Queen of Blood and Vengeance (Secrets of the Faerie Crown #4)

29. Cyara

29

CYARA

They had two options before them. Scale the mountains of the spine, or whatever the human equivalent was called, facing ice and snow and most likely injury. Or find the hidden tunnel into the caves of the Faeries of the Fen.

Two full days had passed, and even with all four adults spreading out, the search had thus far been fruitless. They’d passed close to Avalon. Although they’d not actually seen it, Cyara could feel its radiating tendrils of power. Neither Percival nor Diana remarked on its nearness.

Maisri floated between the adults at will, peppering them with questions or demanding attention for her flowery antics. More and more, she chose Diana as her companion.

Cyara watched from atop a hilltop, sheltering from the winter wind beneath a towering pine. She shivered despite her layers of wool, leather, and fur. She could pile layer after layer on her body, but so long as her wings were exposed, she would be cold. But she’d die before she tried to cover them. With wings, the world was infinite. Not even Veyka, with her formidable void power, could soar above the trees.

Cyara let her eyes flutter closed, savoring the crispness of the breeze even as she shivered again. Maybe she ought to search from the sky, see if the terrain was any more recognizable from above.

She drew her wings together, tensed her thigh muscles.

Snow crunched behind her.

His scent hit her nose a second ahead of the harpy.

She’d never envied the terrestrials’ elongated canines before. But she’d have liked to gnash her teeth and have it mean something just then.

“Sneaking up on a harpy,” she hissed through her straight, flat teeth. “Foolhardy, even for you.”

Percival lingered in the shadows.

“I had the impression you’d rather have this conversation in private.”

“You think I am keeping secrets.” Cyara’s wings stayed tight, their curved tips nearly touching. If Percival was able to read her, then she’d no hope of deceiving Osheen.

“I was there on the hilltop in Eldermist. The Queen does not believe the grail is worth her time.”

The Queen is afraid to hope again.

Cyara kept the thought locked safely inside her mind. Percival was not as terrible as Veyka believed. But that did not mean he deserved to be privy to Veyka’s confidences, spoken or unspoken.

“It will not take all of us to convince the Faeries of the Fen,” Cyara said.

She slipped one near-frozen hand inside her heavy fur-lined parka, searching for the weight of the communication crystal. They possessed three—the two used by Igraine and Gorlois and the one Percival had stolen from the festival.

Gwen kept one in Eldermist. Cyara had been given another. Veyka and Arran possessed the third.

She wanted to hear her friend’s voice. To remind herself that this was not a betrayal.

But there was nothing to report. Nothing to do but plan.

“Where do we begin looking for the grail?” Cyara asked, eyes fully open now.

“You guess is as good as—”

“No,” she said sharply. Snow crunched beneath Percival’s feet again as he shifted his weight. “Where?” she repeated.

“How long was Merlin unaccounted for?”

“Months.” Cyara’s mind had already traveled this path. “She made it all the way from Baylaur to Eilean Gayl. She possesses water magic, but no other powers that would have hastened her journey. Still, it is more than enough time, even if she detoured to hide the grail.”

Percival exhaled slowly behind her. Too slowly to be insignificant.

“You have an idea,” Cyara breathed.

Below them, a peal of laughter announced Maisri’s arrival. Diana stumbled out of the thicket behind her, blowing out rapid puffs of warm breath into the frigid air. A blanket of snowdrops erupted through the thin layer of snow, catching Maisri as she fell giggling to the ground.

More crunching snow and Percival was at her side, watching the pair below.

“Fae, human, and witch came together to craft the Sacred Trinity. Excalibur went to the fae. The scabbards to the humans. And the chalice to the witches,” Percival recited.

Cyara clenched her teeth together to stop herself from chewing her lower lip. “Then, after the Great War, the priestesses took the chalice.”

Percival nodded. “But what if Merlin returned it?”

Cyara shivered again. “The witches are all but extinct.”

“But magic lingers. You must have felt it when we passed by Avalon.”

She said nothing.

She could see where the logical series of conclusions led. A month ago, even she would have thought it impossible. But then Percival had told her about the human sacrifices to the witches. Merlin had appeared and given her hope. Why should it surprise her when her understanding of the world shifted once again?

“Tirbyas,” Percival said, eyes still pinned to his sister.

Tirbyas . The Isle of the Dead. The Witch Isle. Percival and Diana’s birthplace.

“She would have had time.”

Cyara’s face remained still as her mind raced beneath. Yes, Merlin would have had time. But how had she gotten there and back? What dangers had she faced? She should have had this conversation with Percival before leaving Eilean Gayl, with Merlin still at hand. But there had been no time. There was never enough time. The succubus was not coming; it was already there.

And Cyara knew that if she did not find the grail and return before Veyka found the Ethereal Queen…

Veyka would not wait. She would give her life to banish the succubus.

There was no time.

Tirbyas was on the other side of the continent.

Osheen appeared in the clearing below. They were too far away to hear, but Cyara recognized him giving direction to the woman and child, the beginnings of making camp for the night. Maisri began digging in the snow, searching for hard ground beneath on which to build a fire. Diana started for the edge of the forest, sent for firewood.

She was still prone to hysterics, but there was more confidence in her steps. Cyara felt a surge of pride and affection for how much the woman had grown and healed. Diana was not the same woman—

“Diana,” Cyara whispered.

Percival’s head whipped around so fast that his neck cracked. “What about Diana?”

Diana was the answer.

But even Cyara winced at the thought. “You are not going to like it.”