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He sighed, then nodded. “Consider it done,” he said. “I’ll reach out to him tomorrow and set up a meeting. He can get the word out quickly.”

“And if he doesn’t listen?” Fey prompted.

Alastair laughed. “He’ll listen. Don’t worry about that. My father… well, he’s a shit father, I can tell you that. And there are things I can never forgive him for. But he’s not a bad leader, Fey. He’ll listen. And he’ll do what I ask.”

Fey nodded, relief washing through her. That was all she could do for now. All she could do until the time came for Alice’s plan to trigger.

Fey pushed her plate away, suddenly not hungry. Alastair brushed her hair off her shoulder, peppering the skin there with kisses, and she let herself relax back against him.

“So,” he whispered into her neck. “Tomorrow night, huh?”

“Yeah,” she answered.

“I’m guessing it will be dangerous, what you’re doing?”

She swallowed. “Yeah,” she repeated.

“And do you need to do anything until then?”

Fey shook her head, and her pulse quickened as he licked the tender spot where he’d bitten her neck. He groaned into her skin as he closed his mouth over that spot and sucked gently.

“Well, in that case—” he said, nipping at the mark he’d left there. “Why don’t we go back to bed, Witchling? Give me until tomorrow night to try and convince you that you should come back and find me when this is all over. Let me convince you why you should survive whatever it is you have planned.”

Laughing, Fey agreed and let him drag her back to bed.

In the end, he was very convincing.

Chapter 53

SANA

There was a Blood Moon the night that the Eternal City fell. It’s a rare occurrence, where a full moon coincides with a lunar eclipse. Years later when historians recorded the events of that night, many would say it was a sign from the Goddess herself of what would come. They would say it was destined to happen that night, of all nights, and that the two events could not have been a coincidence.

They were right. It was no coincidence, but it wasn’t the Goddess or fate or the alignment of stars who planned it that way.

It was Alice.

The rarity of a Blood Moon ensured the Temples would be packed with Witches, ensured that a sizable minority, if not an outright majority, of Witches from the Eternal City would be gathered in one place. And that was necessary if this was going to work. Tonight, the moon itself would be awash in a blood-red haze. Witches of all elements, of all alignments, would spend the evening at their temple, giving homage to the Goddess as she toyed with the celestial powers at her command.

Sana, of course, knew none of Alice’s plans, knew nothing of what was to come. But she did know one thing: She was, woefully, behind schedule.

The Water Temple was, historically, the temple most closely associated with the lunar cycle. Water Witches are by their very nature as in tune with the moon’s ebb and flow as the oceans themselves. Tonight, her Temple would be packed, every seat filled, and it was Sana’s job to prepare the sermon, to prep the candles and offerings for her members. Her speech tonight—on forgiveness, on new beginnings and understanding—was only partially written, and there was still so much to do.

Sana’s mind was full of things that still needed to be done, boxes that still needed to be checked off on her mental to-do list. She was understandably distracted, her mind elsewhere as she gathered herbs and oil for tonight’s events. So distracted she didn’t even notice the figure lurking in the dark shadows of her workshop until Fey spoke.

“Did you know?” Fey asked, her voice dangerous and low.

Sana dropped the scrying bowl she was cleansing with a startled cry, spinning around in shock.

Fey sat on the edge of the old wooden table in the center of her workshop, the table she often ate her meals at, reluctant to be far from her work here in the temples. She was wearing her Blade leathers, but no mask. No cowl. The air around her seemed to spark with energy.

“Fey?” Sana gasped. Tears stung her eyes as she looked at the Witch before her. The Witch the Queen had assured them all was dead. “Oh! Thank the Goddess you’re okay, I thought?—”

Fey tossed something at her, and Sana caught it. It was a glass vial, full of some sort of silvery liquid. She frowned at it.

“Did you know?” Fey asked again. And something in that energy that swirled around her changed, becoming dangerous.

Sana’s heart skipped a beat in her chest, and she swallowed. She wasn’t a weak woman. She had endured her share of loss and pain and come through it all a stronger Witch than before. But Fey? Fey scared her. Had always scared her, in truth, though she tried to hide it.