by Donna Grant
Lachlan’s brows were drawn together. “But you went after Runa anyway?”
“I did.”
“Two witches speaking to you in your dreams. Two of them giving you direction.” Armir looked at Malene. “You knew all of this?”
The Lady of the Varroki shook her head. “I had no idea Asa had such magic.”
“Neither did I,” Synne added.
Armir returned to Malene’s side. “You’ve kept a lot to yourself.”
It was said in a low voice, but everyone heard it. Brom noted there was no censure in Armir’s tone. Instead, there was hurt. Malene noticed it too, because she turned to him, her gaze searching his face.
“What I did wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. I kept it all to myself because I didn’t put the pieces together until I spoke with Brom. Then, well, you know why I didn’t tell you I was going for him,” Malene said.
Armir nodded. Whatever hurt had been in his gaze before was gone. But Brom didn’t believe for an instant that Armir had forgotten about it. Instead, the pain was carefully concealed, hidden away so no one could see it.
“What does any of this have to do with me having the rib bone?” Brom asked, bringing the conversation back to him.
Malene drew in a breath and turned her head to him. “Because when you sent that message through the trees to Synne, it went even farther.”
Now, Brom was even more confused. “What do you mean?”
“The trees carried the message to Synne, but they also sent something else out into the air. Think of it as a call to action.”
“I didna intend for that,” he said, wondering if he had done more harm than good.
Malene shook her head and shifted to face him. “We here at Blackglade have known for some time that Sybbyl and the Coven would come for us. We’ve been preparing for it. We also made the decision not to bring any of the other bones here in case we lost. Helena is the most powerful of anyone who carries a bone of the First Witch since she’s a direct descendent. Next is the Blood Skull that is currently far from here and will never fall into the Coven’s hands.”
He watched her, waiting for Malene to continue.
“We had Lachlan’s sword and the finger bone, which would’ve given us an advantage. However, that is now lost.”
“Stolen,” Brom corrected.
Malene shrugged. “The only instance of Trea choosing someone to guard a bone that we know of is Braith as Warden of the Blood Skull. Yet, here you are. She chose you, showed you where to find the bone. She did that because she realized how powerful you are. Combining your magic with her bone raises your power considerably.”
“I’m only half-Varroki,” he argued, frowning.
Armir twisted his lips. “Be that as it may, you’ve done what no other Varroki has. I say that because we’re a very powerful group, and if none of us have connected our minds to an entire city before, then you have something special.”
“That is if you wish to fight with us,” Malene said.
Brom lowered himself back to the bed to sit. He put his hands on either side of him and looked at the floor. “For so long, I dreamed of coming here. Even before I knew there was a war on its way. I heard enough about the Coven to want them gone.” His gaze lifted to Malene. “I’m against them wholly.”
“But?” Jarin asked into the silence that followed.
Without looking away from Malene, Brom said. “Runa.”
21
She had no idea what she was doing. Runa’s hands shook, but she gripped the sword even tighter. Accepting the Giras’ demand to be their queen might give her power, but how much? She didn’t think the nymphs would hand over the sword without thinking they could claim it again. After all, they had tracked down a Coven witch and had taken the sword from her.
No matter what happened, Runa knew that this was the right choice. Whether she succeeded or died, she did it knowing that she was doing everything she could. It wasn’t that she feared death. She never understood why so many did. Sure, it was an unknown, but so was every day that dawned.
Her feet crunched in the snow as she walked through the forest, the Gira surrounding her. She felt their eyes on her, but she kept her gaze straight ahead. Not once did they stop, but she was glad. Halting would cause her to have to talk to them, and she wasn’t prepared for that. Not since she still wasn’t sure if her plan had even a marginal chance of succeeding.
They walked until her feet were numb, and the sky began to lighten with the coming dawn. Runa wasn’t sure where they were taking her, but she hoped it wasn’t to Sybbyl. She wasn’t prepared for that. Actually, she wasn’t sure she was prepared for anything. How she wished she could speak to Asrail once more. Maybe her grandmother would be able to guide her.
The trek up the mountain was arduous. Her thighs burned, and a headache had begun from the worry and fear churning violently inside her. She knew how to hunt and track nymphs. She knew nothing about being a queen.
When they finally reached the top of the mountain, Runa looked down and saw the loch that was frozen around the edges. A rather large group of nymphs stood near the water, though they kept giving the loch a trepidatious look. She tried to see what they were doing, but it was difficult with the sun still hidden behind the mountain. On the way down, more Gira joined. Some stood waiting to see her but most merely leaned away from the trees they had chosen.
Runa’s nose was numb from the cold, as were her fingers and toes. She wanted a fire. No, what she wanted was Brom. As if thinking of him could conjure him to her side. No matter how much she wished for him, she knew that it was better that he wasn’t here. She wasn’t sure what the nymphs would’ve done to him if he were, and she didn’t want to find out.
As the loch came closer, she realized that the group of nymphs she had seen were standing around something. Her stomach fell because she knew without looking that it was Asrail. Runa had to prepare herself. She couldn’t let anything show to the Gira. Not anger, not fear.
