Her hand stilled above the basin—but only for a breath.
“Pages are nothing without will,” she murmured, sliding a ring of black stone from her finger and setting it among the runes. They flared—hungry.
“And mine is not so easily bound.”
His teeth clenched, but he refused the bait.
“Where is Gray?”
A flicker crossed her face—too quick to be doubt, not quite triumph.
“We couldn’t overcome our differences,” she said at last, tone airy and cruel. “Lord Gray proved… ungovernable. His son Leolis has taken swiftly to the art in his stead.”
Storne’s blood chilled.
“You set his son in his place?”
Zeporah’s lips curved as the stones around the basin began to lift, spinning in a slow, widening orbit. The air thickened, vibrating with the hum of power—so strong the torchlight bent toward her.
“A serpent sheds one skin for another, Masten. The fangs remain.”
The glow brightened, washing her face in unearthly light.
Storne’s breath caught despite himself.
“What have you done?”
Zeporah smiled—a thing too still, too knowing.
“You first.”
The mist stilled, waiting between them—queen and commander, predator and prey, neither certain which they were anymore.
“Who is it?”
Chapter Fifteen
The Midnight’s Call
The blind man spoke as if he’d been watching all along.
The road south curved beneath the redwoods, their colossal trunks like pillars of some forgotten temple. Daylight broke only in slivers, gilding the mist that drifted low across Whispering Way. Wind threaded the branches, carrying a hush that almost sounded like words. Hooves thudded soft against loam, tack creaked, breath steamed—and for a while their company rode in silence, folded into the murmurs of the forest.
Gabriel tugged at the clasp of his armor, growling, “I swear this scout wasn’t half the size the soldiers made him out to be.”
Evander snorted. “I’m just surprised you ride a horse and not an ox.”
Gabriel patted the copper-coated mare beneath him with unbothered pride.
“Faerin’s been with me since the Trials. Named her after my first love—temperament’s about the same.” He shrugged. “She also kicked me in the shins more than once.”
The quip earned a laugh, even from Amerei, cloaked and riding between them. She turned, eyes bright on Viktor.
“And you—have you named your bay yet?”
“Not yet,” Viktor said, smoothing a hand over the mare’s dark mane. “I’m not nearly as inventive—or as remarkable—as Captain Feindoran.”
“Only one of those things is true,” Gabriel shot back, grin crooked.
