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“Impressive,” she said. “But you cannot kill me.”

  He gritted his teeth and sent every bit of his magic into his hands and then outward into Sybbyl. But just as she said, she didn’t die.

  Her smile widened. “The Gira will not let you kill me.”

  “But I can hurt you,” he said.

  The fact that sweat rolled down her temple to disappear into her hair, and that her hands were clenched into fists was all he needed to come to that conclusion.

  “And I can give you pleasure.”

  His head jerked back. “I want nothing from you other than your death.”

  He was suddenly on his back. Jarin looked up to find a dozen Gira on top of him, their magic making it so he couldn’t move. He still fought them with his body and his magic, though it did little good.

  Sybbyl took her time getting to her feet. She swung her hair out of her face and righted her crown before she faced him. “You did hurt me, and I will do the same to you soon. But for now, I’ll give you pleasure.”

  Worry went through Jarin. He would not be forced to have sex with Sybbyl, not after having something so magical with Helena.

  The Gira held him tightly. Frustration ran through Jarin. It wasn’t until his clothes were removed that he bellowed his fury.

  “What is wrong with him?” Sybbyl demanded.

  Jarin stilled. He raised his head and looked down at his flaccid cock. He didn’t want Sybbyl so, of course, he wouldn’t respond to her.

  Then he glanced at the Gira, who were pouring their magic into him, trying to force his body to ready for the coupling. Except it wasn’t working.

  Jarin smiled and lowered his head. Sybbyl would not be getting what she wanted from him. Not now.

  Not ever.

  24

  The night had been the loneliest of Helena’s life. Jarin had become a staple in it, so effortlessly. So quickly. She hadn’t realized how much she had begun to turn to him. To depend on him.

  Helena looked over her shoulder at Malene. The Lady of the Varroki had invited Helena to remain in the tower, allowing her a bath and a feast. It was quite an honor.

  Armir had remained with them late into the night, not departing until well after midnight. It had been evident that he didn’t want to leave, but he had, taking Valdr with him. Helena feigned exhaustion to be alone with her thoughts.

  Malene had offered her bed, but Helena refused, preferring the floor. She curled up before the fire. The hours crawled by as Helena went through every word and action that had transpired between her and Sybbyl, trying to find something that would give her an advantage.

  When she finally dozed, Helena dreamt of Jarin, of being in his arms, tasting his kiss, and feeling him within her. She missed him so much that an ache had begun within her chest.

  And not knowing what Sybbyl was doing to him only made things worse.

  Helena finally gave up trying to rest and returned to the window. The shutters were closed, and she didn’t dare open them for fear of waking Malene. Helena peered through the slits as best as she could, but something kept drawing her back to the top of the tower.

  She padded barefoot to the door and cracked it open. After a look over her shoulder to make sure Malene still slept, Helena slipped outside and softly closed the door behind her.

  Her breath locked in her throat at the frigid temperatures that met her. But she ascended the slippery stone steps nonetheless.

  Helena pulled strands of her hair from her face that the wind whipped about her. Now, she wished she hadn’t released it from the braids, but she hadn’t wanted to pass up another opportunity to wash her body and hair.

  She finally reached the pinnacle of the tower just as the sun rose and looked in awe at the six tall pillars. Each one was curved inward like a beast curling its claws into a fist. The stones creating them were not cracked or crumbled. Instead, they seemed altered, proving that magic had created the phenomenon.

  Helena walked to the center of the space and slowly turned in a circle, taking in the vast water, the many isles, and the rocky cliffs and valley that made up Blackglade. She smiled when she saw the cottages below and wondered which one Jarin had been raised in.

  There were larger structures, as well. Some that looked similar to a small keep, but it was the large, wooden structure that had the unmistakable dragon head carving of the Vikings upon it that interested her.

  She stopped when she found herself facing south. Somewhere, far from here, Sybbyl imprisoned Jarin. Helena knew he would fight the Coven leader until the end of his days to be free. Not just to return to her, but because he abhorred anything to do with the Coven.

