With Nox’s help in translation, the reevers were able to explain what had happened in the throne room with Queen Moirai. The beautiful newcomer was just as baffled as Uriah and Zaccai to learn that Moirai was a witch. The ag’imni had let out sounds of true, unadulterated anger that even Nox shrank from when they learned the queen was the reason for the curse.

The ag’imni did not stay with them that night. They’d excused themselves, telling Nox they needed to return to Raascot, where there was much to be discussed with their king.

“If Amaris is heading north toward Sulgrave, she’ll look for the answers to this curse. A priestess told her to look for an orb.”

“Orb?” Nox asked. They took a moment to catch her up on the events that had occurred at the temple. It was clear from Nox’s face that she needed a little more background. They began to explain Amaris’s role as a reever and her status within the keep.

Once they finished their explanation, Malik asked, “If she’s looking for the orb, what are we to do?”

“What would Samael want us to do?”

He frowned in response. “There’s no peace or balance while Queen Moirai rules with her phantom prince in Farehold.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

A mixture of resolve and purpose tugged the corners of Nox’s mouth upward. Decades of injustice roiled through her. She thought of Millicent and the death powers of witches. She thought of Farleigh and the laws of Farehold that would allow for children to be bought and sold like cattle. She thought of her evil power, one she would never have discovered had she not been forced into a life of servitude in the lands of this southern kingdom. She thought of the royal woman who had ordered the execution of Amaris and would never allow the moonlit girl another moment’s peace while she lived.

Nox clapped her hands together, drawing their attention with her smile. “Great—we’ll kill the queen. When would you like to get started?”

Epilogue

The plan was neither intelligent nor elegant, but that seemed to be a common theme with many of the strategies that Amaris was a part of. Careful execution had never been a luxury afforded her. She’d suspected for a long time that Gadriel had been in pain, but it wasn’t until he groaned from the hours of exertion that her suspicions were confirmed. Soon Gadriel would be too tired to grip the beast’s spine.

With little room for argument, he told Amaris that next time the beast dove for the tree line, they’d have to jump.

“Are you mad?” Amaris shouted over the wind and wings into the bronzed face of the general, who held her tightly while his own strength drained.

“Almost definitely.”

Face plastered in shock, she asked, “What if we don’t survive the fall?”