What’s happening to me?” Lady Ragna stared down at her palms as if the lines across the surface would answer her question. Her hands looked as they always did. But inside, where her eyes could not see, she could feel it. A change. It was subtle, but it was there, a small trickle. Slowly, her gift was fading.
She clamped her hands shut and looked up at the portrait of Rabanna Ravenwood that hung above her fireplace. Bloodlines could weaken. It had happened before. Rumors were, House Merek was not the power it used to be, due to the dilution of their blood.
But how could that be true in her case? The Ravenwood women had carefully protected their line for hundreds of years. Never had there been a change in power from one woman to the next, except when the matriarch died and the next Ravenwood woman took her place as the grand lady.
“Maybe I’m imagining it,” she whispered to the darkening room. Night was quickly coming, and the only light came from the burning embers in the fireplace. A servant would be by soon to tend the fire for the night. “Then again . . .”
She stood and brushed her gown aside and turned toward the door. She would consult the dark priest. Perhaps the Dark Lady knew what was happening to her—if something was happening.
Lady Ragna swept down the corridors of Rook Castle, ignoring the looks from guards and servants. Snow fell outside the windows, and a chill began to take hold of the castle as winter settled in across the Magyr Mountains. As she walked along the halls, she turned her focus on her plans for the weeks ahead. It was time for Amara to take her final test with her dreamwalking gift. The girl was ordinary and mediocre when it came to her gift, but she would suffice for the upcoming missions. She wasn’t the first Ravenwood woman to simply carry the gift and nothing more. Unlike Selene . . .
Selene.
Her lips turned upward in a snarl. So much power. So much potential. And that traitor threw it all away.
She took in a long draught of air and let it out slowly. Nothing could be done about it now. She would finish training Amara and ensure that this time the job was finished and death was dealt. Not like that mistake with that servant girl, whatever her name was.
Then there was the empire.
A raven arrived yesterday with a coded message that Commander Orion was preparing his troops for when spring came, and the few men and women who were on this side of the wall were already arranging for his arrival. All she needed to do was keep the Great Houses in disarray and make sure they didn’t band together.
That’s where Amara would come in handy.
She reached the outer doors to the sanctuary and walked inside. The air was even chillier in here, like the ice caves to the south, where even on a hot summer’s day ice still formed along the ground and walls. She half expected to see ice adorning the obsidian pillars, but they were as black as ever without a glint of moisture. Twilight trickled in from the high windows above, pooling on the stone floor below. The platform ahead was empty. But not for long. She knew the priest came here every evening to light the candles for the Dark Lady. He would be here soon.
Sure enough, as she approached the platform, the small door to the right opened, and a lanky robed figure exited. He held a thin stick in one hand with a tiny flame at the top. He never glanced her way. Instead, he crossed to the retable, stopped, and began to light the candles.
Lady Ragna pulled her skirts back and went down on her knees before the platform, her head bowed in submission.
“Lady Ragna,” the dark priest said after a moment. “What brings you to the sanctuary?”
“A question,” she said, eyes on the stone floor. “And wisdom from the Dark Lady.”
The priest did not answer.
Lady Ragna looked up. The priest continued to light the candles along the retable. Silence stretched across the sanctuary. Only once all the candles were lit did the dark priest finally turn around. His hair was hidden beneath the cowl of his robe, and his face appeared gaunt within the shadow of the hood. “What is your question?” he asked as he brought his hands together within the folds of his robe.
“Is there a change going on within me?”
He stared at her with pale blue eyes—so pale he almost appeared as a blind man. Then his eyes shifted above her, trance-like. Was he speaking to the Dark Lady? Lady Ragna wanted to turn around and see her patroness for herself, if the Dark Lady was indeed behind her, but reverence cautioned her to remain where she was. The Dark Lady was powerful, and Lady Ragna wanted that power on her side.
The priest’s eyes came back into view. He looked down at her, his hands still clasped in front of him. “The downfall of your house has begun. Your eldest daughter now surpasses you in power.”
Lady Ragna kept her head level with the platform as she glanced up at the priest. “What do you mean?”
“There has been a shift in authority. The headship of House Ravenwood has changed. It no longer belongs to you.”
Lady Ragna felt like her breath had been knocked from her chest. She reached up and clutched the front of her dress, her mouth gaping like a fish left on the dock, gasping for air. “Wh-what do you mean? Headship can only change when the previous grand lady passes away.”
The priest looked down from his place on the platform. “Or when someone with great power—greater power than yours—comes into her gift. That has always been the way with the Great Houses.”
Selene . . . was more powerful than she? Of course Selene was powerful; Lady Ragna had known that since the moment she laid eyes on the mark on her infant daughter’s back. But powerful enough to interrupt the natural flow of power within a house?
What did this mean for her? For House Ravenwood? For her alliance with the Dominia Empire? “Does Selene know?”
“No. Your daughter is ignorant of the change. At this moment, the Dark Lady is in pursuit of your daughter. Perhaps not all is lost.”
The Dark Lady was pursuing her daughter? The thought sent a chill down her spine. Deep inside, even she feared the patroness of her house, despite the power the dark one provided for Ravenwood. But if the Dark Lady could bring Selene—and her powerful gift—back to their cause, then it was worth it. But . . .
“What if my daughter chooses another way?”
“Then your house will fall.”
The fire that had been ebbing away within her chest came roaring back to life. Lady Ragna slowly stood, drawing on the power and strength not only of her own will, but that of every Lady Ravenwood who had served before her, all the way back to Rabanna. “That is not an option.”
The priest bowed in acquiescence, a slight smile to his thin lips. “It is the strength of the Ravenwoods—your desire to survive, no matter the cost—that drew the Dark Lady to your ancestor hundreds of years ago. Hopefully your strength will prove greater than that of your daughter.”
Lady Ragna gazed back at the priest. “It will. Because if Selene doesn’t turn back”—she clenched her jaw—“then I will take care of her myself.”