Page 71 of Merciless Is My Crown

“Then we let them freeze,” Dane said firmly.

“Then we decide,” I told him. “And I’m not sure you get a vote, Dane.”

“You are absolutely no fun at all.” But the shifter waggled his eyebrows before prowling toward the coven, managing to appear menacing even with his bare legs poking out beneath the cloak.

“I need a volunteer to open the prison cells. They will be exempt from whatever punishment your new High Priestess decides to mete out for betting against her survival, though I’m not sure how long her benevolent mood will last. You might want to hurry.”

Witches rushed forward and Dane took his time choosing one of them. When he finally did, I turned to hide my smile as I opened a doorway for her to step through. “He’s good at this.” Dane winked as he walked by.

“A master,” Raziel agreed, then he skimmed his knuckles down my cheek. “Fuck, Anaria. I knew coming here would be dangerous, but…just fuck.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve said the same quite a few times since we arrived. But…” I blew out a shaky breath and took in his beautiful face. “The worst is over.” I tugged at his sleeve. “And there have been some…developments.”

I guided him as far away from the Arena as I dared yet, even here, lowered my voice to a whisper. “Tristan is a wyvern shifter.” Raziel reeled back and I caught his wrist. “There’s more. He touched a skull and we both got caught in a vision. The Oracle and Corvus killed off the other three gods, the ones most associated with life-giving powers. That’s the reason the magic dies off every few millennia and has to be replenished.”

“What if those gods were still alive?” Raz asked curiously.

“I don’t know. The magic would never run out? There would be no need for blood sacrifices…or wars.”

“Men like to fight wars. I highly doubt anything—even an Old God—would ever stop them from killing each other.”

“True enough, but still…Tristan is a wyvern. The very last one, according to Vireena.”

“Who?” Raziel asked, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“The High Priestess.” I jerked my head at the covered body. “The witch I had to fight because of this fucking mark on my arm.” I frowned. “We should…bury her. She was their priestess. I’m sure they have customs.”

“Anaria.” Raziel threaded his fingers through mine. “I love you, I really do, but I have no idea what you are talking about.”

It took me until Dane returned with a very pissed-off Tristan and Tavion to explain everything that happened these last few days, giving Raz barely enough time to inform us Zephryn was alive and recovering with Bexley and they’d managed to get on and off Darkhold with minimal injuries.

After both Tavion and Tristan gave me the once-over—twice-over, I supposed—for injuries, we surveyed the miserable witches huddled together inside the Arena.

“I say let them rot and be done with this place. Wait for a break in the weather and head back to Nightcairn.”

“Your vote is duly noted, Dane.” I rolled my eyes. “For the third time now. Anyone else have a suggestion besides murdering everyone?”

“If we had a truthteller, we could separate your enemies from the witches who might support your reign.” Raz kept his hand on his knife. From the look on his face, I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t second Dane’s plan.

I lifted my eyebrow. “I have no plans to reign over this place. And it’s only getting colder out here, so…”

The moon was at its zenith, dusting every surface in silver light, but the howling wind never stopped. “I say we let them out then find somewhere safe to sleep tonight. I’m exhausted—we’re all exhausted. We hole up in a room somewhere and take turns keeping watch until tomorrow when we can talk to some of these witches, get a better feel for what we’re facing.”

I met Raz’s dark, doubting gaze. “From the way the coven reacted to her death, they aren’t all loyal to Vireena. We could secure some allies here, Raz. That is, after all, what we came here for.”

I turned to Dane. “You know these witches better than we do. Separate out Vireena’s inner circle to start. We’ll secure them in the prison since they were so eager to lock Tavion and Tristan down there.”

Where they were going to strip them of their magic then…skin them. I couldn’t repress my shiver of revulsion, or my fury at their cruelty.

“Tavion and I will take care of that,” Tristan said with anticipatory glee. “I remember their faces; Dane can point out anyone else he thinks poses a danger.”

“We have a few days before Zor arrives, longer before Torin and her friends come. Enough time to rest and plan our next move,” Raziel murmured. “Which you have already thought about, probably for days now.” Raziel’s gaze swung to me. “Care to share?”

“Later. When we’re alone in a secure place. Dane, do you have any idea of Stormfall’s layout? I know where the throne room and the broom closet are.” I gave them a wry smile.

“And I’m familiar with the prison. Don’t recommend.” Tristan’s lips quirked upward, his eyes dancing with a mix of wicked anger.

“Let’s get our enemies sorted out and locked down, then we’ll take a tour.” Dane stomped his boots on the ground. “I’ve never been beyond the common areas, but the fortress is most likely set up like Blackcastle or the Citadelle.”

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