“Where would we go?” The woman could hardly get the words out.

“With me,” Baba Omly said. “You’ll come to the temple. We’ll get you back on your feet.”

“You’ll be safe there,” Lina promised as the woman looked nervously at the High Priestess.

“We may dry flowers and sing songs to the moon,” the Baba said, “but no one messes with a coven of witches; I promise you that.”

The gravity of her words made Bri want to shudder. She wouldn’t underestimate this Baba.

Lina and the High Priestess helped the woman to stand. She squeezed Lina’s hand one more time.

“Thank you,” she mouthed through thick tears. She bounced up and down on her toes, keeping her baby asleep.

“Better days are on the horizon. Hang on to that,” Lina said, her soft voice dropping into one of promised vengeance. “Now, tell me where he is.”

*   *   *

Bri shook out her hands, her knuckles numbed from years of practice. They’d found the man, Meson, already tied up in a back room of the local gambling hall. It seemed Bri and Lina weren’t the only ones wanting to dole out judgment on him. They’d paid a bag of coins to the owner to speak with him privately, and the owner was more than happy to oblige.

Meson was a ruddy-cheeked man with skin the color of rotten ham and pale, hateful blue eyes. His arms were tied behind a wooden support beam, his face already swollen, and his tunic stained in dried brown blood. How long had he been left here? Judging by the putrid stench, several hours.

“Are you the one they call Airev?” he asked, resting his head back on the splintering beam.

“I am,” Lina said, keeping her hood tucked low over her nose as she took another step forward. He didn’t seem to recognize her voice, probably too preoccupied with surviving this encounter. “We’ve just come from your house, Meson.”

Fear flashed in his icy gaze. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, scrambling for a meaningless apology. “It’ll never happen again.”

“No,” Lina said, wailing a blow down on him. His head snapped to the side as he let out a bark of pain. “It won’t.”

Bri rolled her shoulders. Meson understood using violence as a weapon to prey upon innocent people. There’d be no good outcome to letting him live. She took a step toward his pathetic, crumpled body, held up only by the ropes tying him to the beam.

“Wait! Please!” His pitiful voice trembled as Bri approached, her golden eyes stabbing into him.

“How many chances have you not taken, Meson?” she asked, unsheathing her amber dagger.

“I know about the Queen’s murder,” he blurted out, darting glances between Lina’s hooded face and Bri. “Please. I’ll tell you what I know.”