He didn’t know how Liam had managed to persuade the Fae to join the fight, and he didn’t like the fact that those creatures were suddenly paying attention to the human world. Bad enough that Ubel had encountered them the first time he’d gone to Breton, but if they were actually joining forces with the Sylvalan barons who dared to defy him…

He shuddered. There had been no mention of a black-haired woman riding a dark horse. There had been no sign of her around Willowsbrook. With so much death in one place, someone would have seen the Gatherer if she had returned to this part of Sylvalan.

Perhaps he should change the place of attack anyway. Swing around the county Baron Liam ruled and strike somewhere a little farther north or south. It would force the human enemy to march fast to meet him before he reached the Mother’s Hills and began cleansing them of the foul magic that lived there. If the Fae had some alliance with Liam, they would lose interest if Willowsbrook wasn’t threatened.

He could turn the army away from Willowsbrook…but the Sylvalan barons would see it as fear. They would think he was afraid of whatever unnatural allies that young bastard Liam was gathering, would gain strength and courage from misinterpreting his decision, and would pursue him more relentlessly because of it.

Soaked to the skin, Adolfo closed his eyes and lifted his face to the storm. The rain stung his skin, reeked of magic.

Magic.

He smiled.

He wouldn’t need to find an Old Place. The bitches were providing him with pools and pockets of magic he could drain for his own use, twist to his own will. He would still need a witch to create his finest gift, but he could use these pockets of magic to create the smaller gifts.

So he wouldn’t turn away. He would drive his army to Willowsbrook, would fight against the elements that had become the enemy’s weapon. He would capture a witch, soften her enough to remove any threat to himself or his men—and he would give Baron Liam and his allies a gift from out of a nightmare.

Chapter 35

waxing moon

Filled with fierce triumph, Ubel gripped the railing and watched the Wolfram warships gain on the enemy. That witch-loving bastard was heading for the big island, probably hoping he could circle it and find a place to hide. There was no place to hide. There would never be a place to hide from an Inquisitor’s righteous judgment. He had the bastard now. He had him.

Turning his head, he shouted at his ship’s captain, “We’re in range of that last ship. Signal the other Wolfram captains. Put fire down on those witch-lovers!”