Chapter Forty

The Lady of Eagles’ voice went soft as wings bent to stoop for the kill. “You trespassed on my mountain, Skin Lord.”

“I am sorry, my lady.” Ruven bowed his head. “I acknowledge your grievance. I will make amends.”

“You will.” She held out her hand. Red stones rained from it, striking at his feet with a great cacophonous clatter. “In recompense for your insolent trespass, I claim my price from your domain itself. Kazerath will cede to Atruin its half of Mount Whitecrown, so the mountain in its entirety is mine and mine alone. I will blood this claim tomorrow under the morning sun, and you will give up all right to it.”

A hissing murmur ran through the room. For a Witch Lord, this must be the steepest price one could exact for a grievance—their domain was their power, their life. And it wasn’t a small area; Mount Whitecrown’s ridges and shoulders spread for miles.

Ruven’s jaw worked and clenched. But then he forced his teeth into a smile. “As you will it, Lady of Eagles. Your grievance is true. I do not contest this claim. Tomorrow morning, Mount Whitecrown is yours.”

A chill pierced deep into my chest at those words. He’d given up too easily. He must think that by tomorrow, he wouldn’t need it.

The Lady of Eagles turned to face the rest of the Witch Lords, apparently satisfied. “I take no stance in this war,” she declared. “My candle remains dark. But I suggest you listen to my descendant, and think carefully before binding your fates too closely to this transgressor.”

Unexpected pride leaped in my chest at the words my descendant. She paced back to the edge of the room. Murmurs rose in her wake.

One by one, Witch Lords came forth and snuffed the candles that stood on the pedestal of war. Soon, only four remained: those of the Lady of Bears, the Serpent Lord, the Lady of Thorns, and Ruven himself. The ones whose intent to invade had never been in doubt.

A giddy euphoria swelled in my belly. The Conclave had gained Ruven no allies whatsoever and had likely made him some enemies. I would have to thank Zaira for convincing Emmand and make certain the boy was all right; it was Ruven’s treatment of him that had turned the tide.

Kathe seemed to read my mind. “That boy will need protection,” he murmured. “I think I’ll offer to take him in.”

“Oh, good.” I let out a relieved sigh. “I don’t want to leave him to Ruven’s mercy.”

“Speaking of Ruven, I think you’ve finished him, politically.” Kathe rubbed his hands gleefully. “The bear and the serpent may use him as a distraction while they wage their own war on the Empire, but afterward they’ll drop him like a dirty boot. With both the Elk Lord and the Lady of Eagles taking a stance against him, he might as well be carrying plague.”

The Yew Lord raised a hand, and the clamor of conversation fell silent. “Does anyone else have words to speak before I call an end to the Kindling?”

Ruven took a step forward. “Only that I will remember who stayed with me,” he said. “And as to those of you who deserted me—it hardly matters.” Satisfaction narrowed his eyes. “I never needed you.”

Apprehension twisted my gut. “He’s talking about the volcano,” I whispered.

Kathe frowned. “I think you’re right. Can you stop him from triggering the eruption?”

“Only if I get to the master circle before he does.”

“Go, then.” He angled to block me from Ruven’s view, his movements casual. “The Yew Lord will call an end to the Kindling soon. You need to hurry if you want a chance to beat him there.”

I squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Kathe.”

He flashed a grin at me. “Save your thanks for when I’ve done you a favor. This is all for my personal amusement.”

Feeling bold, I blew him a kiss before I turned to slip out of the hall. He laughed and pretended to catch it.

Before I left the throne hall, I cast one last glance over my shoulder, but Kathe wasn’t there anymore. I scanned the gathering; most of them were focused on the Serpent Lord, who was giving some final speech. Kathe, however, was talking to someone, and pointing in my direction.

He was speaking to the Lady of Thorns.

She looked straight at me and smiled.

I raced across the darkened garden, my heart aching with each rapid pulse. The full moon washed the grass in silver but made the tree line into a flat black mass of jagged shadow. The air felt cold and alive on my skin.

Surely Kathe couldn’t have just betrayed me to the Lady of Thorns. He hated her. Never mind that I only had his word for that. But this was one of his games, for certain—and he might not hesitate to sacrifice a piece to win.

