Chapter Twenty-Three
WREN
The moment the air witch landed on our platform, I knew she carried important news.
Air witches never looked rattled. Wind magic tended to smooth the edges off people—made them calm, airy, untouchable, but Yenna’s silver braid was wind-snarled, and her cheeks were flushed from flying too fast. She landed on trembling feet, breath steaming in the cooling dusk air.
The moment our eyes met, my stomach lurched hard enough to make my stitches burn.
“Wren,” she gasped, bowing quickly. “A message from King Georg of Hoveria.”
Hoveria.
The mountain kingdom with cold rock and old echoes. Those haunted halls were where I’d killed Benedict’s brother and became who I was truly meant to be.
My wings twitched painfully. The child in me rolled, sensing the spike in my fear even from my belly.
“Tell me,” I whispered, the words scraping out raw.
The witch swallowed. “Ronan is safe. The child—Perri—is alive.”
My knees gave out.
Kieran caught me before I hit the floor, arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me against his warm chest. Relief detonated through me so abruptly it bordered on pain.
Benedict, who had been sharpening a dagger in the corner out of sheer nervous energy, dropped it. The blade clattered across the floor.
“And Veskor?” he demanded.
The air witch hesitated.
“Alive,” she said finally. “Barely. They found him half-frozen in the snow. Ronan insists on bringing him back.”
I shut my eyes. A thick, unfamiliar heaviness settled over my ribs—not sympathy, exactly, but something close. Something … happy. Proud.
Yes, Ronan.
And yet, the feeling was conflicting. Veskor had taken a child and torn open our wards. He’d caused the vampyre attacks and nearly killed Ronan. He had killed Anar.
And yet …
He had not killed Perri.
I sighed. The world wasn’t supposed to be this complicated.
“King Georg offers hospitality, healing, and shelter until the storm breaks. He urges that no one attempt any journey until the weather improves. He also sends congratulations on the upcoming birth, and wishes to meet the child whenever is convenient.”
I grinned at the invitation from my first friend.
Benedict bristled beside me, ready to argue, ready to fly into the teeth of a mountain blizzard just to feel like he was doing something in order to confront Veskor and bring him to justice, but I caught his wrist.
“No,” I said softly. “He’s right.”
His throat worked. “Wren—”
“I want Ronan and that child home more than anything,” I said, “but I want them home alive. And I’m sure Ronan has his reasons for bringing Veskor. I trust him.”
He exhaled hard, jaw flexing. Not agreeing with me, but not refusing either.
Yenna nodded and took off again, a swirl of wind and feathers, leaving us on the platform in strained, aching silence.
Nerissa’s voice floated up to me from beneath our platform, angry.
“Shit, she heard,” Kieran muttered to Benedict, whose hand tensed slightly on my hip.
“She’s going to try to take off,” he murmured.
“—I don’t care about the weather!” Nerissa snapped, words echoing off the wooden slats. “My son deserves justice. That rogue bastard is alive. They said he is alive. I will bring him home in chains—”
A calmer voice answered, one of her daughters.
“You cannot fly in that. No one can. The northern storm has carved a wall of ice and wind across the entire range. The air witches can barely make it in or out. If you attempt to reach Hoveria now, you’ll die before you cross the ridge. Don’t be stupid, Mother.”
“I don’t care about dying,” Nerissa insisted.
Her daughter laughed.
Benedict and Kieran stood, both ready to intervene, but a third voice cut through the rising tension, smooth, firm, and unshakeable below us.
“Enough,” Kaida said.
Silence dropped like a stone.
I shuffled toward the railing, peeking over just far enough to see them: Nerissa shaking with fury, her daughters just as furious that she’d risk herself, and Kaida standing like a pillar between them all.
“You’re thinking with grief,” Kaida told Nerissa gently, but not softly. “Not strategy.”
“Exactly!” Vanca said, arms spread in exasperation.
“He killed my son!” Nerissa exploded. “And now he walks free in a king’s hall like some—some honored guest—”
“Alive,” Kaida corrected. “He is alive. And so is the child he stole. That means Ronan and Canavar and Nasi reached them in time. And that means movement will come soon when it’s safe.”
Nerissa paced.
“Mother,” Nava began, “no one wants justice more than us. He was our brother. But remember the first rule of bloodmagick–”
“Never let your heart overcome your mind,” Nerissa grunted out reluctantly.
There was a pause, the sunlight shining through a break in the canopy onto a patch of dirt between them. A bird cawed somewhere overhead, echoing off the trees. Nerissa threw herself against her daughters.
Kaida smiled. “No good hunt begins in a storm of the heart.”
Nerissa froze just for a breath, but it was enough. She glanced up and saw me watching them. I froze.
“Ah, Queen Wren. We have bloodmagick to do, don't we?” she asked.
Wards would be the perfect task to occupy my mind with!
Benedict frowned, but Kieran placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. Kaida’s eyes lifted toward our treehouse window, toward me.
I already heard her question and felt Benedict’s concern as he practically vibrated next to me.
“I am fine,” I grit out, for everyone’s sakes.
“You are not,” Benedict said flatly beside me. His hand stayed firm at my back, heat and warning both. Kieran didn’t even bother pretending to disagree, the traitor.
I exhaled sharply through my nose. “I am perfectly capable of standing on my own platform and listening to a conversation. You promised I could learn.”
Benedict’s nostrils flared.
“You did promise,” Kieran reminded him, grinning.
Benedict’s fangs peeked out from behind his lips. “Fine.”
Below us, Kaida folded her arms. “Good. Now that we’re all clear on that, we work.”
Benedict straightened immediately, attention snapping into place. “You’re moving forward with the wards now?”
