As I’d feared, the Irkallan weren’t in hibernation. And the fact that this body was here, lying so close to the severed hand of a stained child all but confirmed that they were not only active again, but also behind the plot to bring down Winterborne.

I didn’t want to believe it, I really didn’t, but there was no denying it now.

History had certainly given witness to the fact that the Irkallan could breed with humans—the staining still coming through so many of us was evidence enough of that. And the witches who’d been kidnapped had, if medical evidence and Saska’s comments were to be believed, been forcefully impregnated in an effort to produce stained children. Those children were then raised by a queen they had no choice but to obey thanks to the existence of the silver bracelets.

There was no royalty left in Tenterra, Gallion, or Salysis. But the Irkallan lived and worked in a similar fashion to the insects they partially resembled. Not only did they exist in an apiary—which was exactly what Pyra had told me when I’d been questioning her—but there was also a caste system in place that had workers of various levels, soldiers, breeding females, and a queen who ruled them all.

The Irkallan might have been defeated, but they hadn’t given up their dream of domination over all other races. They were merely undertaking a longer-term, camouflaged, and decidedly devious action this time.

Freedom, help us….

There is more to find beyond this body, the wind said.

I wasn’t entirely sure I could handle finding anything else, but I nevertheless stepped over the Irkallan’s remains and walked on. After a dozen or so steps, I noticed a thick trail of black on the tunnel’s sandy soil. I bent and touched it. It felt hard—crusty—and though it had no scent, I had a fair idea what it was.

Blood.

Blood from a child whose hand had been severed, perhaps?

I closed my eyes against the pain and horror that rose—but once again, the former was oddly distant, an echo that seemed to be coming from someone else. And it wasn’t Trey, as it definitely had a feminine edge to it.

Could both the sensations I’d experienced in the shower and the emotions hitting me now be coming from Saska? Did the connection that had flared so very briefly between us out there on the storm-held terrace somehow linger?

I’d never heard of such a thing, but then, I wasn’t overly versed in the ways of psychic talents or magic, even if I did possess the ability to use the latter.

I brushed the soil from my fingers, then rose and moved onward. Twenty feet later I found the rest of the child’s remains. She was naked and lying facedown on the ground, her small body so badly stained there was only a tiny patch of pale skin on her left rump. Her right hand had been severed and a large pool of dried blood surrounded its stump. Her other hand was whole, but there was no bracelet on it—just the grime marks on her wrist to indicate where one had been.

The Irkallan had been here. They’d retrieved the bracelets but left the bodies where they lay. There would be no remembrance of a life lived for this child, no ceremony to cast her soul on to its next journey. Nothing but inhospitable soil and a spirit destined to endlessly roam this unforgiving darkness.

I wanted to rant and rage against the utter inhumanity of the whole thing. Wanted to weep not just for this life, this child, but for the others who were still out there, still under the control of the Irkallan.

But such an outpouring would be little more than a waste of energy. To stop this plot—to save the children born into this madness, if it indeed it was at all possible to save them—we first had to find just how far the infiltration into Winterborne went. And, perhaps, even more urgently, just how close they’d gotten with their tunnels.

My gaze returned to the bloody stump, and I frowned. Why was her right hand lying on one side of the rock fall and her body here on the other? Given both bracelets had been retrieved, it suggested the rock fall had happened after both her death and that of the Irkallan. But why would they bury one and not the other? Did they do so merely to conceal the Irkallan’s body, or did they, perhaps, want to ensure no one else could escape this way? Given the children they were breeding were capable of using the lifeless earth when our witches weren’t, they had to know any earth-capable escapee would be able to get through the barrier. So maybe the blockage was meant to stop us from realizing the full extent of the tunnel system if we did manage to get through the dead earth.

Which left one more rather vital question—if this child had been with Saska at the time of her escape, why did she then abandon her? It made no sense—not given the heartache I’d seen in Saska over the death of her babies.

I stepped away, and then stopped. I couldn’t leave the child here in this darkness. At the very least, she deserved to lie in earth that had the beat of life. I couldn’t guide her soul on but I could at least provide her the comfort of a resting place that wasn’t sterile and empty.

I took a deep breath to gather my strength, and then once again called on the air. This time, there was no rush of power. The breeze that answered was gentle, filled with reverence and care. The child’s remains were carefully wrapped and then lifted from the soil. Though her body had to have been lying here for at least a week, there was little in the way of decay or bloat. Perhaps the fact we were so far underground, with no heat or insect life present, helped delay the decomposition. Or maybe her exoskeleton-like skin was keeping the process at bay. The Irkallan hadn’t stepped too far along the lines of decay, either.

The wind turned the child around, and for the first time, I saw her face.

It felt like someone had punched me in the gut. My breath left in a huge whoosh of air, and all I could do was stare.

Because the child’s face was mine, right down to the stain on her cheek, although that patch lay on her right cheek rather than the left. The other slight difference was her eyes—hers were silver with a ring of brown around the iris rather than the golden of mine.

I fell back against the wall and pressed my hands against my knees, sucking in air as I battled the urge to be sick. Horror pulsed through me, not just because of the uncanny resemblance, but because it surely meant there was a blood connection between me, Saska, or perhaps one of those other kidnapped women. There could be no other reason for this child being my mirror image.

Freedom, help me… it was my kin involved in this plot, be it willingly or not.

I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to get both the shock and my thoughts under control. This latest fact didn’t really change anything, even if it did add weight to my desire to see it all ended.

I pushed away from the wall and directed the air—and the child’s small body—forward. As I stepped over the Irkallan’s remains, I hesitated, then drew my knife and chopped off its head. Trey might be able to hear my thoughts—and therefore be well aware of everything I’d discovered down here—but others might need hard evidence before they could be convinced that the enemy we’d long thought in hibernation was instead actively plotting our downfall.

