Page 230 of The Edge of Darkness

“Fair,” Torin agreed.

“What of the witches you promised? There were only a handful of them at the meeting yesterday. How many can we expect in total?”

“I have yet to decide.”

“You’ve yet to decide?” I couldn’t help the humorless, breathy laugh that escaped my mouth. “This war will not wait on you, Goddess.”

“I am well aware.” She lifted her chin. “They will come . . . when I say they can.” A snide remark poised itself on the tip of my tongue, but she lifted a challenging brow and added, “I am already giving you more than you originally asked for, Commander. Do not overstep your boundaries.”

“Then I trust you will find a way to get those witches onto Calledan soil yourself?”

“I will. And once the war is over, and Lyceius is defeated, the witches and Dionachs are free to remain in Calledan wherever they wish?”

“The wards will remain open to them, as promised. So long as they fulfill the duty you agreed to: to protect the fae and the humans, and fight against our common enemy.”

“Very well.”

I expected her to leave it at that, to turn and disappear into the mist she came from. But instead, she remained rooted in front of me, sizing me up—more thoughtfully this time than before.

“The witches have lived in solitude with nothing but the purpose of furthering their lineage and passing power down their bloodlines, producing Dionachs for the betterment of the world we inhabit. It has been ages since any of them have interacted with another species long enough to develop any sort of personal interest.” The goddess stepped even closer. It almost would have been threatening, if my heart wasn’t suddenly beating like a frantic drum in my chest and demanding all my attention to calm it down. “The line you two are walking is dangerous, not because of what you are, but because of what you are starting to mean to each other. Do not let that cloud your judgment.” She swung her pointed gaze to Nivelle, letting it linger there before turning away.

It was as much a warning as it was a strange way of giving us her approval. At least, that was how I took it.

The mist seeped back into the space around us, tumbling through the trees like it had been waiting just out of sight.

“Perhaps the fates have a hand in this that I do not yet see,” Torin said, pausing to glance over her shoulder. “A chance to right the wrongs. For all of us.”

As she vanished into the mist that claimed her, I let her words echo in my mind.

A chance to right the wrongs.

To clear names, undo curses, and eliminate evil.

The fates had to be on our side.

Because if they weren’t . . . if none of this worked . . . I wasn’t sure what would come after.

Black powder, bottled in a small vial no bigger than the size of my pointer finger, rested in my palm.

Before Nivelle left for Neveshir with Roirdan, she and Maeson had prepared the Zaldora seeds that we would use to blind the Aether when I attempted to release it. I would need a few drops of my own blood, and a bone, which I was not excited about offering. The bird from the nest wouldn’t be too hard to acquire; however, having a fresh one on hand might be a challenge, since we weren’t sure when this war was going to begin.

As for the stone of the hearth . . .

I wondered if Nivelle was meeting with Torin now, and if the goddess was feeling merciful, or if she would deny the request for the last piece we needed to unmake this curse.

The night sky was crowned with a full moon and sprinkled with twinkling stars. Far off in the distance, the faint sound of thunder purred.

Maeson and I had returned from Benmoor yesterday, and had spent the entire day, today, here at the cottage Niall built for her. I leaned against a smooth-barked birch tree just outside, staring up at the stars through the tree canopy, doing what I’d always done when I needed a bit of solace.

Eryx, god of the sky and night, never said anything back to me whenever I sought him out, and I didn’t expect him to. But the god had always listened, even when I was young and didn’t know what I was asking for. My prayers had always been for relief from this power that had a hold of me. Little did I know there was nothing the gods could do for me when it came to that. This curse was mine to bear, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t try and unburden myself by talking through it with someone in the process.

And maybe, in whatever realm the gods occupied beyond ours, Eryx could whisper my plea to Torin. If I learned anything from Nivelle these past few weeks, it was that the gods of Skotos were much more involved with their creation than ours were. If Torin was already more inclined to meddle in our affairs, then any additional influence would only serve to help my cause.

So, I off-loaded my thoughts, told Eryx my wishes, and asked for guidance—for anything that might help, even if it was just a listening ear, as he’d always been.

When Maeson’s gentle footsteps drew my attention away from the sky, I found her staring at me through the moonlit forest, chamberstick in hand. In the flaming light, her red hair looked as dark as blood, the same as the color of her dress. The bell sleeves hung low, swaying as she stepped closer. Her beauty cut through the darkness, threatening to lock me in a spell the longer I stared at her.

She was heartbreakingly beautiful. Ethereal.