For all the dangers I’d faced in Alaysia and Alkarra, standing before the forest dragons daunted me more than any demigod.
With Arborra’s help, I stood in the middle of the forest, facing an emerald wall of lush vines that spiraled around trunks. Darkness stretched over the ground while a haze of light lingered above. Undergrowth cluttered the earth, thickening the forest with verdant leaves.
Unknown spaces soared overhead, while fog crawled along the floor. The muggy air left my hair limp on my shoulders. Trunks existed as thick as houses in this part of the forest—perhaps not far from the ancients.
When I touched the closest tree, a spiral of light blue glowed beneath my fingers, then faded.
I sent a thought out.
Arborra?
Other trees stirred to life, but their undercurrents hummed too low to understand. No saplings here.
The dragons await, Arborra said. We have brought you to their current nest. They are not pleased.
“Reebis asked to speak with me.”
Nevertheless.
The distinct impression that the forest dragons had arrived filled my chest, though I saw nothing. Eyes from without bored into me. The hair on the back of my neck rose like hackles. Letum Wood quieted, holding a metaphorical breath. The strange silence resounded like an empty echo.
“Reebis?”
Silence.
The macabre reality made me want to giggle. What would Sanna have to say about this twist of fate? Nothing kind, that was for certain.
The dragons had always been uneasy with my power. Whether they were jealous or wary, I couldn’t be sure. Now, after my allegiance had been given to Deasylva, I brimmed full of it. Without god magic to hold the goddess magic in reserve, it crashed around like a waterfall at times.
“I want to speak to you about fighting the gods, the demigods. I know you fought the ones that were cutting down trees—I saw you. I need to speak to you about them. More are coming, and we need your help.”
Apprehension thickened the air, made my heart bang. I didn’t fear for my life—the forest would protect me. Arborra had promised as much, and the trees always paid attention. Now that it had a funny way of whisking me around without warning, I leaned into the safety with gratitude.
A snort, and billow of heat, drew my attention to the left. A gliding shadow slipped between tree trunks in the distance. Something black stirred amongst the trees. The trunks were wide enough here to hide the bodies of the forest dragons. Though it had never been confirmed, forest dragons seemed to hold the power to blend into the trees, magically unnoticed whenever they wanted.
Considering Deasylva’s power, I had little doubt it held true.
The end of a tail flickered a brilliant crimson. A serpentine voice entered my head.
You have approached.
I leapt back with a hiss of surprise. The ground shook when a giant body landed not far away. My head jerked to the right to find a glowing pair of yellow eyes peering at me from fifty paces away, set in a black-and-crimson face.
The red.
Reebis.
Amidst the dappled shadows, vermillion streaked through her scales in simmering hues, like the hottest ring of a burning coal. The glittering colors appeared bright against the forest backdrop.
A lithe body, tucked wings, and hornless head became more apparent. She had smoother facial features—not angular, like some of the males. Her snout was more aquiline instead of blocky. The lack of horns, and the graceful neck, gave her a more feminine appearance.
She bared bright, yellow teeth.
Right, then.
Feminine and deadly.
As far as forest dragons went, Reebis wasn’t the biggest—not by a long shot. She was, however, the spiciest.
“You spoke to me.” I touched my temple with my hand. “In my mind.”
Reebis snarled and ducked back a step, as if she didn’t like the reminder. Yellow eyes reappeared, closer.
Deasylva has gifted you with the ability to speak with the dragon, Arborra said. It will, perhaps, make this easier.
“Great,” I muttered.
Can witches not understand basic communication? Reebis asked, voice brimming with disdain. She slipped noiselessly closer. Her body, elegant in its power, came into view again. Her wings were broad, almost translucent when she unfurled them, run-through with cherry streams. Her scales had a triangular shape.
“I was surprised to hear your voice in my mind, that’s all.”
I braced myself. By sheer willpower, I kept my hand off Viveet’s hilt. My fingers itched to hold it. Reebis stopped moving to leer with self righteous indignation. She stood at least thirty paces away, wrapped around a large tree as she studied me. Heat made the sticky air oppressive.
