Page 62 of The Edge of Darkness

“Would you want that?” I asked him.

Did he want to live forever? How could I force that upon someone?

He offered me a gentle nod. “I will always want whatever keeps you safe, Auren.”

I looked at Niall. He was silent, and surprisingly more at ease than I expected, given the topic of conversation. “You’re quiet,” I said to him.

“I can’t argue with Silas. Your safety is all I care about.”

“Is this information enough to clarify any lingering suspicions then?”

“Yes. But there is another reason I wanted to come here.”

Silas shifted on his feet, obviously not aware of Niall’s ulterior motive. None of us were—judging by the way Roirdan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

Niall stepped further into the garden and called out to the witch. “I came to ask if you would join our cause.”

Nivelle halted mid-step, hand outstretched toward a sagging stem with crimson petals. “Your cause.” She weighed the words on her tongue.

“Help us defeat the evil that lurks in our lands.”

“You speak of the fallen god,” she surmised, hand still hovering over the lackluster bloom.

“I do. A witch’s power would be a great asset, and certainly one that Lyceius has never encountered.”

Nivelle hesitated, then closed her hand, apparently deciding the flower still had life left in it. She continued scanning the bushes for more fading stems. “Your ‘cause’ has nothing to do with the witches.”

Niall slid his hands into his pockets as he traipsed lightly, keeping his steps slow. “It’s the entire realm’s cause. If Lyceius⁠—”

“He will not prevail,” she said, cutting him off. “Your mate will eliminate him.”

Beside me, Roirdan reached out curiously toward a pale pink blossom, but Nivelle flourished her hand and summoned the same magical rope she’d conjured before.

No, not rope, I realized . . . but lightning. This time, it zapped his skin, drawing a hiss from him. He snapped his head up to her, but instead of malice, his eyes danced with intrigue as he shook out his singed palm.

“There will be others who will need protection,” Niall continued. “Your goddess could offer the Dionachs as an added defense.”

The wardeness rolled her wrist at her side. “That is not my call to make.”

“But you can gain us an audience with her, can you not?”

I flicked my eyes to him.

An audience with the witch goddess?

Beside me, Roirdan’s brows pinched in concern, clearly trying to anticipate his High Lord’s next move.

A slight pulse of power rippled off Nivelle, as if she were expelling frustration. “We do not draw attention from our goddess unless we are in dire need of it. She communicates to us when necessary. That is our dynamic.”

“And why would you not commune regularly with your own goddess?”

“That is none of your concern.” She waved him off.

Niall sent out a pulse of his own power in response—a call to attention. It was muffled to nearly nothing here in this land, but because he was significantly more powerful than any other fae back in Anbrya, enough remained to get his point across.

Nivelle whirled on him, fear and fury in her now glowing blue eyes. “No! You must not⁠—”

A sudden boom rocked the ground beneath us. The trees shuddered and the air stilled, as if all the oxygen had been sucked from it, and a chill seeped in, enveloping us in its cold grasp.