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“Up until a few weeks ago, I believed the demons grew the Bloodwood,” I replied, giving her a frosty stare. “All witches are taught it was grown to entrap us. I didn’t think my grandmother even allowed witches to enter the Bloodwood. Everyone knows it’s a death sentence.”
“Clearly things have changed,” Scathanna said, an edge of loathing to her voice.
“Why would she be so desperate to retrieve you?” Brigid asked, giving me a meaningful look. She knew about my demon magic, but she had promised not to tell the other Lords. I understood her question to include, “other than the obvious, of course.”
It took me a moment to recall the half-truth I had told about my presence in the Bloodwood. “Probably because I evaded justice,” I said, trying to come up with a reason she’d want me back. “And because she still thinks I can bring down the wood.”
“If the Crone is looking to bring down the wood, it means she wants to cross it,” Herne said. He glanced behind me, and I remembered Cerridwen was there, still and patient as a statue. He pursed his lips. “There can be no other reason. If she wants to cross it, she’s angling to bring down the wards.”
“Aren’t there far more demons than witches?” I asked, looking at the Daemon Lords in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand why you are so concerned. Should it not be easy to stop an attack from them?”
“The last time witches and demons fought,” Carnon explained, his eyes flashing with something dark, “it was a bloody business. Witches gain their powers much younger than demons, so a young witch’s magic is much more deadly than that of a young demon. Add to that their use of blood magic, and the witches become a formidable enemy. In the last Witch War, only one witch died for every ten demons.”
“Goddess above,” I muttered, trying to do the math. That meant a relatively small number of witches could do a lot of damage to a demon army, even if it was unlikely they’d win.
“We need to figure out why the Crone wants to attack. Why she wants to bring down the Bloodwood,” Carnon continued. He looked down at me, the hardness in his eyes softening to fondness. “Could you work a truth spell on her, if I was able to immobilize her?”
“Yes,” I said, confident I could do so with the correct elements. “But she’ll be heavily guarded by Coven Mothers. Powerful witches who will die to protect her.”
“Then we will have to be clever about this,” Carnon replied, looking to Herne who nodded once.
“About what?” Tyr drawled, looking somewhat bored with how this meeting was proceeding.
“About our invasion of her manor,” Carnon answered simply. “Elara and I will be going through a witch mirror.”
The objections that broke out after this pronouncement were loud and numerous.
“Are you completely mad?” Herne growled, looking at Carnon in disbelief.
“You can’t go into the Witchlands alone,” Tyr agreed, glancing at Scathanna. “Unless youwantto give up your throne when the Crone kills you.”
“There must be a better way to go about this,” Brigid agreed, her face lined with concern. “If you fall, the Darklands fall with you.”
“I won’t be alone,” Carnon replied dryly, raising his voice against the shouting. Scathanna was notably quiet, and I seethed, sure she was imagining being crowned queen if Carnon died. “I’ll have Elara with me, as well as considerable magical and physical gifts, if you’ve all forgotten.” He flexed a hand at this statement, calling fire into one palm and shadows into the other. He snuffed the power out just as quickly as he had summoned it. “And thereisno better way. A full scale invasion would take weeks to plan and end with thousands of casualties. Surgical precision is needed here, not brute force.”
The room was silent for a long moment, each Lord contemplating the ramifications of sending their king into the Witchlands.
“In that case,” said Brigid slowly, pursing her lips and setting her jaw in a way that spoke of determination. “Tell us how we can help.”
Carnon doled out tasks and requests as if he had already thought through this plan a dozen times. I supposed he must have, being the king and being responsible for so many lives. Brigid and Scathanna were tasked with sending casters from their respective courts to guard the borders, while Herne agreed to oversee the force personally. His ability to shift into a stag gave him the advantage of speed, and Cerridwen could serve as aerial reconnaissance.
Tyr tried arguing again to imbue the wards with blood magic, but Carnon silenced him, asking him instead to task his scholars with researching defensive blood magic that could be easily wielded on the field. Tyr rolled his eyes at this, but agreed to his task without much further protest, everyone falling neatly in line behind their king. It was impressive to watch Carnon rule, and he seemed to draw energy from it, despite the lack of sleep. I promised myself to show him later how arousing I had found his performance.
He left me with a kiss, Herne insisting they train before Carnon was too tired to put up a fair fight. I headed the other way down the corridor, intending to check on Artemis and bring her back to our room to care for her. Akela went with me, my faithful near-silent guardian.
“Heissuch an attentive lover, isn’t he?” said a scathing voice behind me. I turned, brows raised at Scathanna who leaned against the wall in an indolent pose. “A word of caution, Lady Elara. You may be hismate,” she spat the word like it tasted vile in her mouth, “but he will soon grow bored of you. He did the same to me, and to countless others in the Court of Shadows.”
“So I’ve heard,” I said flatly, remembering Carnon alluding to his undeserved reputation. “But from whatIunderstand, my Lady,” I added, taking a step closer to her, my hands balled into fists at my sides, “it wasyouthat perhaps became too attached.”
Scathanna’s eyes flared and she laughed wickedly. “My poor, naive girl,” she said, slinking toward me and putting a cold hand on my shoulder. “Let me give you a piece of unsolicited advice.” She leaned closer, as if about to impart some great secret wisdom on me. “Carnon will use you and toss you to the wolves as soon as you no longer serve his purposes. And if you don’t believe me,” she added, stepping back, her gaze icy, “then ask him about Keaira.”
I frowned as she stepped away, uncertain if this was a person or a place. She grinned wickedly, as if delighted that I didn’t understand.
“Did he not tell you himself?” she asked in mock surprise. She tutted, stepping away from me and smiling like a cat. “Strange that he shouldn’t tell you of the female he loved,” she said, “and murdered.”
His first love. The love Herne had mentioned and I’d almost forgotten about until this moment. “You lie,” I growled. Akela made a similar noise beside me, and he nudged my leg as if to pull me away from her.
Scathanna smiled, a catlike slash of lips against her pale skin. “He has a scar,” she said, drawing one long-fingered hand to her side and pointing beneath her ribs. “Right here. Ask him. His lies are never done, even if he tells you otherwise.”
