Immersion in darkness was Khalimat's favorite torment for Raven. It took four men to drag her into the bowels of the temple, to a small, familiar cell. Located at the end of a hallway, where no light or sound could reach. Three paces square, with a door of iron bars. No cot. No blanket or scrap of cloth. Just a hard stone floor and a bucket to piss in. A prison easily thwarted, if she had access to her gifts. The bars would bend. Stone, crumble. The temple would collapse with one gesture.

If only.

She'd contemplated breaking her thumb in an attempt to remove the silver band on her wrist. It was something she'd tried as a child, which only resulted in an unusable hand until Khalimat had her personal doctor set the bones to heal. Whatever sort of curse that silver housed would not budge without the proper invocation. She was left in the darkness with her thoughts.

Oh, the paradox of a prophet not knowing her own future.

She couldn't foresee events, not the way rumors told. Not without a tangible focus on the person or thing sought—and not without cost. Her skill required projecting her mind into the veil, where she'd search for a connection to the desired item. Once established, she'd receive glimpses of their thoughts or memories, usually enough to locate them. But these undertakings took effort and time, and each moment spent in the veil took something from her, leaving behind the itchy, terrifying sensation of falling in a dream. Falling under another's control. Someone she dare not name. She hated looking—hated seeing. Hated the feelings and desires resulting from her time in the veil. Slow, consuming madness awaited her.

But she would have risked it all to catch a glimpse of Alyssa.

O.O.O.O.O

A break in the weather allowed sunlight to filter through the sparse clouds, warming Alyssa's face for the first time in weeks. She'd spent the better part of the day perched on a fencepost, watching the skies above the mountain until Amara found her.

"I didn't see you at dinner last night." She lowered her hood and leaned against the fence. "Or breakfast."

"I wasn't hungry."

"What's troubling you?"

The elder was partial to directness, so why not oblige? "How long would it take your za'hava to reach Olisgard if they were to leave today?"

"You're eager for battle?"

"Aren't you?"

"I'm never eager to kill."

Alyssa's desire and sense of urgency stemmed from a visceral need. She didn't want violence, but she would slaughter anyone who stood in her way to Raven. Maybe that was selfish. Maybe soliciting the Hudar to help her destroy a nation for one woman's sake was small-minded. Was there enough redemption at stake for these people to risk everything on her word? She didn't know.

She picked at a knot on the fence. "Do you think my plan is foolish?"

"I think it's ambitious." Amara looked to the mountain. "And to answer your question, that journey has never been attempted in winter."

She knew this. Everyone in Norr knew the Targantis were impenetrable when covered in snow, and difficult in the best of conditions. "What about in summer?"

"The fastest route is a more southern pass. It takes a week to reach Norr's borders, then another two days north to Olisgard."

"Nine days? That's it? It took Raven and I longer just to make it to the valley where you found me. It was another four to get here."

Amara snorted. "Neither of you had any real idea where you were going. I'm impressed you made it as far as you did. Raven had never seen those mountains. Her tribe stayed in the deserts."

Raven had said she didn't know what she was doing. Perhaps it wasn't humility after all. "If anything, it's proof of her homing instinct. She delivered us to Hudar. I did nothing but slow her down."

"You contributed to your combined success."

"I really didn't. I knocked over a tree and complained about being cold."

Amara smirked. "This skill you possess. You don't know how to harness it, do you?"

"I don't even know what it is. Norrians aren't known for magic."

She chuckled.

"Why so amused?"

"You've Hudar in your lineage. Enough to give you influence over the veil. It would also account for your fuchsia eyes."

She'd never considered such a thing. Her family lines hailed from the north, but with how expansive a territory covered by the Hudar, it wasn't implausible.

"I can't say I'm surprised. It seems us Norrians have a way of inserting ourselves just about anywhere. Why wouldn't we have crossed a few Hudar bloodlines along the way?"

"And you're fortunate enough to have retained the proper traits. It's a powerful weapon when properly used."

"Are you offering assistance?"

She shrugged. "For a price."

Alyssa laughed. "You would hold your own in any Norrian court. Besides, am I not already indebted to you for the rest of my life?"

"I could never hold your life over you. It belongs to another. Sira kavi only ends with death. But, I will accept a favor."

