88. Veyka

I chucked the amorite amulet at the witch's feet. "Put that on before you take another step."

She lowered her eyes to examine it, exposing the column of her neck to me. One bound, and I could remove her head from her body. Stupid, arrogant, or lethal. Probably some combination of the latter two.

In some ways, she was identical to the sister I'd slain in the Tower of Myda. Her long nails curved downward, but instead of razor-sharp points, hers had grown into graceful curls that brushed the icy floor of the cave. Those eyes were the same as well—all-seeing and damn eerie.

"I have not seen a gemstone like that in an age," the witch cooed, adoration flickering in her eyes. "What a gift you have brought, Veyka Pendragon."

"I am not sympathetic to your circumstances," I said. The daggers were still in my hands; ready if she were to make any move of aggression. "But I would rather not have to kill you before I get my answers. Put it on," I ordered again.

The witch swiped the amulet up without bending her waist at all, courtesy of those grotesquely long nails.

"You have discovered the one weakness of the succubus." As she spoke, she turned over the amulet in her hands. It was simple. A stone the size of my thumbnail in a rough gold setting, affixed to a narrow leather strap. She did not lift her gaze back to me as she considered it. "I am a female. What need have I of your trinket?"

Already, she was asking me questions. The witch in the Tower of Myda had tried to do the same, to distract me so that she could gain the upper hand.

I gritted my teeth. "A test? You shall have to answer my questions regardless once I have my blade pressed to your throat."

Maybe her throat was not the best bet. Too close to those vicious nails. My rapiers crossed behind her neck, forcing her down to her knees before me… yes, that was a better idea.

The witch's nails clicked together in an unnerving symphony. "Humor an old female."

So many times, I'd thrown myself into the void over the last month and a half. A sweet escape, yes. But most of those times, I had appeared in Eilean Gayl's library. In the priestess's reading room. In Pant's private studies, dotted throughout the castle. Each time, inching a bit closer to this—to the witch. The last remaining one in Annwyn, if the history was to be believed.

I almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of that.

But I stifled the impulse, my face cool. Giving the witch nothing. "You are not like the other," I observed.

"Are you like every other elemental?"

Point taken.

"Your counterpart in the Tower of Myda, her mind was taken by the succubus. Her body turned to a weapon, used against her will. Even though she was female."

She was not staring at the amulet anymore. No, she'd lifted those eyes to me. I'd thought the nails were bad? Her eyes were worse. It felt as if she could see directly into my soul, past every barrier real and internal.

A second—that was all it would take for the succubus to invade her body and for me to lose this chance.

"Put it on," I commanded. I left the other half of the sentence unsaid—and then I will tell you the rest.

Her eyes did not twitch from mine as she lifted the amulet overhead and lowered it to her shoulders. Only when she pulled her hands away, and the amorite remained, did I feel my stomach begin to unclench.

"A witch's mind is not tethered to her body. It is a powerful magic. But a dangerous one, particularly when it leaves your mind open and accessible to the succubus, regardless of gender."

The witch smiled. Horrible. Every instinct inside of me screamed. "You always were so very clever. Even as a child. But I have watched you for years, Queen of Death and Darkness. You and many others. Why should I fear the succubus now?"

"Because they want me." And proximity to me might very well draw the succubus directly to the witch. One of the many reasons I'd needed to make this journey alone. I would not put my friends in this kind of danger.

Parys had nearly died in the Tower of Myda. The feat required to reach the witch here in the Spine was different, but no less harrowing. I would not sacrifice another friend on the altar of my own agony.

The witch sank down on a stone, not unlike the one where Excalibur had been lodged, waiting for me to claim all those months ago. She'd called me queen, but she was the one seated upon a throne, grinning as she said, "Indeed, they do."

I did not linger on that thought. I already knew the succubus was drawn to me; Arran and I had discovered that truth in Palomides' dungeons.

"My terms are simple," I said as I stalked around the perimeter of the cave, angling my body so that my strong arm was always angled toward the witch. "Allow me to hold you at my mercy, answer my questions, and you shall live."

"And then you shall leave me in this frozen hell for another seven thousand years."

Well, that was my first question, answered. This witch was the one of legend, the one deposited by the Ancestors in the terrestrial kingdom after the witches were stripped of their power following the Great War.

"I do take after my Ancestor in more ways than one," I said, with a casual shrug. Entirely faked. I was aware of every breath the witch took, every twitch of her mouth or cheek or disgusting nails.

"She was a self-righteous, arrogant thing as well," the witch muttered.

