Treacherous Witch

"—a whore?"

The word means nothing to her. "I'm lost!" she says. "I was trying to cross the border."

They pull her out of the ditch and drag her up to the road, where a train of wagons is passing by. Soldiers on horseback accompany every vehicle. The muzzles of their guns shine silver in the moonlight.

Her captor grips her arm. "Which border?"

"Maskamere."

"Lucky girl." He grins, revealing a missing tooth. "We're headed that way right now. Come with us, we'll keep you—"

*

Their return caused quite the stir. Not because of Valerie or Avon, but because of their winged companion. As she and Avon greeted a frosty Lady Juliana at the villa entrance, the wyvern swooped down on top of the gatehouse and startled the guards. Avon had to shout at them to stand down before shots were fired. Within minutes, it seemed the entire household had gathered to gawp at their strange new guest.

"Moss," said Avon, "instruct the guards to leave the creature alone. It means no harm."

The butler bowed. "Understood, my lord."

While Moss obediently trundled off, Valerie observed the servants milling around the lawn. Their faces ranged from terrified to curious. Juliana, on the other hand, was white with fury.

"You cannot allow that beast in the grounds! Send it away!"

"No," said Avon.

"James? Valerie?" Ophelia appeared on the porch holding Edrick's hand. She beamed at them and pushed through the crowd, her wide petticoats forging a path. "You're back!"

"Ophelia! Edrick, come here."

Avon swept the little boy up into his arms as his sister hugged first him and then Valerie, and her heart leapt. Ophelia never failed to bring her joy. She watched too for the moment when Ophelia spotted the wyvern, enjoying the sheer unadulterated surprise in the other girl's eyes.

"Is that a…?"

Edrick straightened up in his father's arms. "A wyvern! Is it for me, Father? Can I pet it?"

"No," said Valerie, and the little boy's face crumpled. She raised her voice, turning to address the full household: "It's not a beast, and it's not a pet. It's a guardian. It's here to keep me and Lord Avon safe, like the guards keep you safe."

"Safe?" Juliana's voice reached a note Valerie would have previously considered impossible. "You cannot tell us that monster is safe! This is the Emperor's private residence; he will never—"

"And I am the master of this household in the Emperor's absence," Avon interrupted her. "Where is Father anyway?"

Juliana's cheeks flushed scarlet.

"He's gone with Uncle on a tour of Dhonis," Ophelia piped up. "He promised he'd return for the summer ball."

"Dhonis?" Avon muttered. "What the devil is he doing there?"

He glanced at her, and Valerie blinked back in confusion. Dhonis wasn't even on the same continent. It was a province of the Empire on the other side of the Triatic Sea.

"Well," said Ophelia, "may we catch up after supper? Rufus will be back from one of his dinners with the senators, and there's so much to share."

Valerie caught her meaning, and she guessed that Avon did too, because he turned and barked at the servants to get back to their duties. Juliana he ignored. Whatever news Ophelia had to share, she wouldn't reveal it in front of the Empress.

Gradually, people drifted back inside the villa, while the setting sun cast long shadows over the grounds and the stooped figure of the wyvern atop the gatehouse. Valerie glanced back at it one last time before going in. It perched above the gate, wings hunched, perfectly still. A statue, she thought, but one that would leap back into life should it sense any threat.

Her spirits lifted. She stepped into the villa with relaxed shoulders and an easy stride, wearing the queen's locket around her neck.

No matter what awaited them next, she felt safer now than she ever had since leaving Maskamere's shores.

*

"Welcome back, ma'am." Cilla dropped into a curtsy. "Shall I run a bath?"

"Not yet."

Valerie had returned to her shared quarters after an awkward supper with Avon, Ophelia and Lady Juliana. Rufus hadn't yet returned. Avon had gone off with his sister to spend time with Edrick after his absence, and she would have joined them had Cilla not pointed out the correspondence that had piled up in her absence.

Letters. A whole stack of them, for her. Valerie dismissed the maid and made herself comfortable on the bed with the little pile of letters on her lap.

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She started with a handwritten note that she instantly recognised and thanked Maska that she'd had plenty of practice deciphering the old scholar's scrawls:

My dear—you asked me to research magic in Drakon. As you requested, I started with the myths and legends of Arden. I must say, it has proven a most fruitful topic of study.

Did you know there's a type of volcanic rock called mercurite, which is said to possess magical qualities? It doesn't exist in Maskamere—all sedimentary rock, mostly limestone, I'm afraid—but the mountains west of Arden are abundant in it. Black and shiny as a wyvern's wing. I believe that's how the mountain folk got the idea that the wyverns spring out of the mountain itself.

She smiled as she skimmed through pages and pages of Anwen's meticulous notes. He'd also left her a small package wrapped in brown paper, which she opened with interest. Out fell a leather-bound book, the pages yellowed. The cover looked newer than the contents; she guessed it had been replaced. The title: Mythes and Legends of Folk Fair and Wicked. She read the chapter titles:

The Wyvern's Tail. The Sorceress and the Knight. Craegh Hightree and the Punctual Goliath. January's Wager.

And more. They were short stories—tales for children. Each included hand-drawn illustrations in faded black ink. Anwen's letter referenced the story elements he found most interesting. She set it aside to read later.

