Page 72 of The Coven of Ruin
At the same time she answered with, “Illean.”
“Ah.” Grae stepped back as if to leave the room again, taking a large bite out of the roll.
“No, that’s it,” Trista asserted, pointing a finger at the troublemaker of a god. “You don’t get to just walk around killing mages! Especially without proper questioning or trial!” She looked between their matching expressions of incredulity. Taking a steadying breath, she sighed, “At the very least, it needs to be a fair fight.”
Ares crossed his arms, watching her with a casually smug expression. “It wasn’t a fair fight, you’re right. In fact, he had quite the advantage. I didn’t draw my sword once.”
Grae nodded sincerely, swallowing a large piece of his breakfast roll which he then used to gesture at Ares. “It’s true. I was there.”
“How did he die then?”
“By his own blade, poor mage,” Grae said with false sympathy.
“You would think the greatest swordsman in Witch Country would be able to hold onto his sword in a fight against an unarmed opponent,” Ares said. “It’s a wonder all of witchkind hasn’t been overthrown by a small army yet if that is what you consider the elite.”
“He really was shit,” Grae agreed around another mouthful of the roll.
A noise of frustration left her before she could stop herself. “Why?” She breathed. “We could have used him to expose the group.”
“His death serves that purpose better than his life, I assure you.”
“Were there others with him? He said he would send mages to hurt Dem and Zy if—”
“It’s been handled,” Ares cut her off.
She glanced at Grae and said, “And what happened to our agreement?”
“I didn’t have all the necessary information, it would seem.” He said it as an accusation.
Before she could reply, a knock on the half-opened door drew their attention.
It was the Iron Prince, looking decidedly paler than usual. “I just received the summons—” His gaze alighted on her, and he closed his mouth. “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” First observing her gown and then her hair, he looked to Ares.
“You’re not,” Ares said at her back. “When do we need to be there?”
“Now, or really about fifteen minutes ago,” the prince said. “We are quite late.” His gaze went back to her. “Healer Trista, I believe you are to go as well. They called for everyone, including The Northern Akeso. It is the Convocation.”
The Convocation. The convening of the covens. Three from each. Had this always been the intention of the Circes season? The summons hidden amongst masquerade balls and great hunts?
His death serves that purpose better,Ares had said.He had just triggered something, and all she could do was hope it was in the favor of witchkind.
“Do you need a tunic to put on over that dress?” Ares asked her, an arrogant smile playing on his lips.
“No,” she bit out.
Chapter XXXI
“IseetimeinSpellspire has served you well,” Eral said as he eyed her approach. Though it sounded like a compliment, she knew there was an insult in there somewhere.
Trista had seen her althea several times over the course of their weeks in the capital. He mostly helped in the infirmary, soaking up whatever knowledge and experiences he could. She imagined she would have been doing the same if it hadn’t been for The Arena.
“A pleasure to see you as always, Healer Eral,” she replied politely, folding her arms over herself.
The circular chamber was packed. She had somehow beat The Iron Coven there even after returning to her room, changing, and packing a bag of clothing and hygiene items. The Convocation meant she would be gone for at least two days.
They were crammed into a room located behind the dining hall, its entryway covered by a well-placed tapestry. At its center, a fountain-like basin stood empty. The room held a chill that made her skin feel clammy, as if it didn’t usually get airflow.
“Where is theIron Prince?”The Sun Coven’s Majus questioned with unconcealed contempt.