The exchange without words. Had it ended? Was Raven still alive? Her throat tightened. She desperately needed to know. "A favor owed to you is more than fair. When can we begin?"

"After you've eaten something, Jinx. You need to be calm and sated to learn."

"Does the word jinx mean something different in Hudari? Because it means bad luck in Norrian."

"Bad luck?"

"Yes. To put evil upon someone. Do you think I'm a curse? Is that why everyone's been snickering when I'm around?"

"It does not translate well to your tongue."

"No, none of that nonsense. It means something. Tell me."

Amara chewed her lip. "You've seen young cats, yes? They appear harmless, but are actually little balls of chaos, capable of untold destruction. Jinx is that."

She blinked a few times. "I'm a kitten?"

"Kitten, yes. That's the word."

"Well. I've been called worse." Movement up above caught her eye. "And what have we here?"

An owl swooped down and landed on the fence between them, flapping his massive wings until he settled. It had been three days since his departure, and if he'd located his intended destination, he'd made record time travelling the winter skies.

"That's Jarl's bird," Amara said.

"Indeed, it is." She removed the small leather pouch secured to his legs.

Santiago had proven his worth over the years. Initially, their relationship revolved around the money she'd provided him in exchange for Melissah's safety. She'd taken his best thief, and he'd felt slighted. But as time went on, their mutual fondness for Melissah solidified a pact between them. As queen, she ensured his shady facilities were left alone, and he provided her with all manner of information.

Even now. She unrolled the tiny scroll within the pouch, displaying a message written in Hudari.

Your thief is safe. The lion has your traveller hidden, wrapped in silver.

Khalimat. She knew those men who ambushed them were from Kebos! That priestess wouldn't let Raven escape. But the most alarming notion of this message was also enlightening. Khalimat had taken Raven without alerting anyone. Meaning Kenos still believed her to be on the run. Meaning Khalimat was up to something. She'd press Santiago further in the next message. Thankfully Melissah was with her old mentor, easing some of Alyssa's anxiety. Together they'd remain out of harm's way. And together they were twice as capable and effective.

The owl spread his wings and took to the sky again, headed into the settlement. She watched him fly away and clenched the note in her fist. "What sort of magic can bind a Hudar's gifts?"

Amara's brows furrowed. "Bind?"

"Keep them from using magic. The high priestess in Kebos has kept Raven captive since she was a child. Khalimat used a charmed silver band around Raven's wrist that prevented the use of her skills. She's held there now with that same band, likely in a cell deep within a stone temple."

The elder shook her head. "I've never heard of such. You're sure it works?"

"I watched Raven obliterate a mountain side with the flick of her fingers. If she had access to the veil she wouldn't be anyone's captive. She's at the mercy of a cruel, power-hungry priestess."

"Perhaps if I saw this band I could do something with it, otherwise I've nothing helpful to offer."

"How long do you think it will take for me to master a connection with the veil?" She'd seen the Norrian army's capabilities during her reign. If she were to be of any assistance to the Hudar, she needed all the practice she could get.

"A lifetime." Amara pulled up her hood. "But first, the elders wish to speak with you."

O.O.O.O.O

The note Santiago had given Melissah contained an address in the seedier neighborhood of Kebos. It seemed that no matter where he went, the old fence always found his place in the shadows. She knocked on the door and was ushered into an empty brick room furnished with a rickety table and two stools.

"Please, sit." He gestured and then settled at the table. "Did you sneak to your satisfaction?"

"No, I did not." She sat on the edge of the stool. "Not long after you left a guard came through the stables with a woman and they took up residence in one of the stalls. I thought it'd be a short affair, but I underestimated their stamina."

"To each their own," he said. "Now, I imagine you have questions."

"I'll start with what the hell did you mean about Alyssa?"

"I've received several messages from her. She's alive."

A weight lifted from her chest, making it easier to breathe. She knew that woman was too stubborn to die. "Is she all right? Where is she?"

"She seems well. She hasn't said where, but I believe she's deep in Hudar."

That wasn't surprising. It accounted for the complete lack of sightings of either woman. "Is Raven with her?"

He shook his head. "Raven was captured in the mountains by Norrians some time ago."

