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  Margery nervously licked her lips before shooting her a glance. “I am not like you, Ravyn. You have always been confident in yourself and your abilities. Men recognize that and flock to you.”

  “They come to me because I let them know I am interested,” she said with a laugh. “And once you have a taste of pleasure, you will, as well.”

  “I want what Leoma and Braith have.”

  Ravyn ignored the small pain in her heart at the mention of love. She didn’t wish for such things because she knew it would never find her. “Then I wish you luck.”

  “You speak as if you do not want that.”

  She clasped Margery’s hand and gave it a squeeze before releasing her and facing the village. “I only want one thing.”

  “Revenge.”

  “Justice,” Ravyn corrected.

  Margery shrugged. “Same difference.”

  “You came to Edra as a baby without any knowledge of your family, so do not think to tell me there is no difference,” Ravyn declared as she walked past her.

  She didn’t slow until she came to the tavern. If there was one place to learn what was going on in a village, it was a pub. Ravyn nodded to the serving girl as she entered and took a seat.

  The establishment was full with patrons. The noise that bordered on chaos might put some off, but she found it comforting. It reminded her of home, of her large family before it had all been taken away.

  “I apologize,” Margery said as she stood beside the table.

  Ravyn motioned to the vacant chair. She’d been in a foul mood for the past two weeks, though she couldn’t explain why. It wasn’t Margery’s fault that she didn’t understand the need for justice. Though, honestly, few at the abbey could.

  They were the lucky ones.

  Then again, Ravyn knew how fortunate she was to have been found by Radnar and Edra. The witch and her knight took in many homeless and abandoned children. The abbey deep within the forest was hidden by Edra’s magic, and for years, it was the only place Ravyn felt safe.

  With Radnar’s help, Ravyn turned that fear into strength. He’d offered to train her to be a Hunter. At first, the thought of going after witches from the Coven terrified Ravyn, but the more she trained, the less afraid she became.

  The day she’d helped track down a witch from the Coven was the dawn of a new era for Ravyn. She recognized the power she wielded, and she knew then that she could find the witch responsible for ruining her life—and finally get justice for her family.

  Ravyn might not have magic of her own, but that didn’t stop her. She was a skilled Hunter, the best at the abbey. Each arrow she used with her specialized crossbow was imbued with Edra’s magic to help kill witches.

  Because it took more than a weapon to bring them down. It took magic.

  It was one reason everyone feared witches. They were nearly impossible to kill. It was also why the Hunters were needed. Someone had to bring the Coven under control. Because whatever it was they wanted couldn’t be good.

  Leoma and Braith had stumbled upon the Blood Skull, the head of the very first witch. Braith was now the Warden of the skull.

  While they knew very little of what the relic could do, it had brought Braith back from the dead. And the Coven wanted it. That was enough for Ravyn to want to keep it away from them, regardless of whether the skull could help the Hunters or not.

  Ravyn pulled herself from thoughts of the past and focused on the conversations around her. She glanced at Margery to find her friend talking. While Margery was a good Hunter, she worried about everything and wasn’t always comfortable in her role.

  No one was forced to become a Hunter. It was their choice. Anyone could stay at the abbey, but they had to pull their weight. Whether it was being a Hunter, forging weapons, training others, or caring for those who sought shelter, there was always work to be done.

  After ordering drinks and food, Ravyn sat back, nodding as Margery continued to talk. But she wasn’t listening. Her attention was on the others around her.

  It took her less than a minute to learn that the lord of the keep near them, a John Atwood, had gone back on his word to the neighboring baron, Randall Bryce, over a plot of land between their two estates. Now the two were at war.

  And the battle was not going well for Randall. In fact, based on the talk, it appeared that after only half a day, John’s force had somehow annihilated Randall’s.

  Ravyn smiled at those around her. She flirted with one man while listening to the conversation at another table. It was a skill she’d learned from Edra, and it had saved her life multiple times. A discussion caught her attention, and she stopped flirting.

  “Did ye see Carac in here earlier?” The man shook his head. “What kind of man leaves his army to come in here for a drink?”

  What kind indeed, Ravyn wondered.

  “His army was the clear victor,” another retorted. “Without a single one of ‘em dying.”

  This Carac was either an imbecile who happened to have capable men—which wasn’t likely—or he knew he would win so didn’t bother to stay around and watch.

  “The summons that took him from his drink did not please him,” someone said with a smirk.

  Another man said, “He will return. He always does.”

  The table laughed, but Ravyn knew she needed to find this Carac. He could lead her to the witch.

  “Careful,” Margery murmured before their food was delivered.

  Once the server walked away, Ravyn slid her gaze to Margery. “What is your meaning?”

  “I heard their discussion, as well. Everyone in here did. You think Carac is working with a witch.”

  Ravyn tore off a piece of the bread and nodded. “Did you miss the part where they said the army won without a man being killed?”

  “Aye.”

  “Magic has to be involved.”

  Margery nodded slowly. “I honestly hoped you were wrong.”

  “The blond witch was seen near here, and now this news. Without a doubt, we have her.”

