s room and leaned against the cold wall of the corridor, clutching her precious Stone in her left hand. Waves of euphoria flowed through her. After a few gulps of air, she hastened toward her Bed-Chamber. Lightning flashed through the hall windows below, illuminating the upstairs landing.
Someone was outside her door, holding a candle. Nox. He turned, and saw her.
“Jemma—you’re up!”
Jemma’s mind leapt into action. She glazed her eyes, stiffened, and glided past him.
“Jemma?”
She continued along the East Corridor toward Marsh’s tower.
“Jemma!” Footsteps hurried behind her. “Flamehead, are you asleep? It’s me, Papa!”
Nox touched her shoulder and gently turned her to face him. Jemma widened her eyes and gripped her Stone harder.
“Flamehead, wake up!”
“Mmmm?” Jemma blinked. “Oh, Papa!” She looked around. “Why—what—?”
“You were sleepwalking,” he chuckled.
“In Mord’s name!
Really?
”
“Yes, really!” Nox smiled. “And with your eyes wide open! You should see how they’re glowing—like beautiful blue-green lamps. Now, to sleep with you, my little storm
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