Page 65 of The Edge of Darkness

Torin’s eyes narrowed on Niall. She studied him for a long moment with an unnerving stare that would have made any lesser being’s skin crawl. “I have no quarrel with your fallen god.”

“But you will have an issue if he succeeds in his efforts,” Niall said gruffly. “If we fail at this, who do you think Lyceius will come for next? When The Veil is no longer binding him, and nothing stands between him and your isles, where will you run to then?”

The implication of her and her kin running anywhere for survival was kindling to the flame within her—I could see it in her eyes. And that’s exactly what Niall wanted.

“Seems I traded one war-torn world for another.” She pushed a harsh exhale through her nose, and then her eyes settled on me in another unfiltered perusal. “Does the god-king’s daughter have nothing to say?”

I held her stare, knowing where Niall was going with this. Appeal to her. Gain her trust and her help. Come out victorious.

Now, it was time for me to play my part.

“At the start of all this, I was just a human—a stranger to the fae realm. I didn’t trust the fae or anything I was told because I was taught that they were the enemy. But then my eyes were opened to who I really am, and to the reality of the world we live in. And I had to accept many truths that I wanted to deny—one of them being that I am the Daughter of Karios.”

There was a slight shift in Torin’s expression—curiosity, perhaps.

“You know the prophecy. You relayed Karios’s orders to my Dionach.” I nodded to Silas, and the witch goddess glanced at him. “I will not let this world become torn apart by death and destruction. I will defeat Lyceius, but I will need all the help I can get if there’s to be anything left to save by the end of it.”

Torin studied me, weighing my words and Niall’s offer. Seconds felt like minutes, as she worked through the risks in her head.

Just when I thought she might indeed deny us, she spoke. “I swore my allegiance to Karios long ago, upon coming to this world. If aid is needed, you shall have it. My legions of Dionachs are at your disposal.”

A mutual, immense relief rippled down the bond between Niall and me.

“I will require a generous space within your mountains, High Lord,” the goddess added.

“Consider it done,” Niall replied. “And will you yourself stand alongside us on the battlefield when the time comes?”

As if the thought unsettled her, she shifted on her feet. “I do not favor war. My power⁠—”

“Would be an asset,” I quickly interjected before she could shoot down Niall’s attempt at gaining her for our arsenal.

Her eyes met mine, and held, searching my expression for what I assumed was any hint of malicious intent. She’d been betrayed, seemingly more than once in her long existence, and she was weary. But as Niall had said, we were not them. We would not go back on our word.

“None of us want this war,” I said. “But we are capable of making sure it is the last one.”

Torin’s plum-stained lips tilted upward—barely—but enough to notice. “I will consider it. But regardless of if I partake in this war, you will need a way to relay summons and communications.” She paused for a moment. “I shall offer some of my witches in my stead, on the condition that this will not be a repeat of the last bargain I struck with your kind.”

Beside me, Niall lifted his right hand and summoned a black-hilted dagger from the shadows. He maintained eye contact with the witch goddess as he slowly sliced the blade over his left palm, cutting deep enough that blood flowed and dripped onto Neveshir soil. “This I vow: If your witches and Dionachs help us to win the war against Lyceius, they will be protected in my lands.”

Torin dipped her chin, finding the High Lord’s vow to her satisfaction. Upon her acknowledgement, the blade disappeared, and the wound knitted itself closed, leaving a thin, white scar in its place—a token of a bargain well struck.

“Nivelle is my most promising witch, and a considerable asset. She will return to the fae realm with you to uphold my part of the bargain and be my liaison.”

Behind her, still stooped over one knee, the wardeness’s head shot up in disbelief.

Torin turned toward her prized witch. “These are your orders.”

Nivelle, wide-eyed with shock, hesitated only for a moment, then bowed her head once more.

“We will discuss terms later,” Torin said to Niall and I.

“Thank you.” I offered a bow in respect.

Niall placed a hand on my shoulder, speaking for both of us as he added, “We will not forget this.”

Torin regarded us a final time, and I could have sworn the faintest trace of a smirk tugged at her lips. “I’m counting on that, Son of Shadow,” she replied before she vanished into the mist.

The frosted ground where Torin had stood slowly melted once she vanished. We all remained quiet, piecing together what just happened, and what it meant. Down the walkway, Nivelle stared long and hard at Niall, her eyes and facial markings pulsing blue in the dark, as if raging to the beat of her heart. The garden didn’t seem to be quelling her temper anymore.