The exhaustion of the day warred with the adrenaline still pumping through Bri’s veins as they gathered in the council chambers. The brilliant orange and red sunset cast a golden glow over the savanna, its final glorious rays beaming into the cold stone room.

The council stood around a table, surveying a map of the Western Court. Lina pointed to where the witch hunter camp was and where they were attacked, retelling the assault to Darrow, Tem, Delta, and Cole. She traced the twin rivers and down to the waterfall that had nearly taken both her and Bri’s lives. It had been too close. Bri hated the feeling of being one step behind, not knowing the attacker’s plans.

“Hallis,” Lina called and a guard marched in from beyond the far door. “I want you to gather five of your best and ride out to the witch hunter camp.” Lina’s face was sharp as she directed her guard.

“You’re going to kill them after all?” Tem asked.

Lina gave him a soft look, as if knowing he was too gentle to make such hard decisions himself. “We should have never allowed them to live,” she said, considering her words carefully. “Even if their connection to the attacks is dubious, there can be no room for doubt. Not anymore.” She turned back to the guard. “Gather any information you can but make it quick. The witch hunter king’s reign ends tonight.”

Hallis bowed deeply to Lina and was one foot out the door when Lina said, “And Hallis?” The guard paused. “Burn down that tree.”

The guard’s brows pinched in confusion but he bowed again and left. Bri should have thought to do it herself—that tree scarred with the notches of dead red witches, a proud display of their slaughter—she should have taken Lina’s axe and chopped it down herself.

“Where’s your dagger?” Carys muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

The two of them stood off to the side while Lina reported back to her councilors. Lina’s eyes lifted to Bri and dropped to her beltless hips, even as she continued speaking. Bri shifted, folding her arms as Lina turned back to the map.

“Lost in the river.” Bri’s voice was a growling whisper.

“Gods,” Carys cursed. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve got three more in my pack,” Bri gritted out. “I’m fine.”

“Do you want to train later?” Carys offered.

Bri smirked. Her friend knew her too well. Even a few weeks ago, she would have needed to pummel her fists bloody to recover from the sting of losing that precious weapon, but now . . . She tried to summon the sharp pain she was certain she should feel, but instead there was only a distant sorrow, old and steady, as familiar to her as the feeling of that hilt in her palm.