And there was my second. Nimue had been the one to entomb the witches—Nimue and Accolon. For this moment, they'd done it.

They'd known about the Void Prophecy. They'd known the succubus would return. And they had trapped the two witches, one in each of the fae kingdoms, so that when the time came, a prophesized queen would be able to come here to demand answers.

But unlike the witch in the Tower of Myda, I did not taunt this one with the knowledge that I'd extracted answers from her for free. This witch needed to survive, so that if some future descendant—or me, myself—needed her, she would be right here, waiting.

I sighed heavily, the perfect mask of impertinence. "You have watched me for years. You are aware of my skill with a blade. Agree to my terms, or I shall start slicing off limbs. Then, once I have you at my mercy, you will answer my questions as you bleed out."

I expected her to take longer to consider, but the witch's eyes only flickered once.

"Very well." She folded her hands in her lap, the curled tips of her fingernails scratching across the cave floor. "Come, Queen of blood and vengeance. Ask your questions."

I approached her from the back, with both blades drawn, just as I'd planned.

When I reached her stone pedestal, I pressed the blades to the back of her neck—not hard, but enough that she could feel the kiss of the amorite-swirled blades. She flicked her colorless eyes over her shoulder for just a second.

She would still try to kill me.

But I would be ready. And in the meantime, I would get the answers to my three questions. I recited the words carefully, just as I had in the tower in Baylaur.

"I have conquered the terrors of the Spine. I come bearing blades and power. You are at my mercy. You will answer my questions."

Inside of me, the ember of my power danced awake at its mention.

"How do I banish the succubus for good?" One question for Annwyn.

Her voice was otherworldly now—a strange, forced quality to the tones. I recognized the power of compulsion from interrogating Percival and Diana. "Fulfill the prophecy. All of it."

Outside of the cave, the wind was picking up, beginning to howl. A winter storm, descending upon the Spine. An hour, maybe half, and the snow would begin to accumulate, sealing the witch in. And me, with her.

No, my bright core reminded me. I had the power to leave, at any time.

"You are not nearly as poetic as your sister was," I observed, even as I repeated the witch's words to myself. I'd write them down as soon as I returned to Eilean Gayl. The wording might be important.

She hissed through her teeth. Pointed teeth—ones she had not revealed until just then. Just like Arran's canines, but every single tooth. Made for shredding flesh.

Oh, yes. She planned on killing me. Whatever had motivated her more mild approach, it was quickly losing to her baser nature. I could not tarry.

"What must be done to restore Arran's memories?" One question for my mate.

This time, she wanted to answer. There was no sense of her fighting the compulsion in her blood. She even laughed, a wicked, horrible sound that I did not allow to send a shiver down my spine.

"You begged for his life. Powerful magic was required to save him from a wound like that—a soul wound. This is the price, foolish queen. You could never have become what you needed to be with him at your side."

Not an answer.

I pressed my blades hard into her neck, the desire to keep her alive for future generations suddenly forgotten—

"I cannot see if or when his memories will be returned."

I fought hard to keep my hands from trembling. To keep them still and hard against that knob at the top of her spine.

One more, and then I would be gone. I could go back to Eilean Gayl. To warmth.

Twenty-five years of elemental influence kept my voice steady. "What is the cost of my power?" One question for me.

I thought it had been the loss of his memories. I'd fooled myself into thinking that maybe his loss of memories was not because of what I'd done at Avalon, but because of my void power. That, at least, had been beyond my control.

But I received no such respite.

Which meant the cost of my power… my ever-growing power, the lack of fatigue even as it grew… the cost was still hanging over my head.

The witch must have sensed the thoughts in my mind. The witch in the Tower of Myda had been able to, had mocked me for the unruly tangle of emotions.

"The cost has already been paid," she crooned. A heartbeat later—"Arthur."

I did not hear the howling of the wind. Nor the clicking of the witch's nails. Not even the beating of my own heart.

I should have known.

A duality in the world that was never meant to exist. It was only a matter of time.

The witch in the Tower of Myda had told me as much. But that was before the Joining, before my power awoke, before the succubus… oh, Arthur.

I stepped backward, letting my blades go slack.

The witch fell right into the trap.

She whipped her nails around, wicked fast and hard. They thrashed into my body, the curled ends going around my legs, holding me in place.

Clever trick.

I even gave the witch a heartbeat to savor her victory before I flashed a wicked grin that would have made my mate proud.

"Nice try," I said.

As I disappeared into the void, leaving nothing but gaping air for her talons to slash at, I imagined I heard her raging roar even amid the swirling dark.