Not yet, anyway. She needed to establish what kind of power she had and how to wield it before she let them know precisely what she intended.
When she and the other Gira reached the group, the nymphs parted, giving Runa her first glimpse of what they had done to her grandmother. Asrail was tied to the ground in the loch, her nose barely above water. Runa wasn’t sure if they wanted her to drown or freeze to death. By Asrail’s blue-tinged lips, she was on the verge of freezing already.
Runa stared at her, unsure of what to say. Asrail’s eyes were closed. Runa wanted to go to her grandmother and nudge her to see if she was still alive, but perhaps it was better if she didn’t disturb Asrail.
Hundreds of eyes were on her. Runa wanted to scream at them to leave Asrail alone, but she remained calm. She turned to the five who had remained directly behind her for the entire walk to the loch and quirked a brow at them.
The male asked, “What is that look for?”
“What are you doing with her?” Runa asked.
The female next to him smirked. “What does it look like?”
“It appears as if you’re freezing her.”
Another female stared at Runa intently. “Do you know her?”
Runa shot her a flat look. “I do not. If you’re doing that to get a reaction out of me, then you’re wasting your time.”
“She’s your grandmother,” another female stated.
Runa’s gaze slid to the Gira who had spoken. She had suspected that they might use someone against her. She wasn’t sure if it would be Asrail, her sister, or even Brom, but she thought through every way she could reply. In order to remain on course, she needed to rely on her skill for reading people and keeping track of the lies she was going to tell.
“I was raised by a nymph. Of that, you already know. Which also means you’re aware that I recently learned I had a sister,” she stated.
The last female said, “As well as a grandmother. Asrail.” She pointed at the loch.
“I learned of her th
e same time as I did my sister. Just a few days ago. I feel nothing toward people I don’t know.”
“No need to save her?” the male asked.
Runa turned and walked away. She prayed that Asrail was unconscious. She didn’t want to hurt her grandmother, but in many ways, she hadn’t lied. She didn’t know Asrail or Synne. Runa felt responsible for them, but she wasn’t sure why. They had never reached out to her. She’d risked everything for two people who didn’t know her any more than she knew them.
She had no destination in mind, but she couldn’t look at Asrail anymore. Hopefully, the Gira would think that she wasn’t interested in saving her grandmother or condemning her to death. But in her heart, Runa knew there was little chance of saving Asrail. Tears pricked her eyes. It took everything she had not to cry over a woman she’d never met, someone who had only spoken to her once in a dream.
Still, she was a woman who had done everything in her power, along with her friend, to save Runa and Synne.
Runa wanted to go to a tree, but she couldn’t stand to look at one right now. Too many nymphs were around. She needed to go somewhere they wouldn’t be hiding. Her feet took her along the edge of the loch. With all the snow, it was difficult to know where the land ended, and the ice began. Since she wasn’t keen on falling into the freezing water, she remained far enough away to be safe, yet also distanced from the edge of the forest and the Gira.
She stood looking out over the still waters of the loch to a small island that had a large defensive wall. Runa couldn’t see what was on the other side, but she found she was curious to see what it was. If it was summer, she would’ve swum out there and taken a look for herself. Now, she would just have to use her imagination.
For a brief time, she forgot that she was now queen of the Gira, forgot that she missed Brom, forgot that her grandmother was closer than ever before and dying. But it was just a blink in time. Not long after, it all came crashing back down around Runa. She drew in a breath and realized that the five Gira were behind her. She was really beginning to hate them.
“What do you want?” she asked.
A female said, “We’re waiting on you.”
She should probably get their names, but she didn’t care enough to do that now. Maybe not ever. “To do what?”
“Guide us,” the male answered.
Runa turned and looked at them. “You want me to issue orders?”
“Aye,” the older female said. “You have the sword.”
She looked down at the weapon in her hand, the one she hadn’t let go of since she had taken it. “You want an order? I’ll give you one. I’ve claimed the throne. That means you’ll leave my sister alone.”
“As we said we would,” the five replied together.
That was easier than she had thought. The next one wouldn’t be. “Release Asrail.”
Just as Runa expected, the five hesitated and looked at one another.
Runa raised a brow. “If I’m your queen, as you’ve made sure I would be, then you will listen to my directives. Asrail ruled you once, and she saved my sister as Morea saved me. Yet, you would have me or Synne as your queen. Instead of punishing Asrail for what she did, you should be thanking her. So, get her out of the water and warm her. Now!” she shouted when the five didn’t budge.
One of the females turned and snapped her fingers toward the other nymphs, who watched. To Runa’s shock, Asrail was immediately taken from the water and dragged to the nearest tree. For several minutes, her grandmother didn’t move. Then, finally, she curled around the base of the tree, blending into it effortlessly.
“When Asrail is healed, she will be allowed to do whatever she wants. If anyone so much as looks at her crossly, I’ll kill them,” Runa said in an icy voice. None of that was a lie.
The five bowed their heads as the rest of the nymphs did.
Runa drew in a breath, feeling marginally better than she had a moment before. But this would be an uphill climb. These were only two steps she needed to take. She couldn’t falter after this. Not even a little.