“We have to,” Kaida replied. “Veskor proved how easily they can be broken. The vampyres tested us. And now we know there are more out there—more draken, more threats we haven’t even named yet.”
Nerissa stepped forward, eager to have a new project to distract her. “We don’t patch them. We rebuild them.”
Domik, who had been lingering near the edge of the group, spoke eagerly. “We anchor them. That’s what you’re planning, right? It’s in my book.”
He held up the dusty tome to us, blushing at everyone’s sudden attention. The book drew every eye.
He gestured at Nerissa. “Like you said, four anchors—one at each edge of the island. Blood-bound and stable.” His gaze flicked to Nerissa, then Kaida. “Something that can’t be torn open from a single point, and accounts for everyone living here, not just drakens.”
Nerissa nodded once, sharp and approving. “That’s how it should have been done from the start.”
Kieran picked me up and we headed down the stairs even as Benedict vaulted over the railing, using his wings to drop heavily down into the group instead of falling.
“Draken wards are the best—” Domik argued.
“You should have accounted for the breeding,” Vanca cut over him decisively, throwing her braid over her shoulder.
Benedict shot her a look. “Who holds each anchor?”
“I’ll take the south,” Nerissa said immediately. “That’s where the current weakens the line, and I have strong ties. I will take Kieran with me, and Meruse, if she’s up for it.”
“I’ll take the north,” Benedict volunteered.
Nerissa sighed. “An airwitch would be best. Ask Yenna or Astrid. That leaves east and west?”
“Ronan can take the east with a firewitch when he returns, and that leaves you with the west, and a Nuva.”
Domik blinked as if suddenly remembering he was to be an active participant in all of this, and not just a scribe.
“R-right,” he stuttered out, ducking his head.
Vanca smirked at him. “Saving the island and helping reset ancient bloodwards—hot.”
If Domik’s face became any redder, it would have burst into flames.
Kieran’s gaze shifted toward the horizon. “The north is buried under that storm, so it will be a while until Ronan and the others return.”
“Which means it’s also the strongest source of energy we have,” Domik said. “It might behoove us to do it as soon as possible.”
We all looked at him again. A bird screeched in the trees, almost as an omen.
He hesitated just a flicker but pressed on. “If we place the anchor just inside the ridge … not against the storm, but within it … the wind feeds the ward instead of tearing it apart.”
Nerissa studied him. “Risky, but possibly extremely effective.”
Pride flashed across his face before he could hide it.
“Well,” Vanca said, “if we’re talking about risky and effective, I feel personally summoned.”
Domik visibly tensed as Vanca gave him a flirtatious look. He blinked a few times too many, and her eyes narrowed.
“You do remember, me, do you not?” she asked him, tone pointed.
Domik stepped back, clutching his book to his chest.
“I—of course,” he stammered, clearly regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment. “No one could forget you,” he finished, voice stronger.
Vanca made a pleased rumble in her throat.
Nerissa frowned.
Kieran made a choking sound beside me. Benedict covered his mouth, shoulders shaking once.
Kaida raised a brow. “Is this part of the warding process?”
“Not yet,” Vanca said easily. “But I’m flexible.”
Domik flushed hard. “This is not—There is no—”
“Oh, there is definitely something,” Vanca purred.
“There is not.”
“There is.”
“There is not.”
“I’m not hearing this!” Nerissa burst in, covering her ears. “Enough. You can do … whatever this is after we have secured the island.”
“Flirting,” I said, unable to help my grin.
Kieran winked at me.
Vanca sighed dramatically, but stepped back just enough to be considered cooperative. “Fine. Work first.”
Domik exhaled like he’d been given a reprieve from execution.
“Four anchors,” Benedict said, dragging the focus back. “South, west, north—”
“Yes, and east, we get it,” I finished, impatient. “What do I get to do? I want to do something. It doesn’t have to be the bloodwards themselves.”
Benedict’s mouth opened and I straightened, already bracing for the answer I knew was coming.
“Don’t say ‘stay here’ like I’m furniture,” I warned him.
“You’re not furniture,” Benedict said. “You’re the center.”
I stopped, not expecting that.
Nerissa nodded. “It isn’t a bad idea. You’ll feel it before any of us do: any strain or imbalances. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to have you monitoring from the center.”
My brow furrowed as I tried to mark the geography of the island in my mind, my hand sliding instinctively to my stomach. “The center is—”
“The volcano,” Benedict finished, shooting a wary look at Nerissa.
“It’s dead. The sacrificial wards saw to that. Besides, the child amplifies her connection,” Nerissa added. “You’re not meant to bleed power at the edges right now. You direct it.”
I looked between them: Benedict, Kieran, Kaida, Nerissa. All of them were steady, unyielding and unfortunately right. Well, except for Benedict. He looked torn. And I knew exactly why. If he had his way, I’d be in the treehouse the whole time, wrapped up so tight in the blankets I couldn’t move.
I exhaled slowly. “Fine. I’ll watch.”
“Guide,” Benedict corrected.
“Guide,” I allowed, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “Just sounds a lot like watching.”
“Special watching. Active watching,” Kieran insisted, putting his arms around my waist and pulling me into him, nipping at my neck.
A ghost of a smile tugged at my mouth.
Below us, the plan settled into place: four points, four anchors. We’d inform everyone we needed tonight, spend the evening practicing and going over the ritual, and then execute. It would be wards drawn not just to protect, but to hold.
The wind howled through the trees, carrying the distant weight of the storm that had trapped Ronan beyond the mountains. It was warm here, but the power was just as tangible; the wind had a bite to it, and the animals were still in their hidey-holes.
And beneath my hand, the child moved again, strong, insistent.
“First light,” Kaida said.
No one argued.