Copyright Skye Melki-Wegner 2014. All rights reserved.

. No part of this publication may be reproducted, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

Copyright Skye Melki-Wegner 2014. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproducted, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

CHAPTER ONE

The Knife

ITS THE SIXTH NIGHT WHEN THE HUNTERS FIND US. Ive volunteered for guard duty, which means a cold stint on the edge of our camp. My crewmates huddle in sleeping sacks, curled up for warmth at the back of a cave. Cave might be a bit generous. Its more of a dimple in the cliff face, high up in a narrow canyon called the Knife. Weve been sneaking along a puckered stone ledge, just ten metres beneath the Knifes upper lip. The canyon oor lies far below, veiled by a sickening drop into darkness. The Knife is our route to the fabled Magnetic Valley and, ultimately, our only hope of escape from Taladia. In Taladia, the king drops alchemy bombs on our cities, subduing rebellion with magic and ame.
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Copyright Skye Melki-Wegner 2014. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproducted, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

In Taladia, youths are conscripted to die in foreign wars, expanding the kings empire. And in Taladia, I have starved on the streets, dodged the guards and watched my family burn. The Knife is more than just a canyon. Its our route to freedom. But the kings hunters are on our trail. And by blowing their airbase to smithereens, weve also blown ourselves to the top of their kill list. I hug my knees, huff out a cloud of breath, and keep my eyes xed on the dark. The wind is restless tonight, with a whiff of impending rain. When you grow up on the streets, you learn to tell when its time to seek shelter. This isnt quite the smell I knew back in Rourton that familiar stink of rubbish in the damp but I still recognise the threat. A storm is coming. If were lucky, it might slow any hunters in pursuit or make them think twice before they charge after us. But if a hunter like Sharr Morrigan is nearby, were in serious trouble. The Knife is a treacherous route at the best of times; Ive already survived a few near-slips on its ledges. If we have to run for our lives tonight, in the dark, in the rain . . . I swallow, trying to quash the idea. No reason to panic. The hunters might not even be in the Knife; perhaps weve given them the slip. Perhaps we can ride out this storm in our cave, shielded by stone
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Copyright Skye Melki-Wegner 2014. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproducted, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

and sleeping sacks. And Ive cast an illusion to hide us, of course, shrouding our camp in a mirage of untouched stone. It will be enough. It has to be. I glance back at my crewmates. From this angle, the only one I can see is Lukas, who lies bundled at the mouth of the cave. He should sleep further back, near the shelter and warmth of the others bodies. But his face juts outside, a thin oval in the moonlight. For our rst few nights in the Knife, I gured Lukas slept near the edge of the group to detect any birds nearby. His magical proclivity is Bird, so he can link into their minds. Hell even borrow a passing hawks eyes sometimes, to survey the world from its perspective. But Ive realised that Lukas only sleeps near the open when Im on guard duty. I dont know what to think about that. Its a week since we kissed in the prison tower. A week since we waited together for our executions. I still have no idea what Lukas means to me, and even less idea of what I might mean to him. Its hard to sort out romantic feelings when youre on the run with three other teenagers. Communal camping might be our safest option, but it doesnt leave room for private conversations. A breeze skips across the top of our ledge, tickling Lukass form. He grunts a little, adjusting his weight,
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Copyright Skye Melki-Wegner 2014. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproducted, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

but doesnt open his eyes. I feel a slow smile curl my lips. Lukas looks so peaceful when hes sleeping. No creases at the edges of his eyes, or frowns to tug at his mouth. Hes not the son of the king, a fugitive prince on the run from his fathers hunters. Hes just Lukas Morrigan. No more, no less. Another breeze rufes his hair. Im itching to crawl over and smooth it, but I should concentrate on keeping watch. I take a deep breath, shake my head, and swing back to focus on the dark. Then I hear it. Perhaps its just a trick of the wind, or the screech of a distant bird. It comes again, louder and clearer: This way! My body tenses. I glance back and forth, searching for a clue. Nothing. The moon is lurking in a coil of clouds, so its hard to see more than a few metres ahead. Beyond that, the world curls with darkness. Hurry up! Over here! I squint harder, but see nothing. My throat tightens. Have they found our trail? We chose this stony ledge to avoid leaving footprints, but the hunters tracking skills are legendary. These arent city guards, or the young conscripts of King Morrigans army: hunters are trained professionals, with years of experience in the wild. All it would take is a broken twig and theyd be upon us.
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Copyright Skye Melki-Wegner 2014. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproducted, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

