Chapter 41

"Zor, don't be a fool. You don't have enough magic," Torin warned as I shoved the pendant deep into the pocket inside my jacket and buttoned the flap.

"Not enough to get past the blight, and landing anywhere in that forest will be suicide. Wait one more day."

"I can reach the Wynter Palace." I exhaled, slow and even, willing myself calm. To adopt the steadiness required for what came next. "I will make it to the Wynter Palace," I said again, louder this time.

"Tell Cosimo thanks for the distraction. For buying me time to do this."

"Thank him yourself when you see us again." She hesitated then threw her arms around me. I froze for a moment before hugging her back. "Stay safe, drop that wall, and tell Anaria to not let that bitch lay her finger on a single drop of magic. That's the only leverage we have right now."

"I will."

"If I figure out how to stop Corvus, I'll send Simon with word." She held up a hand to stop my protest. "He'll find you. Even if we're in the Havens. Or further south."

"Don't wait to leave," I warned her softly.

"I mean that, Torin. You'll be tempted to stay behind until the last possible minute, but the people will need you in the Havens, need someone to lead them. Without you, the evacuation will be chaos, and chaos means death when you have nowhere to call home."

"Fly fast, Zor." She dipped her head in goodbye. "Tell Anaria that when the time comes, strength of will always outweighs brute force."

I crashedinto the rocky path at the base of the Wynter Palace, landing just above a patch of blighted pines, not in the deep chasm below filled by a swollen, raging river. Rain soaked me to the skin as I picked stones out of my shredded knee, my leathers cut clean through as I counted the handful of Reapers above the city, sure my eyes were playing tricks on me.

Not as many as last time.

Although, who had time to make Reapers when you had a world to devour?

I wasn't about to complain. One less threat for me to worry about, I figured, plucking the last of the stones free before shoving to my feet. My eyes went up and up, estimating the exhausting number of steps until I reached the Wynter Palace.

Too fucking many, and why were these places always so godsdamned impossible to get to?

I climbed, rain beating against my face, lifting legs as heavy as anvils, my mind sliding into that cold, empty place it always did before battle. Icy calm rippled through me, turning exhausted muscles to iron, my chaotic thoughts coalescing into a single directive.

Find Anaria.

And to do that, I had to reach Varitus.

If I conserved my strength for a few hours, I could reach the border in one jump. But right now, getting myself under roof was paramount as drenching sheets of rain turned the steep path into a treacherous gauntlet of slick rock and mud. I peered out over the edge, shuddering at the jutting rocks below, and kept moving.

This business with the Oracle appearing in Blackcastle concerned me.

She hadn't so much as shown her claws when Cosimo walked into the war room. In fact, she'd acted delighted to see him. Which meant she hadn't come to the Keep to punish us for Anaria locking her inside her own head, or to reclaim her prisoner, or even to gloat.

She was there for the amulet.

Yet weeks had passed since the fire at Trubahn's shop. And the Oracle had interrogated the mage that night, which meant she'd tracked the pendant straight to him, exactly as Torin had planned.

We'd gotten lucky she hadn't found it in that water pitcher.

Even though she'd tortured him for what looked like hours.

I blew out a shaky breath, feeling vaguely ill.

Trubahn hadn't bravely held out against her torture. Because of Cosimo's spell, Trubahn couldn't confess where the amulet was hidden. And yes, Trubahn was a total piece of shite, but dying like that…I wouldn't wish that suffering on anyone. I patted my pocket again to make sure the pendant was still stowed safely.

We'd stolen this relic from her months ago. Months ago.

So why the sudden interest?

What had changed?

The question nagged at me the entire climb up to the palace, the rain never ceasing, my boots splashing through the muddy, fast-running stream with every step.

I was frozen and soaking when I stepped inside the doors, sucking in a breath when I saw what the Oracle had done to this once-luxurious residence.

Every painting was slashed, every vase smashed, furniture destroyed.

The draperies—moth eaten and tattered—were torn from their rods by the ceaseless wind raging down the main hallway unchecked. Then I smelled it.

Blood.

