by Donna Grant
Troubled by the sight, Helena kept walking. She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the edge of the woods and saw Jarin sitting with his eyes closed.
Sybbyl stood not too far from him, stroking the staff. She still wore the crown and black gown, and the black paint over her eyes seemed to be a permanent addition.
Helena was surprised that the Gira hadn’t alerted Sybbyl to Helena’s presence, but she wasn’t going to throw away such a chance. She steeled herself and stepped into the clearing.
Instantly, Sybbyl’s head whipped to her. The hood of Helena’s cloak hid her from the witch’s view. She waited until Jarin’s eyes had opened and landed on her. Then, she reached up and pushed back the hood.
Jarin’s smile made her heart catch, but Helena was reminded of her conversation with Armir and kept her focus on Sybbyl. The witch’s anger was palpable, which pleased Helena immensely.
“Why was I not informed?” Sybbyl bellowed to the Gira.
Helena unclasped her cloak and let it fall to her feet as she walked farther into the Grove. “You act as if you control the nymphs.”
“I do. Just as I will control you.” Her gaze dropped to Helena’s stomach. “Or your child. I’m not choosy.”
Helena grinned tightly. “It seems odd that not so long ago, I was terrified of the Coven. I dared not use my magic for food or warmth for fear of any of you locating me. I nearly died. And now, here I am.”
“Oh, you still fear me,” Sybbyl said as she lifted the staff and slammed it into the ground.
A shockwave of magic rolled over the ground like a wave. It knocked Jarin onto his back, and had the Gira scampering away. But Helena didn’t move as she braced for the impact. Not before the magic reached her—and not after.
She recognized the feel of it. The same magic that was within her. Trea’s magic.
“You’re different,” Sybbyl said, uncertainty in her voice.
Helena moved so that her back was to Jarin as she faced Sybbyl. “I discovered myself. I would like to thank you for that. If it weren’t for you chasing me, I never would have accepted who I was.”
“Do not get too attached. This freedom you think you found is about to be yanked away. By me,” Sybbyl boasted.
Helena smiled as her fingers tingled with magic. “Prove it.”
30
Jarin couldn’t stop smiling as he righted himself. He’d known Helena would come. And her entrance had been one that he would never forget. There had been no great fanfare, no showy appearance.
Just a quiet arrival that shouted more than any flourish ever could.
The fact that the Gira had not warned Sybbyl spoke volumes. And not just to Jarin. There had been a moment of shock, of utter dread that stole across Sybbyl’s face, but she quickly wiped it away.
What the witch hadn’t mentioned was that she must have put spells up so no one would get in without her knowing. And yet, somehow, Helena had.
If there had ever been any doubt that Helena was the Living Heart, it was now gone. Obliterated. Eradicated.
He knew that he was witnessing firsthand what would be spoken about for years to come. Jarin wanted to help Helena, to stand by her side against their enemy, but this wasn’t his fight. She had tried to tell him that by leaving, but he hadn’t been able to accept it.
Now, he did.
There was something different about Helena. She looked more confident. As if she too had accepted who she was. That didn’t bode well for Sybbyl. If Helena had gotten the upper hand before, Sybbyl didn’t stand a chance now.
Helena’s dare only solidified things.
Jarin leaned to the side to get a glimpse of Sybbyl. He couldn’t see Helena’s face, but he didn’t need to. Everything he needed to know could be discerned from her stance and her voice.
She was ready for the battle. Ready and willing to end it all right then.
“Do you doubt I can?” Sybbyl asked as if the mere thought was enough to make her cringe.
Helena widened her stance. Jarin saw sparks ignite between her fingers as her magic coursed through her quickly. He had never seen such a thing, and it left him utterly awed.
“I doubt everything from you,” Helena replied. “You are all words, Sybbyl.”
Jarin slowly climbed to his feet and moved to the side so he could see both women. They were so focused on each other that they paid him no heed. Even the Gira didn’t seem to care what he was about. The nymphs were crushed together, each vying to get a better look at the opposing witches.
