Chapter 24

When we'd left Blackcastle—mere days ago—I thought it would be months before I saw the Keep again. The trip took me three jumps with the storm nipping at my heels and one short, ill-timed stop inside a pocket of blight-ridden forest, but I was back.

Striding down the main hall toward the throne room, I scanned every bustling room for Torin, Cosimo, Zeph…anyone.

I found them in the war room, bent over a map, torches flickering when I burst through the door, my bare feet skidding over the polished stone since I had to ditch my blight-infested boots. Everyone's heads snapped up, Cosimo already moving to intercept me.

"What's happened? Where are Anaria and the others?"

"The Oracle is free." I scrubbed my face with my hands, hardly believing it. "She found us at the Wynter Palace. I got away, but I stayed, long enough to see her capture Raz and Tavion."

It had been fucking embarrassingly easy for her to subdue them. One flick of her fingers and she had them both on their knees.

"Tristan and Anaria?"

I scrubbed my face. "They were in Mysthaven. Retrieving a weapon to use against Corvus."

"Does the Oracle have them as well?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Everyone's faces fell. "They would have returned to the palace not realizing the Oracle was waiting. She would have scooped them up as easily as she did Raz and Tavion. I think Bexley escaped, but I couldn't be sure."

"Bex is with you?" Torin fixed that all-seeing stare on me. "How did you find Bexley? How did you escape her?"

I sank heavily into the only chair in the room, the weight of these past hours slamming into me, my consuming fear over Anaria, the frantic jumps through the mountains to avoid the blight. A girl bustled in with tea, then Torin was pushing a steaming cup across the table to me.

Coz ran his eyes over me and reached in his pocket, pulling out a flask and filling it to the brim.

"Thanks," I muttered. "I hate fucking tea."

"I figured." The astronomer's smile was troubled.

My hand wrapped around the delicate flowered porcelain, and I resisted hurling it against the wall as I recounted what little I knew. The note detailing Anaria's excursion to Mysthaven, the Oracle's impending arrival, what little I saw before I fled.

"So you don't know if Anaria and Tristan made it back?"

"If they did, they walked straight into the Oracle's trap." The tea scalded my mouth, my throat, but I hardly felt the burn. "Chances are she has them all now."

"If they escape, would they come here?" Zeph asked, taking the seat opposite me. "More importantly, would she follow?"

I thought about that, taking another sip. "Anaria wouldn't draw the Oracle anywhere near this place. There are too many people at risk in this city, too much potential collateral damage."

"She has powerful allies here," Cosimo pointed out softly. "An army. Not a big one, true, but an army to protect her."

"No. Anaria wouldn't come back here, not unless she was sure the Oracle wasn't a threat. Who, right now, is pissed off and looking for revenge. The best we can hope for is Anaria has a plan up her sleeve."

"She does seem to have plenty of those," Torin pointed out dryly. "What can you tell us about Mysthaven and this weapon?"

"Not as much as I'd like." I briefly went over Anaria and Tristan's disappearing act this morning and the rendering from Bexley's book, our theory that the weapon was witch-made and could destroy a god. "Knowing Anaria, she wouldn't have returned to the palace until she had it in her possession."

Cosimo pulled over a sheet of vellum, dipping his pen into the inkwell. "Describe this weapon."

Since neither Cosimo nor I were artists, it took several attempts, but he'd finally sketched out a remarkable likeness. "The pendant is the other piece. The amulet fits at the end of the pommel, though I couldn't see how from the diagram. Which means I have somewhere to be." I threw back of the rest of the tea—mostly liquor, thank the gods.

"I have to search Trubahn's shop and find the pendant."

"His shop burned to the ground, remember?" Torin shot Zeph a stern look. "Dragonfire. Nothing survives that heat, not even magical amulets." Zeph looked only slightly remorseful.

"And I need a pair of boots."

I drummed my fingers on the table. "We need that pendant or we're back to square one. Bexley theorized that empty hole in the center of the blade had something to do with gathering magic."

"I'll see what I can find out about this weapon. And boots." Cosimo pushed out of his chair, uncharacteristically pale. "Out of curiosity, that paper of Anaria's, the one with the symbols. Was that the only copy?"

"As far as I know," I lied, the words slipping off my tongue like silk. "Why?"

"Nothing. I was just curious."

I finally got a good look at the map they'd been studying when I'd arrived, the swath of black descending from the north. I forced myself to keep breathing. "Is that up to date?"

"Zeph got back an hour before you did." Torin braced both hands on the table. "Three more days and the blight will reach the city."

I went to the window and saw what I hadn't before. Wagons loaded down with families clutching bags and boxes, all staring into the distance at nothing.

Torin came to stand beside me. "We're sending them to the Havens, but I don't know how much time that will buy them. Simon is there now, trying to arrange boats. How many he can find, I do not know, but I will empty the royal coffers of every last gilder to save these people."

Two hourslater I was in Southwell, sifting through ashes and melted nails in a pair of borrowed army boots, the charred crossbeams of Trubahn's shop still reeking of smoke and dragonfire.