  Jarin would never surrender to Sybbyl. Not for anything.

  Everything Helena had learned about her magic, she had discovered herself. Some of it came easily. Even spells would appear in her mind, as if she learned them without knowing it. Now, she knew the reason. All the times she’d believed she was alone, the First Witch had actually been with her—every step of the way.

  Helena shuddered from the frigid wind and the nearly frozen stones beneath her feet. She should be colder than she was, she knew that, but it didn’t bother her. Magic was all around her, power unlike anything she had felt before.

  It was different than the Coven’s, even different than at the abbey. This was old magic, rooted in tradition and two intertwining cultures. It was resilient, compelling.

  Potent.

  She welcomed it, sought it. It ran over and around her as well as through her. In this place, atop this very tower, she was connected to the Celts and the Norse in ways she had never dreamed possible.

  “Show me,” she begged. “Show me how I can find Jarin.”

  There was a flash of lightning that zigzagged through the sky, followed almost immediately by a boom so loud that it shook the tower. Helena ignored it as she let herself be absorbed by the magic.

  It was like walking through a dense hedge, but the more she pushed through, the easier it was to move. Eventually, everything cleared, and she found herself looking down upon a Witch’s Grove.

  Her gaze ran over the huge size of it, noting the impenetrable trees and more Gira than she had ever seen. Then she saw him. Helena smiled at the sight of Jarin. Until she noticed that he was naked.

  Gira held him down, trying to make his cock stir. The harder they tried, the louder he laughed. Not too far away, Sybbyl paced, glaring at him.

  Jarin was so close, Helena thought she might be able to touch him, but it was all an illusion. Yet it showed her the lengths Sybbyl was willing to go to in order to get what she wanted. Somehow, Jarin was holding out against the witch and the Gira.

  “Stay strong,” Helena whispered.

  Jarin’s smile dropped, and a frown puckered his forehead. Almost as if he had heard her.

  Helena looked back at Sybbyl. The witch was too intent on getting what she wanted to have noticed anything. Helena didn’t want to play her hand early, though, so she pulled back. Jarin became smaller as Helena once more looked over the Grove.

  She drew back more, to see the forest where the Grove was located. Then she saw the nearest village and the landmarks she would need to find it all again.

  Malene jerked upright in bed. She glanced at the hearth, but she knew Helena wasn’t there. Malene jumped out of bed at the same time the door was thrown open.

  Armir strode in, the wolf beside him, and water dripping from them both. The commander looked around, his lips compressing. There was another loud crack of lightning and a boom of thunder.

  She knew where Helena was. Malene rushed to the door, but Armir blocked her way. “Move,” she ordered.

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  She lifted her chin, staring into his beautiful, pale green eyes. “Stay here or come with me, but I am going up there.”

  “So damn stubborn,” he grumbled as he turned on his heel. “Stay close to me.”

  Malene grabbed hold of his shirt as they stepped outside. Valdr raced past them. The wind was
fierce, but the rain was only coming down lightly. Malene shook with the cold and wished she’d put on her shoes by the time they reached the top where Valdr stood. As soon as Malene saw Helena, she came to a stop.

  “Holy hell,” Armir murmured.

  Malene had to agree with him. Helena stood in the rain with her red hair flying around her like long, slim fingers. Her arms were out to her sides as she faced southward. Her green eyes were open, but her gaze was directed inward.

  The lightning they had seen and heard was striking the tower, inches from Helena. But it was the shadowy figure behind her that had Malene reaching for Armir’s hand.

  Suddenly, the lightning was gone. Helena fell to her knees, her head hanging. Malene kept her gaze on the figure. The shadows moved away, giving just a glimpse of the woman who looked straight at Malene.

  “The First Witch,” Malene whispered.

  The woman put a ghostly hand on Helena’s head, and then she was gone.

  “Just when I thought I had seen everything,” Armir said.