Her full-moon gaze tapered into slits.
Your allegiance has been given. I sense Deasylva in you more fully now. You are a servant of the forest goddess, like the dragons.
“Glad we’re on the same team.”
I shuffled forward another step. Reebis snorted. Her heat emanated in waves that brought a sheen of sweat to my skin.
The god magic is no longer inside you. She slithered closer, her giant talons scoring the earth as she moved. I held my ground. Sunlight brightened the air as a ray fell to the forest floor, warming the loam at my feet.
“That particular god magic is destroyed.”
Why did you have it at all?
“That’s a long story. I’m happy to tell you.”
She paused.
Sniffed.
Beyond the red, another shifting shadow. Hints of unnatural canary appeared in the trees, then removed. Glints of sapphire, silver, and magenta followed. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I gazed around. Though not all of them revealed themselves, dragons surrounded me. Their collective heat changed the air.
I leaned back, putting weight on my right foot. My legs bent slightly, funneling power into my thighs. My left elbow shifted back, opening the way for me to grab Viveet the second I needed to.
Reebis swung back to me with a hiss. Flames sprouted from her lips, flowing toward me. Heat pressed me back. Sweat popped up on my spine, trickling down, as I ducked away.
“If you don’t want to hear, that’s fine. You can just say no.”
We have no ties to witches, no obligation to protect.
“I’m aware.”
Yet, you desire our protection.
I almost said I never said that, but it wouldn’t be entirely true. Though I hadn’t said as much to Reebis, I had said it to other witches. No telling what the dragons knew.
“You don’t have to protect witches. You could protect the forest.”
She hissed again.
A long pause filled the air. Though she said nothing, I had the distinct impression that several conversations continued in the background. Steam leaked between her clenched teeth. Her tail flicked back and forth, dangerously close to my knees now. I suppressed the urge to step back.
Are you the leader of witches?
“Definitely not.”
Why is your leader not here with you today?
“Because she’s busy.”
Not a total lie, at least. The Council had told me to figure this out myself. And Scarlett would have sent me alone, no doubt, given the bustling affairs of the Network right now.
Is your leader a servant of Deasylva?
“Ah . . . I’m . . . not sure.”
Does she desire to protect the forest as well?
“Of course.”
If dragons will fight with witches, would you plan this fight with the leader of witches?
“Maybe.”
Reebis paused, then replied with deepest animosity. You believe dragons should risk their lives for a witch who has not declared herself a servant of the forest, and you have no say in her plans. Does this witch know you’re here?
I swallowed a building pressure in my throat. “Not yet.”
Reebis threw herself back with a half-scream. Choking smoke issued from between her teeth, filling the air with an acrid, charred scent.
You waste our time!
“It’s not a waste! The demigods are already in Alkarra and the gods are coming. Soon, there won’t be much of a choice. You’re going to fight for your lives—or your whelps’ lives—either with or without us. We would be stronger together.”
Her glinting, red nostrils widened, then narrowed.
Dragons would be safer on their own.
“Maybe.”
Reebis snarled. In a flash, her neck unwound and body leapt, coming within a breath of my face. Heat fractured the air as she loomed close, overwhelming me with her size, her fire, her presence.
I recoiled with a wince.
Witches have given us little reason to trust them over several millennia, and our oath to the High Priestess Esmelda was filled with our blood. We owe you nothing.
“I agree.”
Reebis slipped back. Cooler air replaced the inferno, and I breathed deep. My skin flared a bright red from her fever. She eyed me.
You agree?
“You owe witches nothing, but you owe Deasylva something.”
A deep hesitation stole over her. She turned away.
The dragons want to fight, for the presence of the gods and demigods is uncomfortable. Their magic is . . . foreign. Destructive. It does not belong. We will rid the forest of their presence on our own.
“Not on your own, Reebis. They’re too powerful. They’re trying to overtake all of Alkarra. Don’t you speak with Deasylva?”
At this, Reebis paused. That is not part of this discussion.
“Forgive me, but I think it is.”
