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Loren slides his hand from Jaylie’s and moves to stand at her side. “To do this the right way this time,” he says, “we need to know everything you can tell us about Lady Shira.”

“And as a show of good faith, maybe your man can sheath his sword, aye?” Morgana adds, narrowing her eyes at the half-orc guard with his weapon still outstretched toward her neck. “Took me near seventy years to grow this beard. I’ll lose my shit if he nicks it.”

Donati sneers—and then sighs. “At ease, then.”

The guards lower their weapons and free Loren and Jaylie from their bindings. Half of them head back to their posts in Donati’s estate while the others fan out to observe the group, settling in the pews still arranged for the ceremony.

Donati stands in the shade of the tree, in the same spot where he’d said his vows. His eyes are distant, his hands clasped before him. “Shira and I attended the Arcane Academy together decades ago,” he begins. “We were the best in our class and very, very good friends.”

“Oh?” Jaylie says. Just friends? Or more, perhaps?

Donati gives her a flat stare. “ Friends, ” he stresses.

“Anyway. We were pitted against each other on more than one occasion, but we took it in good humor. As a team, we were the best. The perfect combination. I’m willing to admit that Shira has the kind of intellect that comes naturally with some people.

She was a prodigy—effortlessly clever. Where she was all chaos and seat-of-her-pants innovation, I was…

studious. Organized. I stayed up for hours memorizing concepts that came to her readily after only one lesson.

She could conjure a bonfire with a mere thought, while I had to inscribe the spell over and over again in my spellbook before I got it right.

But she inspired me to be experimental, while I kept her on track and punctual. Together, we were unstoppable.”

Loren rocks back on his heels, close enough to Jaylie to murmur, “All of this chemistry, and you’re telling me they didn’t fuck?”

Morgana clears her throat. “I don’t think he’s her type,” she says dryly. Jaylie jumps at the sound of the dwarf’s voice; she hadn’t noticed her sneak up to stand at her hip.

Kain cuts a glare at the three of them, and they all straighten at once, nodding for Donati to continue.

“But her experiments grew wilder with each new assignment. She began to, ah… dabble. In less savory magics.”

Everyone avoids looking at Kain. Jaylie had never seen him use any spellcraft of his own, relying only on his skill with his axe. But who knows what infernal magic he inherited from his devilish father?

“She was convinced that the Academy was keeping the secrets of dark magic from us to limit our potential. She reasoned that they wanted us to become powerful mages in our own right—but not so powerful as to be able to challenge them. She wouldn’t listen when I warned her about the stories of those who had tried necromancy, communing with the dark old gods, or trading their souls for wicked magics only devils could offer.

She didn’t care. She was confident that she was strong enough to bend such power to her will.

And I was almost convinced, too. If anyone could have managed it, it was her.

“But as we drew closer to graduation, things got worse. She would come to class with dark circles under her eyes. Potion ingredients and spell components started to disappear from the storage rooms. Spellbooks she borrowed from the library were found with pages ripped out, or with indecipherable scribbles in the margins. When one of our professors, Lazlo, disappeared, she became…unwell. She wasn’t eating, her hair was falling out.

She rushed out of class once when blood began to leak through a bandage from a wound I didn’t even know she had.

I caught her before she made it to a cleric and demanded that she show me.

When I pushed up her sleeve, I—” Donati coughs forcefully, struggling past some emotion caught in the back of his throat.

“Her arm was covered in symbols of the devilish tongue,” he spits, “carved into her skin with the thinnest of blades.”

Again, everyone avoids looking at Kain.

“She needed help. But I knew she wasn’t going to like where she got it from.” Donati pauses. He stares into the empty space within the twined root arch where he stood just a few hours ago, hand in hand with his beloved, before Shira stole Alora from his arms.

“They expelled her, of course,” he says quietly, returning his gaze to the party.

“Once I told the dean of my concerns. They offered her help through mage counselors and a team of clerics to cleanse her of whatever dark bargains she had made. But she couldn’t be allowed to continue her studies, not when they posed such a danger to other students. ”

“You mentioned Lazlo before. Who was he?” Jaylie asks.

“He taught conjuration magics at the Academy—you know, summoning creatures from other realms, teleporting between one place and another. It wasn’t Shira’s school of specialty, but she loved him nonetheless. He was her favorite mentor. I think the loss of him…broke her.”

Loren asks the obvious question. “What happened to him?”

