Page 123 of Merciless Is My Crown

“What does the mark mean?” I nodded to the necklace. “You said Old Valarian, but I never learned the language.”

His lips curled up. “Of course you didn’t. Military grunts never learn the finer points of history; they are far too busy fighting wars for their betters.”

I let the insult roll off me with a shrug. “That’s not an answer, unless you don’t know.” I laughed. “No harm in not being an arrogant know-it-all who actually doesn’t know a thing.”

Trubahn’s shaky, pissed-off intake of breath was totally worth Zephryn’s furious glare.

“That is the Vanguard Conclave’s insignia, an ancient witch coven, once the most powerful force on this continent until the Fae came and wiped them out,” Trubahn said stiffly like he had a ten- foot rod shoved up his arse.

“They worshipped the Old Gods, though they called them something different—the Mystara or some such bullshite.”

Anaria was all ears, keenly focused on the mage, dissecting every single word. As if they held some secret she’d been searching for, and I wondered if this had anything to do with her fascination with the library.

Or with the coven itself.

“This Vanguard Conclave…are you sure they were wiped out?” I asked, staring at that deep red stone, the color of freshly spilled blood. “I mean, there are always survivors.”

Torin wasn’t back yet, which meant Simon wasn’t back, which meant I had to keep this pompous arsehole talking.

“Killed or driven into their holes. What does it matter? The witches were gone by the time the Fae took this land. Except for a few isolated covens, they never reorganized into anything relevant. Healers and charlatans, mostly.”

“Where would this conclave have ruled from?” I asked softly, intrigued by Anaria’s sudden interest in this line of questioning. “Or does that city even still exist?”

“There is a theory that Tempeste was built upon the ruins of an ancient city called Etherium.” Trubahn paused, eyes landing on me as if he was reevaluating what he saw.

“According to the historians, it was once a great center for knowledge. A library to rival all others. They say that before our people conquered these lands, there was an alliance between Darkhold and Etherium that lasted ten millennia.”

An ancient alliance between the dragons and the witches?

Zephryn went on alert as well, and I didn’t envy the mage one bit, not with how closely the dragon tracked him. And where the fuck was Simon?

The mage shook his head. “But after all this time, that is only speculation. No one knows for sure what lies beneath Tempeste, and now…it hardly matters. Soon enough, I expect Tempeste, like Etherium, will be taken over by the forest.”

“What does the writing say?” I craned my head, scanning over the unfamiliar runes.

“This says, ‘From the darkest shadows, shine the brightest flames.’ And that is an exact translation,” he boasted as if he couldn’t help himself.

“Here is Simon.” Torin reappeared, the windswept owl shifter in tow as if he’d just made a frantic journey over the biggest army in three realms and been scolded for arriving late.

“Excellent.” Trubahn couldn’t look more pompous if he’d tried. “This is what will happen. Before I undo the spell, Simon will swear a blood oath to me, because unlike last time, I will not tolerate my slaves leaving my service at their whim.”

“Caladrius was under attack, if you remember,” Torin pointed out evenly. “Simon only came to assist me because the Citadelle was under attack.”

Never mind that we were the ones attacking.

“I don’t care if all of Caladrius falls into the Great Pit and is consumed by fire. I own you for the rest of your immortal life, not a few measly decades like before.” Trubahn pulled out a blade and pointed to the floor. “Kneel and hold out your hand.”

Simon obeyed, eyes gleaming with savage fury when Trubahn slashed his outstretched palm in one brutal swipe.

Trubahn dragged the bloody knife across his own palm then pressed the edge to the wound on Simon’s hand, the air in the room humming, setting the dusty crystals vibrating. “You will return with me to the shop. I have your old cage waiting, though I suppose there will be no more messages going back and forth from Tempeste now that Solok is dead.”

His roving gaze landed on Anaria and my blood iced over as I fought my impulse to shield her from this fucking arsehole. He would sell us out the second he got back to Blackcastle.

“Let’s get this over with”—Simon jerked his head at the pendant—“now that you have what you wanted.”

“You are all fools.” Trubahn’s dead eyes raked over us. “This was a simple spell, so simple you could have done this yourself, Torin.” He held his hand out over the pendant and the stone danced across the tabletop, the silver chain clinking before a flash of red light sent us all stumbling back.

A brawny male lay curled on the table, long, dark hair obscuring his face, leaving only one pointed ear visible, tipped with an intricate gold tip. A sob escaped from Torin, and she threw herself over him, fingers dragging over his matted hair, murmuring softly.

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