She didn't recognise the handwriting in the next letter:

Dearest Valerie,

I'm delighted to hear you'll be joining our summer ball. I shall be there too, of course, in search of a match before my return to Maskamere. I look forward to a dance.

Yours in faith, Titus

PS. Priska sends her love.

This one she frowned at. Short, to the point, and yet the tone was oddly familiar, even flirtatious. Titus had shown no sign of romantic interest in any of their previous meetings. Surely he wouldn't think she'd be fooled by it either, so he must have a different audience in mind. Did he expect the letter to be intercepted? That could be it, she thought. He wanted to signal a closer relationship than the reality, perhaps in hope of making Avon jealous.

It was also the first time he'd requested a meeting since that evening at the Society Biologica. She wondered if he still wanted her as an ally or if he'd written her off. It could be a trick. Maybe he only wanted to talk to her because he needed information or some other nefarious purpose.

Unsure, she set it aside and picked up the third and final letter. The pale envelope was sealed by a crescent moon. Valerie stared at it, a lump forming in her throat. Could it be…?

She opened it.

Valerie,

I write in hope that you're alive. We've heard so many confusing rumours. A Drakonian messenger, Argo, told us that you'd perished with the prince in a failed plot against the Chancellor. Lots of friends missing… The Sun brothers, Iora Salver from the apothecary, our own Markus… I won't name them all. We thought you were gone too. Then Argo the messenger returned two days later and told us he'd made a mistake: Markus perished, not you. How could they get you mixed up!

It was true about Markus. Sad to break the news. We gave him a Crescent funeral, scattered his ashes over the family plot and prayed to Maska.

Lavinia, Silvius and Ianus joined the funeral too. They made it back from Bolebund. Brought a friend. I think you might know her: Juniper Shepherd. Heard you warned them about the attack. You saved their lives, my love. Lavinia is back with her baby and the boys. We're all reunited… Except for you. Everyone misses you, even your aunt Kamila.

You must be far away. They said the Chancellor had urgent family business in Drakardia. Is that where you are? Don't lose hope now. Maska's spirit lives in all of us, no matter how far from home we are. I know she lives in you too.

Hold fast and keep the faith.

Aurelia

The tears that had threatened to spill from her eyes in the first paragraph were rolling down her cheeks by the end. Her grandmother usually kept her messages short and to the point. This was easily the longest letter she had ever written. Valerie read it again, savouring every word, every detail.

So Lavinia was safe! Lavinia, her cousin, had fled to Bolebund with her twin boys, Silvius and Ianus, after Avon had threatened to arrest her. Valerie had encountered her hiding out in the city with Juniper Shepherd, a distant relative. Thank Maska they'd escaped. Her warning had done some good, even though she hadn't been able to save the city itself.

The other names of the dead and missing were the prince's rebels. After the failed poisoning attempt against Avon's life, she'd negotiated the lightest possible sentence for Iora—a healer's posting in a rural village—or so she hoped. It sounded as though her family hadn't been informed of her fate. Perhaps they'd be allowed to write to Iora, as the Crescent family had written to her.

The letter itself must have been long delayed, she thought. It had travelled over sea and land, passing through who knew how many hands before Cilla had laid it down at her dressing table. Even so, it gave her hope. Bakra's coup had failed, but the people of Maskamere lived on. They reminded her of why she wanted to save the family she had lost.

There was only one missing piece: Captain Doryn, who she'd sent off to retrieve a Book of Shadows in hope of finding a way to defeat the queen. He hadn't yet returned.

Sighing, Valerie put down the little stack of letters and fingered the locket at her neck. All this business with the Patriarch… The mysterious magic in the mountains… Was it a distraction keeping her away from Maskamere? Did the queen know of this magic? Could it be used against her somehow?

For the first time in days, she was tempted to reach for that golden thread and summon Shikra into her dreams. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't. The information she gathered here was her only way to bargain with the queen, and she didn't want to let anything slip. But it was so bizarre, wasn't it, that the black stone—the mercurite, as Anwen had called it—repelled the silvertrees, even though they both provided a magical field in which to cast.

Was it bizarre? She didn't know what was normal, that was the problem. She had grown up sheltered in Maskamere with no sense of any sorcery outside her own realm.

That alone meant she couldn't trust anything the queen said. She had wondered more than once if she ought to have followed the queen that night at the goldentree. Markus would never have died. She could have been reunited with her family already. And every day she spent in Drakon, she risked something happening that couldn't be undone and the possibility that she might never return home.

But now, glancing again at Aurelia's letter and the little book of fables that peeked out beneath it, she felt more sure than ever that she had done the right thing. It wasn't enough to go back and see them again. She had to be armed and ready.

Valerie reached for the book. Would a children's story help? She didn't know, but it didn't hurt to find out.

She was halfway through The Wyvern's Tail when there was a sharp rap at the door.

Valerie jumped, then sat up and wiped her smudged eyes as Avon strode into the room, trailed by Ophelia and Rufus. The two men were grim-faced; Ophelia wrung her hands.

"What?" she said.

They'd instantly dampened the mood. Rufus shut the door, and Avon fished out a letter from inside his jacket.

"News," he said, "about my father. He didn't stop at Dhonis. He went to Enyr."

"Enyr?" She slid off the bed, a horrible sense of foreboding scrambling her stomach. "Why would he go to Enyr?"

"He burned it." Avon's eyes burned into her, ferocious, glacial. "The silvertree. It's gone."