“No one knows. The story goes that he teleported somewhere that he shouldn’t have and never returned.

” Donati’s tone darkens. “But after everything came out about Shira’s experiments, some suspect that she was involved.

” He turns away and closes his eyes. “Even after everything that’s happened, I still don’t believe that she could have done anything to him. ”

“But how does all of that get us to where we are today?” Morgana sets her hands on her wide hips. “Do you really think a grudge from your school days is enough reason to crash your wedding and steal your bride out of, what, spite ? Seems petty. Seems a stretch.”

Donati levels an even gaze at her. “I’m expending a great deal of patience by allowing you my continued patronage and this second-chance opportunity,” he says quietly. “Perhaps you can do me the same courtesy?”

Morgana flutters her fingers in the air sarcastically, gesturing for the wizard to continue.

“Shira’s expulsion created an irreparable rift between us.

Heartbroken, I tried encouraging her to take the help that was offered.

But she refused. I still wanted to be her friend, but after months of trying, I stopped reaching out.

I started teaching at the Academy. I worked as an archivist for the Arcane Assembly.

I took all sorts of ambitious jobs because that was always our goal, mine and Shira’s—to rise to the top. To get a seat on the Assembly.”

Thanks to Kain’s surprising knowledge of Belandar’s history, Jaylie and her companions know Donati now holds a seat. Shira had, too, at one point—until last summer.

“For every new initiative I had, for every goal or fucking charity event I held, she worked to undermine me. My students were endangered, my food drive was spoiled, my summer home on the coast was set aflame…

“Now, those actions I’m certain she did out of spite,” Donati says, seething.

“Thankfully she stopped her meddling after finally worming her way into a seat on the Assembly, using what I can only guess was a mix of blackmail, bribery, and a degree from that other Academy in Port Shecta. That blessed quiet was part of why I stopped seeing her as a threat. At that point, we both had what we wanted: our seats. Our goals were different, but we managed for long enough to stay out of each other’s way.

But when the Assembly discovered more of her dark experimentation last summer and removed her, she got desperate. Angry.”

“But what does that have to do with Alora?” Jaylie presses.

“Alora is…special. In more ways than one. The rumors aren’t true—she wasn’t my student.

She’s a professor, and she traveled here from the Great North to teach an abbreviated winter course on the use of blood magic in dragon worship.

Highly illegal now, but highly interesting to her students. And to me.”

Donati pauses, tapping one perfectly manicured nail on the side of his nose. “I found out it was a bit of personal history that got her into the subject. She’s a very powerful sorceress, due in part to her intense studies—and in part to the dragon blood that runs in her veins.”

Jaylie nods with interest. Quietly, Loren murmurs, “Kinky.”

Morgana and Kain simultaneously cover their faces with their hands.

“Her ancestry enhances her magic. It’s not the reason I fell for her, but…” Donati’s lips curl into a blissful smile, contrasted in part with the way his hand fists in excitement at his side. “We’re a fantastic pair,” he says earnestly. “We have so many dreams for our future—for our children.”

Jaylie waves her hand mildly, cutting him off. “No worries about going into any further details, my lord.” Loren has the gall to look disappointed. Jaylie continues, “So you think Shira wants her for her blood, then?”

Donati’s expression clouds over. “Given how very rare it is, yes. Just a drop and she could perform feats of magic to level a small village. More than a drop and, well.” He swallows thickly.

Jaylie turns to meet the gazes of her companions. From the wrinkles lining their foreheads and the way they shift their feet, Jaylie figures they are all thinking the same thing. We don’t stand much of a chance against power like that.

After a beat of uncomfortable silence, Morgana asks, “Do you know where Shira might have taken Alora?”

“I most certainly do,” Donati says, and Jaylie notices for the first time a slender leather folder tucked under his arm.

He opens the folder and dives into a thorough description of Lady Shira Soros’s tower, several days’ ride outside of the city.

Her teleportation magic makes it easy for her to travel to and from the city as she likes, he explains, but she prefers the peace of life outside of it.

Jaylie focuses as much as she can on the details about the travel route, the tower’s defenses, and other bits of information about his rival.

Magic can do quite a bit to keep someone out. But if she and her party can get as close to Lady Shira as she is to Donati in this moment, well. Between Kain’s axe, Jaylie’s spells, Morgana’s daggers, and Loren’s charm…with Marlana’s luck, they might have a chance.