“Queen Thorne encouraged the red witch hunts throughout the West.” His lips curved downward as his carefree mask slipped. “She wanted to drain the Northern Court of as much of their wealth as possible. She knew Vostemur was desperate for red witch heads and wouldn’t think twice in spending all his kingdom’s gold to ensure he got them.” He held his cigar between his lips, his voice muffled as he took another drag. “In some ways it was a clever plan, though a ruthless one. The West stayed out of the wars and became tentative allies with the North, all the while draining them of their coin.”

“So it was true that Queen Thorne was hoarding her gold,” Bri murmured, thinking of the gossip spread around her household as a child. Her mother had said the Western Queen had amassed two courts’ worth of gold in her bloody trade with the North.

“I believe it was your mother who took that truth and turned it into something larger than life,” Tem said, his eyes assessing her as if hearing her thoughts. “That our people were dying of hunger while she sat on a mountain of gold.” Bri’s gaze dropped to her hands as she picked the dirt from under her fingernails. “A half-truth of sorts. Queen Thorne accrued an incredible amount of wealth, but most of it was earned and kept by her people. The witch hunters became rich as thieves . . . until all the red witches were gone and the money stopped coming.”

“Not a very wise long-term strategy,” Bri growled. “Killing innocent people.”

“Queen Thorne allowed an army of bloodthirsty and moralless fae to rise up in this kingdom,” Tem said. “And then the gold stopped coming. . . . Over the last few years they’ve become more reckless and violent—raiding towns and selling our own brown witches into the North.”

“And what did Queen Thorne do then to get them back in control?”

“Nothing,” Tem growled. He took another puff and sighed. “I shouldn’t speak so ill of the dead. She was my Queen.”

“I don’t blame you.” Bri waved away the cloying cigar smoke as a heavy haze settled over the room. “She made her people into monsters and then they turned on her.”

“It was the cost of falling from that high—the glory days of witch-hunting.” Tem’s voice filled with disgust. “They became more and more desperate, more and more angry. The smart ones turned to other jobs, but the core group remains to this day at a camp in the woods.”

“Ah yes, with a fae who calls himself the witch hunter king,” Bri snarled. “And whose brother is now the Captain of the Guard.”

“Yaest hasn’t spoken to his brother in years. He’s always been loyal to the Crown,” Tem said, waving off her concern. “Like I said, if we condemned every fae associated with the witch hunters, there’d be none left.”