“Do you really think they’d agree to peace?” Roiven’s hands curl into fists on top of the table.
The honest answer is that I don’t know. The Enchanted’s deaths never seemed to bother the War-Father too deeply. I know he wants to win, but it’s not like we’re losing the war to begin with. The casualties are high, yes, but over the years the number of dragons have shrunk. The Empire is vast. We can consecrate more Enchanted, train more knights, build more Hellions. The witches don’t have that option. They hide, and they harry the ships. But if we’ve found the Gray Tower…
Whywouldthe War-Father negotiate? He’s about to get everything he wanted anyways. An attack on the Gray Tower will require a huge amount of power. Power in the form of lives. Would the War-Father care about resource cost, if he doesn’t care about the humanity of it all?
“If it felt like winning to him, he might agree. If they got the isles…”
“You want us to leave our homes.”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“You aren’t asking me to negotiate, you’re asking me to surrender.”
“It’s better than everyone dying.”
“We aren’t going to surrender.”
There’s a finality to Roiven’s tone that I can’t accept.
“But if everyone dies—”
“Enough,” Roiven says, shaking his head. “If it’s the best you think thatthingwould take, then no, I won’t negotiate. Are you done eating? Can we get started on the rest of the enchantment?”
Did he just call my War-Father athing?
“Watch your words, witch,” I growl. Roiven snorts.
I’m not going to give up, but I don’t have a better idea yet. Half the isles? Two-thirds? There must be some compromise they’d both accept that will stop the bloodshed.
Roiven stands up.
“I want my magic freed,” the witch says as he offers me his hand. I look up in surprise to find him staring at me with a determined expression. I ignore his hand and stand on my own.
“I’d rather start with the pain rings.”
“Why? Scared?”
My shoulders tense. I’d be much more comfortable starting with the parts of the enchantment thatdon’tlet him massacre people. Even if other enchantments are still binding him from attacking the Empire or attacking me.
“Nobody in their right mind would want to give a witch back his power.”
Roiven has the nerve to smirk at me. The Witch King folds his muscular arms over his chest.
“I know I bested you when we fought, but unlike the Empire, we don’t attack our prisoners.”
“Bested me?” I scowl. “I’m the only one who landed a hit.Youstill have the scar.”
His eyebrows raise slowly. Roiven’s eyes start at the top of my scalp and inch down over my scars and my metal arm.
“You and the truth don’t get along very well, do they?”
“This was your dragon, not you. If we were fighting on flat ground and she wasn’t there to win your battles…”
He snorts and unfolds his arms, taking a step towards me. I brace myself but don’t move back.
“You think I couldn’t have killed you the moment I laid eyes on you, knight?” Roiven’s voice is cold.
“Obviously not, or else youwouldhave.”
