Page 57 of Merciless Is My Crown

We choked down a meager breakfast of bread and dried venison, saddled our horses, and were halfway through the next pass before the sun rose.

The snow started midmorning, huge, sticky snowflakes that built up on our shoulders and the tops of our hoods as we pushed north into territory few had ever seen. I spent most of that second day brushing off heavy snow and trying to stop from freezing.

The third day blended into the fourth, and by the fifth our food was running low. The storm had overtaken us, and Tristan melted a narrow path through the heavy drifts just so we could make headway. When his magic ran low, we pushed through the chest-high snow until our horses could go no further.

The cave we stopped at was barely big enough to hold the five of us, Tavion making sure I was huddled against the innermost wall, the safest place and the warmest. Adele found a spot at the far end of the cave and turned her back to us. My mother hadn’t said a word for days, not that any of us had the energy to talk, only numbly following Dane’s directions and trying not to fall off our horses.

Dane left his clothes in a pile to dry beside a fire made from Tristan’s magic, his black wolf bounding off into the snowstorm to scout tomorrow’s path into witch territory.

From the way Tavion stared after him, hands clenching, I knew he was dying to shift. To run.

Soon, I wanted to tell him.

As soon as I find the cure, you can run to your heart’s content.

Dane returned and dressed without a word. I could barely keep my eyes open, layered in blankets by my fussbudget of a husband, too exhausted to do anything more than smile up at him in gratitude.

Dane settled beside the fire, his windburned cheeks glowing in the light. “We’ll cross into coven land first thing tomorrow. Stay alert. Hands off your weapons. They’ll kill you before you even see the blow coming.”

“Do these witches have any redeeming qualities?” I asked softly. “I mean, they can’t be completely horrible.”

Tristan smirked then slanted me a look that clearly said, oh yes, they can.

“Some say the healing magic, the skill of mending flesh and bone, began with the witches, a gift from the Old Gods themselves before the talent died out and was lost to the rest of us.”

“Lost…or hidden away?” Tristan wondered, his canny eyes gleaming.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Dane held his hands out over the smokeless fire, and I cast a shield of magic over the cave entrance, the air instantly turning warmer. “I heard a story once, that the tunnels weren’t made by the Fae or the Old Gods.”

“Witches dug the tunnels?”

The old shifter nodded. “The city Tempeste is built upon first belonged to the witches. They dug those escape routes while they waged a great war against the Old Gods, a war the witches lost. In revenge, the gods decimated their city, destroying their coven and their magic…well, their magic disappeared.”

“What do you think?”

Dane shrugged. “It’s only a story. I’ve heard so many over the years I don’t know what to believe.” His dark eyes pinned me with a look. “But I know this. That mark on your arm makes you a target. Whatever happens when we arrive, we stick close. The others will be here in a day or two. Until then, do not engage anyone.”

The next morning we’d only been riding for an hour when Dane held up his hand in warning and we stopped.

After an overly complicated series of hand signals, a grim-faced Tavion trotted past us, bent his head to his uncle’s, and disappeared around the next bend. Panic tightened my chest, then Adele’s horse bumped against my leg.

“When we reach the High Barrens tomorrow, you would be wise to issue the first challenge. Anything less will be viewed as weakness.”

I pulled my hood further over my face to hide my sour expression. “I’m not issuing a challenge to anyone. There will be no fighting. Tavion, Tristan, and I will decide what the right approach is, with Dane’s input.” I could hardly look at her, pity and rage warring inside me.

Perhaps they always would.

Perhaps my mother was just that—two contradictions that could never be reconciled. Part of me loved her…because of who she was. Part of me pitied her for what she’d endured. But then there was this…the ruthless, power-hungry side of Adele that I could not stand.

“You’re making a mistake, Anaria. You cannot trust them.” Adele’s eyes were so bright a chill went up my spine. “These males will betray you like they did me. Leave you behind when they are finished with you.”

“They won’t,” I told her. “This is different.”

Gods help me, but our relationship was, for so many reasons.

But why would she think differently after they’d betrayed her? She had every reason to distrust them after what they’d done. Cruelty begets cruelty, Ember used to say, and she was right.

“Blood is all that matters, Anaria. Remember that.”

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