Page 159 of Vicious Is My Throne

I couldn’t drop the ring.

I couldn’t shift into my wyvern if I wanted.

“Let him go.” Anaria’s power flared. I panted, fighting to escape the grip of this smothering magic, wondering if this was Bexley’s final betrayal. Disabling me so he—or the Oracle—could kill Anaria.

Bexley just chuckled. “You wanted the ring, you have it.”

Before our eyes, Bexley transformed from mousy mage to an ancient, white-haired crone, wizened and bent with age, her hands knobby with arthritis. She smiled, showing cracked teeth, her eyes darting between the two of us.

Those eyes…My breath caught in my throat. Her eyes were green as a spring field, dancing with laughter as she grinned up at Anaria.

“Hello, my great, great…Well, there are too many greats for me to list off without wasting time we don’t have. Hello, Anaria. Do you know who I am?”

Before I could shout a warning, Anaria threw her arms around the old woman’s neck, hugging her as carefully as if she were made from glass before she pulled away, her matching eyes wet with tears.

“Sylvaria. The first High Priestess of the Vanguard Conclave. Former slave, forger of the Aetherial, and the first of my bloodline.”

Anaria’s brow scrunched up. “But…that means Stormfall is part of the conclave too. And what about Ophelia and Gideon? Why would they attack us if we’re all on the same side?”

She chuckled again as if this was all very amusing. “Because everything becomes more valuable when you have to fight for it.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What about the Oracle? Did Gideon and Ophelia really speak to her? Or was that a lie?”

“That, unfortunately, was the truth. The simple fact she’d grown bold enough to poke around Mysthaven made us take precautions.” She frowned up at me. “You two almost ruined everything by taking matters into your own hands and sneaking off that day to retrieve the weapon, but I suppose things worked out in the end.”

“How…how did you end up healing me that night? Torin said she sent Simon to find you.”

“He found me. I’ve lived outside Tempeste for centuries. Torin only knew me as a skilled healer. She was never aware of my real identity. But the moment I saw you, I recognized my own blood. From that moment on, you had the attention of the coven.”

“That coven nearly killed me.”

“A grave miscalculation on our part. Adele…We did not take her into account. Her challenging Vireena set the stage for disaster.”

“And after?” I asked coldly.

“I waited at the Wynter Palace, knowing it was only a matter of time before our paths crossed again. But Vesper’s orders were specific. Help, not interference. I worked within those parameters the best I could.”

“Bent them, you mean?” Anaria’s eyes sparkled with the same mischief as the old witch’s.

“Now, I believe I will take that back.” She gripped Anaria’s arm so tightly her knuckles whitened as she deftly plucked the ring from my outstretched palm.

“What do you say we go in and have a bit of fun with the rest of your males?” She winked, and magic flooded back into me, silver hair and green eyes ripping back into Bexley’s drab, mousy disguise.

“One more question.” Anaria didn’t budge an inch, and I stepped up behind her. “The keystone I’ve been carrying this whole time belonged to Gelvira. She called that stone her heart. What does that mean?”

All the humor drained from Bexley’s face. “That keystone was hers?”

“What did she mean, calling the stone her heart?” I pushed. “Is that how you knew the keystones would amplify our magic? Can we use that same information against her somehow?”

Bexley’s complexion turned sickly gray. “Get inside. I’ll tell you what little I know.”

67

ANARIA

Zor carried me to Darkspire, soaring through the night on wings as black as coal, Tristan beside us, cutting an elegant, golden slash through the darkness.

Raz, Tavion, and Bex—Sylvaria—hung back, hopefully timing their departure so we’d all arrive at the same time.

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