  “You just need to find her. She’s likely in the castle with Atwood.”

  Ravyn grinned. “I came prepared for that.”

  Margery looked at the ceiling as if praying for patience. “Please tell me I get to play your maid. I much prefer that role.”

  “What? You’re not up to seduction?” Ravyn teased.

  “I do think I hate you sometimes.”

  Ravyn laughed and took a bite of the stew. “You would not turn your nose up so quickly if you would let me find you a man.”

  “How many have you taken to your bed?” Margery asked in a whisper.

  “Not nearly as many as you believe I have. Most times, I merely flirt and show a bit of cleavage. I have no idea why men seem to lose their senses when they see breasts, but it is a fact that it loosens their tongues and addles their minds.”

  Margery glanced down at her flat chest. “I will not be able to do the same.”

  “Sure you will. It is not about what assets you do or do not possess. It is how you hold yourself, the way you talk, and how you look at them. They need to believe that you have eyes for no one else, nor will you ever.”

  A frown marred Margery’s brow. “So, you lie.”

  “You call it a lie, I call it a skill to gain information. Not only do I use my crossbow, but I also use my body. I do not like harming anyone—unless they are witches. Yet there are those out there who protect the Coven. I can either make them bleed or give them false hope that I will share my body.”

  Margery swallowed. “I wanted to be a Hunter.”

  “But your heart is not in it.” Ravyn had known for a long time. It was time for her friend to realize it, as well.

  Margery shook her head and pushed away her platter of food. “I do not have the drive you or even Leoma have.”

  “You know how to fight, and I can use someone watching my back. Once we return to the abbey, you can decide what to do.”

  “I will always have your back.”<
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  Ravyn smiled and looked away, only to find a man staring at Margery. She tapped her foot against Margery’s. “You have an admirer. Are you sure you wish to remain untouched?”

  “Find me a skilled man, and I might rethink it,” Margery replied with a grin.

  Ravyn laughed, accepting the challenge. “By the time we return to the others, you will be a woman in all ways.”

  “You assume a man would want me.”

  “Look around,” Ravyn told her. “Men are looking at you.”

  Margery shot her a hard look. “Nay, my dear friend. They look longingly at you.”

  Ravyn sat back and ignored everyone in the pub. She took a drink and slowly lowered the tankard of ale. “I was very much like you once.”

  “You were never like me,” Margery said with a shake of her head.

  “You were still a babe, but I would hardly leave my chamber. Edra would spend hours coaxing me into the sunshine. It took months before I felt that I could walk about the abbey safely. I feared everything.”

  Margery folded her hands in her lap. “Because of what happened to your family.”

  “You might not have suffered such a tragedy, but that does not make your anxiety any less genuine. You know what we fight. You have seen them.”

  “And what they can do.”

  Ravyn drew in a deep breath. “Not all witches are evil. Edra taught us that, but any witch who joins the Coven strengthens their power. We cannot sit idly by and wait to see what happens.”

  Margery’s lips twisted. “I was hiding behind the door when you gave that argument to Edra and Radnar a few days ago. While you have a point, we both know why you came here. And so does Edra.”

  “Justice.” Ravyn touched the inside of her left wrist.

  Beneath the sleeve of her gown was the image of a Norse rune. She’d had Asa tattoo it onto her skin after her first training lesson.

  “Radnar’s right. Killing this witch will not return your family.”

  Ravyn dropped her hand and met Margery’s russet gaze. “I’m a Hunter. I take out any of the Coven, so no other innocents are harmed. The justice I seek is not only for my family but also for all the other families who do not have a voice.”

  Chapter 3

  He was going to kill someone. With every step Carac took toward the keep, his fury festered and escalated until it was all he could think about.

  The last time he’d encountered such rage was when he learned what his uncle had done to his younger brother. The result hadn’t been pretty, but it shaped the man he was today.

  Carac didn’t like the way the anger made him feel as if he weren’t in control, but there was no getting away from it this time. He was right in the middle of whatever this mess was, and he would have to be careful how he stepped through it lest the damage fall to his friends or his knights.

  His men cheered as he made his way up the steps. Carac paused and turned to look at them. He wanted to silence them, but all they knew was that they had won the day. So, he lifted a hand in a wave before turning and entering the castle. He didn’t have the heart to tell them that he had nothing to do with their victory, mainly because he didn’t yet have an answer for what was going on.

  But he planned to get one.

  He strode into the solar where John inspected a map he had unrolled on a table. Carac took a few moments in an attempt to calm himself. Losing his temper would gain him nothing.

  Without looking up, John said, “Great battle today. Too bad you left before you saw the finish.”

  Carac rested one hand on the hilt of his sword and fisted the other at his side as he looked up and slowly released a breath to get some semblance of control over his mounting fury.

  “I had no idea of the riches Randall had on his land. I cannot wait to begin reaping those rewards.”

  Carac narrowed his gaze. Whatever little control he’d acquired in those few moments snapped. “Your honor is in tatters.”

  John slowly straightened and looked at him. “I imagine no one said such a thing to Charlemagne.”