  Valdr rushed to Helena, walking around her in a circle. Malene hurried to Helena, kneeling beside her as she wrapped an arm around the witch.

  Helena lifted her head and smiled. “I found him,” she said breathlessly.

  “Armir,” Malene called.

  Her commander was there immediately. He helped get Helena to her feet, but she pulled back when they tried to walk her to the steps.

  “This place,” Helena said.

  Malene smiled. “It is something wonderful, is it not?”

  “Aye.”

  Armir adjusted his grip. “We need to get you out of this weather. See? Even Valdr doesn’t like you up here.”

  At the mention of the wolf, Helena and Malene found him impatiently waiting on the stairs.

  “I feel none of it,” Helena admitted.

  Malene and Armir exchanged a glance. It was Helena who pulled away from them and made her way down the stairs and back into the chamber behind the wolf.

  Malene sighed and started after her, but Armir grabbed her arm. It wasn’t something he would have done even a month earlier, but her changes in the laws now allowed him the liberty.

  She turned her head, and their gazes met. The first time she had seen him, she’d thought Armir intense and savage. It didn’t take her long to realize he was that and so much more.

  “You saw her,” he said.

  Malene knew he wasn’t referring to Helena. “I did.”

  “She looked at you.”

  “I saw that, as well.”

  Armir released her hand and turned away to walk a few steps before pivoting back to her. “I think what we just saw from Helena is just a hint of the depth of her magic. Can you imagine if she had fallen into the hands of the Coven?”

  “You speak as if it has all been decided. There are still many variables at work here. Helena has chosen to side against the Coven, but do not forget, they have Jarin.”

  Armir’s lips flattened. “Do you really think Sybbyl would keep Helena until the bairn is born?”

  “Absolutely. Sybbyl craves power like most hunger for love. She’s had a taste of it now. It does not help that Helena showed her that she was more powerful. Sybbyl will use and do anything to get Helena. Anything.”

  Armir ran a hand down his face. He shook his head and glanced down. Then his frown deepened. “You aren’t wearing shoes.”

  There was a grin on her lips when Armir herded her down the steps and into her chambers. He stared into the fire beside Helena and Valdr as Malene changed into dry clothes. She then made her way to the trio.

  “I want to leave today to find him,” Helena said.

  Armir’s penetrating green eyes turned to Malene. She gently pushed Helena into a chair and found a towel to begin drying her hair.

  Helena caught her gaze. “Do you not agree?”

  “I agree that you have done something amazing in finding him. Not even Sybbyl’s magic aided by the staff stopped you. I am in awe of that,” Malene said.

  Helena’s gaze hardened. “But?”

  Malene straightened and lowered her hand holding the towel to her side. “Sybbyl will continue to search for anything of the First Witch’s.”

  “Unless Sybbyl’s dead.”

  “Do not underestimate her,” Armir cautioned.

  Helena looked between the two of them. “I defeated her. And I found Jarin.”

  “She got scared and ran,” Armir said. “I would not call that a defeat.”

  “But,” Malene hastily added when Helena started to argue, “the fact that Sybbyl ran does mean you defeated her. However, Armir has a point. You do not want to underestimate her or become too confident.”

  Helena swallowed and looked into the fire. “Jarin saved me. I was about to give up all hope when he found me starving and cold. I cannot leave him with her.” Helena’s face contorted with rage. “The idea of Sybbyl touching him makes me...”

  She trailed off, and Malene squatted before the chair and covered Helena’s hands with own. “You love Jarin.”

  “Aye,” Helena murmured.

  “He is a Varroki, one of ours,” Malene said. “We will not allow him to remain in Sybbyl’s clutches. We do this together.”

  Armir went down on one knee. “Together?”

  Helena pulled Armir’s hand to theirs. “Together.”

  25

  His loathing knew no bounds. Jarin let his gaze fill with repugnance as he glared at Sybbyl.

  “I will succeed,” the witch declared. “I have the Staff of the Eternal. You’ll lose control over your body eventually, and when that happens, you’ll be mine.”

