Nora looked at the sky, seemingly lost in thought. I wondered if she was having a mental breakdown—I wouldn’t have blamed her one tiny bit—but then she began to speak.
“The first mage, born of lightning, lived beneath the first yew tree in these lands. As the mage’s power matured, so did the tree. They spoke to one another, the mage and the tree, in soft voices and in the spaces between thoughts.
“When the mage had lived one hundred years, a town of humans sprang up like beggar’s grass a stone’s throw from the yew. The humans began to mutter and curse the mage every time a crop died from drought or a baby was lost to the fever rashes. On the first night of the first month of the last quarter of the year, the mage asked the yew for a weapon. The mage feared her magic would not be enough. She had never used it for fighting, for the defense of her body.
“The yew consented to this plan and dropped one long stretch of fine wood, which the mage used to fashion a bow. The mage used not wood nor stone to craft the bow’s arrows, but magic, amethyst bright and drawn from the world’s veins.
“When the humans attacked, the mage fought back and defended the yew. Countless arrows shot into the dark hearts of men. Eyes shut forever, the taste of their fiery hate the last sensation of their short lives. The mage was victorious. But success bred a sadness so deep that the mage’s magic began to fade alongside the bodies of those humans who had seen fit to murder that which they didn’t understand.
“Death touched the mage, but before the end, the mage asked the yew to receive the bow and the magic. The mage begged the yew to keep the weapon protected until another mage, a mage who would wake the world from slumber, came to claim it. The tree asked the mage the name of this claimant. ‘I do not know the name,’ the mage said, ‘but that she will be drawn to your bow and given the title of Yew Queen.’”
Hekla and I traded twin looks of awe.
Lucus’s lips parted, and he studied the fire like it might have answers. “The Bow is a mage weapon. How does Arleigh use it to trap you?”
“The first three mages she brought here helped her create a magical boundary using the Yew Bow’s power. She claims it was done willingly at first, to protect not just the fae from the outer world, but the mages too. I know fae cannot lie, but that seems impossible to me. There is some twisting of her story.”
“I’d count on that.” I moved closer to the fire. The day was growing chillier instead of warmer as the sun climbed.
Nora made a noise of agreement, pressing her lips into a line as she used her sharp stick to turn the log Lucus had placed on the fire. “Now the Yew Bow is tainted with fae magic and damaged, splinters from it used to plant blood trees and create the boundary. It’s forever polluted, and we mages can’t control it.”
I swallowed. Blood trees. That did not sound good.
Still shaking, Hekla set her bowl down and warmed her hands over the fire. “What is the Yew Bow boundary exactly? I don’t understand. Not that I get any of this…”
Nora gathered our bowls and spoons, her movements robotic. “The fae combine the magic from mages with their own magic and feed the blood trees born of the Yew Bow’s wood. Mages who feed the blood trees eventually run out of power. The last thing the magicked trees take is mage blood. That’s what gives them their name,” she said flatly, the emotion gone from her voice. This was obviously so painful to talk about that she had to do it in a cold way, pulling her emotions into herself. I knew the tactic. I’d used it at work when Mom died. “For every blood tree, there is at least one dead mage. I haven’t been bound to a blood tree yet.”
“What about him?” I pointed toward the dark chamber where the other mage hid.
“He is the Binder.”
Lucus flexed his arms, and I knew he was thinking of the vines Arleigh had hidden inside him. “What does that mean for him?”
Nora eyed Lucus warily. “For what it’s worth, I’m only telling you all of this because Arleigh bound you,” she said to him. “Any enemy of that woman is a friend of mine. As for the Binder, he is the one who joins the magic when a new mage is linked to a blood tree.”
My stomach lurched. “He helps Arleigh kill his own kind?”
Nora’s eyes flashed. “They have his son.”
Lucus’s jaw worked, and my memory of him standing between war and his baby brother, Francesco, washed over me, chilling my heart. He’d understand the mage’s choice to protect the child at the cost of others’ lives.
Hekla’s hands fisted, and she glanced from me to Lucus to Nora. “But those dead mages, they were daughters and sons too.”
Lucus studied Hekla’s face, his eyes softening. “When you brought that weapon into the castle to defend Coren, did you care if you killed me or my brothers?”
He was talking about how she’d threatened everyone with a shotgun. I touched his sleeve. “I get what you’re saying, but it’s not the same thing. You were keeping me prisoner. Sort of. Those mages who were killed to save the Binder’s son were innocent.”
Nora’s throat moved in a swallow, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Somehow we’d broken through her wall. I wasn’t sure that was good or bad in a place like this.
“They were,” Nora said, “but when you’re put to the choice between spilling the blood of strangers and the blood of your own family… Would you be able to watch Arleigh’s daughter Corliss slit your family member’s throat? I doubt it. It’s not as if the