I grabbed the head by its two antennae, holding it away from my body as bits of fluid and who knew what else began to leak from it, and continued back down the tunnel. When I reached the end of the rope, I grabbed it with my free hand but didn’t immediately tie it on. There was time enough for that.

“Trey, you still up there?” I said, as I finally neared the shaft.

“Where else would I be?” His voice was heavy with anger. “Damn it, Neve, I told you not to risk—”

“That risk was worth it, trust me.” I paused, and frowned. “Have you been catching my thoughts?”

“Not since you released the rope. It would appear proximity is a factor.”

“Then I have a whole lot of bad news for you,” I said. “But first, I’m sending you up a body.”

“Whose body?”

“A child’s—a stained child’s. She should be buried in soil that holds the beat of life, not left in this sterile, empty darkness.”

“Are you sending her up via the rope?”

“No. The air.” I directed the wind to hold her vertically rather than horizontally, and then sent her up the shaft. “She’s on her way.”

Light flared down the length of the shaft, momentarily blinding me. I shielded my eyes against the glare and watched the child’s body rise. When the air had lifted her free of the entrance, I took off my jacket, placed the Irkallan’s head inside of it, and looped it around my utilities belt. Then I tied the rope back around my body and said, “Right, you can haul me up now.”

He did so, quickly and efficiently. The minute I was topside, he said, “That child could almost be yours.”

“I know.” I undid my coat and held it out. “But this is even worse.”

He quickly unwrapped the head, and his expression shifted from one of puzzlement to disbelief and horror.

“An Irkallan? It cannot be—”

“It explains the extensive staining on the three children who attacked Blacklake. It also explains why witches are being kidnapped—they’re forcibly impregnated to produce children capable of using magic, but whose actions can then be controlled via the bracelets.”

He swore and began to pace, his strides long and angry. “We’ve been monitoring the Blacksaw Mountains since the end of the war. There’s been no sign of movement in or around that place.”

“Well, there wouldn’t be, especially if they were going underground rather than over.”

“Even that doesn’t make sense. Young children, stained or not, wouldn’t have the strength to create such tunnels—it’d more than likely kill them. Besides, it was only thirty years ago that the disappearances started happening, and they’d need far more women to produce the number of children required to make such a vast undertaking viable.”

“You said the dead patches started appearing more than fifty years ago. What if witches have been disappearing far longer than we’ve presumed? What if this plot has been happening for centuries rather than years?”

He swore and thrust a hand through his dark hair. “We need to get back to Winterborne—urgently.”

“Not before we bury that child—”

He swung around and I saw the denial on his lips. But his gaze met mine and, after a moment, he gave a short, sharp nod. He strode across to the viable earth and, in little time and with very little effort, a deep grave had been dug.

I shifted the tiny body into it and gently placed her on the bottom. “Rest well, little one. May the earth grant you the peace and happiness that was not yours in life.”

“And may those that reside within the earth’s magic treat your soul with kindness, and guide it on to rebirth,” Trey added softly.

I watched the small body being covered with earth and tears trickled down my cheeks. It was irrational to feel so emotional about a child I’d never known, and maybe it was due in part to the link I seemed to have formed with Saska. Or maybe it was the fact she looked so like me that it wasn’t hard to imagine it was my child down there in the dirt. Either way, those tears kept falling.

Trey didn’t say anything. He simply tugged me into his arms and held me. “No child, whether they’re kin or not, deserves to die alone like that,” he said eventually. “We have to stop these bastards, Neve.”

“Yes.” I pulled away from him and quickly brushed the tears from my cheeks. “Winterborne needs to be warned.”

“Yes.” He hesitated. “Do you want me to drive?”

I smiled, and wondered if it looked as forced as it felt. “A brief if irrational emotional outburst won’t stop me doing my job, Trey.”

“It’s hardly irrational.” He picked up the Irkallan’s head and swung into step beside me as I walked across to the speeder. “In fact, it’s a rather nice confirmation that you are capable of such depth. I was beginning to wonder if the Nightwatch training had beaten it all out of you.”

“If anything was capable of doing that, it wouldn’t be our training, but rather the fact of being born stained.” My voice once again held an edge of… maybe not bitterness, but certainly resentment. “I hope your daughter appreciates the gift you gave her, Trey, because she wouldn’t be the woman she is now if she’d been raised with the restrictions that come from being stained in Winterborne.”

“And yet you appear to have risen above them.”

“Because I was lucky enough to have Sifft blood, and was raised to become Nightwatch.” I met his gaze squarely. “Those born both unlit and stained may no longer be killed at birth, but we remain an underclass who have few opportunities and little say in what becomes of us. That needs to change, Trey. If the stained are declared unlit because we’re immune to magic, why couldn’t the same be true of the many who are unstained and unlit? Winterborne could in the future find itself under attack from within, from the very class of people they depend on for daily survival.”

“All that is true,” he said. “But such a change will never happen with any great speed. Remember, I was ostracized for my choice.”

“Yes, but any change made for the better always starts with one small step. Perhaps, in this case, it should be the recognition—and protection—of those stained who possess magic.”

“Such a ruling would have to come from the Forum—the very people who rely on those whose station you’re trying to raise.”

“I’m hardly trying to raise their station,” I snapped back. “All I’m suggesting is that we be given a voice—a choice—in what happens to us.”

“Even that will not be so easily achieved.”

I jumped into the speeder and reclaimed the driver seat. “It will never be achieved if it isn’t even considered.”

“Right now, we have greater concerns than the fate of the stained and unlit in Winterborne.” Trey climbed in behind me and shut the door. “Which isn’t to say that I don’t agree with you. But I’m hardly likely to be a harbinger of reform. I gave up my right to speak at the Forum. I’m Blacklake’s prime, a position that has no standing in there.”

I punched in Winterborne’s coordinates and then hit the accelerator. “Yet you’re the one Kiro called when he needed help with this investigation. And I certainly didn’t see much antagonism aimed your way during the masque.”

