“I don’t know about that. But at least it’ll give us a place to start.” I stood up and spoke the summoning words. That familiar, cold feeling spread throughout the room, though for once, it was easy to shrug off. After I’d trudged through that Arctic wasteland outside, Volusian’s aura felt pretty soft-core. Moments later, Volusian appeared. He inclined his head to me.

“Welcome back, mistress.”

Around me, the others shifted uncomfortably. Roland had disapproved of Volusian since the beginning, and for once, he and the gentry agreed on something. None of them liked Volusian either. Dorian had even offered to help me banish him, since the curse was too much for one person to break.

I sat back down. “Volusian, we need to talk to you about the Yew Land.”

Volusian’s expression remained unchanged, but like before, I got the vibe that his former homeland was nothing he wanted to discuss. “Yes, mistress.”

“Is the Yew Land responsible for the blight?”

A pause. Then: “Most certainly, mistress.”

The others exchanged surprised looks. I shared the sentiment. With Volusian, such a direct answer was rare. Even though he was compelled to obey me, he excelled at finding ways to evade the truth.

“That’s not quite the same as ‘yes,’” I pointed out.

“Indeed,” Volusian agreed. “I have not been to the Yew Land in centuries. I have not spoken to Queen Varia. I have seen no spells cast. Without that, I cannot say, ‘Yes, they caused it.’ This magic that’s blighted these lands feels exactly the same as the sorts of spells the Yew people work. It is possible someone else has learned their magic—but unlikely. Hence my answer: most certainly.”

“Fair enough,” I said. Volusian-logic was wearying sometimes. “I don’t suppose then that you know how to break the enchantment.”

Volusian’s tone remained flat. “Of course I do, mistress. I have known for some time.”

I nearly jumped out of my chair. Rurik actually did.

“What?” I cried. “Why the hell didn’t you tell someone sooner?”

I couldn’t be certain, but I thought I saw the tiniest shrug of Volusian’s shoulder.

“Because, mistress,” he said. “You never asked.”

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“God. Damn. It.”

It was one of those times—and believe me, there’d been many—when I wished I really could just blast Volusian into the Underworld. Usually those times also just happened to be when I desperately needed him. This was no exception.