Page 44 of Vicious Is My Throne

“We’re pretty much fucked, aren’t we?”

The question was easy to ask, alone in the candlelit room, the beaker making that funny sound, Bexley looking down at me with no judgment, only a hint of pity. Easier to ask him our chances than Raz or Tavion or Zor, or Tristan who wasn’t back yet even though it was dark outside.

At least I’d get the truth.

“The whole world is fucked, from the sounds of it, unless we figure this out. Tell me what you know, Anaria,” Bexley urged, taking a seat opposite me. “Tell me everything, leave nothing out. The most insignificant detail could be the thing that saves us all.”

Tavion returned halfway through my explanation, and he scooted his chair beside me until our thighs touched, pausing over the rendering then slowly paging through the rest of the book while I explained the past seven months of my life.

“That is…a lot.” The mage set his trembling hands on the table in front of him. “But so much makes sense now. So very much.”

“The blight or the Reapers or”—I waved my hand—“everything else?”

“No, my master’s theory was more of a…personal quest. There is, perhaps, something else I should tell you.” He chewed his lip nervously, his eyes darting around the room.

“I’m a?—”

Tristan burst in, hair loose, shirt still clutched in his hand, Raz and Zor behind him.

“The High Barrens are untouched. Lucius and Dane should have had a clear path north once they cleared Montgomery lands. They will be alright, Tavion.” My heart tightened at the look on my husband’s face. Pure relief, and I set my hand on his thigh.

“But between here and Lake Moor, there are only a few untouched swaths of forest. We’re fortunate we reached the palace when we did. Everything for miles is affected by the blight.”

“What about to the west? Does the blight go all the way to Varitus?” Zorander stared out the window at blackened forest as far as the eye could see, his face a hard mask.

“Almost.” Tristan dropped the shirt over his head. “In the south, the forest mostly is untouched, but north, the blight stops right at the ward, like someone drew a line.”

“Maybe they got out, Zor.” Raz squeezed his friend’s arm as I looked on, confused. “They had five days, after all.”

“They who?” I studied the grim concern on Raz’s face, Zor’s stiff posture. “What’s going on?”

Raz blew out a breath. “When we went to Darkhold, we saw what was happening at the border between Varitus and Caladrius. There were thousands of refugees pouring through the wall into Descendant lands.”

“Gods,” Bexley murmured. “They’ll be trapped over there with no magic.”

“I sent two of them home. Told them they’d be safer.” Zor’s face twisted. “They gave us food and I fucking sent them home to die. They would have been better off going into Varitus with everyone else.”

“You couldn’t have known this would happen, Zor,” Raz muttered.

“Maybe they heard blight was coming and left anyway,” I echoed Raz, though Corvus’s corruption was moving so fast, I didn’t see how anyone could see this coming. Though being trapped in Varitus with no powers was almost as bad.

“There was no way any of us could have foreseen this.”

I slowly balled my hands up into fists. No. None of us could have foreseen Corvus’s corruption. And while our ignorance was a problem…I wondered if that could also be our answer.

The Oracle and her brother had been ahead of us since the beginning. Pulling the strings, moving us around like chess pieces.

To defeat the Oracle…we had to have the element of surprise. We had to stop playing by her rules.

Witch magic could stave off Corvus’s corruption. We had the proof right in front of our eyes.

The High Barrens were unscathed. The Wynter Palace.

“Which other areas were untouched, Tristan? You said there were a few spots in the forest where the blight hadn’t yet taken effect.”

Tristan scratched the back of his neck. “There is a small area to our south, looks like some small buildings clustered together, but the ward is strong enough to keep the blight at bay. To the west, one small village hasn’t been overtaken.”

“That’s probably Thornvale.” Bexley rooted through a pile of loose papers and pulled out a wrinkled map. “Right here. A hotbed of rebel mage activity. They are accustomed to hiding and have strong warding around their fortifications.”

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