“You’re well aware of the reason Kiro called on me. And the house of Stone is one of the most powerful in the Upper Reaches—even a son who’s been ostracized is given a certain amount of respect. But that respect doesn’t mean they’ll listen when it comes to changing centuries of tradition.”

I sighed. I knew the sense of what he was saying. Knew change probably wouldn’t happen in my lifetime, if ever, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating—and it certainly didn’t make tradition any less wrong.

But perhaps what was even more frustrating was the fact that it was only when I’d been taken out of that environment and shown a completely different way of life that I’d seen my life in a different light. Life as a Nightwatch was pretty damn good as far as things went for the unlit and the stained, but there were still many restrictions on what I could do and where I could go. My life wasn’t my own. I would always be ruled by the color of my skin and by what I’d been deemed to be when I was born, even if the title of unlit no longer applied.

I might have chaffed under some of the restrictions of my life beforehand, but it had never really held much sway in my thoughts. Now though… now I had to wonder just how easy it would be to step back into the shadows of my old life. To keep going as if nothing had ever changed—as if I hadn’t changed. But I guess the reality was, there was no other choice, and certainly nothing else I could do. No matter how strong my magic might prove to be, few would consider me partner material because of the staining and all the connotations that came with it—even if many of them were now untrue. And I certainly didn’t want to become a breeder in some Upper Reaches household.

Which, when I thought about it, was little better than what the Irkallan were apparently doing.

And if Trey heard that particular thought, he didn’t say anything. No surprise there.

As we got closer to Winterborne, I pressed the earwig and said, “Nightwatch eight-three inbound from Blacklake, approaching Winterborne with Commander Stone on board.”

“Got you, eight-three. Be careful coming in—we’ve repaired the gates but haven’t yet cleared all the debris.”

“Will do, Control.” I broke contact then glanced around at Trey. “Are we heading straight back to the Upper Reaches?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because I’d like to go visit April and see for myself how he is.”

He hesitated. “Will ten minutes do? Kiro wants us back at five to allow for situational updates and time is already tight.”

“Ten is fine.”

“Good. I’ll use that time to check for dead spots immediately outside the walls.”

“Surely the Winterborne earth witches would have noticed the lack of life in the soil if the Irkallan had gotten that close? Wouldn’t the fact that the earth’s voices had become muted or reluctant given them a warning that something was off?”

“It took those of us in the outposts years to notice, and we live in Tenterra. Most of the witches within Winterborne concentrate their efforts on either ensuring defenses remain pristine, or keeping a close watch on farm practices and the soil within Gallion so it might continue to sustain us in coming years.”

“Ten minutes isn’t going to give you much time to check, then. The wall is two miles long.”

“I don’t need to inspect its entire length to find the lifeless patches. The earth will tell me if they exist.”

“One of the benefits of being trained, I guess.”

“Yes.”

I returned my attention to driving, but I could feel his gaze on me. Could feel the uncertainty in him—about what I had no idea. And if the growing silence was any indication, it once again appeared he wasn’t about to enlighten me.

I contacted base again once we were close enough to see the wall, which meant the gate was open by the time we arrived. I eased the speeder onto the lift that would take it to the underground garage, and then shut everything down. Trey opened the door and climbed out, the rewrapped Irkallan head gripped in one hand.

“Captain November,” he said, as he climbed out. “Could you please order the gate to remain open—I need to inspect the ground beyond the walls.”

Mak immediately relayed the information to the gate staff, and then said, “Anything we should be concerned about?”

“That’s something I won’t know until I do the inspection.”

Mak grunted and glanced at me. His gaze, as ever, held a slight hint of disapproval. “Your secondment to the commander’s division has been approved, March. Your personal items have been placed in storage, and your bunk reassigned until either your return or you request them sent elsewhere.”

I frowned. “I hardly think that was necessary, Captain, given the secondment is only temporary.”

“It’s procedure, March.” Mak glanced at Trey. “Lord Kiro has requested you join him as soon as possible.”

“Inform him we’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Trey glanced at me. “Meet me at the internal gates in ten.”

I nodded and, as he walked away, glanced back at the captain. “Do you know what ward Nightwatch April is in?”

“All Nightwatch casualties are being housed in Red-five. I’m sure you’re capable of finding him from there.”

I didn’t thank him. I simply saluted and got the hell away from him. April’s ward was on the fifth floor of the hospital, in the area reserved for serious but stable injuries. Nine others were in the ward with him, most of whom I knew. They all greeted me cheerfully, but my attention was mostly on April and my replies somewhat absent. His face was puffed and bruised, and there was a large gash down the left side of his face. His right arm and left leg were both immobilized, suggesting he’d broken them.

“You,” he said, a wide grin splitting his bruised features, “are a sight for sore eyes.”

“I’d like to say the same about you, but that would be a lie.” I picked up his good hand and squeezed it gently. “How are you feeling?”

“Probably as bad as I look, but I get the last lot of treatment from the healers tomorrow, and should be mobile by the beginning of next week.” He grimaced. “I’m mightily pissed that I’m missing all the damn fun in the Upper Reaches though.”

“Trust me, the Upper Reaches isn’t all it’s cracked up to be—especially when it’s nothing more than standing watch rather than getting involved in festivities.”

“While that might be true, it would still be a welcome change of scenery.” His gaze skimmed my length and he frowned. “Why are you wearing a Blacklake uniform?”

“I’ve been temporarily transferred to Commander Stone’s command. Listen, were you still on watch or celebrating when the attack happened?”

“I’d just finished my shift—why?”

“Did you actually see the Adlin approach this time? I mean, they’ve been howling for nights, but none of us could actually see them and they seemed to disappear every time we tried to attack.”

“Very true.” He frowned. “The command didn’t give any indication there was any sort of movement out in Tenterra until the last moment, which is damned unusual. As far as I’m aware, the sensors weren’t down.”

“Can you remember when—and where—they were first sighted?”

He hesitated. “We were doing quarter-shifts so that everyone had a chance to attend the harvest festivities; mine was from ten to two, so it would have been a few minutes before then that they were first spotted.”

