Chapter 51
The smell of smoke didn’t linger, nor did the cloud that accompanied it.
Before it could even touch the ceiling, it evaporated into nothing.
Running a shaking hand caked with dried blood and grime through my hair, I exhaled a long curse.
My eyes fell to the place on the floor where, moments ago, a witch had stood and burned. Now nothing, not even ash, remained.
Outside, the world had gone quiet. Even the rain had subdued—no longer a lashing, but now a timid pitter-patter on the roof.
On legs of lead, I staggered to the battered old door. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I steadied myself, then opened it.
I blinked at the tableau that greeted me.
The witches that had infested the clearing were gone, leaving the destruction they had caused in their wake.
Smoke billowed from charred tree branches—there must have been a fire.
Puddles of blood and blackened scorch marks marred the damp earth.
Some of the surrounding trees were now discolored with swathes of rot—a consequence of the witches using ambient magic.
Crumpled on the ground lay the corpses of Livia, Magnus and the beasts, dismembered from battle and truly dead.
If I strained my eyes against the darkness, I could just make out the shape of the grimoire, remarkably still lying where I’d left it. Thank the goddesses the witches hadn’t snatched it.
The groan of the door behind me announced my arrival, and every eye turned towards me.
To my surprise, it was Tarben who was at my side first. He scanned me from head to toe, searching for any signs of injury. Once he was satisfied that I was unharmed, he pulled me into the warmth of his body. I clung to him tightly and inhaled him.
“Are you alright?” He looked down at me, his eyes wide with worry. Aside from a cut on his left cheek, he was mercifully uninjured.
“She’s gone,” my voice cracked.
Overhead, the storm abruptly ceased. The rain stopped falling and the baleful clouds faded, unveiling the radiant moon and its glimmering star companions.
Looking over Tarben’s shoulder, I met my grandmother’s eyes as she marched towards me.
“What did you do?” she demanded, paying no mind to the mortal who had positioned himself a breath away from her granddaughter.
Once again, I dragged a hand through my wet and matted hair.
I would hate to know what I looked like right now.
Coated in blood, sweat and dirt, I didn’t think I would ever feel clean again.
“She asked me to disable the wards, so I did… Everywhere except inside the cottage,” I said.
Perhaps I should be riddled with guilt over the fact that I’d killed someone.
But, just like with the maglocuni in the woods, I felt no remorse for my actions.
The Crow was evil—she’d murdered my father, and, at the very least, orchestrated the murders of others.
If I hadn’t vanquished her, she would never have let me go.
No, I didn’t feel so much as a pinch of regret. Instead, I felt a lightness in my body that I could only describe as relief. Relief that my grandmother and friends were safe and whole.
Understanding flickered in my grandmother’s eyes the moment before she flung her arms around me and squeezed tightly. “You are far too clever for your own good.” She beamed.
I blinked, completely taken aback by the praise and the unexpected display of affection. Somewhat hesitantly, I returned her hug.
Once we pulled apart, she studied me as if she’d never seen me before.
Amalie was the next to embrace me. Her forehead scrunched up as she said, “Could someone please explain what happened?”
“Alara left the wards up inside the cottage, knowing that if the witch went in there, she would perish,” said Hugo, who was limping toward me with Filip at his side, assisting him with each step.
My eyes widened at the bleeding gash in his calf from the monster’s bite. “Your leg!”
“It was only a nip, I’ll live.” His attempt at a smirk ended up as more of a grimace.
“You had better,” said Filip, giving me a quick squeeze. “First the coma, now this. I’m beginning to think you look for trouble just to keep me on my toes.”
“So dramatic,” Hugo said with an eye roll.
“Mira, send for the healer at once,” my grandmother commanded one of her most trusted warriors. “Tell him to come immediately.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said.
“Really, that’s not necessary—” Hugo started, but, at the look she gave him, he promptly shut his mouth.
I scanned my surroundings once more. All around us, the mood was quietly victorious.
A few pale-faced Vanorans remained on the ground, recovering from their vivid nightmares.
Some used their water to cleanse themselves of the blood that colored their faces and bodies.
Others tended to the wounded. Few had bite marks and stab wounds, and two—my stomach churned—had chunks of flesh singed from parts of their faces all the way to the bone.
