Page 304 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

Just as Neporo had a thousand years ago, with a fellow mage beside her.

“I should warn you,” Ead said, “that we cannot kill the Nameless One without Ascalon. Someone must drive it into his heart before we use the jewels. To quench his fire. My hope is that the Witch of Inysca will bring it to us, and that we can take it from her. If not, it is possible that your Eastern wyr— dragons . . . will be able to weaken him enough for us to use the jewels without the sword. Perhaps then we can bind him for another thousand years. I mislike that option, for it means that another generation will have to take up this mantle.”

“I agree,” Tané said. “It must end here.”

“Good. We will practice with the jewels together.”

Ead reached into a pouch at her side and withdrew the golden fruit Tané had brought to Inys.

“Take a bite of this,” she said. “Siden may help you in this battle. Especially if Kalyba comes.” Tané watched her place it on the nightstand. “Do it soon. It will rot today.”

After a moment, Tané nodded.

“Binding the Nameless One may be the end of us both,” Ead said, softer. “Are you willing to take that risk?”

“To die in the service of a better world would be the highest honor.”

Ead gave her a faint smile. “I believe we understand each other. On this one thing, at least.”

To her surprise, Tané found herself smiling in return.

“Come and find me when you feel stronger,” Ead said. “There is a lake in Chesten Forest. We can learn to use the jewels. And see how long we can last without killing each other.”

With that, she took her leave. Tané slipped the rising jewel, still glinting, back into its case.

The golden fruit was glowing. She cupped it in her hands for a long time before she tasted of its flesh. Sweetness burst beneath her teeth and washed over her tongue. When she swallowed, it was hot.

The fruit fell to the floor, and she erupted into flame.

In the Great Bedchamber, the Queen of Inys burned. Doctor Bourn had watched her all day, but now Ead went to her side, against her word.

Sabran slept in the vise of her fever. Ead sat on the bed and soaked a cloth with water.

The Prioress was dead, and the Priory in the hands of the witch. The thought of the Vale of Blood filled with wyrms, brought there by a mage, was as bitter to Ead as wormwood.

At least Kalyba would not harm the orange tree. It was her only source of the siden she craved.

Ead cooled Sabran’s hot brow. She could not mourn for Mita Yedanya, but she did for her sisters, who had lost their second matriarch in as many years. With the Prioress dead, they would either flee elsewhere and elect a new leader—likely Nairuj—or submit to Kalyba so they might stay close to the tree. Whatever they chose, Ead prayed Chassar would be safe.

Sabran had fallen still by dusk. Ead was trimming the wicks on the candles when the silence broke.

“What did the Easterner say?”

Ead looked over her shoulder. Sabran was watching her.

Quietly, so no one outside the door could eavesdrop, Ead recounted her meeting with Tané. When she was finished, Sabran gazed with glassy eyes at the canopy.

“I will address my people the day after tomorrow,” she said. “To tell them about the alliance.”

“You are not well. Surely you can delay for a day or two.”

“A queen does not abandon her plans for a trifling fever.” She sighed as Ead covered her with the mantle. “I told you not to play nursemaid.”

“And I told you I was not your subject.”

Sabran muttered into her pillow.

When she had drifted back to sleep, Ead took out the waning jewel. It had sensedothermagic, and latched on to it, even though its nature was the opposite of hers.

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