Bri wasn’t excited about the council meetings or the parties . . . but receiving the citizens she would look forward to. She watched her whole life as the royalty around her dismissed the needs of everyone but the richest amongst them, and soon, she’d finally have the power to make a difference. Tal could handle the parties and Carys could run the council meetings, but Bri would listen to the people of the Eastern Court. A twinge ran through her thinking of her brother. She needed to talk to Talhan.

They descended into stilted silence once more as Bri’s mind wandered toward the competition. The challengers would each vie for the Eastern crown based on strength and fighting skills, yes, but also on public speaking and plans for the future of Wynreach.

She thought of Carys’s half sister, Morgan. The halfling led a human life with her human husband and children. Morgan saw the underbelly of the city and the dark side of the fae who wished she didn’t exist. Her ties to Carys would make Carys Bri’s biggest competition. Carys would surely have the humans’ vote, maybe the witches’ too, but the fae would probably vote for Bri or Tal. The twins grew up in the courts and attended the fae’s weddings and birthday celebrations. Their mother had relationships just as deep in the East as she did in the West. Perhaps now that the Eastern throne was vacant, she would shift her meddling away from the West entirely.

The line of horses veered from the thin trail onto a wider worn path, drawing closer to the witch hunters’ camp. The forest reminded Bri of trekking through the backcountry to find Remy not so many months ago. How the world had changed in such a short span of time. The red witch in that seedy little tavern was now a fae Queen, her little sister now the Queen of the Northern Court. Bri shook her head. It was impossible to know what Okrith would look like in another year’s time. Would there ever be a future when all five crowns of Okrith were allies, when the continent wasn’t at war?

They passed a splintering sign nailed to a tree, the white paint of the skull and crossbones nearly flecked off. A single carved word was barely legible in the rotten wood: “RED.” Below that were notches in the tree, moss growing over each split in the bark. Bri swallowed the bile rising in her throat. They were tallies—hundreds and hundreds of tally marks that scarred the trunk.

“We didn’t come here to kill anyone,” Lina reminded them. “We . . .” She eyed the tree again. “At least let’s get the answers we need first.”