Page 93 of A War of Crowns

Talia came to with the scream that had gone unvoiced within the depths of the Underworld exploding from her throat. Leaping to her feet, she swung a confused glance about the temple.

The Sisters and their Witchsworn still stood there, waiting.

More than a few widened their eyes when they witnessed her awaken.

A deeper darkness had fallen across the temple in the time she had been in the trial. No glimpse of sunlight was now visible beyond the confines of their black marble palace.

How long had she been out? She had no measure of it.

But as she witnessed every Sister currently present dip her head in a show of respect, Talia had her confirmation at last.

She had passed. She was one of them.

When her gaze fell upon the Mother, Talia could have sworn she saw the elderly woman’s lips twitch in what could only be either surprise or displeasure.

Perhaps both.

But she didn’t have time to consider the matter further, as Skatia suddenly swam into view with a rare, brilliant smile curving her red-painted lips.

“Sister,” her mistress greeted her with great warmth. The kiss which fell against her cheek soon after was even warmer still.

Compared to the dragonfire the Lady had breathed into her, though, it might as well have been ice from the furthest reaches of the north.

“Sister,” Talia whispered, a strength in her own voice she had not been expecting.

Gone was her weakness. Gone was her fatigue. Gone was her thirst and hunger. She felt rejuvenated. She felt…reborn.

“I have a gift for you,” Skatia continued, sounding excited for once.

Curious, Talia turned and stared at the strange man who stood in front of her, trembling.

The scent of his fear was something new, but it was just as delicious as the new power coursing through her body. The way he looked at her, with equal parts awe and trepidation, sent her soul to humming in a way she hoped she never truly grew accustomed.

“Your first Witchsworn,” Skatia whispered in her ear.

But Talia frowned as she tilted her head to the side and gave this man another once-over. He was handsome, as all men of Arath were. Tall and chiseled from ebony. His hair was dark. His eyes were a rich umber she could easily become lost within. But…

This was not theman from her vision.

Soon, that dark and oily voice from before—the Lady herself—breathed into the very depths of her mind.

Talia nearly swayed off her feet in glorious reception. Tears threatened, but she swiftly blinked them away.

The Lady. The Lady was still speaking to her. At last.

Soon? The Witchsworn from her vision, the one who would help her bend the world to her will, would be with her soon?

Talia toyed with the soulblade still clasped within her right hand as she considered that thought. She supposed she had been waiting for him for eighteen years.

She could wait for him for some time more.

“Thank you, Sister,” Talia finally voiced aloud, her gaze finding Skatia’s once more. “…But I don’t know what to do with him.”

A whimper escaped the strange man’s throat as they discussed him as if he weren't even there. But the sudden laughter from Skatia’s lips seemed to put him even more ill at ease. His trembling became even more visible when his dark brown eyes skated a look between them.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” her once mistress purred as her long fingers wrapped about Talia’s right hand.

She didn’t resist the pressure of Skatia’s hold when the other woman guided her new soulblade until its dark tip rested just over the stranger’s heart.

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