I cursed Zephryn and his short temper, cursed myself for leaving Anaria to fend for herself when I should have stayed.

Then I cursed Corvus and the blight and the Oracle for good measure.

My foot caught on a solidified puddle of melted iron hidden in the wreckage, a hunk of metal that had once been a small cauldron. I tossed it over my shoulder into the pile of debris I'd already sorted through.

If I could find that pendant, then we'd have a chance to kill Corvus and stop this destruction. Of course, our success depended on Anaria and Tristan securing the blade, but I had faith in my princess and her determination.

Knowing Anaria, she probably already had the damn thing.

While I had nothing.

If the pendant was here when the shop burned, it hadn't survived. Anything made of wood was powdery gray ash. Nails were melted into pellets. The slate roof gone. Even the glass beakers had liquefied, forged together with ash and metal, some of them coated in remnants of magic I avoided like the plague.

Because it could be the plague.

Fuck knew the sorts of experiments Trubahn had been running.

Boots crunched behind me, and I turned to find Zephryn surveying the destruction with a muttered curse.

"You did a thorough job, dragon, I'll give you that." My tone was more bitter than I'd intended, but then I decided fuck it. If this place had still been standing, we would have stood some chance at completing the weapon and ending this for good.

Now we'd have to find some other way.

"If I could do that night over again, I would. The mage was a fucking monster and I let my temper get the better of me for what he did to Simon."

Some of my anger softened at the thickness in Zephryn's voice. But nothing changed the fact the world's survival could very well hinge on us finding that pendant.

"Would he have locked something that valuable in a safe, do you think?" I studied the ruins for anything that resembled a metal box. Or a pool of smelted metal that could have been a safe.

"I was only inside this shop twice. Once to try and buy Simon's freedom back, and the other…well, I wasn't exactly memorizing the layout when I was burning it to the ground."

I swept my foot through the ash, clearing off what had once been a tiled floor. "This might have been a workshop. Or the kitchen." Indeed, there was a crumbling hearth on one wall. "We should search in the back where he slept."

We moved through the burned-out husk of the building, dodging charred furniture and ashy books, most of them burned down to the spines.

The roof had collapsed on top of the tapestry-covered bed and a broken hand-painted pitcher poked out of the ashes, still sporting a jaunty blue and white design beneath the soot. I searched through every scrap of charred furniture, sifting through the ashes until my hands were black.

"We could search for hours and not find anything in this mess. Is there a way to track down magical objects? Something easier than poking through the ruins and hoping for the best?"

Every minute I wasted here was one more minute we lost to the creeping blight. Wasting time when I could be heading back to the palace, where I should have remained.

Helping to save Anaria and the rest of my friends trapped by the Oracle.

Zeph squinted at the darkening sky. "Storm's on its way," he muttered. "Night's coming too. We should return tomorrow, bring some soldiers. More hands to help."

I swept my foot through the ashes again, sending nails and broken glass scattering. "We can't wait until tomorrow, I have to…" Dulled silver gleamed amongst the blackened ashes, the slightest flash of red catching my eye.

I picked up the melted chunk of metal, rubbing my thumb across the cracked stone, the edge of the red spinel crumbling at my touch. There was no hint of the otherworldly power the artifact had once possessed.

Not a drop of magic as if the dragonfire had melted that away too.

The setting was a worthless, liquefied hunk, no sign of the Vanguard Conclave's engraved insignia, no hint of the writing that read, ‘From the darkest shadows, shine thebrightest flames.' Even the color of the broken stone was faded, as if Zephryn's flame had sucked the life right out of it.

"Fuck." Every drop of hope drained out of me, leaving me limp.

"I'm sorry," Zephryn breathed. "Had I known…"

I tipped my hand and dropped the melted metal, the ruined stone back into the ashes. What was left of the priceless gem shattered on impact, sending fragments of dull red through the cinders.

I forced myself to take a breath, my lungs aching. "You couldn't have foreseen this. None of us could have." But a cold sense of dread sifted through me, leaving my mouth dry, my stomach hollow. As if I stood at a crossroads.

"Perhaps there is some other way," Zephryn offered softly. "Another weapon, some other means to destroy them."

But, like me, he peered intently through the hole of the burned-out roof to the mountains beyond the city, as if he was wondering how long we had left until the blight overtook Blackcastle.

"Perhaps," I repeated dully, wiping my blackened palms on my pants, exhaustion sinking its teeth into every aching muscle. "But, for now, I have to sleep. A few hours to recharge and clear my head. We need a new plan. Something that doesn't include that weapon."

I came here for one reason, and I'd wasted my time.

Because ever since the moment I'd seen that rendering, I'd been counting on that weapon.

If we had that sword, then Anaria wouldn't have to face Corvus alone.

One of us could wield the weapon in her stead and spare her the horror of having to face that monster. That's what we were—Anaria's swords.

All we needed was the right weapon.

And now…I blew out a breath.

I would have fought for my queen. Would have been proud to die for her if that meant she survived and had that future she so deserved.

But without the weapon, I couldn't fight for her at all.