And all Ive got to go on is a disembodied echo somewhere in the dark. No way to tell whether the speaker is a kilometre away, or just twenty metres. Unless . . . I recently discovered my magical proclivity is Night. Theoretically, I should be able to oat through the dark, like when Lukas borrows the eyes of a bird, or Maisy controls our camp re. I could melt into the night, invisible, and search the area for hunters. But my powers are still raw, and I dont have control yet. The magic slips like wet clay between my ngers and if Im not careful, my whole conscious mind could do the same. Last time I tried to mesh my body into Night, I almost lost myself forever. Im not desperate enough to risk it again. Not yet. As quietly as possible, I scramble back into our cave. When I duck below the overhang, I catch the glint of eyes staring back at me. Hunters? Teddy whispers. Yeah, I think so. He nods. Foxaries are a bit jumpy. I reckon they can smell someone. Well, that explains why Teddys awake. Our foxaries doze nearby: oversized lumps of fur and body odour. Their species is famously vicious: a pack of twisted hybrids, bred via illegal experiments and alchemical manipulation. But Teddys proclivity is Beast, and he connects with animals in a way the
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Copyright Skye Melki-Wegner 2014. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproducted, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

rest of us will never understand. Hes the only reason these brutes stay under our control, or let us ride them across the wilds. Whenever our foxaries are restless, Teddys the rst to sense their fear. We should move, he says. I hesitate. That storm is de nitely on its way, and a slippery scramble through the Knife isnt likely to end well. But whats the alternative wait here and cross our ngers? I glance at the ring of magnets that encircles our camp. My illusion ricochets between them, cloaking us in stone and shadow. It can shield us from eyes, but not from touch. If the hunters search this narrow ledge, theyll stumble right into our midst. Yeah, all right, I say. Get the foxaries ready. As Teddy turns aside, I cover Clementines lips to wake her. Shes probably enjoying some pleasant dream about ball gowns or cupcakes, and the last thing I need is a shout of alarm when I jolt her back into our considerably less pleasant reality. Clementine blinks at me. Her blonde curls shine as she yanks herself up into the reach of the moonlight. Hunters? she mouths, when I withdraw my hand. I nod. Were leaving. Ill get Maisy, she says, and turns to her twin. Im impressed by her composure. Even after weeks on the run, I still half-expect the sisters to go
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Copyright Skye Melki-Wegner 2014. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproducted, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

to bits in a crisis. Clementine and Maisy were richies back in Rourton: wealthy heiresses whose days were adorned with high teas and sequins. Theyve proven their courage a thousand times since, but part of me still feels theyre too fragile for life in the wild. I take a deep breath and gather our magnets. My movement breaks the circle, shattering the illusion. We are visible now. Visible and vulnerable. But we cant stay here. I clamber atop a foxary, thighs clenched around the furry barrel of its torso. According to Teddy, this ones name is Garrum. I get the strong feeling Garrum doesnt like me either that, or he wriggles his bum around to dislodge his riders as a matter of course but this isnt the time to argue. Teddy straddles Borrash, our only surviving beast from Rourton, and the twins already sit astride their favourite mount. Its a relatively placid beast called Perrim although in foxary terms, relatively placid translates to will probably bite off your hand instead of your head if you approach without Teddy to pacify him. A warm body slips into the space behind me. Mind if I join you? Lukas says. Yeah, of course. Im slightly ustered by how his breath tickles the back of my neck. I mean, of course you can join me not of course I mind. I mean . . . I grind my teeth to make myself shut up.
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Copyright Skye Melki-Wegner 2014. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproducted, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

All right, I say more forcefully. Everyone ready to go? The others answer with silent nods. The moonlight is still mufed by clouds, but I can read their tension in the stiffness of their spines. Im tempted to say something like Weve beaten them once, well do it again! or Lets show those hunters who theyre messing with! But were not in some corny puppet show. The truth is that we may die tonight. Our good luck has lasted too long and if life has taught me anything, its that good luck is always the entre to bad. So in the end, I settle for, Lets go.