We have our own qualms with the goddess.
“Get in line.”
Reebis tilted her head, clearly not understanding. I sighed.
“Plenty of witches feel the same way. This is about Alkarra, the forest, and our lives. No oath is required, just . . . help.”
Another dragon growled from the depths of darkness. Slivers of slate gray appeared in the inky depths of the wood, shifting. The ground trembled when something very large moved.
A burning pair of eyes, a snap of unfolding wings, preceded a slate-colored dragon as it came into view. His thick horns, boxed face, tense jaw, and massive wings created a powerful presence. I blinked, swallowed.
Reebis shuffled back a step. You speak to Elis, she muttered. He is the leader of dragons.
Another draconian voice, distinctly deeper, followed.
Forgive Reebis her passion for our protection. We desire nothing but a removal of this enemy from without. Dark are the days when others impose on our forest and, by extension, our lives. When the time comes, the dragons will fight.
I hesitated, unduly awed by the wise, yellow-moon eyes that stared hard at me. How old was this dragon? How many lives had he seen?
“Thank you. I’m not sure when that will be. Or what it will look like. I—”
The dragons will work with witches to destroy our common enemy. Nicholas will help us understand how that must happen.
* * *
Thickening clouds obscured the light.
My legs dangled over either side of the Volare as I leaned on my palms, tilted my head back, and regarded the broiling sky. The buzz of a run still thrummed through my veins. A necessary move after my dragon discussion, which ended as quickly as it began.
Raindrops gently plinked on my face. Their coolness, more persuasion than a drop, relieved the heat from my exertion. At my fingers, a Chatham Chatterer rolled itself back together. I scooped it up, tucked it into my shirt.
The headline caught my gaze again.
Rain Across Alkarra.
Massive clouds bubbled with belligerent underbellies, quiet promises of doom and despair. Thick fog lingered in parts of the forest, where humidity made the air ponderous. My clothes lay wet against my skin.
The Volare shuddered.
Slowly, we lowered back into the forest near my cottage. Streams, swollen with water from the North, bustled past. At the forest floor, I stepped off the Volare. It spun around in a tightening, speedy spiral that flung all the water free. Then it rushed into the cottage, where it settled in front of the fire. Goat and Other Goat bleated from their pen, as if they sensed something wrong.
I stayed outside, my gaze still directed at the sky.
Nothing felt right.
A fat raindrop landed on top of my head with an audible splash. Thunder followed in a low, hesitant stretch of sound, carried on a breath of wind. Memories whisked me back to Alaysia. To the beach where Tontes killed Daemon, to the Heart of Alaysia, where Ventis’ gusts never truly ceased.
The gods already attempted fire and wind in their softening advance of Alkarra. What gashes, flooding, and scars would lightning and rain create? Baxter’s warning replayed through my mind.
My father wouldn’t settle for less than cataclysmic devastation.
The saplings and trees said little regarding the rain. To them, this would be nothing more than a sleepy, quiet day with welcome moisture. Goat made a wavering cry. Other Goat replied, so I re-secured their shelter with a spell. Plenty of water in their trough, and grasses in their lean-to.
I stepped back into the cottage, then moved inside with one last glance back over my shoulder. With Alkarra weakened almost everywhere else, the true push on Deasylva had just begun.
I felt it in my uneasy bones.
* * *
That night, Merrick crouched at my hearth, where he stacked several logs into low-burning flames. An occasional snap, crackle, and pop issued from the branches, breathing a light scent of smoke into the air.
Steady rain coated the cottage, falling from a rumbling sky. Lightning flashed every now and then, and an early darkness fell on the world. Dinnertime, and already the world lay dark.
I set two empty tea cups to the table, near a sachet of tea. Goat milk, cakes made of oatmeal and crushed Leto nuts, and fresh water from the creek waited on the table.
Merrick glanced up, a musing expression on his face. “Baxter is an interesting demigod, isn’t he?”
“What do you mean?”
