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  “And you wish for me to tell you?”

  The witch glanced at the staff. “You can tell me what I want to know, or I will have the Gira hold you down again and spend a few hours playing with that impressive cock of yours. We might get lucky and get it to stir.”

  “Do what you must.”

  His flippant reply got just the reaction he wanted when Sybbyl’s nostrils flared, and her lips tightened. She wanted to intimidate and manipulate men, and for the most part, she had been successful.

  But he wasn’t like most males.

  Sybbyl lifted her chin, defiance in her gaze. “We will get back to your submission later. Right now, I want to know about the First Witch.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and held her gaze. He might not be able to best the Gira or even wrench the staff from Sybbyl’s hands, but he could undermine her in other ways. Right now, the nymphs were seeing that Sybbyl wasn’t in complete control.

  And if Jarin had anything to say about it, she never would be.

  Sybbyl’s lips pinched together the longer he was silent. “I gave you a command.”

  “I do not recognize you as having authority over me.”

  She took a step forward, pointing the staff at him. “Do you test me?”

  “I state a fact.”

  The end of the staff briefly slammed into his chest. Magic, hot and bright, sliced through him, buckling his legs until he was on his knees. The smug smile was back on Sybbyl’s lips as the Gira watched gleefully from the periphery.

  But Jarin wasn’t one to give in that easily. The torture wasn’t anything he hadn’t endured to become a warrior, and the witch was in for a surprise when he didn’t give in as she expected.

  “Begin,” Sybbyl demanded, threatening to use the staff again.

  He jerked his chin to the weapon. “The Blood Skull spoke to Braith. Has the staff not spoken to you? Has it not told you all you want to know? Nay? I wonder why that is.”

  Sybbyl rammed the staff into his chest, hard, but without any magic. Then, through clenched teeth she warned, “Do not test me.”

  “What the bloody hell do you think I’m doing?” he retorted icily.

  A frown deepened her brow as she looked at him with new eyes. “You would rather spend hours being tortured than share stories with me?”

  “Aye.”

  “What a pity,” she said with a sad shake of her head. “And here I thought you were smarter than most. Seems I was mistaken.”

  Jarin snorted at her blatant attempt to persuade him to do as she wished. “Do you know why the staff has not spoken to you? Because it doesn’t believe you’re worthy.”

  Sybbyl’s expression clouded with anger and a hint of doubt. “Enough.”

  “You wished to know. I’m merely sharing,” he replied coolly. “Does the staff not believe you should wield it because you did not gain power through the ranks of the Coven? Or is it because of something else.”

  “Shut your mouth,” Sybbyl said louder.

  Jarin grinned. “A little of both, I think.”

  “You know nothing.”

  “I learn fast.”

  She pushed the staff against his chest once more. The magic was brutal, relentless as it began to constrict his body, preventing Jarin from taking in a breath.

  Sybbyl leaned down until her face was even with him. “You know nothing, warlock. You think you can outwit me, but you’re wrong. You certainly cannot best me with magic. I see the hope in your eyes, a hope that says you believe Helena is coming for you. It will never happen.”

  Jarin gritted his teeth against the pain and fought to remain upright. He wanted to be awake when Helena came.

  Because she would.

  Jealousy and rage contorted Sybbyl’s beauty, revealing the ugly truth of her soul. “Not only will Helena never find us, but even if by sheer luck she was able to, the Gira will never let her in. They will rip her apart as soon as they see her simply because I wish it.”

  Jarin wasn’t so sure of that, but he would keep that tidbit to himself for the moment. He would be alive to see Helena’s entrance because he knew it was going to be spectacular.

  “You...do not have...what it...takes,” he said.

  She blinked, her face filling with fake concern. “What ever is the matter? Is it difficult to breathe? Are there spots dotting your vision?”

  Jarin took every hit of her magic without returning any of his own. He needed to learn how far she would go and how strong the magic was. Because that would be how he got the upper hand. It might take days, weeks even, but he was prepared.

  He knew that no matter what, Helena would find him. Hopefully, Armir had taken her to Blackglade. Helena, Malene, and Armir were an army unto themselves.

  The magic suddenly relented. Jarin gratefully drew in a deep breath, filling his burning lungs with it again and again. He eventually looked up to discover Sybbyl watching him with narrowed eyes.

  “Why did you not fight back?” she demanded. “Even if I wanted to bind your magic here, I couldn’t. This place is magic. You let me hurt you to...” Comprehension dawned on her face. “You’re learning my power. Perhaps I should speed up your instruction.”

  Instead of answering her, he asked, “Do you honestly believe you can conquer those at the abbey, the Varroki, and any other witch who refuses to join the Coven with one bone of the First Witch?”

  “I told you, I will have the Living Heart. One way or another,” she boasted. “If it’s Helena or your child, I will control it.”

  Jarin climbed to his feet to look down at her. “Helena will never succumb, and neither will our child.”

  “I wish for my plans to happen now, but I am prepared to wait years.”

  He laughed then, the sound bouncing around the quiet of the Grove. “We both know what a lie that is.”

