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“Thank you, Queen Isolde,” he said. “I could not ask it of you.”
“I am offering,” I said.
He looked at me, fully now, and I remembered how cold he seemed when I had first met him in the throne room only weeks ago. I recognized it now as a shield.
“I have to learn to do this myself,” he said.
His words were not harsh, but they were dismissive, and a rush of embarrassment heated my face. Of course, he would not accept my help—I was the reason he struggled now.
“Of course,” I said and started to turn.
“You know I wasn’t lying,” he said, and his voice called my attention back to his face. “When I said I was hunting witches. I am. But I would take any witch who might break this curse Dis has placed upon me.”
I only nodded once and then turned from him, retreating to Reverie’s side. I could not help thinking about his and Adrian’s words. They both believed that a witch might be able to break Dis’s hold on them, but such a spell would come at a great price—likely, a life.
We mounted our horses and left the campsite.
It did not take us long to reach Jola, and when we left the cover of the red sky, I looked up, frowning. The stars I’d expected to see were hidden by heavy clouds and the smell of rain was still thick in the air. Shortly after, it began to pour. I pulled up my hood, though it did little to protect me from the wet or the cold; my fingers were frozen around Reverie’s reins.
We stopped once during our journey, and that was only because one of the rivers that cut through Jola and into Lara had risen due to the rain and was impassable. I was not certain if Jola had a different name for it, but we called it Argis.
I watched the speed of the current, and dread built within me at how close we were to my home. The air felt thick and heavy with the knowledge that when we woke at sunset, we would have to be going into battle.
“It does not seem real that this is how we must return to Lara, with an army behind us and battle before us,” said Killian.
It felt very real to me, though I had never expected my ascension to Lara’s throne to be easy, even before Adrian. Still, I knew what Killian meant.
“I am sure you expected something very different when you set out with my father weeks ago,” I said.
“No truer words,” he answered.
The rain showed no signs of stopping, so we made camp early. Despite the delay, we would still arrive in Lara tomorrow night. I stood near the tent opening, staring out at camp. I was cold and tired of being wet, but I looked for Adrian. He had yet to come inside since we arrived at camp. I did not know if he was keeping his distance despite our earlier conversation or if he was fighting for control with Dis. Either way, I felt his absence pull at my heart. I wanted to ignore it and focus on something, anything else, but it was impossible, and I hated feeling this way.
Sighing, I moved to the bed. I retrieved Ana’s spell book from my pack and slipped out of my boots before curling into the warm furs of our bed.
I was starting to think that Ana had written this book herself. I was not yet sure what gave me that impression, but it had something to do with the cadence she used to speak spells. More…concerning to me, however, was just how much power was within this little book. There were spells for creating illusions and resurrection and manifesting portals, but not just to places on the earth—this provided access to other planes, including Spirit, Dis’s realm.
I thought of my mother when she had given me the seed.
For when you return to your plane, she’d said.
Had I managed to wander into another world, and could I go back?
Was it possible to enter Dis’s realm without dying?
I swallowed thickly, my chest tightening at the idea of seeing my mother again. I cleared my throat, forcing down the tears threatening my eyes at the thought, and focused on the book, pausing when I came to a spell that looked familiar. It was one Ana had taught us to chant on the night of the full moon before we had been viciously attacked. She had said it was a containment spell, but this…this detailed a resurrection spell.
I frowned, confused.
Perhaps I was mistaken, and the words were slightly different. As I began to compare from memory, Adrian entered the tent.
I closed the book and met his gaze, but he was not looking at me. Instead, he was focused on removing his gloves. He was soaked; water beaded off his clothes and his hair was plastered to his head. He looked beautiful to me, though severe, and while I knew he would be cold, I still wanted him near. I wanted to tell him about my mother and the things she had said, but there was something off about him. I could not help the element of guilt that came as I prepared to run if he looked at me with any glow in his eyes, but he sighed, and when he turned to me, they were as dim as ever.
“Are you okay?” I asked, setting the spell book aside.
“Sable and Lucia have returned,” he said. “It seems Gavriel grossly underestimated Alaric’s army.”
“By how much?”
