Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Thane’s hand twisted toward his lean hip, a warrior’s reflex for a sword that had been forbidden. “Could you undo the Mount’s dampening spell?”
“It’s very old, and it warns away from any tampering.” Which dared her to tamper. Like her tail, Ditch was fundamentally unruly.
“Evil?”
“Not all magic is evil.” She laughed. “Can you perceive the spell all around us as well?”
Curt nod. “I doona like it. Find it disturbing.”
“You wolves, magic always puts your fur up.”
Instead of denying that, he glanced up at the swelling moon, its silvery light dusting the contours of his rugged face. Chiseled lips, stubborn jaw. Beams reflected in his intense gray eyes.
King Thane of Craigdúr really was magnificent.
After a taut moment, he relaxed and faced her once more. “I scent no threat nearby,” he said at last.
“Good. At least you retain some talents here.”
“Tell me about your powers. They must be great if you were sent here to conquer the Skein.”
“You’ll discover my powers in time. Besides, I only admitted to continuing our war. I haven’t said a word about taking over this entire realm.” Would immortals look upon my true face and tremble?
“You dinna need to say it,” he pointed out. “The Accession brews. Resources are finite. A new high priestess makes a hostile takeover. You’re here for nothing less than everything. I might be the only force in your way, unless the Red Riders doona favor you. How is your power base in the Witchwood?”
“Secure enough,” she lied. The Riders were actively trying to undermine her. Their secret cattle raid had been clever—until Valkyries had arrived like an avalanche.
Still, Rosewyn the Banehand was young and growing in power. Though she possessed the ability of only one caste, her war magic was concentrated. Experience would catapult her strength into the heavens. “I’m not going anywhere, wolf.”
“Did Lazara no’ think the same?” he asked mildly. “Seems it’s eat or be eaten among your kind. Mayhap those Riders stole our cattle to undermine you.”
Just so. He saw much. “There was a cattle theft?” She bit her knuckle. “How horrible.”
His lips thinned.
Maybe that run-in with the Valkyries had been orchestrated too, another obstacle laid in Ditch’s path. Even now, something was brewing among the shield-maidens; she felt it as she looked toward Valhalland, past the icy fjords below this mountain and into the greener heartland beyond. An electrical storm of emotion seemed to course across the entire territory.
“If the Riders are against me,” she said, “you could join them and try to topple me.”
He blew out a breath, then admitted, “Should I stand with any witch, it would be you.”
His gruff words charmed her. “Why? Because of your lust for me?” She preened, her tail doing a pleased little S-curve.
“The lust is mutual,” he said without shame. “And alliances have been struck for worse reasons.”
Fair point. She inclined her head.
“We war because of scarcity, do we no’?”
“Debatable. Some of us just enjoy violence.”
He frowned. “If we combined forces, we could take other factions’ resources. Any…need for violence could also be sated.”
She laughed again. “Do you think I haven’t gotten the lay of the lands in my new home?” She’d quizzed Meera during every spare moment between training sessions. Ditch had instituted brutal regimens meant to turn novice witches—regardless of caste—into efficient killers.
Meera, as frustratingly benign as she was, knew a lot about the geopolitical realities of the Skein. Ditch said, “The Lykae run with Berserkers, drink with demonarchies, and court Valkyries. The Fey are your friends and game managers. Tell me, which ally will you betray first? Or perhaps you think the vampires’ territory, with its swamps and storms, can sustain everyone?”
“Your coven and my pack could hunt the Helter together,” he said. “I plan to scout it soon. It’s rumored to teem with game.”
“It teems with monsters,” she added sweetly. “Contagious ones. Do you really want to go tweak the noses of the undead? Maybe they’d follow us back?”
“Across the Firis? No’ likely.” That lava river made a fiery moat. “If the Helter does no’ tempt your coven, then we should work together to manage crops and livestock.”
“Yes. Food is important.” But she also had to worry about magic resources.
“For some of us more than others,” he said. “You witches can flee to Akelarre. Lykae have no world to return to.”
“Travel to Akelarre takes an obscene outlay of magic, so we aren’t going anywhere. This is good land,” she said, holding his gaze, though the truth was more complicated.
The House of Witches’ entire society ran on magic. No magic, no witches. Yet in Akelarre, it was a stripped gear, power ground to filings.
The Skein had been green with it. Some elder witches whispered the interacting of species made the light flow—that the Skein’s tapestry between beings was magic.
Yet it was declining too, and no one knew why.