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“On the power of the earth magic which runs through my veins and in the name of Taurus, Virgo and Capricorn, I swear to offer up the full truth of all I know to my liege and ruler, Earl Tarlord, on any and all matters he so wishes to discuss with me.”

A deep rumble resonated through the stone table as his sacrifice was accepted, his words bound in magic and his oath made.

“Good,” Earl Tarlord said. “Then the first thing you can tell me is why Dragor Aquila and the rest of his family still draw breath? Your mission in Stormfell was made clear to you. You were not to return here without killing the prince, at the very least, unless the most exceptional of circumstances arose.”

I stiffened at the accusation in the Earl’s tone, news of what precisely Alestro’s mission had been washing over me, dread coiling in my gut.

He’d been tasked to kill Prince Dragor? The fact that he stood before us at all was a miracle in itself, but to be here without having completed his task was even worse – how had there been whispers of his success when this was the news he bore upon his return?

My ears began to ring, my throat thickening as Earl Tarlord’s disapproval stung the air, and all of my best laid plans threatened to topple around me like a tower of cards falling prey to an ill wind.

“I know, Earl Tarlord. And I am truly sorry to have failed in my mission. But I discovered a secret in Never Keep which I deemed far too important to slip into the hands of our enemies. I was forced to act.” Alestro paused, his hand moving to his chest briefly, a frown furrowing his brow.

“Go on,” August barked impatiently, and I fought a flinch at the sharpness of his tone.

“While disguising myself as the Skyforger, Cayde Avior, I managed to gain the trust of the Sky Witch,” Alestro said, and I sat up a little straighter at the mention of the notorious air kingdom warrior.

How had he survived being sent straight into the heart of the most vicious and cutthroat group of our enemies imaginable?

“She f-f-f-” His words cut off with a cry of pain, his hand flying to his chest, blood from his cut skin staining his shirt as the people surrounding The Horned Table tittered in surprise at his outburst.

“What is it?” I gasped, making a move to stand, but Earl Tarlord caught my wrist to stop me and I was forced to remain in my seat, the heat of my Earl’s fingers like a brand against my skin.

“Are you attempting to lie while under the thrall of The Horned Table?” August demanded, and Alestro shook his head violently while my horror only deepened.

“It isn’t lies which force me silent,” Alestro panted, sweat slickening his brow. “It’s the truth. That bitch…that bitch c-c-c-arghhh.” He fell to his knees, tearing at his shirt as he did so, and two guards rushed forward to restrain him.

My lips parted on some protest, some excuse, something, anything , but all I could see before me were my plans falling to ruin.

The man I’d invested so much of my position here into had come back not regaling us of his war victories or bearing the honour of having killed Prince Dragor as he’d been tasked, or even the Sky Witch, but instead a blathering fool unable to string a full sentence together.

“What’s wrong with him?” I hissed beneath my breath, though not low enough because Earl Tarlord glanced at me before leaning forward, releasing my wrist and narrowing his eyes at Alestro as he placed his forearms on the cold stone table before him.

“Your tongue is snared in a curse?” he guessed, and Alestro sagged forward making a helpless noise which may or may not have been confirmation.

Relief was quickly followed by horror as I caught up to what was happening. At least there was a reason behind this madness, but a curse? What ill wind might be chasing the man who owned my destiny?

Earl Tarlord grunted irritably. “Tell us what you can then. Everything from the moment our forces left you to your false identity among the vanquished Avior household.”

Alestro nodded eagerly, managing to regain some of his composure, though his hair was now clinging to his damp brow and he made no move to regain his feet, instead remaining on his knees as he began his tale.

“Once I had ensured that no one who knew the face of Cayde Avior remained alive to question my identity, I headed to Stormfell as we’d planned,” he said. “I spent time mapping their k-k-k-”

“We received the maps of Stormfell and the castle of Wrathbane from the messengers you sent,” Earl Tarlord interrupted, waving a hand.

“Don’t waste my time by reminding us of everything we already know.

Tell me of what happened next. Of what you did to get closer to your target and of why it is you didn’t return here with Prince Dragor’s blood staining your hands. ”

Alestro blinked several times, his handsome features somewhat diminished by the fear which had now painted them.

“The Sky Witch,” he said finally. “She had access to the prince which no other Sinfair held. I realised she was my way in, so I inserted myself into her life. I studied her weaknesses, expecting to need to assassinate her when the time came for me to strike at the prince, but instead I found a simpler path.”

“Which was?” August prompted, disdain in every syllable.

Alestro snorted, pride flashing in his eyes and returning much of the allure to his face in the process.

“The Sky Witch was lonely,” he sneered. “She was so desperate for love that she never even suspected me at all.”

Silence fell in the room, though the pounding in my ears was surely loud enough for every other Fae present to hear it.

“Love?” I breathed, the word tumbling from my lips before I could stop it.

Earl Tarlord tensed beside me but he didn’t pull his gaze from Alestro. “You seduced a Succubus?”

Alestro grinned and there was nothing handsome about it at all. The pounding in my ears had turned to a pulsing, whining drone and I almost didn’t hear his reply.

