by Cora Carmack
“It’s Kiran,” he told her. “My name was Kiran Thorne.”
She said the name back to him, and he liked it a great deal more coming from her.
“It’s a good name,” she said. “Strong. We can ask Sly to be sure, but I think Kiran means ‘ray of light’ in Vyhodin. And you are very much that.” She ended her pronouncement with a quick kiss and added, “And Thorne would make an appropriately fearsome nickname for a hunter.”
He laughed. “Yes, I can’t wait for Jinx to call me a thorn in her side.”
“I like it.” She looped her arms about his neck, drawing their bodies even closer. “Thorns protect the rose. And from the moment we met, you’ve sought to protect me always.”
“And I always will.”
She smiled, but it was not as bright as the ones she usually gave him. Fear’s hold on her was too tight, even now. She looked at him, her gaze flicking back and forth between his eyes.
“There are things I have not told you,” she said. “About my life in Pavan.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t care. None of that matters now.”
“It will matter again. Soon.”
“So then tell me. There’s nothing that you could say that would change the way I feel.”
Her face scrunched up as if she was in pain, and her voice shook as she said, “I—I am—”
She broke off with a gasp as heat flared between their chests. The crystal she wore around her neck had gone fiery hot, and she scrambled from the tent, barefoot and wearing only one of his tunics. He groped around until he found his harness, and the warning horn he kept attached to it. He blew the horn as he crawled from the tent, pulling the harness over his chest.
It was the dead of night and he could not see whatever storm came for them. The other hunters began scrambling from their tents, supplies in hand, each of them spinning around, trying to find the threat.
“Fog,” Roar breathed. “I can feel it. Hungry and sinister. It meant to take us as we slept.”
As she spoke, Duke held up a lightning lantern, and then he saw it. They had camped in a small thicket of trees, and swallowing up the branches around them was a thick gray cloud. He spun, but it was all around them, blocking them in.
He retrieved his fog Stormheart, the other hunters that had one following suit.
“Stop!” Roar cried. “Put down your hearts. I can handle this. But it’s too confusing to feel all of you.”
Locke hesitated and she said, “Kiran, please.”
Then he did as she asked, returning the stone to his harness and telling the other hunters to do the same. For a long moment, nothing happened. And his hands itched to take up his Stormheart again, especially when Roar stepped closer to the creeping fog.
But then … it began to roll back. Roar marched forward, and with each step the fog retreated farther and farther until he could not see it at all.
* * *
The storms continued to come as they made their way toward Pavan, and each time they did Roar made them surrender. As she had learned from the skyfire storm, the connection she felt went both ways. If she was not careful, their souls, their desires could bleed into her. But she could do the same to them. She had sowed fear into the fog, the certainty of its destruction, and it retreated rather than fight. She soothed the rage of a twister until its winds slowed and it broke apart in the sky. She stood in the eye of a firestorm and offered it comfort, even as burning embers rained down around her.
One by one she exerted her will over the storms, and eventually her awareness of the souls around her was so strong, stretched so far that she began to soothe the darkest spirits in the world around them before they could even become storms.
The hunters pressed on toward Pavan, moving far faster than they ever had. And the closer they got to her home, the more malevolent souls she sensed. She tried to soothe them, tried to break the hold of their rage, but they were too twisted, too cold for her to help. When she tried to find some fragment of humanity in them, some piece of who they used to be, she found only bottomless fury. And each of those irredeemable storms had one thing in common. They felt pulled to Pavan, drawn toward something there, bent on the city’s destruction.
At Roar’s request, the hunters rode even harder, pushing later into the night and setting out earlier in the morning. And when they were only a day’s ride from the city, she became aware of huge numbers of souls, streaming toward Pavan. These, however, were still living.
Remnants. By the hundreds. They trudged on by foot, many injured or weeping. There were so many that they covered the road, and the hunters had to slow their pace to weave through the sea of bodies.
They heard whispers among the people of towns leveled, of a madman who wielded storms like swords and cut down everything in his path. They believed the Stormlings were their only hope, the only ones who could stop the carnage.
And when they reached Death’s Spine, the rocky outcropping that marked the edge of Pavan territories and overlooked the grasslands that stretched all the way to the golden dome of the palace, Roar’s worst fears were confirmed.
At the top of the dome and all along the city walls flew flags of blue.