A collection spell removed accumulated dust from the floor, sending it out the door in a whirl. Mist scooted into the cottage, dissipating with the heat. The thrum of rain on the roof fell harder, so noisy my ears hurt. I glanced overhead.
Several thumps came from below the floor—burrowing gnomes seeking more shelter, no doubt—but they silenced before I had to stomp on the floorboards. They might be frustrating and annoying creatures, but they were excellent bounty hiders.
With comical hand gestures, a few uncertain grunts, and a lot of hope, I felt reasonably sure they knew what I wanted when I gave them the amulet to hide until my meeting with Gelas in the morning.
Instinct, more than sense, ruled here.
“It’s been interesting to help him search for Nicomedianthekus,” he continued. “He’s smart. Really good with tactical strategy. Strong, too.”
“Benefits of being a demigod.”
He scoffed.
“How goes the search?”
Merrick leaned back, arms clasped over his chest. “We’ve been to a lot of places where the amulet isn’t. Wealthy houses, a museum, a few gem mines. Baxter thinks it’s somewhere in the Southern Network. Gelas is inclined to agree. Alina has been helpful, but it’s all supposition. It’s not in Zamok Castle, for sure,” Merrick muttered. “I’ve memorized that place by now.”
Tall, turreted, and built of stone, I recalled the Southern Network Castle with a shudder. Thinking of it brought back chilly memories of cold winters, dreadful politicians, and frost. Plenty of places existed where an amulet could hide in its walls.
But for how long?
If Nicomedianthekus had been missing for two-thousand years, a large gap of time existed in that span. Zamok Castle had only been around for several hundred years, so the timeline didn’t come together.
“Gelas and Ignis have so far failed to destroy the Tontes amulet that Derek obtained from Dayla in the battle at Gimsteinar,” Merrick muttered.
“Which builds a stronger case for Nicomedianthekus being the answer to destroying amulets.”
“If we could find it.”
A grim expression crossed his face as he brooded at the flames. Another thump came below the floor. I glanced at it with an annoyed eye roll, and forced the agitation to pass. They hid the amulet, so I could tolerate their wildness.
For now.
Merrick straightened, studying the fire as if he’d lost something in it. He turned, one arm propped on the shelf above the hearth. Firelight illuminated him in the darkening night, causing an eruption of butterflies in my stomach.
“When do you take the amulet to Gelas?” he asked.
“In the morning, at Zamok Castle.”
“I’ll go with you.”
I smiled. “Then it’s a plan.”
He studied me, then strode across the room, pulled me into his chest. I went willingly, head tipped back in a smile. When all the world disintegrated around us, this made sense.
“That’s a weird way to spend time together,” he muttered, but amusement filled his gaze. I twined my arms around his neck and reveled in the feeling of his body pressed against mine.
Heat and strength.
Power and certainty.
If there had ever been a moment where I recognized what these butterflies, the security of his arms, my eagerness to be at his side meant, this was the one. Breathless, I reached up to touch his face.
“I love you, Merrick.”
The words flowed from me, like a melody that had always been mine to sing. Words that were mine to own. Not a breath of hesitation, no question, accompanied them.
He blinked, struck silent for several moments. Only the tightening of his arms around my waist told me he heard. I held back a smile, my fingers playing with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck.
Finally, he whispered, “Do you?”
“I always have. I always will. I just . . . I think I was afraid that if I said the words then . . . I don’t know. You’d leave again.” I pressed my palm to his chest. His heart beat a firm staccato underneath my touch. “When you came back that one night, I had planned to say it.”
“Then I left.”
Anxiety filled me at the thought. I soothed back the darkness that came with such memories, letting it go to fade into the night. Such grief and fear wasn’t needed here.
Not anymore.
“Then we started our own necessary paths for the next three years,” I said.
A vague almost-smile ghosted his lips, giving him a haunted appearance.
“And we’re back where we belong. I think I just needed my feelings for you to make sense in my head. Now they do.”
“What helped it come together?”
“Something Grandfather said about trusting myself, trusting others.” I drew in a deep breath. “I’m learning that, if I want to really lead a Sisterhood, I’ll have to say no to some things, and yes to all the right things. Part of saying no is trusting someone else, and knowing when to say yes is all about . . . this.”