He frowned as he looked at the Gira. They had recognized Helena for who she was, but would they follow her or Sybbyl if it came down to it?
He’d seen for himself what the Gira would do for Sybbyl. While he hadn’t spent a lot of time in Witch’s Groves, he didn’t believe their capitulation was something that regularly occurred—if at all.
If it had to do with the First Witch, then surely Helena would gain their obeisance. But when it came to the Gira, no one could really know for sure.
Jarin had kept his distance from the creatures over the years, primarily because they were so unpredictable. Now, he wished he would have spent more time learning about them.
His attention returned to witches. Sybbyl had yet to reply to Helena’s comment, but there was no denying the anger that contorted Sybbyl’s face.
The black band across her eyes highlighted the fury in her gaze. “You made a mistake coming here. This is my territory.”
Helena raised a brow as the wind lifted the ends of her fiery tresses. “Is it?”
When Sybbyl sent a gust of magic toward Helena, she calmly twisted as she leaned backward and watched it glide past her.
Helena straightened and smiled. “My turn.”
She put her hands before her, one on top of the other, her gaze locked on Sybbyl. Between her palms were flashes of purple flames that grew as she pulled her hands apart.
Sybbyl took a step back, her trepidation evident in her features. Jarin didn’t know if her reaction was one of fear or preparation, but he would wager it was the latter. He, himself, was impressed by the magic Helena exhibited. It was like nothing he had ever seen before.
He drank in the sight of his woman with attire that showed her beautiful body contrasted with her red hair and the purple of her magic. He’d known she was special. Now, he had proof.
“Give me the staff, now, and I will let you live,” Helena offered.
Sybbyl laughed, the sound half mad. “You think I fear you?”
“I think you’re smart enough to weigh your options.”
“Oh, I know my options. I lead for once, and I won’t give that up.”
Helena pressed her lips together ruefully. “A pity.”
No sooner had the words passed her lips than she loosed the flames from her hands. They twisted, spiraling and elongating as they spread out like dozens of fingers—straight at Sybbyl.
The witch dodged several before blocking them with her magic. But not before one coil wrapped around her wrist. Helena raised her hand and pulled back, tugging her magic to her.
Sybbyl was yanked forward. She gritted her teeth, her lips peeled back as she planted her feet then slammed the staff into the ground. The moment she did, Helena’s magic unwrapped from her arm.
There were no more words after that. Jarin watched in fascination as the battle commenced. Only once before had he seen two sorcerers clash in such an epic way. This battle eclipsed any before it.
He could barely keep up with who used what spell because the witches were hurling them one after the other. The times Helena was unable to shield herself from the hit of magic, Jarin winced, feeling her pain as his own. Even when she didn’t show it, he knew that it hurt her. The adrenaline pumped too quickly for her to feel it now, but she would later.
Jarin flexed his hand and was about to launch a spell to help shield Helena from the magic when a Gira near him turned her head to spear him with a look.
The nymph said nothing, but she didn’t
need to. Her silent warning was heard loud and clear. If Jarin interfered, then so would the Gira. Jarin had no choice but to remain a bystander no matter how difficult it was.
Helena got off several good jabs of magic. Then Sybbyl lunged forward with her blond hair flying around her, the staff pointed at Helena. His head whipped to Helena to find pain contorting her face before her head fell forward as she bent over.
“Block it,” Jarin whispered, silently urging Helena to use her magic.
Jarin knew the agony was preventing her from thinking straight, which prolonged her pain and Sybbyl’s advantage.
“Come on, Helena,” Jarin murmured, his body tense with the urge to help her. “Block it.”
Sybbyl walked toward Helena, keeping the magic directed at her. “I told you I’d defeat you.”