"What?" A chill shot down her spine. Perhaps . . . the white stallion in the temple stables had carried Raven? Unwillingly, of course. She'd never return to Khalimat if given the choice. Melissah wet her lips. "Raven's here. She has to be here. If any other Norrains had caught her, all of Norr would know by now. Kenos would have hung her from the great room's chandelier or some such nonsense."

"Quite right," Santiago said. "I believe Khalimat took it upon herself to collect her runaway prophet. Her personal temple guards are capable."

"What does Alyssa plan to do now that she fled Norr? I don't give two shits about Kenos and his regime, but I doubt the people would welcome her back."

"She's tasked me with keeping an eye on you, and locating Raven. Past that, I don't know what else she's planned." He tilted his head. "Other than warning me to stay out of Olisgard."

There were few minds as cool and cunning as Alyssa Norxis. And while the situation seemed bleak, there was little doubt in her mind that Alyssa had a plan. She toyed with the hem of her sleeve. "Why warn you to avoid Olisgard? If Raven's in Kebos, wouldn't she try coming here to get her?"

"You've painted too small a picture," he said. "Kebos has the bulk of Norrian forces, including the citadel. It would not be easily conquered."

"Conquered . . ." The blood drained from her face. "She plans to return to Olisgard."

"With a few new friends, I imagine."

O.O.O.O.O

Kenos studied the map spread across the table in his chambers. It was the most recent edition, having been tweaked and altered by information gathered from that traitorous Hudar witch. Raven was most familiar with the southern desert surrounding the Spire, contributing many useful notations. Hidden wells, watering holes, caves and tunnels through the torrid, wind-swept land. She had served her purpose, despite destroying his legacy by absconding with his queen. Eventually, she would be found, and he would have his just revenge. Until then, he would prepare.

He picked up several stone-carved figures from the table and deposited them across southern Hudar, denoting the locations of each battalion. No matter the season, Kebos was always heavily guarded by at least one regiment stationed at the citadel. Now there were three, stretching to the Spire, guarding the workers as they continued to mine the bedrock for precious stones and metals. There hadn't been a reported conflict from any hostiles on the route, suggesting the Hudar had fled north after losing Daskis. Hopefully they'd remain in their mountains, allowing him to pillage every useful resource in that bloody desert. Thousands of Norrians died fighting for that land, and he would not let their deaths be in vain.

A smaller stone token rested on Olisgard, alone in all directions for many miles. With this birds-eye-view of the world, it made the capital seem vulnerable. Northgate's battalion had returned to full strength. The loyal countries of Duul and Marsinkos bordered eastern Norr, providing security. But in the west, nothing stood between Olisgard and Hudar. Nothing but the perilous Targantis mountain range. No army could cross that land, especially in the dead of winter, and the Hudar didn't even have an army—

A knock at the door broke his train of thought. He scrubbed his face with both hands and sighed. "Come in."

Captain Roberts strode into the room and held out a message. "This just arrived, your grace."

Oh, gods, what now? He took the message, bearing that same, strange sigil, and unrolled the scroll.

Look around for your proof, helpless shell of a man. I will destroy you.

His blood boiled. Whoever this was, they would die slowly. So very slowly. "Where did this come from?"

"The east again," Roberts said. "But I don't believe it's from outside of Norr."

"Why? What did you find?"

"Smell the paper."

He waved the message below his nose, wafting a scent. But what was it? He inhaled deeply, eyes closed while his mind wandered. Beneath the leather of the carrier bird's pouch lingered notes of incense and something floral. "Is that . . . jasmine?"

"I thought so myself, your grace." Roberts leaned over the table and tapped a spot on the map. "And that fragrance comes from Kebos."

Why would anyone from Kebos send him these messages? Could it really be Raven, hidden away in the desert, mocking him? That landscape was her territory, and she knew it well enough to avoid detection. Enough time had passed that Raven could be anywhere. Alyssa could be anywhere. He studied the army of stone figures surrounding Kebos.

Khalimat might shed some light on this mystery scribe.

O.O.O.O.O

Alyssa arrived at the elders gathering place as quickly as her legs had carried her. Had they come to a decision? Would they help her rescue Raven? She'd pressed Amara for information along the way, but the woman refused to indulge.