They would heal, but they were undoubtedly in agony.
Despite all the pain and suffering, many of the warriors were smiling.
A few even laughed quietly with each other.
There was a sense of comradery as they clapped each other on the back and embraced.
“A bit rusty, are we?” I overheard one Vanoran teasing another.
I was glad they could find light after the darkness the Crow and her companions had brought.
“What happened to the witches?” I asked.
“Gone. As soon as they saw that first witch go up in flames, they fled,” said Tarben, rubbing the stubble along his jawline.
“You saw that? Why would they flee?” It seemed odd that they would all retreat just because the Crow had been killed.
“Yes—we could see everything through the windows. As for why they left,” he shrugged, “maybe they were worried they might meet the same fate? Does it matter?”
“Maybe,” I said, unconvinced. I still thought it was bizarre, but as long as they didn’t return with a vengeance, I supposed it didn’t matter.
I turned to my grandmother. “How did we fare?”
“One casualty,” she said. Her voice was emotionless, but I caught a flicker of sadness in her eyes. She inclined her chin towards a figure lying still on the ground.
Guilt settled like a stone in my belly. In my mind, I said a silent prayer for the lost warrior. Vell guide you passage to Yvora.
After a moment of silence, I asked the question that had been on the tip of my tongue since I first caught sight of them in the clearing. “How did you know the curse was broken?”
“I’ve had the boundaries of the enchantment closely monitored since the night you left.
The guards have been vigilantly checking for any sign that we could leave,” said my grandmother, her sharp gaze sweeping the clearing, then landing on me.
“Tonight, they could finally cross through the perimeter.”
My friends exchanged confused glances, but she continued. “I never expected the Crow to let you go free, so I summoned my warriors and we tracked you here.” Without taking her eyes off of me, she addressed my friends in the voice of a queen. “I would like a word with my granddaughter. Alone.”
The request didn’t come as a surprise. If anything, I was amazed that she had waited this long. Now that the high of victory was wearing off, I was expecting to receive a tongue-lashing for accepting the Crow’s bargain.
“Let’s go see if they need any assistance,” Tarben said to the others, giving my hand a soft squeeze.
The others murmured their agreement and made their way over to where some of the Vanorans had stationed themselves by the dented cauldron.
Some had blankets draped around their shoulders, while one warrior attempted to rekindle the dwindling embers of the fire.
Solvardunn’s night air would be unbearably cold after coming from Vantillios.
I rubbed my temples and braced myself. The shock and adrenaline had faded, leaving a pounding headache as their parting gift.
“Alara Eldoris, what you did was reckless, irresponsible and thoughtless,” my grandmother said, her expression stormy.
Crossing my arms, I prepared to launch into my defense. After all, we’d all still be cursed had I not been so reckless, irresponsible and thoughtless.
“And brave, selfless and noble.”
My arms dropped to my sides. Had I misheard?
Her eyes softened. “You have proven yourself to be just as powerful as I’ve always known you would be and even more courageous.”
I gaped at her. I’d think it was a joke, but my grandmother wasn’t exactly renowned for her sense of humor. “So you’re telling me that you are not, in fact, disappointed in me?”
She sighed. “I have lived a long, long life. Your mother’s death was, by far, the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
” She paused, as if gathering her emotions.
“But then, I had you. I loved you from the very first moment I held you in my arms. You could never disappoint me. If I am strict with you, it’s only because I do not want to make the same mistakes with you as I did with your mother. I cannot lose you.”
A lump formed in my throat. “It seems like I can never meet your standards.” I tried to offset the treacherous emotion in my voice with a nonchalant shrug.
In an unexpectedly tender gesture, she placed both her hands on my cheeks.
Completely taken aback, I froze as she spoke.
“I hold you to high standards because, one day, you will be queen, and when you are, it’s not only me who will have high expectations of you.
You will be expected to demonstrate nothing short of excellence, and every move you make will be widely and publicly scrutinized.
” She let her hands fall from my face. “It may not be fair, but it is the reality of being a ruler. I push you because I know you are capable of greatness. I see evidence of it every day, and I am regretful that I have not told you this enough.”