“Are you all right?” Kiran asked her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her neck. She held tight to his arms, soaking up every bit of warmth he offered. She turned and took a real kiss, pouring every bit of her love and fear and worry into it.
Because it was time.
To say good-bye to Roar.
And become Aurora once more.
EPILOGUE
He wove between the sniveling insects that marched on toward the city, marched toward what they thought would be their salvation. He passed among them unnoticed as they wept over all that they had lost, all that he had taken from them. It suited him to be invisible. It had allowed him to infiltrate town after town, circling Pavan like a bird around its prey.
Soon. Soon they would all know who he was. The goddess’s vessel, the tip of her sword, the brunt of her rage.
He wondered if the Lockes were cowering inside their new city. Did they jump at every wail of the wind? Sweat at the sound of thunder? Was their sleep plagued by nightmares of the last time he came for them? Did they remember the howl of the hurricanes closing in from every side? The way the city burned beneath firestorms even as towering waves crashed over their battlements? He would not rest until he had poured out tenfold the amount of agony and horror and despair that they had given him as a boy.
But the Lockes had taught him that fear only compounded over time, it pressed in on you like madness, swallowed you up until you could think of nothing else.
It was not enough to destroy them.
He would make them want it, beg for it, hope for an end to their torture.
He reached out to his friends, the tormented souls that mirrored his own, who had followed him all this time, from the jungles of Locke to the grasslands of Pavan. They gathered in the wind, lay in wait in the earth, flowed through the rivers that surrounded the city.
Suddenly, he stopped. Remnants stumbled into him; some even dared to yell in annoyance as they dodged around him. Any other time he would have slaughtered them all on the spot. But his focus was not here. Not on these pitiful souls. It was on a soul far behind him, at the very edge of his consciousness. It was not warped or cruel like the ones he usually sought. Instead, it was bright. Too bright. Radiant as skyfire streaking through the night.
But even so … this soul … this soul was like his.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’m not even sure where to begin. The journey toward this book started over a decade ago. I’ve written and published other books, all of which I loved immensely. But since I was a teenager it was my dream to write a YA novel. I took several amazing detours before getting here, but I am so grateful to have had the chance to fulfill this dream (and hopefully continue it).
First, I must thank my family. I could fill a whole other book with al
l the ways you have loved and supported me over the last decade, and yet those words would never be enough. The year 2016 especially was the most difficult year of my life, and I could not have survived it without you. To my mother: thank you for instilling in me a love for reading, writing, and great characters. To my sisters: we fell in love with YA together, and you encouraged me from the very first time I put pen to paper. For my father: thanks for killing all the spiders and, you know, all the other multitudes of ways you keep me sane, safe, and healthy.
To Lindsay, my dearest friend: No books would ever get finished without you. Mainly because I always insist they’re garbage until you tell me otherwise. To Jay: Every time I thought this book would kill me, you picked me up and set me straight. I adore you. To all the other dear friends who better my life and books—Bethany, Joey, Shelly, Jennifer, Ana, Amber, Zach, Heather—a thousand times thank you.
Also thanks to Suzie Townsend, Sara Stricker, and all the other New Leaf Ninjas for all the tremendous work you do. Whitney Ross and the team at Tor Teen: You took a chance on me and this book sight unseen, and I’m still stunned and humbled by your faith in me. And I’m even more grateful for the patience and support you showed me during a difficult year.
And to everyone reading this book, thank you for making my dreams come true.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cora Carmack is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. Since she was a teenager, her favorite genre to read has been fantasy, and now she’s thrilled to bring her usual compelling characters and swoon-worthy romance into the worlds of magic and intrigue with her debut YA fantasy, Roar. Her previous adult romance titles include Losing It and the Rusk University and Muse series. Her books have been translated into more than a dozen languages around the world. Cora splits her time between Austin, Texas, and New York City, and on any given day you might find her typing away at her computer, flying to various cities around the world, or just watching Netflix with her kitty, Katniss. But she can always be found on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, Tumblr, and her website www.coracarmack.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Map
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
ROAR
Copyright © 2017 by Cora Carmack
All rights reserved.
Cover art by John Blumen
A Tor Teen Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
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New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7653-8631-1 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-7653-9705-8 (international, sold outside the U.S., subject to rights availability)
ISBN 978-0-7653-8633-5 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9780765386335
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First U.S. Edition: June 2017
First International Edition: June 2017