“At the walls or further out?”

He snorted. “Nightwatch may have been running a skeleton crew, but there’s no way known the Adlin would have gotten that close without someone seeing them.”

They could have if they were using tunnels, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. “Where then?”

“Just over half a mile out from the wall.”

Meaning in the time since they’d first started howling, the tunnel—if indeed there was a tunnel—had gained roughly half a mile. “Did they all appear at the same location, or was there a couple of different streams of them.”

“One, according to command.”

Which hopefully meant that there was only one tunnel to find and shut down. “Did command pinpoint any particular location?”

He gave me the coordinates, which were slightly to the east of the main gate, and somewhere between April’s tower and mine. “So how come you managed to do so much damage to yourself?”

“Because, as I said, my shift had ended but I’d been ordered to the gatehouse to back up the crew there when the damn gate mechanics all but exploded. Don’t remember much after that, but they apparently found me under a mess of stone and metal.”

“Meaning you’re lucky to be alive.” I leaned forward and dropped a kiss on his lips. “And I’m totally glad that you are.”

He wrapped a hand around my neck to stop me from pulling away and then kissed me more thoroughly. “It’s just as well there’re some pretty nurses to occupy my time in this place,” he said eventually, “otherwise I’d be rather put out.”

I smiled. “You’re here to heal your broken body, not to seduce pretty nurses.”

“It’s only the unimportant bits that are broken. Everything else is in full working order.” He paused, his expression contemplative. “And there is one very pretty redhead who has, in fact, been very obliging. I wouldn’t mind spending a whole lot more time with her once I’m out of this place.”

I raised my eyebrows. “That’s sounding a bit more serious than a mere flirtation.”

“Hardly, given we’ve only just met.” His grin flashed. “And never fear, I will not deprive either you or Ava of the wonderment that is my body until seriousness does happen.”

I snorted and lightly slapped his good arm, even as sadness slipped through me. Things were indeed changing, and not just for me. While I’d always known the day would come when the relationship between the three of us would have to end, I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready for that ending to happen so soon. Not that it was just yet, but still….

I forced the sadness away and released his hand. “I’ll catch you later, April.”

“You will. And be careful, Neve.”

“Always.”

I headed out. Trey was waiting near the secondary gatehouse. The carriage that had initially taken us into the Upper Reaches was waiting on the other side of the gate. “Did you find any dead patches?”

He fell in step beside me. “Not in the immediate vicinity, but there is a reluctance in the earth’s voice, so something is near.”

“According to April, the Adlin who attacked us appeared on the sensors at about half a mile out.” I gave him the coordinates. “If that’s the case, then the tunnel has progressed half a mile in about nine days. And that means we still have some time to stop them.”

“But it is totally dependent on just how many earth-capable children they are willing to deplete unto death to get that sort of speed.” Once we’d climbed into the carriage, he gave the order to move, then picked up the clothes that sat neatly folded on the seat next to him. “We both need to change. Kiro doesn’t want anyone suspecting anything untoward has happened.”

I accepted my dress but didn’t immediately start stripping off. “Why? They’d have to be aware of the Adlin attack, even if they had no idea what else might be going on. And as an outpost commander, wouldn’t they think it natural for you to seek out details of such an attack?”

“Yes, but I’d hardly take my lover to such a meeting, hence the need to pretend it was nothing more than a brief outing.”

“Brief?” I snorted. “Anyone with any sort of eyes would know otherwise. We’ve been missing half the night and most of the day.”

“Which is very easily explained away, given it was the night of the masque reveal and a time when alliances—new or old—are sexually celebrated.”

“Meaning I missed out on the fun again?” I mused. “Damn.”

“Indeed.” His gaze swept me, and the heat of his desire washed tantalizingly across my skin. But he didn’t move—didn’t reach for me. Instead, he resolutely pulled his gaze away and began stripping off.

Stone by name, stone by nature. At least when it came to giving way to any attraction to me.

“So is he planning to tell the Forum about the attack on Blacklake?” I leaned down to untie my boots, and then shucked them and my socks off.

“He’ll have to once we’ve shown him the Irkallan’s head. I guess the timing of the revelation will depend on whether he’s uncovered any other traitors aside from the three women.”

“Hence the need for an update before we attend the masque.” I pulled off my shirt then undid my bra, tossing it onto the pile of clothes.

“Yes.”

He continued stripping off, and it wasn’t very long before we were both naked. The heat in the air had increased to the point it felt like I was being bathed in desire, but he still refused to look at me or even acknowledge what was rising between us.

“And there is good reason for that, Neve,” he said softly.

“Then tell me what it is.” My voice held an edge of anger that was not quite contained. “Make me believe it’s not my stains or my station.”

His gaze jumped to mine at that and there was no hiding either his desire or surprise. “Knowing what you know about me, how can you even think that?”

“Then what the hell is it?”

He sighed and thrust a hand through his hair. “It’s the connection we formed when we did the ceremony. There’s the possibility of it getting stronger if we continue to be sexually involved. I thought it best not to risk forming an unwanted, permanent attachment.”

Unwanted. The story of my entire life. Bitterness swirled but I somehow kept it contained and simply asked, “How serious an attachment are we talking about? More than just reading minds?”

He shrugged, frustration evident in his expression. “Possibly. It’s rare for the ceremony to be performed by someone not trained, and there’s really only vague warnings about permanent connections being formed.”

“Meaning the risk is one of both mind and heart if we’re sexually active over a period of time?”

“Yes, although how long that period needs to be is also rather vague.”

“Is it just you that runs this risk? It can’t be one-sided surely.”

“It’s not, but—”

“And is there a cure for this connection?” I cut in. “If it does indeed form?”

“Distance, according to the texts I’ve since read. But that doesn’t mean we should take such a risk until we’re sure it’s something neither of us fear.”