“Now,” she said, “if we’re going to use this sword and the bone of the First Witch, I need to know what Sybbyl plans.”
The five Gira exchanged worried looks.
Runa sighed loudly. “If you already knew what you wanted to do, then you didn’t need me or anyone to lead you. That means if I’m to make a decision, I need details. All of them.”
One of the females grinned. “And this is why you’re our queen.”
Runa nearly laughed out loud. She was drowning in uncertainty and panic. Everything she was doing was all bluster in an effort to learn what the Coven was going to do so she could thwart it and give her sister and the Varroki a chance.
The mere thought of the Varroki brought Brom to mind. She would cry later for what could have been. For now, she had to push him from her thoughts and concentrate on remaining queen and staying alive.
The male Gira said, “Sybbyl thinks we’re using Asrail to draw out your sister so she can kill her. Synne wasn’t in the abbey with the other Hunters, and Sybbyl wants to make sure there are none left.”
“Since I’ve decreed that Synne will be left alone, Sybbyl’s plans matter not.” Runa felt the first rays of the sun on her face. She wished it would heat her as it did the earth, but it would take much more than that to rid her bones of the chill. “Do Sybbyl and the Coven stand a chance at winning without us?”
The smile on the five’s faces at her calling herself one of them was just the touch Runa had been hoping for.
“No,” answered one of the females.
“Without Avis being found, Sybbyl will believe the witch went far away.” Runa shrugged. “That could be to our advantage.”
Another female shook her head. “Sybbyl sent witches out looking for Avis.”
“They won’t find anything, will they?” Runa asked.
The five shook their heads.
“Good. If we’re not joining Sybbyl, then we need to prepare for her attack. Because it will come.”
The male tilted his head. “You could go to her and tell her you’re our new queen.”
“If I did that, she’d likely attack right then.” But that might be just what Runa should do. If only she could talk to Synne about everything and coordinate. That wasn’t possible, and she wasn’t sure if the Gira were powerful enough to take out the Coven and Sybbyl. Yet, that might be exactly what it came to.
Runa looked at the forest. She had always found sanctuary within the trees. She needed time to think and plan, and there was no better place.
Her gaze swung back to the five. “I need a fire, food, and a place to sleep.”
“It will be seen to,” they replied.
She gave them a nod and headed toward the nearest tree.
22
The pain was becoming unbearable. Sybbyl could find no rest, no respite from the wounds Helena had inflicted upon her during their battle. With the Staff of the Eternal and her own considerable magic, she should’ve been able to heal herself. But for whatever reason, the injuries on her wrist and neck continued to fester and cause her unbearable agony.
She paced, she sat, she slept, but the hours crawled by with excruciating sluggishness. Sybbyl now began to doubt if she would even be alive when it came time to face the Varroki.
“Nay,” she mumbled to herself. “I hold a bone of the First Witch.”
If she thought the bone would talk to her as it often did, she was mistaken. That made her immediately wary. The bone hadn’t hesitated to take jabs at her any chance it got. Why was it quiet now?
Sybbyl set the staff in front of her where she sat in the middle of the Witch’s Grove. She drew in a deep breath, feeling the relief of letting go of the bone. It was an incredible weight to bear, but she was prepared to carry it for the rest of her life. She was, after all, the one born to rule the witches and the new world where they could live as they wished.
Her gaze moved around the trees. For the first time, she r
ealized how quiet the Grove was. There were no whispers, not that the Gira spoke to her much. Having the nymphs follow her was a boon she hadn’t counted on, but one that would turn the tide in her favor.
Sybbyl debated whether to get up and walk around, but she decided to conserve her energy. The Grove helped to restore a witch’s magic and intensify any spells used. She decided to give a healing spell another try. Though this time, she decided to do it without touching the staff.
The words tumbled from her lips in a flurry as she closed her eyes and felt her magic swirl inside her then move throughout her body. The magic focused on the two wounds. Sybbyl clenched her teeth as the pain intensified. Just when she didn’t think she could handle any more, it began to ebb away.
The longer the spell worked, the better she felt. Why hadn’t she tried this before? Why had she been so insistent that the staff would help her?
Because it should have.
She carried it now. Which meant, it answered to her. It shouldn’t be doing anything to hinder her magic. And as far as she knew, it hadn’t, other than with her wounds. Sybbyl waited until the spell was finished before she opened her eyes. She glanced around to see if any witches were looking her way before she pulled up her sleeve and checked her wrist.
The wound was still there, but it was much better. It was no longer red and filled with puss. The pain was minimal now, bearable enough that she could easily continue on. Now she knew that to heal herself, she had to set aside the staff—even if that shouldn’t be the case.
But the more she thought about it, the angrier she got. The staff was hers to command. It didn’t get to choose when and if it obeyed. It merely gave her its magic to mix with her own. That’s why it had been so imperative that she do whatever necessary to get the staff from the elders.
Anyone could pick up the Staff of the Eternal and use the bone. Same with any bone from the First Witch. Well, just about any bone. The Blood Skull was an exception, one that rankled Sybbyl to no end. Although, had the elders gotten their greedy little hands on it, she would never have been able to kill them and get the staff for herself.
