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But it was hard to concentrate with the rich-smelling dinner filling my stomach and my senses. “You going to tell a Yule story by the fire on the Watching Night? That’s mighty brave for an old woman.” But I was glad we were moving on from talking of Aster and all that I didn’t know of him.

“The veil is thinning, so it’s really the best night. Why did you never come to the fair?”

“Couldn’t get beyond the wall.” I pointed to my ear. “And we could get a lot done on those nights with everybody occupied.”

She scoffed. “I see you. Aliwen Crest and all that you are. You’re scared of the magic floating in the air. It aggravates you. Just like it does with Patrik… Except he likes to wallow in his defiance on each and every one of the Yule nights.”

There was a tilt to her head that challenged me to talk, but I wasn’t that stupid; words held power in our world. We all knew that. And sitting next to a witch on the second night of Yule was dangerous enough. Her power might dip a little for the twelve nights, but by Bealltainn it would be stronger than those in the Sky. That’s how the worlds were balanced.

“No words? You’ve hidden away every Yule, but this one is different. For ten Yules, not one new Rider has been chosen, no matter how many boys those kings charge into the mountain. They’re up there now begging the rogue phoenixes to come and claim them. Stupid boys. Wanting to chain themselves to a cursed beast. But the curse won’t allow it. It is time for it to be broken… You know this in your bones.”

Focusing back on the flames made me remember the morning Lex’s bonding fever broke. He had sat up in bed, stretched out his fingers, and… the quilt had caught fire. It was an old Rider who came to the rescue, calming him and hauling him out the door. He was taken to the nearest Sky Tower, so the maids said. It was hard to see him again after that. Lex had never wanted a phoenix, but my uncle was hard to say no to.

The witch was right; it was part of the hugely ambitious plan to get Annatalia back that my cousins and I came up with over the last few years. Part of it was to restore the books that my uncle had collected on the curse and to try and see if there was a way to break the curse and get our Riders back and fighting again.

“You know this situation can only be fixed on a Yule night, don’t you? If you want your brother’s mind back, to save him. You cannot do that if you still pretend to be different from who you truly are.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” I wasn’t going to admit that she was right. “The curse has nothing to do with me. And now you want to remove my anklet instead of changing my appearance?” Panic tightened my fists. “You can’t.” That isn’t the plan. I need to remain in disguise as long as possible. “Just leave it as it is.” I scooted my foot through the cold sand away from her.

“You cannot claim back your birthright looking like this.” Her tone was laced with contempt in the belief that I had been hiding. But I had not been hiding for me; I had been waiting until we were all old enough, strong enough to fight back. “There are only two ways to get it off. Me or Skyworld fire.” She motioned around the caravan. “See a Rider here?”

There wasn’t a reply to that; I wanted to see my white hair curl around my cheeks and see Ember’s violet eyes shine with laughter. But that couldn’t happen yet. Freezing wind slipped through the caravan, carrying with it a baby’s cry, the desert sand, and the scent of horses. Morlan lifted her gaze, her eyes cloud-grey and strangely deep.

“Listen,” she said. “Each part of the Earth remembers everything that has ever touched it, and it tells those secrets to some of us wise enough to listen.”

I failed to suppress a shiver. “Remembers?” Did it remember what I did ten years ago?

“Ah yes, everything you’ve done has been recorded.” Her eyebrows rose and crinkled her forehead even more than before. “The mountain you climbed under cover of darkness. The land told me of your footsteps, Aliwen. The rain remembered your grief over your brother that night on the castle battlements when he was Lost to you.” She traced a small spiral in the dust—the Triskelion. “We of the Earth do not only cast magic. We speak to the land, and it talks back.”

“That sounds like prayer.” Like the ones the Barren chanted to the Morrigan, Goddess of war, in the temple.

“Prayer demands obedience.” Morlan scoffed. “Aren’t you listening? Our craft is a conversation, a mutual respect. A balance. I believe that you can be part of that balance if you find the courage. The worlds are waiting for you to claim your calling no matter the cost.”

She was speaking in riddles, so I made my position clear. “I want Lex back, but perhaps the witches who set the curse were right. When those men became Riders, their minds were blackened with the night sky. Why break the curse? It would only bring more of their kind down upon us.” Rage at the very thought built in my gut and spilled out in barked words. “More Riders mean more death and destruction at their hands. You think I’ve the power to break a curse generations old? Perhaps the YuleMots madness has taken you after so many midwinters out under the stars. Or have the runes that protect this caravan from the toxic Old War magic begun to fade?”

Morlan’s gaze hardened, and she lifted her staff at me. “They call it a curse,” she said. “But that’s not the word I use.” She spat on the sand near the fire. “The ten gods of the Otherworld sent the phoenix into the sky to stop men on either side of the Old War from destroying everything. Look at this derelict land which was created.” Her staff swept out beyond the wagons and horses to the desolate land. “The Riders… They were never meant for the life they now live. They were never meant for the isolation and…” There was a bitter note in her tone. “For generations, a life was shared between child and fire-bird, and then those kings in power twisted that bond.”

She stared at me then, and my pulse throbbed in anticipation. “How did they twist it?”

Turning away, she focused on a family stoking their fire, who then climbed into their wagon.

“What are you saying, that I have to untwist it? How? Why me?”

Morlan’s mouth curved. Not a real smile—it was more like a grimace.

“There was too much blood in the Kingdoms’ War. And those Riders were no longer impartial as they were destined to be. They were never meant to fight, and yet fight they did. The Riders held the blade. And the blade remembers blood.” More riddles from the old witch.

The fire crackled, and the flames danced; the embers popped.

“Why tell me all this?”

“The Riders think they can find out how to break it. When they don’t even know what they’re breaking.” Her steely gaze locked on mine. “The Seers have seen it. You have until the last night to change the fates before the Yule madness takes over all the Riders, and it doesn’t leave them on the last night. You were the one thing that they never planned for. You and your cousins.”

I stifled a shiver, which straightened my back. She knew my cousins were still alive. I wasn’t surprised, but it still filled me with cold terror. “Who else knows? I shouldn’t be here.” Pushing myself off the folding stool, I scanned the area. In the distance, there was the sound of the horses’ hooves in the sand and a small whinny. “I have to leave.” I couldn’t stay in the camp.

Her staff thundered down on the sand at my feet. “Thorn must be left to her own fate now. Don’t meddle with it. The sands tell me she is safe and free. Don’t follow her—that is not your destiny.” I spun around and glared at the witch’s blank face. “That horse you wish to steal has to rest for the night, or it will die running back to Craven or the Ruckus. The food you want to take will mean that a person in this caravan will go hungry.” She pointed at the bag still slung over my shoulder. “The book is broken, but it whispers. Have you worked out why you can read them all?”

“I learned ancient Annatalian as a child.” It was an easy lie; I had no idea how I translated the words so easily. The Barren Masters let us restore the books because they believed we couldn’t read them.