Page 8 of A Vow of Wrath and Ruin

“I know.” I pushed the door open to Tharan’s study, where Caiden, Lucius, Hopper, and Sumac waited.

Tharan took a drag off a cigarette, extinguishing it in an ashtray.

Frost and Winter ran to greet us, whining with excitement, claws scraping against the hardwood floor.

I bent down, rubbing each behind the ears. “Good girls.”

“It’s about time. We don’t have all day,” Lucius said, annoyed.

I stole a cigarette from the ornate box on Tharan’s desk and lit it, letting the smoke fill my lungs. “We’re here now. Let’s get to it.”

Lucius rolled his eyes. Some things never changed.

The room smelled of tobacco and clove. A fire roared in the massive hearth. Above it, the head of an elk guarded the study.

I propped myself on his massive desk while the others took seats around the room. I tried my best not to look at Caiden. I couldn’t bear to see the man I’d loved for a decade.

Tharan lit another cigarette.

“The people in this room are the only ones on the continent who know what really happened in Ryft’s Edge.” He exhaled a plume of smoke into the air. “Gideon and Erissa are likely licking their wounds, biding their time until they come back to hit us harder. I have my best spy out looking for them, but they haven’t turned up any leads yet. I think our best bet is to find the Trinity Wells before they do.”

“And what exactly are we supposed to do when we find them?” Caiden asked, fiddling with the ring on his finger.

Tharan took another drag.

“Extract the magic and spread it throughout the land evenly. That way, no one can control it all.”

“That’s actually… a decent proposal,” Lucius said, leaning against a bookshelf and looking out the window.

“I thought so.” Tharan gave a little chuckle, pleased with himself. “So, here’s what I’m proposing. I will go and see my grandfather in Elohim. Aelia and Baylis will go and speak with their mother in the Tower of Fate, and Caiden, if you wouldn’t mind searching the library of Vantris.”

Caiden nodded. His golden hair catching the light of the fire reminded me of the nights we spent together in the secluded atrium of the River House. I pushed away the memory, throat going dry, heart aching.

“We need to talk to the Morrigan. She knew Erissa back when the world was young,” Tharan said.

Reluctantly, I pulled the scepter from its mahogany box on his desk. Running my fingers over the carved ruins, power radiated through my veins, up from my belly, and into my throat.

“Morrigan, show yourself.”

White smoke poured from the bird’s mouth, taking the shape of the warrior maiden. It slowly turned from translucent to opaque until the woman came into view.

“Hello, Master, how can I be of service?” She bowed to me.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“What else should I call you? Youaremy master.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “You may call me Commander. I command your army.”

“Yourarmy now.”

“We have some questions for you, Morrigan,” Tharan interrupted.

The Morrigan batted her long lashes at him. “Yes, your Highness?”

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my composure.

Tharan laid a reassuring hand on mine.

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