I raced against that howling wind until I reached the room suspended over the crevice and stopped dead in the doorway.

The floor-to-ceiling windows were blown out, blood splattered across the marble floor in front of one of them like someone had been tossed through. I paused over the deep grooves gouged into the marble from enormous talons dragging across the floor. My heart hammering in my chest, I crossed the room, bracing my shaking hands on the window frame and leaning out into the emptiness.

No bodies were sprawled on the sharp rocks below, thank the gods, but what had happened here? I crouched down and pressed my finger to the blood, touching it to my tongue, and relief made my knees weak.

Not Anaria's.

This tasted different, wilder…ancient. Tristan's, perhaps. I swept my gaze around the room one last time and could make no sense of what happened here. The Oracle came to the palace in a rage, ready to shred Anaria apart, that much was clear.

Then she'd left after striking a new bargain with Anaria and sending them to Varitus, but the encounter wasn't without bloodshed.

Convenient of her not to mention that.

I followed the rich smell of woodsmoke through the cold palace, climbing the steps to the bedroom we'd once shared, smiling when I found Anaria's note—addressed to me—then built myself a fire in the hearth. Her broken-in leathers were laid carefully across the bed, so she hadn't left here in a hurry.

She'd been safe.

I braced my hands on the dresser, relief punching me in the gut. Safe enough to fold her clothes and leave me a note. I closed my eyes and drew in the faintest hint of sweet jasmine.

Funny how such a simple thing dulled down that wicked edge of pent-up rage inside me.

Just the barest breath of the female I loved infused a deep, solid calm into my soul.

I settled myself on the bed and opened the note.

Dear Zor-

First off, I'm glad you left. The Oracle is a dreadful bore, so be glad you missed her dramatics this time around. Despite her blustering, we are all safe and sound, though Tavion is an idiot (I'll tell you all about that when I see you).

Second, I hope you got lucky at the mage's shop, because we struck gold at Mysthaven.

We're heading to Varitus on another of the Oracle's ridiculous side quests, but if you find this note, meet us at Ravenswood Castle. Come soon because I miss you terribly.

All my love, Anaria

I pressed the paper to my nose and inhaled her scent, crisp and bright and so full of life.

They had the knife. I had the pendant.

Triumph flared inside me. We were close to finishing those fuckers off. Closer than I could have hoped. Now all I had to do was get my arse to Ravenswood before the Oracle discovered we'd stolen the pendant right out from under her nose.

Again.

I woke hours later, my legs stiff and aching, my knee tight from the freshly healed gash. Magic flickered inside me once more, my head clearer than it had been in days. I pulled the pendant out of my pocket, turning it over and over between my fingers.

Thank the gods I'd detected the Oracle's arrival and Torin had hidden this away in the iron safe, the only thing that prevented her from detecting its magic.

Thank the gods Cosimo had appeared and given me the chance to sneak away.

Maybe Zephryn had roasted her alive, though I doubted even dragonfire could kill something so inherently evil. I rolled my shoulders and felt the skin catch across my back. Healthwise, I was a walking shiteshow, but I'd get myself to Ravenswood Castle, even if the trip fucking killed me.

Dawn was still hours away.

But if Anaria only had a day to drop the ward, she'd do the honors at dawn, or soon after.

I'd be smart to get to Ravenswood long before that happened. I'd been trapped in those resurgent waves before, and getting caught again would kick my arse given the shape I was in now.

There were some stale crusts of bread and a few apple cores on the table in front of the window. I ate every last scrap then dipped some water from the old horse trough out front and drank my fill. A low whinny from the stable had me opening the door to find the poor pack mule bedded down with fresh straw and enough hay to last him for weeks.

"Fuck. I forgot about you, poor beastie." I only hesitated for a moment, then swung his stall door wide, giving the beast a choice.

"Be smart. You have shelter and a full water trough outside. Free range of the hay, and there's grass if you know where to look. But if the blight gets close, head into those mountains." I pointed like the beast could actually understand me.

He bumped his nose into my stomach, and a gentle nicker had me scratching his bony head.

"You don't want to come where I'm going, trust me. Stay here where it's safe."