  Sybbyl’s blue eyes flashed with indignation. “There is another bone of the First Witch on this isle. The Blood Skull may be out of my grasp for the moment, and the Living Heart might be a little stubborn, but I can get another bone.”

  “Then what is stopping you?” he goaded.

  She spun, her long, blond hair swinging out behind her. “Do you know what an advantage two of the First Witch’s bones will give me?” she asked as she walked away.

  Jarin knew exactly how much, and it made him very uneasy. There was no way for him to tell anyone of Sybbyl’s plans. Hell, he’d be happy just to let one of the Hunters know that there was another bone close so they could begin searching for it.

  Suddenly, he frowned. The Blood Skull, Living Heart, and Staff of the Eternal were all in England. Didn’t that defeat the First Witch’s demand to scatter her bones far and wide? No one would’ve been fool enough to bring so many pieces to one place.

  Isle.

  The word rang like a bell in Jarin’s head. Three of the pieces had been in England, but that wasn’t the only country on the isle. There was also Scotland.

  And if Sybbyl could locate the nearest bone, then so could Braith with the Blood Skull, or Helena as the Living Heart. All Jarin had to do was get word to one of them and let them know.

  But first, he had to contend with Sybbyl and the Gira.

  26

  Somewhere near the abbey...

  There was something wrong in the forest. Synne pressed her back against the ancient oak, her palms flat against the bark. She wished she knew what the cause of the faint shift she smelled in the air was.

  If only she had magic.

  It wasn’t the first time Synne had wished she were born a witch. Having been raised by Edra, magic was all Synne had ever known. She used to lie awake at night and pray to whatever god was listening that she had powers yet undiscovered.

  Despite her multitude of prayers, magic had never been hers. But Synne had another gift. Her knowledge of witches and their connection to the earth gave her a deeper understanding and love of nature.

  There were times when she felt particularly weary, or the rare times she was l
onesome, that she could swear the sway of the tree branches was their way of trying to hug her, not just the wind.

  Her duties as an archer kept her perched in trees, which only cemented her bond with nature. So, when she sensed a disturbance in the air, she knew it was the trees trying to tell her something.

  “I’m listening,” she whispered to the oak. “What are you trying to say?”

  A quick, violent rush of wind rattled the surrounding treetops so fiercely that it almost seemed as if someone had grabbed them by the trunk and shook them. As soon as it began, it was gone, leaving the forest eerily quiet.

  Synne opened her eyes. Her breath billowed out from between her lips in a cloud. The winter had been unusually cold, yet she felt the temperature fall several degrees more in seconds.

  She turned and faced the tree, looking up at the crooked limbs that spread out far and wide. Without hesitation, she climbed. Synne went as far up the tree as she could, then looked out over the forest.

  At first, all she saw was more trees. It normally had a calming effect, but the disquiet in her had her scanning the foliage again and again and again. There was something out there. She was sure of it. She just had to discover what it was.

  That’s when she noticed it.

  The absolute silence.

  There wasn’t a single song from a bird. Moreover, she didn’t see any flying from branch to branch, either. She quietly moved down a few limbs and searched for any sign of other animals. Thirty minutes later, she came to the glum conclusion that they, too, were gone.

  It was almost as if all life had deserted the forest. Fear did that. What was it that the animals sensed that she’d missed? It was time someone with magic took a look.

  She pressed her cheek against the bark of the tree. “Thank you for letting me know.”

  The oak might not have told her what was wrong, but it had alerted her that something was amiss—and that was far more than she’d had before.

  Synne hastily climbed down the tree. When she landed on the ground, she put her palm against the bark once more. Then she stealthily made her way back to the abbey.

  Synne frequently patrolled the farthest from the abbey, which is why it always took her so long to get back. It was also why she was usually the first to let them know that someone approached with a carefully aimed arrow toward the next sentry.

  Despite her haste, Synne was careful as she approached the ruins. She waited several minutes to ensure that no one was near before she hurried through the arched gate and into the magical confines of the abbey.

  She didn’t talk to anyone as she ran through the grounds and then the abbey itself, looking for Edra. She finally found the witch sitting with Radnar in a sun-drenched room warmed by a large fire. At one time, a child would have perched on one of their knees, much as Synne had done herself.

  But now, there were many others to look after the abandoned young ones taken in. It allowed Edra and Radnar to focus on other things—like keeping everyone safe.

  Edra’s head snapped up, but it was Radnar who asked, “What is it?”

  Synne swallowed and slowly walked toward them, trying to think of words to explain what she’d experienced as she carefully placed her bow on the table.

  “Take a breath,” Edra advised and rose to place a cup of water in Synne’s hand.

  Synne drained the mug and set it on the table. She looked from Edra into Radnar’s brown eyes. “Something is amiss.”

  “Where?” he asked.

  Synne parted her lips and shook her head. She briefly closed her eyes and said, “In the forest. The entire forest.”

  Edra had encouraged Synne’s link to nature, and not once had she ever dismissed anything Synne said. Edra took Synne’s hands in hers. “Tell us everything.”

  “There isn’t much to tell.”

  “There is always much to say in such matters,” the witch said, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled.

  Radnar frowned. “Does someone approach?”

  Synne gave a shake of her head. “I saw no one.”