I tapped my fingers over his heart. The dull reverberation echoed through my delicate finger bones. Merrick reached up, trapped my hand in his. He pressed a gentle kiss to my knuckles and gathered me closer—if such a feat were possible.
“I love you too, B.”
He sealed the statement in a melting kiss. I faded under his touch, energized by letting those words dance freely in the world for a long time after. They set something into the world that could never be taken back. An irrevocable altering drew us together. Neither of us would be the same after such a statement.
Not ever.
Thunder and rain continued overhead, slamming into my roof as if it wanted to tear the cottage apart.
Maybe it did.
Didn’t matter.
Merrick held me safe in his arms
* * *
While rain continued to sluice through Letum Wood, Merrick and I escaped to the Southern Network.
Warmth came late here, but swept in with ferocity. Under its beguiling power, the Southern Network gardens unfurled with majestic glory during the longest days of the year.
The sky opened in an azure hue that stretched horizon to horizon, drawing my gaze to the herbage that speckled the landscape with varying bushes, flowers, and hedges. Pomelo poppies, with centers wide as pinecones, bobbed toward the warm sun. Not a snowflake or hint of cold lingered in sight. Longer days and short nights brought new life to a cool world.
A string of flowers trailed in a breeze. I drew in a deep breath as we slipped past it, curious about its scent. Floral and light, with subtle notes of something sulfurous. Summer warmed the air, which lay dry and silky.
Sounds of the ice castle bustled overhead. A maid shook out a blanket and a rug. The edges snapped, dust billowed. A gardener coughed. The zing of a trowel hitting rock broke the air.
“Where are you meeting Gelas?” Merrick asked. The air behind me lay empty thanks to his invisibility spell.
“Not sure,” I murmured. “Gelas tends to just . . . appear. Why are you invisible?”
“Just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
“I should have been.”
Before I could make sense of that, I skidded to a stop.
Down the path, near a fluffy bush of yellow-and-light green leaves, waited Alina. She stood in the middle of a trail made out of crushed rocks. The path twirled toward Zamok Castle, which glimmered in hues of white and silver. The tall turrets and steep rooftops reminded me of the forest north of here.
“Bianca Monroe.”
“Alina.”
If she’d held magic, I would have attributed her silent presence to a spell. She had none, however. Only her prowess and training as a Shieldmaiden brought her here in such strange quietude. She wore a simple maroon dress, with elbow-length sleeves and a slight train in the back. Her straight black hair feathered around her shoulders.
“I’m glad you came.” She turned. “I’ve been waiting for you. Gelas is this way. Follow me.”
* * *
“Things have been better in the South than the rest of Alkarra,” Alina said as we strode together. “Believe it or not.”
“Why?”
“Gelas’s direct protection, I think.” She shrugged delicately. “Not that I wish ill on any Network, of course. For once, however, I’m grateful that we have a chance to . . . catch our breath. We’ll take any advantage and protection we can.”
The thought had occurred to me before, but it didn’t quite fit. Would Ventis and Tontes ignore a part of Alkarra because they feared Gelas? No. There had to be another reason. Though silent, I could still sense Merrick behind me.
“Whatever is keeping you from disasters,” I said in an attempt to be gracious, “I hope it continues.”
Alina stared ahead as we meandered slowly down the path, toward the castle. Her neck was rigid as stone. Lacking natural disasters or not, her stress over her Network must be prodigious, no matter how firm an act she put forward.
“How are things, Alina?”
Her gaze cut to me, then back in front of her. “Busy. We’re attempting to prepare for a demigod—or god—attack, but it’s difficult as magicless witches.”
The words magicless witches rolled off her tongue, as if she didn’t mind saying them. Alina’s transition out of magic had been a difficult one. Something in the way she held her shoulders made me believe she’d accepted it. Come to terms with it, perhaps. A story lurked beneath her calm patience, instead of the fiery frustration I’d perceived from her before.
