I grin as the Bloodwood comes into view. Thankfully, this haven in the mountains hasn’t been torn through by the horde yet. I doubt Sadal or Maaz will stop them from settling in our most sacred place besides the Holy Rite. The two of them seem content to let every Bloodbane tradition and belief fall to the wayside in their quest for power.
The Bloodwood is a copse of trees on the mountaintop. The trunks and leaves of the trees have been stained red due to the iron in the water that seeps into their roots. The strange coloring was what first attracted the Bloodbane to the trees. I land lightly in the center of the grove of trees, besides a flat boulder that serves as an altar.
Swiftly, I lay out the makings of my spell and draw a stick of chalk from my cloak. Murmur under my breath as I draw out the sigils of my spell across the rock. I slip my blade from my belt and hold it over my open palm. Every Bloodbane spell should be accompanied by a blood sacrifice. Many Bloodbane use the blood of another, a Fae victim or animal. I prefer my own, I’ve always found it to be more potent. With a smooth gesture, I slice my palm open. Pain shoots through my hand, hot and pulsing as blood pours freely from the wound.
The curtain of blood drapes over the stone, sinking into the chalk etchings. I murmur softly to myself, repeating the dark and powerful phrases of my spell work. I pour my intentions into the spell as I let my blood drip over it. I pour my wishes and my vision into it. Wind rushes around me, powerful and fierce. It whispers to me and a chill trails down my spine.
Soon, Alnembra will be ours. It will be for the Bloodbane. Our conquest will be our crowning achievement. No longer will we be pushed to the fringes of society for our dark worship. We will rule. Grinning, I clench my hand into a fist and squeeze. The blood pours thicker and my smile broadens.
Chapter 16
Verity
I stand in the center of the hall, staring at the closed oak door leading to Altair’s office. I twist my lips, biting down hard. After our last encounter, I’m not looking forward to this. But I need to speak with him.
I’m surprised that Navi isn’t standing guard outside the door, but I’m grateful for her absence. I have no doubt that if Altair told her what I had done that she would cut me down where I stand. I close my eyes, imagine her broad sword swinging towards me. I fear I deserve it what for I’ve done to Altair. I betrayed him; I don’t know if he even still wants me. But the two of us are linked now, there’s no avoiding that.
I straighten my back and smooth the fabric of my pale blue gown. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I knock lightly. The door opens, and I see Navi glowering at me. Of course, I think wryly. Navi scowls buts steps aside to let me pass. I see her elegant hand wrapped around the hilt of her sword.
When she steps aside, I see a dark, glossy table surrounded by Fae. Altair sits at the head of the table, his councilors on either side dressed in fine robes of silk. I spot Thal in the ranks, but he doesn’t smile at me. His eyes are shadowed, his brows furrowed. I drop his gaze, shame flitting through me. Slowly, my eyes return to Altair. He stares emotionlessly at me, as if bored. He leans back into his velvet chair, arms draped over the sides.
“Verity,” he says, cocking a brow. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
I swallow back the angry retort boiling inside me. He doesn’t appear to be as disturbed my presence as I am by his. I know he’s still furious at me. I can see it shining in his eyes despite how much he tries to hide it.
“Altair,” I mutter.
“Your Grace,” Navi snaps from behind him. “You will address him as Your Grace.”
I turn, eyes narrowing. Navi and I stare each other down for a moment and I grind my teeth together. “Verity,” Altair says, his voice ringing powerfully. “What can I do for you?”
What can he do for me? My heart clenches. I don’t deserve much from Altair. His question might be hollow and lacking sincerity, but he would ask me despite what I’ve done. I turn back to him, trying to stand tall. “A week,” I say stiffly.
He cocks a brow. “A week?”
“I want to be married within the week,” I continue, clasping my hands tightly behind my back so he can’t see how white my knuckles are.
Altair sits silently for a moment, his eyes locked on mine. “Get out,” he says, lifting his chin. “We’ll continue the meeting in a few moments.”
I gape at him. He’s kicking me out? But it’s his councilors that stand. Their chairs scrape loudly against the stone floor, their robes rustling. I purse my lips as the Fae sweep around me without even meeting my gaze. Only Thal keeps his eyes locked on mine. The door closes gently behind them, leaving Altair and I alone.
He rises, his tunic unbuttoned enough to expose his chest and collarbones. He bends over the long table and lifts his eyes to mine. “Come closer, Verity,” he says.
Reluctantly, I move to his side and study the map laid out in front of us. Altair points to the mountain range along the border of Alnembra. “The Bloodbane witches have made their home in these mountains for thousands of years. Imagine being exiled into a single location for the length of your immortal life. They must be desperate to expand,” he murmurs.
“Well what’s in the other direction? Why Alnembra?” I ask.
“It’s a barren wasteland across the