  “Then we have time.” Radnar pointed to the chair next to him, a silent order for Synne to sit.

  Edra gently turned her to it and gave her a little push. Synne found herself seated between them. Radnar and Edra had saved her. They had given her a home, a family, and more love than she could ever have hoped for. They’d given her freedom and something important to fight for. She owed them everything.

  And she would do anything to keep them and everyone at the abbey safe.

  “Synne,” Edra urged.

  She swallowed and began. “I walked the forest as I do every day. I touched each tree as I always do.”

  “Aye,” Radnar said with a crooked smile.

  Synne shifted in her seat. “Something made me stop beside one of the ancient oaks. I put my back to it and placed both hands on the bark, and that’s when I smelled it.”

  “Smelled what?” Edra asked.

  Synne searched for the right word and shook her head in frustration. “The closest I can come to describing it is...panic. That’s why I climbed to the top of the tree and looked around. It took a moment, but I finally realized what was wrong. There were no birds.”

  Radnar exchanged a glance with Edra. “None? Surely, there had to be some. Perhaps hiding in their nests?”

  “I saw no movement. Heard no song. Not in the trees, and...not on the ground. In fact, it seemed as if all the animals were gone.”

  Edra sat back, her face blank from shock. She tugged nervously on the end of her long, blond braid that fell over her shoulder. After a moment, she rose and began to pace before the table.

  “Tell us the rest,” the witch implored.

  Synne began to shake her head, then she recalled the wind. “I asked the trees to tell me what was wrong. There was a great gust of wind that lasted mere moments. The stillness after is what prompted me to climb the tree.”

  Edra was silent a long time as she paced. Radnar took Synne’s hand in his own. He shot her a reassuring smile. Though it had been two decades since she arrived at the abbey, Radnar still looked as hale and hearty as he had when he found her, except for the graying at his temples.

  Aside from a few more wrinkles around Edra’s eyes, she also looked the same. The emotional toll the couple bore for everyone who sought shelter at the abbey did the most damage.

  Synne knew the many nights Edra and Radnar stayed up far later than anyone else, checking spells, considering which Hunter should go where, and if any of the outsiders were coming too close to the abbey.

  Because, hidden or not, no one was ever truly safe as long as the Coven was out there.

  Synne was comforted by Radnar’s grip. He had been the one to first train her. It began as a way for her to protect herself. She hadn’t questioned him when he put the small bow he’d made just for her in her hand and taught her how to use it.

  Day after day, he spent hours with her, guiding her to become better and better. He didn’t treat her differently because she was a female. In fact, in some instances, she thought he pushed her harder than others.

  Without a doubt, she was as good as she was with the bow because of him. When he felt he had taught her all he could, he found someone who could take her to the next level.

  Not once had she stopped training. Not once had she told Radnar that it was enough. Not once did Synne complain. Because she knew just what was at stake.

  And when she told him she wanted to become a Hunter, he had merely replied that she’d been training for that from the very beginning.

  She looked into his brown eyes, remembering the first time she had gone after a witch with Radnar. He had sat back, letting her make the decisions. He’d given her the courage to stop second-guessing herself and patiently pointed out areas where she needed more training.

  Everyone at the abbey knew how badly Edra and Radnar had wanted a child of their own, and Synne wished she was theirs. The couple was the parents she never had. />
  Finally, Edra halted. She faced Synne, her chest expanding as she took in a deep breath. “Your bond to nature might just have saved us.”

  “How?” Synne asked.

  Edra walked around the table to Radnar and took his free hand in hers. They shared a long look before Edra shifted her attention back to Synne. “There are only two things that I know of that would cause such a reaction in woods usually teeming with animals.”

  “The Coven,” Radnar said with a sigh.

  There was a long pause as Edra stared at Synne. “And Gira.”

  Synne’s chest tightened at the mention of the nymphs. She held a great fear of them despite never seeing one before. “The-they’re here?”

  “I’m not sure.” Edra licked her lips, her unease apparent. “I could use a spell to see, but if I do, the Gira and the Coven will know we’re here.”

  Radnar tightened his fingers around her hand. “Will the nymphs sense the spells you and Asa put around the abbey?”

  “They could be out there right now?” Synne asked as she jumped up, pulling her hand from Radnar’s.

  He stood slowly and caught her gaze. He was calm, steady, and his voice even. “With your keen gaze, you would have seen them. Did you?”

  “Nay,” she said with a shake of her head.

  Edra forced a smile. “They are likely only near, then. Or it could be the Coven.”

  “Neither scenario is good,” Synne said.

  Radnar wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against him as he ran his hand up and down her back. “Nay, it’s not. But we have survived this long. We will figure something else out.”

  “What do I do?” Synne asked.

  Radnar released her, grasping her upper arms while smiling. “Keep to the trees, my girl. They will tell you all we need to know.”

  “He’s right,” Edra added.

  Synne was no longer crippled with terror thanks to the couple. Once more calm, she grabbed her bow and walked to the door. When she reached it, she paused and looked back to see them holding hands as they stared intensely into each other’s eyes. Synne hurried from the chamber to give them privacy and made her way down the corridor.