I took a risk and answered honestly. “If I arrive late, I may be dead regardless.”
“Well, then.” Kathe rolled his shoulders, ruffling the feathers on his cloak. “I’ll simply have to escort you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Please tell me you don’t trust him,” Zaira whispered to me. “Even your grandma said not to.”
Kathe walked ahead of us, whistling. A light flurry of snow had begun to fall again, sifting down through the trees, and a scattering of snowflakes glittered on his feathered cloak in the moonlight. We had crossed into Kazerath, but the road was peaceful in Kathe’s presence; the trees stood still and quiet, as trees should, and only the occasional calls of owls and night animals came from among them.
“No,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself to keep out the cold. I’d found my last elixir bottle frozen, and had to tuck it into my shirt to warm it before I could drink my evening dose; only one swallow now remained. “But I don’t think he wants to kill us, at least.”
Zaira grunted. “Well, that’s something.”
Kathe glanced back over his shoulder. “Did you know that a Witch Lord’s senses are unnaturally acute?”
A flush warmed my cheeks. “I did not.”
Zaira laughed. “You should stay away from the Tallows, then. Parts of it reek like a beggar’s armpit.”
“I will admit some of us avoid cities due to their, ah, assortment of unique fragrances.” He grinned. “Me, I find it highly useful for listening in on secret conversations. But come walk with me, Amalia. We’re courting; we don’t need to keep secrets from each other.”
He slowed his pace to fall back by my side. I raised an eyebrow. “We don’t?”
“I did say ‘need.’” His eyes gleamed in the dimming light. “That doesn’t mean we can’t keep secrets for the fun of it.”
“Secrets like your intent to use my blood connection to the Lady of Eagles?”
He clicked his tongue. “I don’t know that I intend to use it for anything in particular. But it’s certainly something that makes you interesting. Tell me, do you know why we Witch Lords accord the Lady of Eagles such respect?”
“Because you’d be mad not to?” Zaira suggested. “Even I wouldn’t spit in her tea.”
“We show great respect to all three of the eldest Witch Lords. But there’s more to it than that.” A certain edge entered his voice, and he kicked at a pebble in the road. “She’s managed something no one else has been able to do, even among the sixteen of us that call her a peer.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“You’ve seen that we use rivers and streams to spread our blood claim throughout our domains,” he said. “Water flows one direction, but magic doesn’t necessarily follow the same rules. Her power, understanding, or control is good enough to make it flow upstream. It’s a trick I’ve never managed; I’m not sure anyone else has.”
“So she can exert her power in any domain her blooded rivers touch?” I considered the map I’d seen of Vaskandar, trying to remember the borders of Atruin. The image came clear in my mind, and I suddenly understood. “Grace of Majesty. Eyrie Lake.”
“Yes.” He sighed, a sound full of resigned exasperation. “You see how it is.”
“What?” Zaira demanded. “You’re both pox-rotted impossible, do you know that? What’s your fuss about this lake?”
“It lies at the heart of Vaskandar,” I told her. “Within the Lady of Eagles’ domain. Half the waters in Vaskandar must drain down into it, one way or another. So if she can reach her power upstream …”
“She has her fingers in nearly every domain in Vaskandar,” the Crow Lord concluded. “It’s not the same as if it were her own domain, of course, but her influence is there, webbed through half a continent. That’s why no one dares stand against her.”
And why Kathe and Ruven seemed so interested in me, no doubt, if her blood in my veins might give them a way to touch that web.
Zaira glared around at the darkening forest, as if imagining it on fire. “And to think I used to tease Halmur that all he could do was make flowers bloom or be friends with the seagulls. I can’t believe you want to go to a party with seventeen of these demons.”
“Ah, yes, the Conclave.” Kathe raised his brows. “Do you still want to go?”
“Yes.” The word surprised me, bursting out with more confidence and less reservation than I expected given the events of the past two days.