Afternoon sunlight dulled the sharpness of the cold in that open field. The fire pit had already been lit, flames dancing in the breeze. Amara was the last elder to arrive, and she took her seat on the horseshoe of logs around the fire.

Alyssa stood before them, so nervous she might vomit.

The old silver-haired woman, Tamir, stared her down while the others chattered like a covey of songbirds. "We've considered your strategy, Norrian," she said, and the others fell silent. "And have decided against sending any za'hava into Norr."

Her knees weakened. She staggered backwards. "No. Please, that's a mistake. I beg you—"

"However," she continued, voice hard as granite. "Despite our counsel, a number of our people have volunteered to partake in this campaign for your companion."

Dizziness washed over her. Despite their cultural differences, these people wanted to help her? Was she imagining this? She looked to Amara, who sat still as stone, trying to hide a smile. "They . . . I—how many?"

Tamir lifted her chin. "Two thousand."

She nearly choked on her own tongue. That meant a quarter of the settlement volunteered to fight. The equivalent of six battalions agreed to trek across the snow-laden mountains because she'd suggested it. It warmed her heart in the strangest way.

"When will these volunteers be ready?"

"They've three days to prepare before starting the march. Allowing two extra days to combat the deep snow, they should arrive in Olisgard on the night of no moon. That's what you wanted, yes?"

"Yes, yes! That's perfect. We—I—thank you. You won't regret this, I swear it."

"You're right," Tamir said. "Should this campaign fail, I expect you to die with it."

O.O.O.O.O

Khalimat lounged in her courtyard, watching the birds flittering about her citrus trees. Now that Raven had been returned, and the festival and ceremony of Longest Night had passed, she finally had time to herself. And what better way spent than soaking in the late afternoon breeze, scented with orange blossoms and lemongrass?

Rhet appeared beside her chaise, arms clasped behind his back. "Priestess."

Well, it was lovely while it lasted. "What is it?"

"A message came from the king." He extended a sealed scroll.

Exciting news. What manner of entertainment could this contain?

"Also, Santiago Sucocci is here to see you."

Interesting. Very little surprised her these days, but she hadn't expected to ever see that thief outside of Olisgard. He wouldn't have come this far south without reason. But what? She couldn't help the burning curiosity that man provoked. She always had time for a dear old friend.

"Send him in." She took the scroll. "And ask the kitchen to bring wine and cheese."

"Of course." Rhet bowed and left.

She traded the tranquility of her courtyard for the structure of her office, and settled down at her mahogany desk. She popped the wax seal and unrolled the king's message.

Someone mocks me, boasting possession of the queen. I believe these messages hail from Kebos. Have you any news of Alyssa or Raven, priestess? There are many places to hide in the desert. Raven could be anywhere.

Anywhere, indeed. A fascinating turn of events. What convinced him that the culprit of his jeering messages resided in Kebos? Something to ponder over a warm meal. Maybe with good company. She set the scroll aside and glanced towards the entryway.

Santiago strode into her presence with all the dramatic flair of the theatre, as always, wearing a solid black mask with only one eye exposed. He bowed. "My dear priestess, where has the time gone? Look at you, radiant as the sun. How are you fairing?"

Always the charmer. Usually impervious, she found it difficult not to smile. "I'm well. Please, sit."

"Thank you." He removed his cloak, revealing a black and tan tunic, broad shoulders and a trim waist. An enticing physique lurked beneath that costume, and she'd always longed to see.

"What brings you to Kebos?"

"Well." He sat in the chair opposite her desk and steepled his hands beneath his chin. "Tensions run high in Olisgard. I needed a reprieve."

"Yet another reason why I've remained in the desert. Things move at a more manageable pace. It's much too hot to worry needlessly."

His eye lingered on the king's note resting on the desk between them. "Are you really not concerned that your prophet fled with the queen?"

Ah, there was the shrewd man she admired. "Not at all. Are you?"

He chuckled and sat back in his chair. "Concern is far too strong a word. I'm curious how this game will play out." He tilted his head. "Even if the victor is already known."

"Because you know the thrill is in that unknown, Santiago. Not who has won, but how."

"And why." His voice suggested a smile.

She found herself returning that unseen gesture. "What really brings you to Kebos?"

"I've come to call upon that favor."

