Page 98 of The Belle and the Blackbird

“How fitting you would see no problem violating consecrated land after all you have done to eviscerate our blood and ways.” High Priestess Elyria wore her raven-colored hair in a series of braids coiled around her head. Her dark-leather gown clung to every inch of her. She flicked a hand, and the goat disappeared. “Stewardess Wynter.”

“High Priestess.” Ana lowered to her knees and prostrated herself, forehead kissing the ice. The same trembling that had taken over her in Magda’s room returned. “I have come not for your forgiveness, which I do not deserve, but to offer answers for what you have lost and submit myself for whatever penance you see fit.”

“Rise and face me, you coward.”

Ana scrambled to her feet, clutching the throne for purchase. A bolt of lightning shot from Elyria’s hands, and the sharpest pain Ana had ever felt sent her flying across the ice and into a tree.

“You will not defile our throne as well,” Elyria said. Her heels created a dance of sharp sound as she approached Ana, still slumped against the base of the tree. The high priestess towered, high and foreboding, as beautiful as she was dangerous. “The last time I saw you, you were a girl, and your brother was the one with wings. Had I known then you would bring such pain and death to my people, I’d have snuffed the life from you and left you for your pitiful father to find.”

“My father... Please don’t place the blame with him. It was all me.”

“But that’s not entirely true. Is it?”

Ana braced her hands in the dirt. The force of her ragged breaths coiled her forward. “It was all me, High Priestess. I have done terrible, unforgivable things—”

“For someone else,” Elyria stated. “We know all about the witch who enchanted your father and claimed the village as her own. I wonder ifyouknow how she poisoned your mother? How she stalked your elder brother in the Hunt and, right as he prepared to claim his victory and return to your people a hero, cut his throat and watched as the wulf devoured him.”

Ana’s heart skipped. “Stepan too?”

The priestess shrugged with a brief laugh. “I would imagine reflecting upon all the terrible things that have befallen your family would reveal the presence of her evil hand. Butsheis not the one huddling like a cornered animal in my courtyard, is she?”

“No, High Priestess. For she is dead, and nowIwill answer for the totality of her crimes. I do so willingly, if not fearfully.” Ana wiped her eyes and looked up. The bewildering combination of vengeance and compassion in Elyria’s searing gaze was blinding. “I have never in my life been more afraid of anything, but I am...” Ana’s jaw clenched to keep her tears at bay, for she deserved no sympathy from the woman she’d taken everything from. “I am here because you should not have to live in fear. But you must know the threat to the Ravenwoods did not end with Magda’s doom or with the punishment I’m prepared to accept from you. There is a sorcerer—”

“Mortain. Yes.” Elyria glared downward. “He has been an unrelenting adversary, and long before we ever came to the White Kingdom.”

“Ilynglass?” Ana was stunned.

“That’s whattheycalled it. We had another name, from the days when there were no Meduwyn haunting our lives. When they arrived, they decided what was ours was theirs. We fled here, to your land, to be rid of them, but Mortain gathered his highborns and followed us. Made those weak men kings, all in the guise of findingus.”

Ana realized Elyria was only telling her so much because she planned to kill her when the conversation was over. Though she’d come prepared for that outcome, sensing the end was soon coming was sobering. “Why... What does he want with you, that he would go to so much effort?”

“His grandmother was a Ravenwood.” Elyria’s brows shot up as she swept her gaze to the side. “Thousands and thousands of years ago, Mortain was an abomination. He was unlike the other Meduwyn, who came into their power at birth and never had to work for it. Weaker, you might say, for though our magic is strong, it is nothing compared to theirs. His phoenix form, the very one you inherited, resulted from this atrocity. Among other things.”

“Mortainis why...” Ana fell back against the tree. “We were told it was a gift given to the Wynters, by the Vjestik.”

“Yes, well, men always believe they’re more exceptional than they’ll ever be,” Elyria quipped, “as Mortain has always believed about himself. But for all his confidence and bluster, he fears the Ravenwood blood within him has held him back. That if he could only study us, he would uncover the ‘spark’ that makes us what we are, so he could excise it from himself. He compelled the weak king, Carrow, to march upon the Cross and burn it to the ground, to put into motion the series of choices and events that led his own daughter here, opening a fresh path to what he wanted. Us.”

“Mortain was behind Nok Mora?” The revelation was as stunning as it was believable.

“But he could kill a thousand Ravenwoods, Stewardess Wynter, and he would never find what he was looking for. Can you guess why?”

Ana shook her head.

“Truly? Not even going to try?”

“In the moments I have been here with you, High Priestess, all I have learned is that I have known so little. I have understood so little. And I will die in ignorance, just as I have lived.”

Elyria scoffed but didn’t disagree. “There is no spark, girl. Our hearts and souls make us who we are. All of us. Ravenwood. Man. Yes, even Meduwyn. Mortain can no more change who he is than you or I could. But you’re right about one thing. He won’t stop. He will haunt our flight for the rest of his days.” She lowered to a crouch and looked straight into Ana’s eyes. “But we will not make it easier for him, will we?”

“No,” Ana said. “But I beg of you, do not lash out at my father and brother. They had no part in this. They’re innocent. And everything I have done... It was to keep them safe.”

“I don’t believe your heart is dark either, but it was corruptible. And I see in your eyes that they are even more susceptible to it than you were. I will not wage a war I cannot win, but nor will I hesitate to clip the wings of any phoenix who dares circle our skies, ever again.”

“Then let me get word to them—”

“I have nothing more to say to you, Stewardess Wynter, except this: shift.”

“What?”

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