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“Do you know who we are?” Lilith asked when Dameon brought the young Witch to their chambers. A black eye had formed from her fight, swelling blossoming under her eyes, turning her dark skin purple, but Fey recognized the tightly curled auburn hair that spilled messily from the bun at the base of her neck. Recognized the fierce glare in her wide brown eyes.
She had the heart of a Blade.
Willow was young. Eighteen, maybe nineteen. Short and curved, but she was strong. Well-defined muscles bulged under her brown skin. Something about the way she had fought in Solare made Fey think of a wolverine, and seeing Willow standing there now, her muscles tense and ready to fight, the resemblance only grew.
Willow swallowed under their gaze. She looked at each of them, taking in their matching tattoos and the sigils on their arms. “Yes,” she answered. “You’re the Queen’s Blades.”
Fey nodded. “And do you know why you’re here?” she asked.
They already knew the answer. Dameon would have approached Willow with the same offer he’d made to Fey all those years ago—a chance to be a Blade, a member of the strongest Witches in the realm. A chance to prove you’re worthy.
But if you fail…
Death.
The offer came with an escape. Any Witch could tell him no and continue their life as though the offer were never made. But to say yes meant giving up everything—your past, your family, your friends. Regardless of whether you were inducted into the Blades, you would cease to exist in the outside world. You would be a ghost.
Most Witches who joined the Queen’s army had no family to speak of, anyway. In all the years the Blades had existed, no Witch had ever turned down the offer.
But many—far too many—had failed the trials.
Three tasks were required. Mental, elemental, and physical. It was up to the current Blades how the tasks were performed, up to them whether a potential recruit passed or failed.
“I do,” Willow said, her head held high. Fire blazed in her eyes.
Lilith smiled wickedly at her. “Follow me, then.”
Lilith’s trial was first.
The room she chose was a small library, tucked away in the Eastern Wing. It held some of her favorite books—historical records from the aftermath of the War of the Fallen, and ancestry records of every Queen who had ever ruled. Fey knew Lilith could name them all, and could name each of their children, heir or not. It was an obsession of hers.
Lilith’s other obsession was power.
“Fire and Earth,” Lilith mused. She paced the bookshelf in front of her, fingertips tracing the spines until she found the one that she was searching for. Plucking the book from the shelf, she flipped it open and thumbed through the pages.
“One of the first four Blades had those powers, you know,” Lilith said, her fingers trailing down a page.
From her seat by the desk, Willow’s head lifted with interest. The history of the Witches, the history of their realm, was a closely guarded secret. Few knew anything about the first Blades or even the First Queen.
“Really?” Willow asked.
“Mmhm,” Lilith answered. “Ah, here it is. Celeste. She was the First Queen’s steadfast companion throughout the War of the Fallen. They were raised together, friends since childhood. A Fire primary, Earth secondary, just like you.” Satisfied, Lilith snapped the book closed. “A strong combination. She could command metal; did you know that?”
Willow blinked, shaking her head, eyes wide in amazement.
“See, that’s the true power of our elements, isn’t it? It’s not a single gift, but what you can do when you combine them. Together, your powers are more than just two parts of a whole. They can do something grander. Something bigger.”
Standing at the edge of the room with Joy, Fey fought not to roll her eyes. She’d heard this all from Lilith before. Lilith was obsessed with the power that having control over two elements gave to Witches.
Obsessed, Fey knew, because she had command over only one. Fire.
“That’s the real gift of having more than one power,” Lilith told her. “It’s not that you have control over an extra element. It’s that you can combine those powers into something new.”
Lilith grabbed a jar from the seemingly random assortment of trinkets and bobbles on the bookshelf and placed it on the desk. It was full of bits of metal—old pieces of jewelry, rusted screws. A hodgepodge of metal bits and shavings.
“Move them,” Lilith commanded.
The metal shavings in the jar were rusted and dirty. Plenty of Earth for Willow to work with. She glanced at Lilith suspiciously, then turned her concentration to the jar before her.
