Shadow and Bone

“Using our power makes us stronger. It feeds us instead of
consuming us. Most Grisha live long lives.”
“But not one hundred and twenty years.”
“No,” he admitted. “The length of a Grisha’s life is
proportional to his or her power. The greater the power, the
longer the life. And when that power is amplified …” He
trailed off with a shrug.
“And you’re a living amplifier. Like Ivan’s bear.”
The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Like
Ivan’s bear.”
An unpleasant thought occurred to me. “But that means—”
“That my bones or a few of my teeth would make another
Grisha very powerful.”
“Well, that’s completely creepy. Doesn’t that worry you a
little bit?”
“No,” he said simply. “Now you answer my question. What
kind of stories were you told about me?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Well … our teachers told us that
you strengthened the Second Army by gathering Grisha from
outside of Ravka.”
“I didn’t have to gather them. They came to me. Other
countries don’t treat their Grisha so well as Ravka,” he said
grimly. “The Fjerdans burn us as witches, and the Kerch sell
us as slaves. The Shu Han carve us up seeking the source of
our power. What else?”
“They said you were the strongest Darkling in generations.”
“I didn’t ask you for flattery.”
I fingered a loose thread on the cuff of my kefta. He
watched me, waiting.
“Well,” I said, “there was an old serf who worked on the
estate …”
“Go on,” he said. “Tell me.”