I leaned closer. He didn’t retreat, but he didn’t reach for me, either. The earthy energy that seemed to arise whenever we were too close burned the air, and it was a force that certainly seemed to be for a liaison rather than against it. “Commander, isn’t the possibility of one partner falling for the other and not having their affections returned something all lovers face?”

“Yes, but—”

I raised a finger to silence him, but he caught it, kissed it. “Neve, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not afraid of a connection forming, but I don’t want you trapped in a relationship you don’t want and couldn’t ever be comfortable with.”

I stared at him for a minute, unable to believe what I was hearing. It wasn’t a rejection—quite the opposite, in fact. Happiness surged and a silly grin split my lips. “I’ve thought myself in love before, Commander, and survived the fallout when it became obvious it was very one-sided. I’m willing to take that chance again, but only if you are.”

With a sigh that was almost relief, he wrapped a hand around my waist, pulled me against him, and kissed me. There was nothing cautious about this kiss, nothing gentle; it was heated and hungry, filled with all passion that had been simmering between us since the ceremony. And it made my pulse race and my heart sing.

This time, he didn’t stop or pull away. The kiss gave way to caresses, and swiftly became a heated exploration of each other’s bodies, one that involved both hands and tongue. We tasted and teased, caressed and kissed, as much as the confines of time, urgency, and the small carriage would allow, until the scent of need was so sweet and heavy on the air it was almost liquid. When I could no longer stand the glorious torture, I pushed him back onto the seat and straddled him. But he gripped my hips, preventing me from fully capturing him, his gaze on mine and his expression serious.

“Never, ever, believe that I haven’t wanted you,” he murmured. “Ever since that very first night in my suite at Blacklake it has been so.”

With that, he released me, and I thrust down onto him. And oh, it was such a moment of utter perfection, where everything was as it should be, that neither us of dared move.

Then desire surged, and his groan was one I echoed as we began a dance as old as time and life itself. Slowly at first, and then with increasing urgency. Pleasure curled through my body, shaking me with its power, until the growing need for completion had my body wound so tight it felt like I would surely shatter. And then I did shatter, as did he, the force of it so strong it tore gargled screams from both our throats.

For several seconds after, we simply sat there, our bodies locked together. That odd, earthy energy continued to surge around us, a force that remained more than just sexual, and one that for the first time seemed completely united. It was almost as if two halves had now been made whole, and that energy—be it of earth or something far more basic—was now satisfied.

He dropped a kiss on my forehead and said, “I would love to take you to bed right now and more thoroughly risk that connection we spoke about, but I can’t.”

“No.” I climbed off his lap. “I don’t suppose you have towels and water in this carriage, do you?”

“Indeed do we do.” His mouth twitched as he opened a compartment to the left of my seat. It revealed a small sink, tap, and above it, some towels. “This isn’t the first time carriages have been used for such pursuits.”

I laughed and quickly cleaned myself up. He did the same, and by the time we’d both dressed, the carriage was pulling to a halt outside Rossi House.

Our door was opened and once again, Trey exited first. I handed him the still-wrapped Irkallan’s head and my sword—my knife was once again strapped to my thigh, its presence concealed by the flowing skirt—and then accepted his help down. My gaze immediately went the white stone and silver metal façade of the fantastical building. Nothing seemed to have changed, and that seemed rather weird given all that had happened since we’d left.

A liveried pageboy came down the steps as we began to climb them, meeting us halfway. “Lord Kiro waits for you in your quarters, Lord Trey.”

The wind stirred around me as he spoke, whispering of dark deeds being done. With it came the urgent need to go check on Saska. I glanced at Trey. “You go. I really need to go check on Saska.”

He frowned. “I don’t think that’d be wise—”

“The wind would suggest otherwise.”

“Which means it’s a suggestion we dare not deny.” He caught my hand and raised it to his lips. “Meet me back in our suite once you’ve finished. And be careful.”

“People keep telling me that.” Amusement twitched my lips. “Anyone would think I’m the careless sort or something.”

He laughed and released me. I watched him stride after the page for a second, and then headed left, following the wide patio around to the rear of the huge house. I eventually entered via a side entrance then walked down the silent halls to Saska’s suite. Ava and a golden-haired man I only vaguely knew were standing either side of the doorway.

“Neve,” Ava said, delight creasing her features. “You didn’t get dead.”

“Not through lack of trying—at least if you believe what others might be saying.” I glanced at the other guard. “How are you, Ranel?”

“I’ll be better when our shift is over. It’s almost as boring standing here as it is on the wall.”

“Trust me, boring is probably better than the alternatives right now.” I glanced back at Ava. “Anyone come in or out?”

“Other than Lord Kiro, no.” She hesitated. “And he didn’t look pleased when he left.”

I smiled. “He never looks pleased.”

“Yeah, but considering they had sex, I would have thought he’d at least be a little happier.”

Meaning Kiro had used the full extent of his talents on Saska again. “How long ago was this?”

“Around lunchtime.”

Which was about the time the pleasurable sensations had hit me in the shower. For whatever reason, a link had definitely been formed between Saska and me.

But I had to wonder what being seduced in such a way—even if Kiro had taken the time to make it pleasurable for her—would have done to her already unstable state.

“Has there been much movement since then?”

“No,” Ava said. “But she must have the side doors open, because the force of wind has been strong enough to rattle this door.”

Given Saska’s propensity to stand outside in the wild weather, that wasn’t entirely surprising. Yet unease stirred. “Do you know if there’s anyone stationed on the balcony exit?”

“Yes, there is.” She glanced at Ranel, who said, “I believe Gen and Luc are currently assigned there.”

Two people I wasn’t familiar with, which suggested they were newer recruits. “And Saska hasn’t come out?”

“No.”

Which didn’t mean she was still there. Not given the stunt she’d pulled in Tenterra. “I need to get inside to talk to her. What’s the procedure?”

“You were given all-hours access. Everyone else has to be cleared through Lord Kiro.”

“Ah. Good.”

