Chapter 28
lowri opens her bedroom door that night to see Brielle hovering on the threshold.
‘You’re wearing your travel leathers and your sash of blades.’
Brielle shrugs. ‘Can’t waste even an hour, Lor. We need allies. I’ve spoken to Eli and Mira and they agree with me. I can’t stay here and wait, not with that threat hanging over us. We need more witches. We need allies outside Arnhem, who would want the ruling council taken down too.’
‘Where are you thinking of going?’ Lowri asks, twisting her hair round her finger. ‘Skylan? Sember seems very genuine, but she made it clear the king will not send aid until the ruling council actually makes a move against them. Which may well be too late for us.’
‘The Spines,’ Brielle says, tapping a finger on her sash.
‘Mira told me that the two contenders at the Trials spoke of overthrowing their own rulers. They said that if Mira ever needed help, the Spines would answer. I intend to find out if the covens there would make good on that promise, if I can find Mira’s friend, Fey. ’
‘It’s risky,’ Lowri says. ‘If the ruling council hear of what you’re doing, if they realise we are building our side against them—’
‘Let them hear,’ Brielle says. ‘They mean to break us either way. Let them know we won’t be so easily broken.
It’s just a question of when at this point, not if.
And Lor, I want to take Dreska and Inesh with me.
To see what it is to be a hunter and go on assignment, just as I was taught at their age. ’
‘You think they’re both hunters?’
‘Inesh, certainly,’ Brielle says with a nod.
‘Not sure about Dreska just yet. She certainly has the fire for it, but she may be more inclined to spellwork. They haven’t been exposed to the ways of a coven as we were.
It hasn’t moulded them in the same way. It might be that they are both hunters, but that they still practise spellwork with you.
We can tailor their learning, so they are adept at both.
’ She tilts her head. ‘Our coven might be the first of its kind in more ways than one.’
‘An interesting proposal.’ Lowri’s smile grows. ‘Take them and train them in your way. And when you return, I will see if they take to spellwork.’
Brielle’s returning smile is a whisper in the dark. ‘Thank you.’ Then she reaches out, hugging Lowri fiercely. ‘I’ll be home again soon.’
Brielle leaves her sister, striding down the corridor, but as she reaches the staircase she’s aware of a presence at her side. ‘Spying are we, little monster?’
Always, Nova says, licking a paw. You know, I could come with you. There may be more wraiths in the Spines.
‘And ample opportunities to feast?’
You wound me, Nova says with a flick of her tail. Perhaps I’ve grown fond of you and do not want to see you harmed.
Brielle bends low, eyeing the familiar. ‘Stay with Lowri. Your place is here, and I need you to watch over her. She’ll be working on the wards, no doubt. I need you to ensure she doesn’t burn out again.’
As you say, Hunter. I will look after my witch. And, Brielle?
‘Yes?’
Watch over our fledglings. I believe I’ve become rather fond of them too.
With the sea route patrolled far more rigorously by the watch than ever before, Brielle opts for the land route. Bumped along stony roads in stuffy carriages smelling of horse hair, she, Dreska and Inesh play rounds of cards and practise the forming of witch words on the tongue.
‘Lucerne,’ Dreska whispers and the candle she’s cupping in her palm begins to glow. The wick ignites in a spurt of flame and she smiles, satisfied.
‘Now, Inesh, you put it out,’ Brielle says, crossing her arms. They’ve been through this exercise every day, the words for candlelight and extinguish in witch now inked into their veins, just as all the witch words she and Lowri know have been.
Inesh bends towards the flame and says, ‘Tace.’
The candle snuffs out, a thin trail of smoke threading its way upwards before disappearing entirely.
Brielle is more aware than ever of the murmurings on the road, of the sidelong looks in taverns and inns, the additional guards surrounding merchants and their wares.
The continent is on edge and she would bet coin on it being the ripple effect of what was discussed at court during the Trials, and the events of the final Trial itself, where a girl called a storm to bring lightning down on a pack of wyvern.
They practise like this as the terrain becomes mountainous across Skylan, whiling away the hours, before the road begins to level out as they reach the port of Hafenged.
Brielle leads them between tightly packed buildings, past heaps of huge luggage cases and runners carrying messages and orders up the narrow, stepped streets that weave like veins down to the cold waters of the Straits.
Everywhere, she senses eyes on them. But it’s more than the press of curiosity. This feels personal.
It’s not until they secure passage aboard a fishing vessel, slippery with the scars of scales despite being scrubbed, that Brielle finally allows her shoulders to drop.
As the sea swallows up Hafenged, she finds herself fully occupied with the crossing.
And the rolling stomachs of Dreska and Inesh, who have never endured a crossing in their lives.
‘It’s eight hours, isn’t it?’ Dreska says drowsily as Inesh clings to a bowl, turning greener by the minute.
‘Less now, I promise,’ Brielle says before turning away and whispering a feverish witch word.
She senses the drain on her magic instantly – weather spellwork is taxing, especially on a solo witch.
But she needs the sails to fill with more than a flutter of wind – she needs her fledglings in the Spines safe and well.
Brielle clings to the railings, spots crowding her vision.
She blinks thickly through them, knowing that she’s used too much, too quickly.
She thumps down beside Dreska and Inesh on the deck as the sails fill with the wind she called, giving the vessel a brief surge of strength in the chop.
Her efforts shave off three hours and when they reach a quay with stony buildings rising up behind she hurries Inesh and Dreska off as quickly as possible, the growing dusk casting a flinty chill over the small town in which they’ve docked.
The fishermen tie up. With their wares sold in Hafenged, they have their partners and children to return to now and a warm welcome awaiting them.
Meanwhile, Brielle guides her fledglings to an inn she knows a little, remembering the first time she was here.
It was midwinter, the cold like a razor, ice packing the streets, a sharp chill to the air that turned her nose pink, sending shivers dancing along her ribs.
And dark. Almost constant, sunless dark.
She remembers there were torches everywhere, lit and spitting with fat, the warmth gliding over her cheekbones as she knocked the snow off her boots and entered the inn.
Now, she looks at the swinging sign of the inn, remembering it all as if it was yesterday.
Her quest for vengeance, to slay the wyvern horde that killed her birth mother further north.
She sighs, her breath hanging as fog before her eyes.
The Drage Inn is looking substantially less shabby than on her last visit.
As though, since then, coin had rolled into the pockets of the owner, splashing over every corner.
‘They overthrew their rulers,’ she murmurs, reaching for the door handle.
‘What did you say?’ Dreska asks, teeth still clacking from the voyage.
Brielle looks her over, then eyes Inesh. ‘We’ll find a warm welcome here, I’ll wager. Your stomachs will settle with a little food and drink.’
She pushes open the door, stepping into the bar beyond. And finds three witches, all with bows drawn, arrows pointing straight at her chest. She stills, assessing them quickly, positioning herself smoothly in front of Dreska and Inesh. The witch in the middle smiles humourlessly.
‘A hunter from Arnhem and two fledgling witches,’ the one on the right says calmly. ‘The fisherfolk were right. Give us one good reason why we shouldn’t kill you all where you stand.’