  The Gira released him. Jarin peeled his lips back to show his anger as he looked at each of the nymphs. His revenge upon them was going to be sweet. Without a word, he summoned his clothes. Instead of using magic to get dressed, he put each item on himself, never taking his eyes from Sybbyl as a show of power. He wanted the witch to know that he not only didn’t care about being naked in front of her, but that she did absolutely nothing for him.

  Sybbyl rolled her eyes as she turned her head away.

  “I have learned that if someone has to tell another what they will do, then they don’t have the power to do it,” he stated.

  Sybbyl laughed and cut her eyes to him. “Can the same not be said for someone who states what they won’t do?”

  “My reference is to anyone in power. Is that not what you claim you are?”

  Her blue eyes narrowed as she faced him. “I claim nothing. I lead the Coven.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.” Her voice had dropped an octave, signaling her anger.

  Jarin inwardly grinned. It was so easy to rile the witch. If Sybbyl were truly in charge, she wouldn’t feel the need to defend herself at every turn. Either she hadn’t officially claimed her position, or the Coven hadn’t completely bowed down to her.

  What did concern him was the way the Gira stared at Sybbyl as if she were a goddess risen from the dead. And in some ways, the simple fact that she held the Staff of the Eternal labeled her as just that.

  Jarin glanced up at the sky, recalling Helena’s voice. She had found him. Somehow, someway, she had used magic to locate him.

  He was used to fighting alone, counting on no one but himself. He wanted to be able to grab the staff from Sybbyl, but she hadn’t released the damn thing since their small battle earlier. That had probably been his one and only shot to get the staff—and he’d lost it.

  If he couldn’t get it, the next best thing would be to get free of her. That in itself would be nearly impossible with the Gira. Each time he looked at the trees, there seemed to be more of the nymphs.

  They had held him down as if he were nothing more than a child. His skin still crawled from their touch. He wouldn’t get two steps into the trees before they stopped him. And, frankly, he would be happy never to have another one lay hands on him again.

  He knew they ate the humans they caught with t
heir whispers, but he suspected they spent days or weeks toying with the helpless prey first.

  While he had been immune to whatever spell they’d used, Sybbyl had not. He saw the way her chest heaved, and her eyes grew heavy-lidded. The nymphs’ magic caused desire to flow wantonly through Sybbyl and most likely many, many others.

  The witch tilted her head to the side as she regarded him. “I will break through whatever spell you’re using to thwart me.”

  “Spell?” he repeated and gave a shake of his head. “Each warrior who wanders the lands in search of Coven witches does so after years of training. Our bodies and minds have endured countless hours of bombardment by all kinds of magic. You will never force me because I won’t allow it to happen.”

  She tapped a finger against her chin. “Ah. So, all I need to do is get into your mind.”

  “Do your worst.”

  “Oh, I will,” she promised, her eyes sparkling with the challenge.

  Jarin wished he could defeat Sybbyl on his own, but that wasn’t possible. Not that long ago, he had told Ravyn that she needed to accept help. Now, he was in the same predicament. But he knew that aid was coming.

  He just had to ensure that he lasted until Helena arrived.

  Sybbyl slowly walked around him. Jarin didn’t move, didn’t even look at her. He measured the distance from one end of the Grove to the other from each side because every bit of information could be the piece that gained him an advantage.

  “I gather the Varroki have witches.”

  He shrugged, nonchalantly. “Of course.”

  “How is it that none of us have birthed a warlock? Why only the Varroki?”

  His gaze shifted, landing on Sybbyl as she stopped before him. “For someone who covets the bones of the First Witch, you know very little about her.”

  “I honestly did not believe she was real until the Blood Skull was found. Since then, I’ve changed my views.”

  “Simply because, by attaining her bones, you gain power.”

  Sybbyl grinned slyly. “That is an added benefit. There is little that was ever said of the First Witch. I would know more.”