O.O.O.O.O

Seclusion blurred the passage of time, as did Raven's infrequent meals of stale bread and table scraps. The ache in her bones suggested she'd been down in this horrible place for far too long.

The door at the end of the hall creaked open, ushering in a glowing torch and hooded figure. She remained where she sat, back to the wall, refusing to give her captors any sort of reaction.

The light and figure moved closer, momentarily blinding her.

"I apologize for the torch." An unfamiliar male voice. The figure stood at the bars of her cell. Torchlight illuminated a black mask with only one exposed eye. "But I'd like to speak face to face."

She couldn't resist. "Are you familiar with irony?"

His chuckle reverberated in the confines of her cell. "Well played, Raven."

His accent wasn't from Kebos. Olisgard, perhaps. Or somewhere farther north. Meaning he wasn't a temple guard. Was this a new tactic to harass her?

"What do you want?"

"My name is Santiago Sucocci, and I've come to deliver a message. One that requires some preface."

She'd heard the name in passing, but couldn't recall much else. "I'll save you the trouble of this conversation. Just go. Tell Khalimat I'm beyond reproach, a savage animal unfit to see the sun. Tell her I tried to strangle you through the bars and she won't send you back down here again."

"You're just as Melissah described."

Melissah? Pulse quickening, she sat forward to get a better look at him. Santiago Sucocci . . . Santiago the fence? Could this be Melissah's mentor from her life on the streets?

"You don't trust me," he said. "And it will be difficult to convince you otherwise, so I won't waste time. It's after dark on the third of February. From what I've figured you've been down here since the fifteenth or sixteenth of December. Only Khalimat's men know you're here. The rest of Norr thinks you're still on the lamb with their queen."

She did the math. Forty nine days in seclusion. A new record, if it were true. She'd lost count somewhere around day nine or ten. "That sounds like something one of Khalimat's men would say. Something to break my will. If you really are one of hers, you're doing a dreadful job."

He studied her in the silence. "You don't belong here."

"That's a strong opinion, Santiago Sucocci. I've done terrible things. A betrayer of Norr and Hudar. I belong somewhere. Why not here?"

"You didn't ruin your people, Raven. Daskis never existed."

She must've misheard him. Lack of proper food and sunlight meant restless sleep. She was starting to lose her mind.

"Khalimat started the rumor of Daskis decades ago, before you were born. There was no such man. You aren't responsible for the death of any Hudar, because none were killed. It's all been a lie."

"What?" Dizziness hit like a maelstrom. Was this a trick? Another game? Had she really been lied to her whole life? Had all of Norr? Were her people alive and well in Hudar? She'd seen Daskis in her mind. Seen his face. Tracked his movements across the mountains, but . . . Khalimat had given her the belt and knife sheath used as the focus to find him.

Her stomach shriveled hard as stone. It took a moment to find words. "Who were the men slain on the mountain?"

"Why do you care about dead Norrians?"

She lurched upright and slammed into the bars. "Who were they?"

"Thieves." Santiago retreated out of reach. "Just a crew of thieves traveling the edges of Hudar. They were avoiding the outposts on their way past Olisgard. They were also avoiding me and the substantial debt they owed."

The man seemed different from this angle. Less imposing, protected by iron bars and that strange mask. If any of his tales held merit, he'd played a hand in wrecking her life.

"What you've told me, Santiago, is that you were involved in this game."

"No, no." He shook his head, held up his free hand. "Khalimat asked me for a favor, and I granted her one without fully understanding its implications. Had I known what would come of this, I wouldn't have indulged her."

"Oh? Why were you important enough to even warrant her attention?"

"Once upon a time, the Lioness was just a cub trying to find her place in the world, and my line of work made me privy to everything of importance in Olisgard. Twenty-five years ago she was a priestess working her way through the temple hierarchy. She came to me seeking someone trustworthy to deliver messages for her. I put her in touch with the thief, whom she then worked to death. Quite literally."

It wasn't hard to see. When she'd run out of use for the thief, Khalimat had given Raven some of his personal items, purposely targeting him to be killed. The catalyst for her master plan. "And what was the price for her request?"

"A favor owed, and one I held onto until today. She allowed me a private audience with her captive prophet." He squinted his one eye. "Lucky me."