“There will be, as the Lady Zaira says, seventeen of us demons there.” He punctuated this with a modest bow. “The rules of the Conclave would protect you, as an invited guest—but then, our rules also protect travelers on the roads. With mixed results, as you have seen.”
“Are you advising me not to go?” I asked.
“Oh, no.” He stopped, turning to face me with a swirl of his cloak, all the mischief of a Hell full of demons dancing in his eyes. “The Conclave will be far more interesting if you attend. And Lady Zaira, too, of course, since I understand you cannot be separated. So much the better! I’ll lay bets with the Fox Lord about whether you make it through the Conclave without setting anyone on fire.”
Zaira smirked. “There’s no way to lose a bet like that.”
“Precisely.” Kathe extended a hand to me, the gesture gracious and diffident, but a challenge in his gaze. “So, my lady, will you join me at the Conclave?”
I glanced at Zaira. “It’s your decision as much as mine.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m going back to that cursed castle one way or another. I still have to get Terika out.”
“Then I would be delighted to accept your invitation.” I put my hand in Kathe’s, pulse quickening at my own audacity. Graces only knew what my mother would think of this.
His wiry fingers closed over mine. Power hummed under his skin. “I look forward to it with glee, my lady.”
We linked arms and resumed walking. Kathe’s warmth against my side was incredibly distracting. I couldn’t help the thrill that raced through me at his closeness, and the smooth, hard muscle of his arm in mine. And demons take it, why shouldn’t I enjoy this? It did Marcello no favors if I resolved to be miserable throughout our entire courtship. This was only a game to Kathe, after all, and games were supposed to be fun.
So I returned his smile and let the stiffness go from my back and shoulders as we walked.
The few flakes in the air thickened to a flurry, laying a deep hush on the forest and kissing my skin with tiny drops of ice water. I was too tired to keep myself from shivering.
Kathe tilted his head to regard me from the corner of one eye. “Do you need to stop for the night?”
“I can’t afford to,” I said grimly.
A howl rose up from the woods, piercing through the distance and the muffling trees. I sucked a breath between my teeth.
“Here it comes,” Zaira muttered.
“No,” Kathe said. “Wolves know better than to start a fight they can’t win, and Ruven won’t have a deep enough claim to force them yet. Chimeras are another matter.”
Another howl rose from a different direction, somewhat closer. It was a wild, haunting sound, from a world older and truer than the fragile folly of cities. I could barely make out the road in front of us, a paler path through the many layers of darkness and the soft shroud of falling snow; it was easier to follow the bright gap of sky above, forming a clouded river between the treetops.
Grace of Mercy, it was cold. My shivers spread until my whole body shuddered with them. Kathe blinked down at me in alarm.
“Are you well? Ah, wait, you’re cold.” He nodded, as if human feelings like being cold and tired were something he’d known once but forgotten until now. “I believe it’s customary for me to offer you my cloak at this point.”
“Zaira must be just as cold as I am.” She walked an arm’s length away, giving me more room than usual; it occurred to me with something between panic and excitement that she might be attempting to afford me some degree of privacy with Kathe
. I realized I’d instinctively pressed closer to his side for the heat he gave off.
“Oh, take the cloak,” Zaira said. “I don’t really feel it. I’ve got my fire to keep me warm.”
“All right, then. Thank you.”
I braced myself; Kathe settled his cloak around my shoulders, still warm from his body. Its feathers tickled my neck. No matter how the rest of me was doing, my face was certainly hot now.
“There.” Kathe sounded pleased. “I think I’m getting better at this courting business.”
The strangled sound of Zaira struggling to suppress laughter didn’t help my floundering search for a reply.
“You said we could negotiate as we walked,” I managed at last. “I do appreciate you seeing us safely back to Highpass. I think we’ve burned rather enough of Vaskandar for one week, given the war hasn’t even started.”
“Ah, yes. I’m doing you a favor.” His voice took on a slight edge. “So of course I must want something.”