“Tipa lives in Zamok Castle,” she continued, “and that has been a great help.”
“Really?”
Thoughts of Gelas’ daughter, Tipa, caused me a moment of concern. Why would a demigod want to live in Zamok Castle? Had Alina invited her?
Alina eyed me askance, as if she sensed my building questions. “Yes,” she said crisply. “I rather like her. I find her trustworthy. She communicates with her father on my behalf, and Gelas has . . . helped us with the things we need. Better supplies for our Guardians, food in the tribes, that sort of thing.”
“I’m glad it’s been useful. She’s . . . interesting.”
“She’s fierce and independent, something you normally appreciate.”
“I love a confident woman. Tipa and I just . . . didn’t have a great start to our . . . acquaintance.”
Alina thought that over with a pause, then continued.
“I’ll be announcing a High Priest soon. His name is Lev, and he’s served on the Council for decades.”
“Congratulations. A High Priest should lessen your load, I hope?”
Alina barked a laugh, oddly feminine despite the harsher sound. “One would hope.”
“Will you be the Highest Witch still?”
“Of course,” she drawled in amusement. “You think I’d hand over my position of power?”
“I sincerely hope not.”
“My Council and I have pulled together a sort of . . . charter . . . that dictates a new version of Southern law that allows the power of a woman to hold precedence. Change isn’t powerful unless it’s available to more than ourselves. Future generations will need the initial work.”
“No one better to do it than you.”
“Lev is a good witch, with a strong reputation amongst the tribes. He’s older than me by a great amount and has more political experience. He’ll strengthen my weak points.”
“An ideal co-leader.”
Alina chuckled low again. “We’ll see. This way. Tipa says that Gelas waits in the gardens for you.”
We turned, cutting across a patch of ankle-high grass. A maze-like structure of hedges lay in front of us, the same height as me. Flowers broad as my palm dotted the front with long, thin petals rolling open. Some remained closed in curlicues.
“Did Gelas ask you to bring me to him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you deal with Gelas much?”
“Weekly, at least. Daily through Tipa. Mostly as he searches for the amulet, but we have had . . . other discussions.”
I froze.
What in the name of the good gods did other discussions mean?
Alina stopped, peering back at me in silent question.
“Really?” I asked.
She turned to me, an arch brow raised. Her expression remained inexplicably neutral. Not a single nuance could be perceived in such a face. She kept going. I scrambled to catch up.
“The god of ice,” she said quietly, her voice low, “has vested interest in this land. He’s expressed as much to me. I would be a fool not to take advantage of strategic alliances.”
“He has physically revealed himself to you?”
“Yes, once or twice.”
“Spoken?”
“Extensively.”
“Interesting,” I said, for lack of anything else to say. Gelas could still have ulterior motives, though I couldn’t imagine any right then.
Alina lifted her chin as she said, “We’re waiting to announce Lev as the High Priest until things are . . . more stable.”
“Oh?”
“Safe, I should say.”
The darkening of her tone set my instincts on edge. “You’re not safe?”
“I’m quite safe now. When I announce it? Well, I’m not sure. Men of the Southern Network don’t like change. Most of them like Lev, though, and I trust him. He’s seen many trials and has slipped into his magicless state with far more grace than myself. He will rule with me in fairness. Whether that transition will go smoothly or not remains to be seen.”
“If you need help—”
“You will know.”
A rustle in the bushes came ahead of us. I tensed, clasped Viveet in my hand. A lithe figure stepped out. Familiar, slanted eyes regarded me, then Alina. Thin shoulders, slight frame, but a handsome expression. I relaxed.
Andrei, the Swordmaker.
Magic prickled against my palm where I held Viveet. A warming. A shot of . . . sentience, almost. It disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving me to wonder whether I imagined it or if Andrei’s presence sparked such a reaction.
Viveet had always responded to my touch, but never with anything that could be construed as more than magic. Much of the Ensis magic didn’t make sense—like many magical systems at work in Alkarra. Of highest question regarding the magic was how much Viveet seemed to know, care, or love.
