“I think we both do.”
They shared a smile, and Synne was happier than ever that Lachlan was traveling with her. He wasn’t just a warrior, he was intelligent, as well. He would push her mentally and physically. Radnar had always said that a good warrior realized they never stopped learning. That there were always more skills out there to acquire.
“I’m glad you’re here, Lachlan.”
“Me, too, lass.”
8
Somewhere in northern Scotland
The magic of the Witch’s Grove moved over Sybbyl, wrapping her in a blanket of comfort. The wood was dense with ancient trees that the Gira used as camouflage, watching her as she stood in the center of the clearing. She was close to the Varroki. And soon, she’d find them and wipe them from existence.
Her fingers tightened around the Staff of the Eternal. Within the wood was the ancient thigh bone of the First Witch. The moment Sybbyl had touched the staff, she’d felt the power running through it. And that power was now hers.
She smiled as she looked at the weapon. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t pretty. Power didn’t need to be. It only mattered how that ability was used. And no one could use it like she could. She’d proven that when she decimated Edra and the Hunters the witch had trained to kill.
The very thought of Edra hunting her own enraged Sybbyl. It’s why she’d taken such pleasure in killing the witch. She had dared to think she could stand against the Coven. Sybbyl had wanted Edra gone for years, and that was when Sybbyl was only part of the Coven. Now that she ruled it, she would make sure no one could ever rise above her.
“There’s the Heart.”
Her smile dipped at the voice in her head. She ignored it as she had for days, but it was growing louder and louder. At first, she’d thought it was her conscience rearing its head and sowing self-doubt, but she had quickly realized that wasn’t the case. Then, she’d thought it might be remnants of magic from the elders she’d killed, but once more, she determined that wasn’t the case either.
There was only one explanation—it was the staff.
Sybbyl had wanted to ask the Gira if the bones of the First Witch could speak. Yet, every time she tried, she couldn’t get the words out. The Gira followed her because of her magic and the fact that she ruled the Coven. No one—absolutely no one—could know that there was even the slightest chink in her armor. Especially the Gira.
The nymphs were particularly…vicious. They were great as allies, but if they ever turned on you, it was horrendous. They usually kept to themselves rather than aligning with any person or group. Still, there had been a handful of scenarios throughout history where they had chosen a side. While they had been allies with chosen witches, those witches had made great leaps in power. But when the Gira decided to sever that tie, the witches died brutally.
Sybbyl wasn’t going to be like those witches. She was smarter than that. She had worked her way up in the ranks of the Coven to take her rightful place as the leader. The idea that the Coven needed three elders was ludicrous. That stemmed from the First Witch’s sisters, who had all wanted control and nothing more.
But Sybbyl was nothing like any of the witches who had come before her. She was something altogether different. Edra and her Hunters had discovered that. So would the Varroki. And once Sybbyl had another of the First Witch’s bones, she would be able to easily thwart Helena.
Just thinking about the witch made Sybbyl furious. She should’ve been able to defeat Helena already, but the witch’s magic was more potent than any other’s. It was why Sybbyl had wanted her in the Coven. She hadn’t realized that Helena was a direct descendant of the First Witch, but it soon wouldn’t matter. Sybbyl knew that another bone was in Scotland, and she was going to find it before she turned her attention to the Varroki.
The bones wanted to be reunited. They had always called out to one another, but only those possessing magic and holding one of those bones could hear it. Sybbyl let those opposing her believe they were more powerful, but it was an illusion. Soon, she’d show them and everyone else that she was untouchable.
Then, every living thing on the planet would bow before her.
The idea of such power made her smile as she closed her eyes and imagined her future. It would be glorious, her castle massive and utterly magnificent. Once she ruled, there would never be another burned alive because of ignorance. Anyone with magic would have power. And those without…well, they would get a taste of what it was like to be hunted and to live in fear.
Something fell upon her cheek. Then her nose. Sybbyl opened her eyes to see the flurries of snow swirling around in the air as if some invisible hand controlled them. She watched them for a while, her mind emptying. The longer she stayed in the Grove, the more her magic was renewed. And with the Staff of the Eternal in her hand, it doubled.
“You’re the illusion. Nothing you have will be enough.”
She jerked to the present. The message was one voice, not the many of the Gira, so she knew it wasn’t them. Her gaze slid to the staff.
“Afraid? You should be.”
“I’m the leader of the Coven,” Sybbyl replied.
The voice laughed, the sound raspy and low. “You’re terrified. Just like you were as a little girl. You hold power before you like a shield, hoping no one can see your knees knocking.”
“Nay.”
“I can see inside you. There is no lying to me.”
Sybbyl stopped arguing. There was no need to continue. She knew the truth, and she felt the power of the staff. The scared girl she used to be had been gone a long time. She knew her place, and it was right where she was. She’d known that she would be queen eventually. And here she was.
She pushed her magic into the staff and asked, “Where is the next bone?”
The flurries fell quicker, swirling around each other to land in an arrow that faced southeast. She frowned because it had initially pointed north. Had she traveled so far that she now had to backtrack? Or was someone moving the bone?
That was a definite possibility. Had a Hunter found the relic? No. If that were the case, the staff would’ve told her. Wouldn’t it?
The laughter that rang in her head made her want to hit something. She took a deep breath and promised herself that she would ignore it. Sybbyl waited several moments to see if the voice had anything else to say. When it didn’t, she focused on the location of the next bone. She wasn’t quite ready to leave the Grove yet. There was something so peaceful about it that it made it hard to leave. But go she must.
She had to get that bone from whoever had it. There was no other option. If Braith, as Warden of the Blood Skull, came after her along with Helena, Sybbyl would need more than just the staff and the Gira.
“You have more enemies.”
The Varroki. How could she forget? Not that Sybbyl was too worried about them. They stayed hidden for a reason.
“How easily you forget Jarin.”
She gritted her teeth at the mention of the warlock. The fact that he had refused her advances was something she’d never forget or forgive. But he had also fought against her and alongside Helena. Then, he’d professed his love for Helena, and that was more than Sybbyl could take.