“We’ll look into it, thank you,” Lina said with one final sweep of her thumb down the sleeping baby’s cheek. She passed her back to her mother. “You both need your rest. If anything else comes to you, you can let Baba know.”

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you.” Nelle’s voice quavered as she looked back at Lina. “You saved us.”

“You saved yourself, by making him come to me,” Lina said. “And you’ll teach your daughter how to be brave like her mother too. Be proud of who you are, Nelle.”

Bri’s chest tightened and she shifted on her feet. Lina cared so deeply for this person she hardly knew. Even when she was acting as a nighttime vigilante, that goodwill and courage was inextricably tied to who she was.

Lina rose from her chair. “I’ll come visit again soon,” she promised, and Nelle offered the three of them a soft smile as they left.

They got three steps down the hall before Carys growled, “Please tell me you killed him.”

“No.” Lina straightened, rolling back her shoulders and lifting her chin. That royal mask slipped back over her face as she led them back down the stairs. “But we didn’t stop his death either.”

Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

On the fifth floor, Bri peered from the window of Baba Omly’s office to the conservatory below. Narrow paths wound through lush green trees bursting with vibrant flowers—an oasis in the heart of the temple.

Baba Omly sat at her modest desk, flipping the amethyst dagger over in her hands. “It looks like a relic from a violet witch temple.” She gazed up at the three of them, her eyes lingering on Lina. “I don’t know what these symbols say . . .” She pointed to the one in the center. “Except this: gift.”

Carys’s shoulders drooped. “That’s what Cole said too.”

“This one may be the symbol for ‘heart’?” Baba scrutinized the hilt. “Or maybe ‘crown’? The words are quite similar. I would need more context to know for certain.”

“Do you have any witches’ books here on ancient relics?” Lina asked, crossing the room toward the High Priestess. “Anything on the violet witches?”

“Nothing here, I’m afraid.” Baba Omly slid the dagger back across her desk. “Occasionally such books are donated to us—books about other covens, old tomes and witches’ letters, cookbooks and witches’ art. We send it all to the archives in Silver Sands.”

“The archives?” Bri asked.

“It’s a collection, a memorial of sorts, to the witches’ way of life before the Siege of Yexshire,” Baba Omly said. “The books important to each coven stay within their own temples, but others get sent there. . . . Why just yesterday someone donated to us an old apothecary ledger that we delivered to Silver Sands.”

Carys leaned against the far wall. “Do you think they’ll have anything on the violet witches?”