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Chapter Two

RUNA

I convinced my brothers to leave the damaged cart behind to save time.

Kronk rode on the bula since the horses couldn’t support his massive frame.

Once we’d put a few miles between us and the monks, we ditched our robes.

Drazen and Kronk wore their usual reptilian pants and close-fitting vests because it was the only material capable of withstanding both fire and abrasive skin, while I changed back into my traditional sorceress garb.

Sturdy boots covered me from ankle to mid-thigh while a fitted skirt with slits over my legs clung to my hips. Like the guys, I wore a corset-style vest with buckles on the shoulders and laces down the front. Various weapons completed our wardrobes. Some visible. Many not.

Despite my exhaustion, we made good time, arriving at Yaga’s before nightfall.

Our return to the village where we grew up was bittersweet.

White Bridge was once a prosperous community.

While the coffers had never overflowed, the crops had always provided an ample amount of food.

Our herds used to grow fat, producing many young.

Today, we rode past fields that were withered with sickness.

Livestock with their ribs protruding struggled to survive on fallow pastures.

As we plodded along the dirt road, the scorched remains of a once proud home stood as a stark reminder of the false king’s fury.

The skulls of the defiant owners were mounted on stakes in the decimated yard. A shiver ran through me at the sight.

None dared to remove them for fear of retribution.

Last quarter, when the village was short paying the false king’s taxes, his men demanded restitution, claiming the lives of two villagers while burning everything they possessed. The soldiers warned next time it would be four lives.

At our appearance, children emerged from their homes. They skipped beside us, their dirt-smudged cheeks glowed with excitement.

They would suffer the most should we fail to provide the taxes that White Bridge and other villages like them owed.

“What did you steal this time, Drazen? Tell us, please. Was it a chest of jewels?” a little girl with stunted horns and sunken eyes asked. Her baggy dress hung on her malnourished frame.

“Was it the king’s underwear?” another joked, swiping his dirty sleeve beneath his broad nose.

“Come now,” Drazen said, peering down at them with false nobility. “You know we do not steal but simply redistribute the false king’s wealth. Now, off with you.” He blew into his fist, then cast a handful of sparkling embers into the air. The children cheered, dancing and twirling in delight.

At their banter, something pinged in my chest. I cast Drazen a look from beneath a lavender lock. “You’re good with them. Ever think you might have younglings of your own?”

He furrowed his brow, his ruddy expression growing serious for a moment.

“Not with him on the throne.” As expected, the moment of sincerity only lasted a second.

The corner of Drazen’s mouth crooked, and he slanted me a mischievous smirk.

“ Besides, what makes you think I don’t already have a half-dozen bastards roaming these lands? ”

“Our brother is a virile male in his prime. I am certain he will sire dozens of offspring,” Kronk contributed, his massive body swaying with the bula’s lumbering movements.

“What about you, dear sister?” Drazen asked. “Ever have thoughts of settling down, claiming a mate, and popping out a litter of snot-nosed brats?”

Only every span. It was what we’d been fighting for after all, every time we robbed one of his conveyances. And if I couldn’t have it, I’d make sure those we protected did.

Even thieves had dreams—not that I planned on sharing them with my brothers, who would use the information to torment me.

My mate would be noble. A humble servant of the people.

Someone honest and hardworking, sacrificing his own needs for others, as my father had.

Yet, he’d be strong, too. A warrior capable of protecting his family and property.

Someone skilled enough to fight by my side.

But not too bloodthirsty. I had little tolerance for aggressive blowhards.

No. He’d only fight when necessary. But he’d be no coward, either.

At night, we’d sit beneath the stars, listening to the sounds of the kingdom, taking in a cool breeze, savoring the sweet scent of lunar flowers in the air. Then, while our children were sleeping, we’d make love on a blanket, celebrating our union in the gentle light of Carcerem’s twin moons.

Instead of sharing my desires with my ignorant brothers, I answered, “Why would I settle when I have the two of you? You’re all the family I need.”

“There is no male worthy of our sister,” Kronk grumbled, his shoulders tensing.

I worried there would never be a span that he stopped thinking of me as the lost little girl he’d discovered in the woods. Perhaps, in time, if he found his own mate, he’d come around. If not, I’d simply have to pound the realization that I was a fully-grown sorceress into his stony skull.