Shock went through Jarin when Helena’s head shifted toward him, and he glimpsed her face. Her gaze landed on him, and she gave him a quick grin. Then she flipped back her long, red locks and looked at Sybbyl.
Determination filled Helena’s face. Her lips moved, forming one word. And just like that, Sybbyl’s magic was blocked. Jarin was so happy, he wanted to shout, but he held it in. The battle was far from over.
Sybbyl looked Helena over as she righted the staff and braced the end against the earth. “Bravo. I honestly did not believe you would get out of that one.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
Jarin looked between the two women. Both were bloodied and bruised, but neither was admitting defeat. He had expected Helena to crush Sybbyl by now. Helena had the ability. Or he thought she did, but perhaps the Staff of the Eternal gave Sybbyl more power than he thought.
Sybbyl’s chest heaved from the exertion of battle. “We could be here all day doing this.”
“Your reign, the Coven’s reign is over,” Helena stated.
Sybbyl laughed and shook her head, her crown never wavering. “Not hardly, my dear. We’re more powerful than ever before. Your one chance to stop me is now, and you cannot do it.”
Jarin knew it was the wrong thing for Sybbyl to say the moment Helena’s gaze sharpened. He sat back, a smile on his face as Helena’s back straightened. In her, he saw the fearless, bold shieldmaidens of old. He saw the courageous, daring Celt females.
He saw a leader, someone who would stand against the Coven. Someone who would give others the courage to do so themselves.
Helena held out her arms to her sides, her palms facing Sybbyl as she spread her fingers. “I am light. I am darkness. I am the raven, the harbinger of all that is to pass. I hold the blood of the First. And I show the path of all who will come after me.”
She blinked, pausing. “You had your chance to walk away. You should have taken my offer.”
The ground erupted in purple flames around Helena. They quickly grew to lick as high as the trees. And Helena lowered her arms and stood in the midst of it all.
Every shot of magic Sybbyl used, every spell she uttered, didn’t put a dent in the flames. Helena never lost her focus on the witch. No matter where Sybbyl moved, Helena’s gaze was locked on her.
“You cannot win!” Sybbyl shouted and lifted the staff.
Helena didn’t move, didn’t even part her lips, but the flames suddenly raced toward Sybbyl. The witch tried to block them but was once more unsuccessful. She screamed in outrage as she backed into the forest.
The Gira quickly moved away from her, tripping over each other in their haste. Jarin lost sight of Sybbyl in the flames. And just when he thought Helena had won for sure, he spotted the black smoke he knew all too well.
And then it was gone.
Jarin looked at Helena. She turned her head and met his gaze. Several heartbeats went by before she took a breath and the flames faded, disappearing back into the earth.
“She got away,” Helena said.
Jarin ran a hand down his face and looked around, noticing that the Gira were also gone. “Aye, Sybbyl lives to fight another day. But you wounded her.”
He glanced at the last place Sybbyl had been. The earth was scorched. He couldn’t be sure if the witch was gone or not, but if Helena believed it, then he would, as well.
When he faced Helena once more, her hand was on her stomach. Jarin raced to her, gripping her by her arms. “Are you hurt?”
“I forgot about the child in the battle,” she whispered, tears gathering. “Sybbyl’s magic—”
Jarin pulled her close and held her tight. He closed his eyes when her arms wrapped around him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of anything that would ease her mind. Or his.
She hadn’t been the only one to forget. Jarin hadn’t thought once about the baby. He’d only been concerned with Helena remaining alive. What kind of father did that make him?
He pulled back and cupped her face, wiping a tear away with his thumb. “I knew you would find me.”
She smiled and nodded. “Trea showed me how.”
“Trea?” he asked with a frown.
“The First Witch.”
“You know her name?”
Helena smiled as she sniffed. “It was Malene who told me.”
“I cannot believe she or Armir would allow you to come on your own.”
She wrinkled her nose and gave a little shrug. “They didn’t. I just made sure they wouldn’t follow me into the Grove.”