“I was trained well in the art before embarking on my mission,” he agreed.

August nodded curtly, exchanging a triumphant look with Mina Rancole.

I had never had much to do with the Siren who served as Mistress of the Night but I knew well what she trained her subjects in.

Her spies posed as whores, bedding our enemies between battles and getting them to pour their secrets out between orgasms.

My eyes snapped to Alestro’s. No one had ever told me that his training had included tuition with Mina. Was I the only person here blindsided by the fact that I had spent the last few years guarding my virtue for my betrothed while he had been sent out to…to…

People were laughing all around me. They found this amusing.

They thought what he had done was some accomplishment, and maybe I was supposed to believe that too but…

the Sky Witch? She was said to be the most beautiful woman in all of The Waning Lands, one look from her alone enough to drive men to take their own lives rather than risk harming her.

They said she fucked her enemies before killing them, slicing their throats while riding their cocks, her bloodlust and power over the dark forces of ether unrivalled, and still he chose to try and play her at her own game?

“She’s the one who cursed you?” I guessed, though my voice was so low I was surprised Alestro even heard it.

“Y-y-y-arghhh.” He fell forward again, fingers ripping into his shirt, and this time he tore it open. Great welts and boils were forming across his skin, starting in the centre of his chest and spreading outwards like some terrible rash.

I leapt to my feet, my chair colliding with the floor behind me, causing August to curse my weak constitution.

“Silence,” Earl Tarlord boomed, and the room fell to quiet aside from Alestro’s heaving sobs where he still tore at the welts on his flesh.

“Alestro Sharbone, do you hold within your mind knowledge of something which the great nation of Avanis would greatly desire to hear? Remain silent if it is so.”

Alestro fought to quiet his gasping breaths, but even that appeared to trigger the curse, a blood-curdling scream tearing from him as he fell back onto the ground, welts and blisters forming and bursting all over his flesh.

The ripe scent of urine filled the air as he lost control of his bladder and his cries of agony echoed off of the walls.

Earl Tarlord nodded thoughtfully, waving a hand to construct a silencing shield and cut off the tortured sounds of my betrothed’s pain.

“We can question him no further tonight lest we risk this curse killing him for the act of trying to speak. Take him to the healers and send for the Reapers. I will ask them if they might deign to heal him with their magic, or at least see if they can advise us on this curse and how it might be broken.”

“Your Highness,” August simpered, that slick oil back in every word as he addressed the Earl. “If this is indeed the work of the Sky Witch, then not only will the magic be potent indeed but I fear it might only be broken in one way.”

“How?” I begged, my eyes still on the man who was supposed to rise me up again, supposed to lift my family name with his prowess in war while I offered him the generational lineage he desired in turn.

Together we should have had it all, but with his lips sealed on his secrets, his time in Stormfell might as well have been spent toiling in the mines.

“Death, of course,” August purred. “If she is the one who cursed him, then her death will break it just as surely as his will.”

Earl Tarlord waved a hand and his guards hurried forward to lift Alestro between them and carry him from the room. The rest of the gathered Fae broke into discussion, contemplating what secrets might be caged within Alestro’s mind.

“Is it an imminent attack?”

“Could they have designed some new weapon?”

“Maybe they’ve formed a plot to break through the barriers?”

“We should get a Cyclops to peer into his mind.”

“A curse like this would be triggered by such invasion and likely transferred onto the offending Cyclops too. Do you know of anyone willing to take that risk?”

“Perhaps we should try it all the same.”

“Be my guest. Isn’t your daughter a Cyclops?”

“I didn’t mean to use my daughter!”

“Oho, so you expect us to force some poor bastard to-”

“Enough!” Earl Tarlord snapped, and silence fell once more. “You all bicker like fishwives on market day. I will consult with the Reapers and move forward from there. Lady Septa, do you require some time to yourself or would you like to remain with us for the next meeting?”

I blinked up at this brute of a man, his hard eyes offering no glimpse into his motivations, but for some reason it seemed that he was actually considering what these events had just done to me and asking how best I might like to deal with it.

I considered his offer. Did I wish to run to my chambers and sob at the injustice of it all? Yes. I did. But would I?

Fuck that.

“I’ll remain, thank you, Earl Tarlord. I do believe a distraction will serve me better than weeping.”

The corners of his mouth twitched the most infinitesimal amount and then he was looking to the door beyond the long windows which gazed out over his nation and gesturing for whoever waited beyond it to enter.

I gave my attention to the matters which were brought before him, offering my opinion when it seemed appropriate and holding my tongue when I had nothing of value to say.

But throughout it all, as the hours passed and no more words were spoken of my betrothed and the debacle of his return, a face kept company with my thoughts.

The beautiful face of a woman who I only knew through tales of war and sketches I’d seen of our most powerful enemies.

A woman with pink hair and cold eyes who had let my betrothed seduce her.

A woman whose life now stood between me and all I had worked so very hard for.

A woman whose death might just be the key to my fortunes finally changing. A woman who was, in fact, a witch.