Ava opened the door and I stepped through. Once it was closed again, I paused and scanned the suite. Nothing appeared to have changed since I was last here, although the force of the wind coming in through the open patio doors was strong enough that the curtains were flying like flags. The air in the room was also bitterly cold, suggesting the doors had been open for a while.

“Abee?” I had to raise my voice to be heard against the howl of the wind. “Are you here?”

There was no response, either from Saska’s maidservant or from the two Nightwatch who were supposed to be stationed outside the patio doors. Maybe they simply couldn’t hear me over all the noise. I walked across to the doors, caught the end of one of the violently flapping curtains, and pushed it further aside before stepping through the door. The wind skirted around me rather than hit me full force, but I nevertheless felt the anger within it. I scanned the balcony, but other than a few upended chairs, there didn’t appear to be anyone out here.

Where the hell were the Nightwatch officers? They wouldn’t have abandoned their posts—not without good reason, and certainly not without telling anyone. Even if they did have reason to leave, Ava and Ranel would have been informed.

I stepped farther out into the balcony. The wind continued to move around me but the urgency beating through it was growing stronger. I did a full circuit of the patio, my unease growing with each step. There was no one here and no indication of any sort of disturbance or fight. Both the Nightwatch and Saska had disappeared and while the latter’s absence didn’t really surprise me, the former filled me with growing trepidation.

I walked back into Saska’s suite and looked around. Again, there was little sign of any sort of disturbance, but I found Abee in small butler’s pantry next to the bathroom, unconscious on the floor and bleeding from a long gash on the side of her head. I swore and quickly felt for a pulse. It was rapid and faint, but it was at least there. She wasn’t dead.

But I feared the same would not be said of the Nightwatch officers.

I thrust up and ran back to the front door. Both Ava and Ranel swung around as I flung it open. “Are either of you in direct contact with Lord Kiro?”

“He’s in direct control of all the seconded Nightwatch, and our earwigs have been retuned to a communicator that accompanies him,” Ava said. “Why?”

“I need you to tell him that he, Commander Trey, and a healer are to get here ASAP. Saska’s maid is unconscious, and Saska and the two Nightwatch officers are missing.”

Ranel swore and immediately pressed his earwig. As he began relaying information, I added, “Roughly what time did the wind get really strong?”

Ava hesitated. “It would have been about five and a half hours ago.”

Which was roughly the time Trey and I had left Blacklake. I had a bad feeling it wasn’t a coincidence. “And there was no indication from either Gen or Luc that there was anything untoward happening?”

“Gen was bitching about how fierce and cold the wind was, but was bluntly told to keep off the line—that we were only to contact each other if there was something wrong.”

“So there’s been no word from either of them since then?”

“No. And we’re not due for a shift change until nine.”

“How long are the shifts?”

“Twelve, as usual.”

“Lord Kiro is on his way,” Ranel said. “He wants you to wait for him.”

“Tell him I can’t. Tell him I’m going after Saska.”

Ranel nodded and began to relay the information. Ava’s expression became troubled. “I suspect I know how you intend to find her, but be wary. The source of your information cannot be trusted when you’re using it as a means to track down a powerful air witch.”

“I know.”

I squeezed her arm and then spun and ran back to the patio. The wind’s violence had not abated and the voices within her were mute. But the concern remained, and it was growing stronger. Whatever Saska was up to, whatever she’d done or was doing, the wind did not approve.

It was also interesting to note she was more vocal—and more willing to help me—beyond Winterborne. Obviously, the binding of three that was preventing her from either speaking to me or helping me more greatly wasn’t so restricting once we’d moved into Tenterra.

My skirt flew every which way as I stepped onto the patio again but this time, the wind wasn’t avoiding me. Instead, she urged me on, toward the outer edge. Darkness was gathering along the horizon and the sea far below was as violent as the wind, casting foamy fingers high enough up the sheer cliff face that I could not only see it, but also taste the salt of it. Yet there was far more to be seen than heaving seas if the wind was to be believed.

I gripped the nearby capstone with one hand and carefully leaned over the edge. On the rocks far below, held in place against the violence of the seas by the thin fingers of rocks that had skewered their bodies, were the missing Nightwatch officers.

Saska—and the wind—had murdered them.

Anger stormed through me as I raised my face to the skies and the wind. “Damn it, why didn’t you stop her?”

The rule of three means we have to abide by orders given whilst one is still alive. We had no choice but to do this foul deed.

I swore and pushed away from the edge. “Can you tell me where Saska currently is?”

We have been forbidden to tell you. But we can show you, if you trust.

Trepidation stirred through me. The last time I’d been asked to trust the air, they’d told me to leap off a wall. I had a bad feeling that’s exactly what they intended now. “Why can’t you simply guide me through the halls of this place?”

Because that will not be fast enough. She teeters on the edge.

I took a deep breath and released it slowly. It didn’t do much to calm the inner butterflies. The wind had admitted it could not go against direct orders—what if one of them had been to kill me?

If that had been so, we could have simply tossed you down the cliff or even drawn the air from your lungs until you suffocated.

Both of which was not only true, but would also be a very nasty way to go. “What do you want me to do?”

Move to the far side of the patio and stand upon the wall. We will lift you, as we lifted you both in Tenterra.

That lift had left Saska shaking with weakness, and would undoubtedly do the same to me. But it wasn’t like I had a lot of choice—the urgency beating around me suggested there was very little time left.

I climbed on the wall, holding my arms out to balance as the wind’s fierceness grew. Icy fingers began to wrap around me, growing ever stronger with each heartbeat, until I was once again concealed within the confines of a smoky cloud. It thrust me several yards into the air and ripped me sideways, the force of it so great it tore a gasp from my throat. Wherever Saska was, it was not anywhere here in the Rossi household. We flew over the top of it, the night a blur around me. But we didn’t go far. As the gossamer cloud began to unravel, it became obvious we were heading for the stone and metal water tower that soared above much of the Upper Reaches. Though it was still used as a storage facility, it now stood marooned on the edge of a thick finger of rock that thrust out toward the sea—a lasting reminder of how much more land Winterborne had once claimed.