“If you don’t, that’s quite all right,” I assured him.
“Oh, I do, Lady Amalia. We all want things from each other.” He turned his gaze up at the gap in the trees, so the moonlight dripped silver on the lines of his face. “Child to parent, lover to lover, ruled to ruler … It doesn’t matter. Always, the people around us want something from us.”
“What is it you want?”
He was silent awhile. Another howl rose up from the woods, like the voice of night itself, but he didn’t seem to notice. Finally, he said softly, “There was a man, once, who didn’t seem to want anything from me.”
His voice had changed. It was tentative, faraway, like the fragile feeling of old papers crumbling under your fingers when you lift them from an undiscovered box in the attic. I didn’t dare speak.
“He was one of my Heartguard. They are all close companions, and I like to find ways to reward them. Presents, kindnesses, glory, whatever it is each of them most seems to want.” Kathe shook his head. “But Jathan devoted himself wholly to my service. All he seemed to want was the next task. He was young and eager, an arrow drawn and quivering to fly.” He fell silent.
“Did you ever find out a way to reward him?” I asked.
Kathe shook his head. “I heaped all manner of gifts and praise on him, until I risked making the rest of the Heartguard jealous. He received everything graciously, but none of it was what he truly wished most. I could tell.” He sighed. “Finally, I thought perhaps he sought greater responsibility and trust, since he threw himself into his work so much. So I sent him to Sevaeth on a delicate diplomatic mission, to work out a minor disagreement I had with the Lady of Thorns.”
“What happened?” I asked, because his pause demanded it. But I knew full well the answer couldn’t be anything good.
“She took insult that the emissary I sent was not a mage. She thought one of my Heartguard was too far beneath her.” Kathe’s voice went hard as a sword blade. “She killed him. She murdered my friend like she was tearing up a letter.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, sickened.
“The Lady of Thorns is too powerful for me to attack directly. But I do not forget.” His mage mark shone in the darkness for a brief instant, like a night predator’s eyes. “For two years, I’ve sought a way to destroy her. And somewhere along the way, I think I’ve realized what Jathan wanted all that time.” He let out a long breath. “To make me happy. That’s all.”
To my own surprise, my eyes stung. I pulled Kathe’s cloak closer around me. After a moment, I swallowed and managed to ask, “Did he?”
“Did he what?”
“Make you happy.”
Kathe cocked his head, considering. After a moment, he laughed. It was a strained sound, but a true one. “Yes. Yes, he did.”
We walked in silence a little longer, the night shadows of the forest shifting around us. The flurry tapered off, and stars like chips of ice began to show through the shredding clouds. Patches of fallen snow that had made it through the heavy pine boughs gleamed through the tree trunks like pieces of sky fallen to earth.
Finally, Kathe said, as if we’d never stopped talking, “So maybe it’s all right if we take time to figure out what we want from each other. Maybe that’s the fun of the game.” His voice was light and full of mischief again, with no trace of hurt remaining.
“You’re right,” I said. “There’s no need to rush.”
Thank the Graces he didn’t ask for anything. In that moment, I would have given him far too much.
I’d stayed up all night before—at parties, working on projects for my university classes, and reading particularly good books. But this walk felt a thousand times longer than any of those endless evenings.
After the past two harrowing days, I’d come out the other side of exhausted to a place where I could keep going forever, weightless as a worn ghost of myself. But I ached in a dozen places, and I had never felt so stretched and strained, as if whatever fabric held me together had thinned to the barest gossamer web.
Growls and awful cries rose from the forest, and every village we passed through had all its doors locked and shutters closed.
“They’re afraid,” Kathe murmured, frowning at an inn with its sign taken down and its windows covered, meager light leaking around the shutters. “They can feel the change happening. Ruven’s magic threading through the earth, working its way into their flesh and their minds through the bridge of his father’s blood.”
My insides went cold at the thought. Zaira made a revolted noise.
“I’d run for the border, if I knew that snake was getting his fangs into me,” she said.