Her response to Andrei indicated a depth I hadn’t expected.
Alina called softly in Yazika, the language of the Southern Network. Andrei nodded. I didn’t understand the words, but they calmed the startled expression on his face. His heightened shock dropped into something warmer, yet guarded.
Alina continued her path without breaking stride. Clearly, she’d expected such a confrontation to happen. Each step closed the space between us and Andrei. He shuffled back to make space for us on the graveled trail. Somewhere behind us, Merrick continued to follow.
“Andrei has come to see me,” Alina said. “We meet out here every day. I didn’t warn you because he sometimes can’t show up. Since you met him after he restored your sword, I figured it was safe for you to see him here.” She cut a sharp warning gaze to me. “I trust your discretion. Others need not know of our . . . relationship.”
“You have my silence.”
“It seems,” she said quietly, eyeing me, “that I trust you more than caution might dictate.”
At that, Alina stopped walking. Andrei stood close enough to touch, but they didn’t move toward each other. A connection between them had been apparent when, months ago, I took the remnants of Viveet to Alina and she promised to turn them to Andrei. Until his moment, I hadn’t contemplated what their relationship might mean. Friendship had been implied.
Yet something in the way she watched him told me they were much more than that.
Andrei studied Viveet at my side with a little smile. His kind eyes lifted to mine. He nodded once with pleasure. “A good sword.”
I smiled.
Alina motioned toward an outer ring of gardens, where a lone figure stood at the edge overlooking the tundra. Immediately, I recognized the cut of Gelas’ shoulders, his dark hair streaked with white.
“Gelas is waiting. This is where we part.”
“It was good to see you, Alina. Let me know if you need help.”
With a nod, she veered to the right. Andrei followed, a metallic scent drifting off him. I steeled myself and turned to the left, toward Gelas. He didn’t move as I approached, intentionally noisy. I stopped to his right, a few paces away.
This wide area had no hedge, bench, or decoration. The grass faded into dry tundra, giving way to open spaces and distant sky. White peaks lingered in the far, far west, mere bumps against the horizon. Woods swooped here and there, sometimes thick, sometimes sparse. A rabbit popped out of a burrow in the ground, then disappeared again.
I reached into my pocket, pulled out Dappledonamikota.
He held out a hand.
“Thank you.”
“It’s not a Tontes amulet.”
“Nevertheless, it will help.”
Relieved to have it out of my responsibility, I only nodded. His long fingers curled around it, then clasped it in his palm.
It disappeared.
“Ignis didn’t want to come?”
“This is my land,” Gelas drawled. “I didn’t invite him.”
“Is it your land?”
After a pause, he said, “Soon enough. To your question, Ignis insinuated that it would be better if you and he didn’t see each other again.”
“Probably true.”
Gelas turned to face me. Given the chance, I’d almost say he appeared . . . tired. Could a god lose energy? His zest? Gelas certainly appeared as if he had. Lines filled his face. His lips were thinned, pulled down at the edges. The tension in his body sent a prickle of concern through me.
“Are you ready?” he asked before I could speak. “The final advance has come. Ventis and Tontes won’t relent.”
“No, of course I’m not ready.”
He chuckled darkly. “You’re honest, at least.”
“Are you ready?”
“No.”
“Then we’re well matched.”
Gelas darkened considerably. At that moment, I longed for my friend, Gio, to return. The man with openness and bright smiles. The easygoing laugh. This version sent waves of uncertainty through me. Whatever we faced wouldn’t be good.
“I hear that refugees from the East are taking shelter in the forest,” he asked. “Is that true?”
“Yes.”
The skin between his eyebrows came together. “Send them here, if you need to.”
“Why would I need to?”
“Because the forest is about to have something else to focus on besides keeping witches safe. Prepare yourself, Lady-witch of Letum Wood. The gods are here. You have no less than eight amulets, nine if you’re wise, to steal before we have a hope of saving Deasylva and all of Alkarra. The goal is to cripple Tontes, not just remove his power. Opportunities to find more amulets are about to be plentiful.”