But what the hell did Saska intend by coming here? I doubted one lone air witch could draw a strong enough storm to destroy the structure—not when it had been built to withstand whatever the elements threw at it during the wild weather years immediately after the war.

As the wind dropped me closer, I spotted Saska. She was standing close to the edge, where the gentle curve of the roof abruptly dropped away. She didn’t look up as I approached, though she surely had to be aware of my arrival.

The last fragments of the cloud disintegrated and the wind deposited me gently on the metal roof. Saska didn’t turn around, didn’t react. Didn’t acknowledge me in any way. She just stood on that edge, her arms crossed, her wrists hidden by the heavy sleeves of her gown, and her hair streaming behind her as she stared out over the wildly churning seas far below.

Weakness washed through me, and it was an effort to keep my knees locked, to keep upright. I swallowed heavily and said, my voice slightly hoarse, “Saska? Are you okay?”

“No,” she said softly. “I’m not, and never will be.”

I took a few, rather wobbly steps closer. She didn’t move, didn’t look at me, but the sudden tightening across her shoulders warned me to be careful.

“You need to come down from here—”

“You went away, sister,” she continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “You went away, and you took my strength with you. I couldn’t fight the queen’s will; she’s too strong for me alone. She’s always been too strong for me.”

“Not always,” I countered. “You escaped from her, remember.”

“But the price I paid for that foolishness was a heavy one.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, carried to me on the wind. But her pain was something I felt deep inside, and it was so sharp and real it might have been my own. “And in the end, it was all for naught.”

Again, the wind warned me to be gentle, but I had to know if what I suspected was the truth or not. “And what was that price, Saska?”

She closed her eyes, but it didn’t stop the tears. Didn’t stop the agony that stabbed through me. “I killed her you know. I stole her breath and watched the life leak from her eyes.”

Pain grew. Whether it was hers or mine, I couldn’t say, because they were so entwined. “Why? Did you fear the queen would use her to stop your escape?”

“She couldn’t. The child wasn’t wearing the bracelets, and without them, distance communication is somewhat fragmented,” Saska said. “There is only a finite number of those bracelets, and they are generally kept for when the stained go beyond the apiary or for those of us with a will of our own—which those born into that place do not have. Their only desire is to fulfill the queen’s wishes.”

Which explained why the children were wearing bracelets at Blacklake—the queen was communicating with them.

“Where are the bracelets kept when the children aren’t wearing them?”

“They are stored in the same place as the children.”

Stored. Treated as nothing more than items to be used and discarded however the queen might wish. Anger stirred, and this time it was all mine.

“Then why take the child?” I somehow managed to keep the anger from my voice. “And why would she even go with you in the first place?”

Saska’s lips twisted, though I wasn’t sure if it was bitterness or regret. “She had no choice. I was her mother, and that is a bond hard to break, even in that place.” She paused, the flow of tears getting stronger. “I needed her earth abilities to escape, but there was never any escape for her. She is better off dead. They’re all better off dead.”

“You can’t believe that,” I said softly. “Surely if they were rescued—”

“No.” She shivered. “They are the queen’s. They will always be hers. Those who show any sort of independence are immediately killed.”

I closed my eyes against the sting of tears. I was no mother, but I didn’t think you had to be to imagine the sheer and utter horror of having to watch children—be they yours or another’s—being murdered time and time again. And while she might have been teetering on the edge of insanity before she’d escaped, being personally responsible for the death of one of her own had surely sent her over it.

“Why was her hand severed if she wasn’t wearing a bracelet?”

“The Irkallan sent after us was aiming for me. He got the child instead.”

“So the queen intended to kill you both?”

“Originally, but she is nothing if not adaptable.” The smile that touched her lips held no warmth. “It felt good to kill him, even if the queen cares little about the life of one soldier. Not when there are so many more of them.”

“How many more?”

“Thousands and thousands more.” Her voice was bleak. “They’ve ramped up their breeding over the last two hundred years.”

That was not good news, but also not unexpected, given this plot had obviously been in development for many, many years. “How was the soldier buried, then? And how did you get out of the tunnel?”

Saska’s expression was bleak. “The rock fall was the earth’s response to me stealing the breath of the child.”

“Then how did you get back to the surface?”

“I directed the air to dig a shaft; once I had been pulled up onto the surface, the wind covered any trace of it.”

“An air witch can’t interact with the earth, Saska—”

“No, under normal circumstances, we certainly can’t.” She finally glanced at me. Her silvery gaze was haunted with pain, horror, and the shadows of death, but there was something else there, something I did not expect.

Kinship.

“Have you not guessed our secret yet?” she added.

A weird mix of uncertainty and elation raced through me. It felt like I was standing on that precipice, and any sense of security I might have had about my life was about to be pulled out from underneath me. “I know that we seemed to have formed some sort of connection, but I don’t understand the reason for it.”

“Nor did I, not initially. But it is the reason they fear you, and the reason they want you dead.”

I rubbed my arms, even though I wasn’t cold. “What’s that reason, Saska?”

“We’re twins, Neve. You were stained and unlit, and sent into state care, and therefore kept safe from them. I was raised by a mother whose allegiance already lay with the Irkallan queen, and who betrayed me by handing me over to the apiary once I’d come fully into my powers.”

I stared at her, unable to take it in but feeling the truth of it reverberating deep inside. She wasn’t only my sister, but my twin. And Hedra… I’d killed my own mother. Horror swirled, even if I couldn’t regret that action.

I closed my eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. The truth some small part of me had always wanted was now laid bare before me, and it was one that would bring more pain before this day was over. Because the shadows of death were drawing ever closer in Saska’s eyes and a sick feeling of helpless inevitability washed over me.