  “I imagine that’s because Charlemagne did not give his word and go back on it,” Carac retorted.

  John’s nostrils flared, an indication of his mounting anger. “Your name is tied to a great victory.”

  “And that sickens me.” He wasn’t worried about John attacking him because the lord barely knew how to handle a sword, let alone fight.

  “I do not understand you, Carac. You have spent your entire life earning your reputation. This will only increase that tenfold. You should be thanking me.”

  Carac’s hold on his sword tightened. “It is a lie.”

  “A lie?” John asked with a bark of laughter.

  “I’ve been in many battles, and not once have my men come away unscathed.”

  John’s smile was smug and much too confident. “They do if you know the right person.”

  “Meaning?” Carac realized that Sybbyl was not in the solar, which was odd since she never strayed far from John.

  “Nothing for you to be concerned with. You fulfilled your task.”

  If he didn’t know better, Carac would think his army had merely been there for the sake of appearances and nothing more. Carac could have given a young girl a sword, and she could have achieved the same outcome.

  Though he wasn’t sure why he was so confident of his conclusions. Having witnessed and been involved in numerous battles—places where there was a disastrous amount of bloodshed, and others with hardly any—he knew there was something else at work here. But his mind couldn’t grasp what it could be.

  “Are you dismissing me?” In many ways, Carac hoped that was the case. Another part of him knew he couldn’t leave just yet.

  John turned back to the map. “I think it better if you remain for the time being. The fee I paid you was for a fortnight.”

  That gave Carac just over twelve days to figure out what was going on. “Where is Lord Randall?”

  “Sybbyl is with him now,” John replied as he bent to look at something on the map. “I do not want him running off or thinking to take his own life before I have everything I need.”

  “As you wish.” Carac turned and was about to walk out when John’s voice stopped him.

  “I summoned you for a reason.”

  Anger spiked in him, and Simon’s urging about telling John who he was briefly ran through his mind. But Carac knew there would be a better opportunity.

  He faced John and waited. Minutes passed as John continued to examine something on the map. Patience was usually a skill Carac mastered easily, but it was all he could do not to yank the map from the table and throw it into the fire.

  Finally, John straightened. “You are a knight, Carac. A well-known one at that, but you do not know your place. Never again speak to me as if your rank is equal to mine. And never again leave my side in battle.”

  It would be so satisfying to tell the prick just who he really was, but Carac somehow held his tongue. He knew better than to respond to anything when he was furious.

  “I think perhaps I will return your coin and take my men and leave,” Carac replied in a soft tone.

  John’s head cocked to the side. “Do you really think you could?”

  “Without a doubt. I already have requests from three other lords. You do not need my men any longer. Nor, I suspect, did you ever.”

  John clasped his hands before him, the large ruby on his left pinky flashing. “I do believe I struck a nerve.”

  “I will have the coin in your hands forthwith, minus the costs for today.” Carac hid his smile when John’s gaze narrowed.

  “Wait,” John said before Carac could turn to leave.

  Carac heard approaching footsteps behind him as John dropped his hands and looked over Carac’s shoulder.

  A servant appeared and bowed to John before turning to him. “For you, Sir Carac.”

  Carac took the missive and unrolled it. He was pleasantly surprised to find a note from Braith. It had bee
n almost two years since he last saw his friend, and Carac had yet to pay his respects to Braith over the loss of his nephew.

  He rolled up the missive and raised his gaze to John. “Did you have something else you wished to say?”

  “Who is that from?” John asked instead.

  Carac clasped his hands behind his back. “As you said, I am well known. I am also sought after because my army is one of the best.”

  John began to pace while nervously fisting his hands. “I am not supposed to tell anyone.”

  “If the order came from the king, then you should obey it.”

  “Of course it did not come from the king,” John snapped.

  Intrigued, Carac waited.

  Finally, John stopped and faced him. His chest expanded as he huffed out a breath. “While I am wealthy, my status never equaled that of Randall’s. Rank is everything, as you know.”

  “So you are jealous.”

  John made a face. “It does not matter where you are in life, you always look to those ahead of you and covet what they have.”

  “Is that why you dishonored yourself?”

  John slammed his hand on the table. “I am after power!”

  “How much more of this do you think can occur and have the king look the other way?” Carac questioned.

  John sliced his hand through the air. “Not even the king will stand in my way.”

  Worry slivered its way through Carac. “Careful with your words, my lord.”

  John’s brown eyes met his before he burst into laughter. “Oh, Carac, if you only knew the power within my reach. It could be within yours, as well, but you should show Sybbyl more respect.”

  Now that got his attention. “Lady Sybbyl? What does she have to do with anything?”

  “Everything,” John said in a whisper.

  Before Carac could open his mouth, another servant entered the solar. “My lord, you have a guest.”

  John came up beside Carac and put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay and watch what happens over the course of the next few days. I will put in a good word for you with Sybbyl, as well. Hopefully, she will allow me to tell you the rest of it.”

  Carac turned and watched as John walked out. When he heard a feminine voice, he made his way into the great hall and stared transfixed at the beauty clad in a deep blue cloak curtsying to John.