Page 108 of Children of Anguish and Anarchy

I won’t lose her and Zélie to Baldyr’s plans.

“Where are they?” Tzain growls. It’s all he can do to keep his head. He clutches his bone axe with shaking hands, ready to cut straight through the enemy’s chest.

Inan pulls out the map of Baldeírik and lays it across the sands. His forehead creases as he searches the wrinkled parchment, not knowing which direction to go. I look over the small villages, the Skulls’ camps, the capital city of Iarlaith. King Baldyr’s commune sits at the nation’s center, marked with gated walls.

Think, Amari.I shut my eyes, running through everything Mae’e’s ever shared. I remember the connection she has with all of New Gaia, the way the vines move to greet her.

I rise from the ground, returning to the black vines the sacred hierophant called forth on enemy lands. I run my fingers across the bloodstained stems. The vines are still warm. I call to the Green Maidens along the beach, forcing myself to speak their tongue.

“Mae’e created these.” I look between their terrified faces. “Can we use them to find her?”

I step back as the maidens close in. They press their palms to the thick trunk. I brace myself as they focus, channeling their Mother Root.

One by one, pain etches through their faces. One maiden falls to her knees. She clutches the left side of her body, touching her skin as if it bleeds.

“There.” The maiden points up the main trail. A collection of flickering lights illuminates the long path inland, traveling all the way up a mountain bluff.

The Old Stone.Yéva’s prophecy comes back to me. Dread crawls up my spine as I take in Baldyr’s sacrificial site. The Blood Moon looms above.

We’re running out of time.

Tzain whistles for Nailah, and the lionaire leaps from the ship, bounding across the sands. Tzain hops on and extends me his hand. Inan stops me before I can latch on.

“Wait!” He throws up his arms. “We rush in that way, we become captives, too.”

“We don’t have time!” Tzain pushes back.

“There’s a better way.” Inan studies the map once more, and runs his finger around the coast. “Can they use their vines to scale the statue on the mountain’s side?”

I do my best to translate Inan’s plan to the vineweavers. When they nod, we reboard the videira. The vines spin as we take off.

I lift up a silent prayer as we race to save the girls.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

ZÉLIE

WHEN THEY LIFT USto the mountaintop, I prepare to meet my end. A stone altar sits on the mountain’s summit. Crushed skeletons line its withered columns.

Below us, a sea of Skulls chant. They turn rabid with their praise.

“All hail King Baldyr!” Their voices echo through the red night. “Father of the Storms!”

The very king they speak of waits at the altar’s center, standing between two painted stakes. His golden mask glimmers under the crimson moon. His entire being is marked for the ritual.

Fresh runes are carved into the right side of his body. The blood that drips from his skin hisses as it strikes the stone. Steam rises into the air where it lands, filling the altar with smoke.

Baldyr watches us as we ascend, a different hunger in his stormy eyes. I feel it in my gut.

He’s waited for this moment his entire life.

A daughter of the Great Mother’s storms…

A daughter of the Great Mother’s forge…

A father formed from blood…

Yéva’s words return as thegaldrasmiðartie me to one of the painted stakes. The prophecy she shared in the town circle of New Gaia rings through my ears, reigniting every fear.

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