It didn’t matter. Just like it didn’t matter that it was madness to be out here, ready to plunge into Ruven’s own forest alone at night. If I didn’t destroy that control circle before Ruven activated it, Mount Whitecrown would erupt, and even a small eruption could wipe out our border defenses in a critical pass, kill thousands of people, and cover vast swaths of the Empire with ash carrying Ruven’s claim of dominion. There was no time to wait for Zaira to return. The Kindling could be over in minutes, and I had no doubt he intended to trigger the eruption tonight.

Still, I paused before the forest’s edge. The trees towered above me, blotting out the paler sky and its scattered stars. The remaining snow had melted during the day, and the path seemed to disappear immediately into absolute darkness.

If Ruven realized what I was doing, those trees could wake into violent motion and kill me with the casual ease of a courtier spearing a cream puff with a dessert fork.

There was no sense in agonizing about it. I was the only one here, and this had to be done. I took a breath and plunged into the forest as if it were a deep, black pool.

Layers of darkness and light shifted around me. Moonlight streamed down through gaps in the branches, bright enough to read by, but it only made the shadows gathered beneath the trees darker. I stumbled on a tree root, barely catching myself on the smooth bole of a young sapling.

“Last time, I asked what you were doing in the forest,” came the rich, lovely voice of the Lady of Thorns. “This time, I frankly don’t care. All that matters is that you’re alone.”

Hell of Disaster. I spun, pulling off one of my rings. The band of skin-warmed metal dug into my palm. “Isn’t your presence required at the Kindling?”

“This is more important.” She stepped closer, the dappled light falling over her as she moved between shadows. “My daughter cannot claim Callamorne while you live. For her to survive, little Lochaver, you must die.”

She brushed a hand along the trunk of a towering pine that loomed over us both. There came a great crack, and I barely jumped out of the way before a branch crashed to the ground where I’d just been standing.

I threw my ring at her. Despite my sloppy, panicked throw, it left my hand with astounding speed and force, as if I’d fired it from a musket. It traced a hot, glowing path through the air, missing the Lady of Thorns by mere inches. She jerked back in alarm from the ember-edged hole it punched in the tree beside her.

“So the little mouse bites,” she purred. “Very well; I am warned.”

She seized a bramble bush by the path’s edge. Dozens of thorny tendrils stretched toward me, lashing and coiling. With a yelp of alarm, I yanked off another ring and tossed it at the writhing mass that reached for me.

The ring bounced off one of the whipping vines. Frost crystals puffed from it, like the flurry of a snowball’s impact; a blue glow flared in its runes, then fizzled out. Like a pistol with damp powder.

I scrambled away from the grabbing thorns, then closed my eyes and opened my flare locket. My eyelids reddened from the blinding flash, and the Lady of Thorns cried out in anger. I turned and ran, shadows sliding over me. But I didn’t make it far before I tripped on a root and fell sprawling on the path, my hands skidding on the pine needles under me.

I staggered to my feet, shins smarting, heart bursting with fear, and tried to keep running. But my ankle was still stuck in the root.

I twisted around to see the problem, and more roots buckled and burst up from the path all around me. I shrieked and reached for another ring, but a root caught my arm, yanking it away. More coiled around me, painfully tight, until I could hardly move at all.

The Lady of Thorns stood down the path, rubbing her eyes fiercely with one hand. Her other hand rested on the trunk of a great, ancient tree.

“This may not be my domain,” she said, “but I am still more than a match for your little toys in this forest. Life is all around you, city girl—even in the ground beneath your feet.”

I struggled to get a hand free, to twist out of the crushing grip of the roots that held me, but they tightened further against every move I made. Panic clawed inside me, a frenzy to escape, giving me strength, but the tree was far stronger.

Graces help me. I had no way left to fight her. If I couldn’t somehow convince her not to kill me, I was going to die.

“I’m still under Kathe’s protection!” I called. “If you kill me, you’ll have to answer to him.”

The Lady of Thorns laughed. “Really! Is that true, Crow Lord?”

An oddly shaped patch of shadow detached from a tree behind her and stepped forward into the moonlight. Silver gleams caught in Kathe’s eyes, and the hint of a breeze ruffled the feathers on his shoulders. He crossed his arms on his chest and unfolded a slow, wide grin.

“I’m here to fulfill my promise to you, my Lady of Thorns,” he said, his voice light and casual. “Carry on.”