Drazen sighed in a dramatic, yet antagonistic manner. “’Tis true. And to be worthy of you, they’d have to get past us first. And since there are none who can defeat your formidable brothers, I’m afraid you’re doomed to stay a spinster for the rest of your days.”

“Har, har,” I faked a laugh. I was far from innocent and suspected Drazen knew it, though Kronk was likely still in denial.

You didn’t grow up wild and free the way I had and remain virginal.

Not that it was easy avoiding my brothers’ watchful eyes.

But being a kickass sorceress of illusion, I had my ways.

Finally, Yaga’s thatched roof came into view.

Our childhood home had changed little over the years.

Crooked shutters hung beside the cloudy windows.

Slivers of light shown through the gaps in the gnarled walls.

Animal bones, along with a handful of crystals, and bundled herbs swung from the eves.

Some were placed there with the purpose of keeping out those with ill intent. Others had more practical uses.

Once we’d secured our animals for the night, we headed for the front door. Yaga awaited us in the entryway, gnarled hands planted on her protruding hips. Silver braids rested over her shoulders, beads and feathers tangled in the pale strands.

It was good to find her at home. Many times, she was off visiting other villages.

Caring for the infirmed. Sharing her potions and medicines while mentoring young spell-casters.

For an elderly woman, Yaga got around. At times, her ability to be everywhere at once seemed supernatural.

At least, she tended to be home when we needed her.

She scanned us with shrewd eyes, her voice cracking. “What are the lot of you doing here? Has something happened?”

Hathor forbid she greet us with a simple, Hello, dearest children. I’m so happy to see you .

Drazen strode forward, kissing her wrinkled cheek. “Can’t an infernus visit his favorite girl?”

She stepped back, allowing him to enter while swatting him at the same time. “Don’t give me any of your lip, boy.”

“We ran into some trouble,” I confessed, also kissing her cheek. There was no point in keeping the truth from Yaga. She’d always had a talent for knowing when we were up to no good, even without using one of her scrying stones.

Kronk followed me in, ducking his head to clear the doorway, the ceiling of the ancient hut barely tall enough to accommodate his height. Inside, a musty mix of drying herbs, damp earth, and liniment washed over me. I drew in the familiar scent, the tension in my shoulders easing.

Hollow clacks rang out, the bones and crystals that hung from the ceiling bouncing together with our entry. As Kronk forced the crooked door closed, dust stirred, jars chiming along the cupboard wall. Some were filled with food—others with things I didn’t even attempt to identify.

My body yearned for the comfort of the den-like room I’d shared with my brothers in our youth and the thin pallets that waited for us to unroll them.

I couldn’t remember a time when we all fit comfortably.

Kronk, even as a youngling, took up a good amount of space.

At times, when my brothers were too much to bear, I’d slept on the dirt floor beside Yaga, next to the fire-side cot she preferred.

I sank into one of the wooden chairs by the fire and exhaled a groan of exhaustion that had Yaga’s head swiveling my way.

My adopted mother took me in with a single disapproving glance. “Ran your tank dry again, did you? And look at your hands.” The aged woman clucked her tongue. “I’ll get the tea started.”

Yaga hung the kettle onto an iron hook set into the wall and swung it over the flames in the hearth. Kronk and Drazen settled into chairs around the small wooden table while she moved to the cupboard, selecting several bottles of herbs. That done, she turned to her sons.

“Three of ya are skin and bones.” She pinched Kronk’s stony cheek. “When did ya last have a decent meal?”

“Drazen stole us a leg of mutton two spans ago,” Kronk said.

There had been little time for much else with the false king’s taxes due in only ten spans. We’d been hustling nonstop to scrounge up enough money. And still we were depressingly short. The reminder twisted a knot in the middle of my chest, responsibility weighing heavily upon me.

“The three of you need to take better care of each other.” Yaga picked up a wooden spoon and promptly popped Drazen right between his gleaming horns. “I raised you better than this. You hear me?”

Drazen ducked his head, muttering, “Yes, ma’am.” His arrogant, cocksure demeanor was much subdued now that he sat before the woman who’d once forced him to wash behind his ears.