“They can’t.” Kathe shook his head. “They’re his. Even if they left, they’d still be his. It’s not something they can run from.”
“As your people are yours?” I asked, lifting a brow.
“Yes.” He sighed. “Some of us take it as a responsibility, and do our best to care for our people. Like the Lady of Eagles—you saw her domain. I’ve told my people they can leave if they wish, and I like to think they stay because I’ve made my domain a good place to live. But they’re magically tied to the land, and to me. I don’t honestly know whether they are capable of choosing to leave.”
“Like the brats who grew up in the Mews.” Zaira glared at the handful of darkened buildings huddled by the road. The circle of the forest gathered close around them; there was barely room for a few paltry fields lying bright with snow beneath the moon before the pines loomed overhead again. “They don’t even realize they’re prisoners.”
Kathe shrugged. “Everyone is a prisoner, Lady Zaira. But I try to leave the cage door open.”
We walked in tired silence for a while, through the black forest. As hints of sunlight grew at last from bare traces of gray, I could pick more and more details out of the darkness. I watched Zaira from the corner of my eye, mulling over what she and Kathe had said.
Finally, I dropped back to walk by her side. “You don’t have to go back to the Empire, you know,” I said quietly.
She grunted. “I need reinforcements to get Terika out of that damned castle.”
“I mean after that.” I shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m sure the Lady of Eagles isn’t the only one who’d be glad to welcome you. You’d be nobility here.”
“I won’t lie, I’m thinking about it.” Zaira glared around at the rough-barked pines. “Do they have any cities in this backwater country?”
I tried not to show how my heart sank. “Ah … not like in the Serene Empire, no. The Witch Lords’ power comes from the wilderness, and they don’t tend to allow cities to spring up. Towns, perhaps.”
“Huh. That’s the rub.” She shook her head. “Can you picture me living in this cursed forest? Or even on some happy little farm, kept like sheep?”
“I admit it doesn’t seem like your natural environment.”
“I’d fit in like a demon in the gardens of the Graces. I’m a city girl. What I want is to be able to live in Raverra, however I lik
e, without being stuck in the Mews or chained to some prissy rich brat.” She paused. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“Or maybe Ardence. Ardence was nice.” She sighed. “But my own castle, where I’m the one making the rules … Well, it’s tempting.”
“The people here certainly treat you with reverence,” I forced myself to admit. The idea of losing Zaira to Vaskandar twisted a knot of pain under my breastbone, but I’d interfered more than enough in her life already.
But Zaira shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. “They’re just afraid of me, like everyone else.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I gave her shoulder an awkward pat, trying to convey my sympathy through the quick touch. “Well, even if you’re terrifying, you’re still a good friend.”
Zaira laughed. “Thanks. And you’re all right, even if you’re annoying.”
She caught my hand in a quick squeeze that warmed my frozen fingers in an instant.
“Anyway, we’ve got to get out of here before I make any moving plans.” Zaira blew a great, steaming cloud of breath. “That’s step one. Step two is saving Terika. Step three is my favorite: punch Ruven in the face so hard he’s peeling pieces of skull off his castle wall.”
“Those are good goals,” I said.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The fortress of Highpass watched over a dirt track that made its way through mountain meadows and a tough scrabble of low pine forest across a broad shoulder of mountainside. It was a difficult and minor pass, too rough for horses, but it was still good enough for fit soldiers to manage on foot; and so the stone fort brooded over the road with a full complement of cannons, its walls marked with artifice wards, enjoying a clear vantage over the long path up the mountain from Vaskandar.
When it came into view at last, rearing blocky and gray over a sweep of snow-blanketed meadow as the sun peeked over the shoulder of the mountain beyond it, my eyes stung with more than the mountain wind. Finally, we were back safe in the Empire. Nothing was trying to kill us; warm beds and warm food waited for us inside. It seemed impossible, like walking into a memory of a place that no longer existed.
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