“It was the Adlin who attacked your train as it was coming back from the West Range outpost,” I said. “Not the Irkallan.”

“Those Adlin were under the control of one who is stained and in thrall to the queen. Destroy him, and you kill their allegiance to the queen.”

That was obviously the stained Adlin I’d seen but failed to kill. I scrubbed a hand across my aching eyes, but she wasn’t finished yet.

“Our kinship is the reason you’ve been able to control the air. My knowledge leaks through our connection to you, just as the stain on your skin allows us both to use the air in ways that shouldn’t be possible.”

Meaning she didn’t know about my ability to use earth? I opened my mouth to ask, and then closed it again. Right now, despite the information she was giving me, she somehow remained in thrall of the queen. Maybe it was her madness, and maybe it wasn’t, but either way, I wasn’t about to give them such information if they weren’t already aware of it.

“The fact we share strength and talents explains why they want me dead,” I said. “Is that also why they fear me?”

She was silent for a moment, her gaze on the distant horizon and her arm muscles flexing. She was fighting the queen—or whatever the queen wanted her to do. But how were those orders being relayed? The Adlin had retrieved one of her bracelets, and Trey still had the other. Hedra’s were buried deep along with her body, and Pyra’s set had been thrown deep into the ocean. Had the wind been ordered to retrieve them from the sea? Was that even possible?

No, the wind said.

“No,” Saska echoed, leaving me briefly wondering which question she was answering.

“Then why?”

“Because of me—because of our shared DNA—you can find her. Kill her.”

The queen? “Not without a damn army at my back, Saska.”

“With an army at your back, you will fail.”

“Not if we blast the shit out of the mountain.”

“It won’t help you. They don’t live in the mountain, but deep under it. Even if the entire range was flattened, you won’t stop them.”

“So an army won’t get near her, but one person going in alone can? Saska, that’s insane.” And surely it was something she was being forced to say. Maybe the Irkallan queen didn’t just want me dead; maybe she merely wanted to lure me into her web so she could watch me die. Or, worse yet, use me.

“Oh, I’m well aware it’s insanity itself.” Her gaze came to mine again. “But it’s nevertheless a truth you should not ignore if you wish to end this madness.”

“But how can you or anyone else be absolutely certain a mass attack wouldn’t bring them down? The earth witches never took the war to the Irkallan’s doorstep, Saska.”

“But they did—three times, according to the queen. And each time they failed, because all life was drained out of the Blacksaw Mountains by some unknown force long ago. Earth witches cannot command such soil, and air witches, unless they are stained, cannot interact with it.” She paused. “Life does beat deep under the mountain, in the heart of hive where the queen and the breeders reside, but the deadness above prevents Winterborne’s witches from using it.”

“So if I were to escort a small group inside—”

“You will die, as they will die,” she cut in. “They will sense their presence long before any of you got close enough to do them damage. Even a fully armed force would have little hope—the tunnels are too tight and too numerous. Your soldiers would be dead before they were even aware the Irkallan were close.”

“But wouldn’t that also apply to me going in solo?”

“No, because we are two halves of a whole and both born of Hedra. That is what will protect you as you enter that place.”

Not only born of Hedra, I realized, but also of the Irkallan. Bile rose up my throat and I swallowed heavily. As much as I had railed against Winterborne’s treatment of the unlit and the stained, the fact was, I was only standing here today because of it.

“So if I go in alone, you’re saying I have a chance of getting deep enough into the apiary to cause them damage? Maybe even destroy their queen??

“Yes. And you can retrieve the remaining bracelets and drop them into the black mirror, where no Irkallan would dare enter, and from which they will never be retrieved.”

I frowned. “Is this mirror magic?”

“Once you kill her,” she continued, as if I hadn’t spoken, “they will be in complete disarray.”

It was madness. Utter madness. And yet it made an odd sort of sense. Freedom, help me….

“So if I were to make such an attempt, would you come with me?”

The smile that touched her lips was tinged with sadness. “No. I dare not. I can fight the queen’s pull and ignore her demands with some success here in Winterborne, but I would very easily betray you if I ever got near the apiary again. It’s far safer that I remain here.”

There was something in her voice, something in her expression, that had fear rising. I wanted to reach for her, hold her, tell her that everything would be okay, that she was safe and that I’d protect her with everything I had. But the wind was telling me none of it was possible, that she’d passed the point of being kept safe long ago, that she no longer even wanted to be kept safe. The tears that were tracking down Saska’s cheeks were now also falling on mine.

Damn it, surely she’d suffered enough? Surely she was due some—if not happiness, then at least some peace?

Peace will only come with death, the wind said.

Meaning she would be welcome into collective consciousness when neither Hedra nor Pyra were?

No, and for similar reasons. We cannot afford to have their madness infect the collective consciousness.

But she wasn’t like them—she was at least fighting….

It does not matter, the voices said. She only fights because you are here. Your absence set her back, and Kiro’s actions further weakened her mind. What she has done here will yet cause much grief.

As fear rose anew, I finally asked the question I should have asked first. “Saska, why are you up here? What did the queen wish you to do?”

“What she wanted has nothing to do with this tank, but rather the pump rooms far below.”

My heart began to beat a whole lot faster, the fear so strong I could taste it in the back of my throat. “And what did she bid you do in those pump rooms?”

“She had me inject a toxin into the water being pumped up to this tower.”

Freedom, help us…. This tower supplied a good half of the water to the Upper Reaches households. “And that toxin? What was it?”

A strange smile touched her lips. One that was almost alien. “One that is fast acting, does not need to be drunk to be effective, and for which there is no known cure.”

“Saska, you need to come down from this place. We need to warn—”

“No,” she said softly. “We do not. That task falls to you, not me.”

“Which doesn’t alter the fact we need to get down from this place.”

For a second, she didn’t answer, but her arm muscles were flexing again and the death I’d seen in her eyes now surrounded her like a pall.

“Be ready, Neve. They’re coming.”

And with that, she threw herself over the edge.