“I suppose we need to find them.”
“No need,” Armir said as he and Malene stepped from the forest.
Helena whirled around and opened her mouth, but Malene held up a hand. “I know why you did it, and I admit, I would’ve done the same in your shoes.”
Armir looked ready to spit. “Malene forgives more easily than I.”
The Lady shot him a glare and made her way to Helena. She put her hand on Helena’s belly, and a few moments later, she smiled. “Your child is fine.”
Jarin thought his heart would erupt, he was so happy. For someone who’d never thought to have children of his own, he was elated to know that he would get to hold one in his arms soon.
“So,” Armir said with his arms crossed over his chest. “Sybbyl managed to get away.”
Helena frowned. “I should have known she would try something like that again.”
Jarin shook his head as he looked at Helena. “You could not know such a thing.”
“The Gira are gone, too,” Helena added.
That definitely made Jarin uneasy. “I have never seen so many gathered in one place.”
“How many were there?” Malene asked.
Helena said, “Hundreds.”
Jarin scratched his chin as something kept nagging at the back of his mind. “Sybbyl wanted to know where the Varroki were. She said that she would make them succumb to her.”
Armir’s arms dropped to his sides. “Does she know where Blackglade is?”
“I cannot be sure,” Jarin admitted.
Malene set her chin. “Then we need to be ready in case she comes.”
“What about the abbey?” Helena asked.
Jarin winced. “She mentioned the Hunters, as well.”
They all looked at each other, fear and dread filling their gazes.
Helena held out her hands. “We have to go to them.”
Jarin, Malene, and Armir took hold of each other without hesitation.
31
No matter what she did, Synne couldn’t shake the unease that grew within her. There had been nothing more from the forest. It refused to offer up anything else to her. It acted as if it were either asleep or...dead.
She deftly climbed up a tree, something she had been doing since she was a small girl. For a long time, she had refused to even put on a dress, preferring pants. Edra and Radnar never forced her to wear something she didn’t want.
At one time, Synne had wanted to cut her hair short, but Edra convinced her to hold off. Instead, the witch had put her hair in braids, keeping it off Synne’s neck, which let her pretend she was a boy.
She grew out of th
at quickly, and Synne was thankful that Edra hadn’t given into her whim. What Edra and Radnar—and every adult at the abbey—did was cultivate a place where each person could be whatever they wanted or needed to be. No one judged, no one criticized.
And everyone was accepted.
Witch or not, woman or not. Everyone was equal, everyone pulled his or her own weight.
Synne hadn’t understood how different the abbey was until the first time she went with Radnar and Ravyn to hunt witches. Ravyn was already a Hunter, but Synne was still in training.
She had been flabbergasted when she entered the village and saw how women were treated. Four days later, when she returned to the abbey, she was aware of the blessing it was that she had fallen into Edra’s and Radnar’s hands.
More and more of late, her thoughts had been about the past and the influence those at the abbey had on her. Synne knew that, out in the world, she would never be allowed to dress in breeches or learn to fight and defend herself as she did.
Her thoughts halted as the trees creaked as they swayed with the wind. It sounded loud in the quiet silence of winter. Synne removed her glove and placed her palm against the bark.
“Why have you gone quiet?” she asked. “Why are you no longer speaking to me?”
She slipped her hand into her glove once more and leaned back against the tree trunk. Her eyes hurt from lack of sleep. She blinked them several times and stifled a yawn, sleep calling to her. Feeling safe and comfortable, she gave in and decided it wouldn’t hurt to rest for just a moment.
It seemed as though she had just shut her eyes when she was pulled into a vivid, horrible nightmare involving the Gira. Her eyes snapped open, but the terror of the dream lingered. Synne shuddered just thinking about the creatures. She detested them. Worse, she had a feeling that they were in the forest.
The problem was that the Gira looked like parts of the trees. A person could stand next to one, lean against one, and not know it unless and until the nymph made itself known.