Could she trust this information and the man giving it? She desperately wanted to. Wanted to be free of the guilt. Free from the consequences of her actions. She wanted to believe her people were alive and flourishing in Hudar. She longed to be with them. With Alyssa.

"However, I do apologize," he said. "I had hoped to have schemed a way to free you by now, but I'm afraid Khalimat's too thorough in your supervision. Melissah suggested many creative ploys, but all would expose me as the culprit in your escape. And the longer Khalimat believes me loyal, the better for all our sakes."

She knew the layout of this dungeon all too well. It was impossible to escape by design. She would have to be let out by someone with the key. Unless she miraculously discovered a way to remove the silver band. "Why did she start the rumor of Daskis? What purpose did this serve?"

"Mostly entertainment, I imagine. Norrians latched onto the idea of that barbarian king like no other. She pitted two adversaries against one another and watched the battles unfold. And as I'm sure you're well aware, she rules this desert and everyone in it. I dare say she answers to no one."

"She . . ." Sickening realization took hold. "She manipulated Kenos into invading Hudar." Who else had she manipulated over the years?

"Precisely. And your adventure has really made this interesting. Kenos has no idea the Hudar are intact and capable of a campaign. Khalimat's hoping he will continue pushing men into Hudar, where they will eventually be slaughtered. I think she hopes to weaken Norrian morale enough they turn their backs on Kenos and pledge themselves to her."

"That sounds like Khalimat."

"However, neither king nor priestess are aware the Hudar have an unexpected advantage." Santiago leaned closer to the bars, that one dark eye catching the light from his torch. He extended a scrap of folded paper. "Hell hath no fury."

She opened the note to find a message written in Hudari.

Hold out, my charming dark traveller. I bring vengeance.

Alyssa's handwriting. She'd recognize it anywhere. Her legs turned to wet noodles. "She's alive. Where? Where is she?"

"My dear, she's a lot closer than you think."

O.O.O.O.O

Against all doubts and sentiments, the za'hava trekked eleven days across the Targantis and reached Olisgard on a moonless February night. Atop her hardy gelding, Alyssa marched alongside them, taken aback by their speed and grace. Never before has she seen so many people move so efficiently. Due to the terrain and season, that span of the mountain range was not patrolled, and they did not cross paths with a single Norrian. Even the weather had cooperated, abstaining from dumping any more snow on their journey. Perhaps the gods were on their side. Despite their natural stoicism, a strong morale permeated the army. Because there wasn't another word for such a show of force. The Hudar had formed an army.

And that army now waited in the thick forest just west of Olisgard, fed, well-rested and ready for battle.

Alyssa shifted in the saddle and scanned the imposing stone walls guarding the sleeping city of five thousand Norrians. "There it is, Garfield. It seems smaller, doesn't it?"

Amara moved up beside her without a sound. She and the rest of the Hudar had donned headdresses hewn from animal skulls and bones. Paired with the scarves across their faces and black billowy robes, they demonstrated their earned moniker as wraiths.

"You're sure about this?" Amara said.

She nodded. "There're twelve soldiers posted at that gate. Twelve more at each of the other three gates. One company of a hundred men stationed at the palace. The battalion in Northgate's a half-days ride away. And the remaining regiments are all south and more than a week away. Olisgard doesn't stand a chance."

"That's not what I meant. Are you sure you want to betray your people?"

She glanced to the countless Hudar hidden in the trees. "A little late now, isn't it?"

"Perhaps. But I would like to know."

Weariness had weighed her down for ages now, it seemed. Looking upon the city she'd called home the past decade sparked a whirl of memories. Some decent. Most unappealing. The handful of cherished times were the hardest to let go.

"There are people in Olisgard that I care about, yes. But given the circumstances, they'd understand."

"And your king?"

Dominick hadn't crossed her mind since she'd arrived at the settlement. If humans really were more than the sum of their parts, he hadn't possessed enough decent traits to overcome his atrocities. He had the opportunity and ability to be more, and instead he chose to acquire more. Selfishness outweighed selflessness. She had seen the error of her ways. He was willfully blind to them.

She focused on the faint glow of the palace in the distance, and nothing but rage stirred inside her. "He's not my king."