Page 90 of The Moorwitch

I start to argue with him, then remember how useless it was the last time I tried. At least I know Sylvie hasn’t lost her magic at all. Her spirit is strong and her mind sharp. Whatever it takes, she’ll fight for her magic, now that she knows how to wield it.

Unless ... she didn’tneedto fight for it.

As Lachlan told me, if Morgaine were to fall, the Norths’ duty to her would end. Would Conrad see the opportunity in that? Would he ever consider betraying the queen?

When the time comes,said Lachlan,all you’ll need to do is ask ...

My stomach clenches with revulsion. I’d sworn to myself I couldn’t—wouldn’t—use Conrad that way. But before I know it, I find myself asking, “Wouldn’t it be ... to your advantage, to see another take over rule of Elfhame? Even someone as reprehensible as the Briar King?”

He stares at me.

“All I’m saying is, Wouldn’t you be free then?”

“If Manannán took the throne, I’d not live long enough to find out. He’d kill Sylvie and me both.”

“What if ... you came to an arrangement with him?”

Conrad gives me a sharp look. “With my parents’ murderer? You think I should strike a pact with theirkiller, as if he didn’t have my family’s blood all over his hands?”

“No,” I breathe. “No, of course not. You’re right.”

Shame eats at me like acid, tearing down all the defenses and excuses I’ve built up around myself to make my own treachery more palatable. I may not have known the details of all his monstrous deeds, but I knew what Lachlan was the moment I met him. I saw what hedid to my aunt, and regardless of whether she deserved it, the faerie never flinched in his punishment of her. Even knowing his depravity, I let him draw me in. I let myself believe his lies, searching for humanity where none lay.

I willnotlet him make a monster of me. I swore to myself I would finish this mission my own way, and that is precisely what I will do. I will not use Conrad’s heart against him, even if he were foolish enough to give it to me.

“We will never be free of her,” he says. “Some of my ancestors fled as far as America, only to find themselves kidnapped in the night by fae and dragged through the underworld back to Morgaine’s feet. And their punishments, Rose, were not light. You’ve seen my family portraits. The Weaver outside your bedroom door? She lost her eyes to Morgaine after she tried to run away to France.” He shakes his head, his brow dark with anger. “Our best chance, my da said, is to let our line die out. And so I never intend to marry or have children.”

“So that’s it, then? That’s your life’s grand ambition? To die alone and miserable with your lonely, miserable house crumbling around you?”

He scowls and heels Bell, trotting ahead to evade the question.

“Oh, Conrad. If there were a way—”

Conrad reels his horse around, Bell tossing his head in annoyance. “Juststop, will you? You cannot seem to stop meddling!”

“I am not—”

“You’realwaysprying. Into me, into my affairs, into Sylvie.”

I sputter. “Prying!”

Conrad shifts in his saddle, fingers raking his hair in agitation. “You burst into our lives like an autumn wind, changing things. You rearranged my entire house to your liking!”

“I opened a few curtains.”

“You let the light in. You stirred up the dust. You unveiled things that should have ... stayed hidden.” The way he says it, it sounds almost like an accusation. He looks wretched, bitterness in his eyes,like there’s another voice trapped inside him, unable to speak freely. Unable todream.

“Have you really given up?” I ask softly.

“I’m a pragmatist, Rose. I am what I had to become, for Sylvie’s sake. My life was bargained away from me long before I was born.”

Our horses have taken us to the peak of Toren’s Rise. We gaze out over the ancient forest toward the bluff in the distance. Somewhere below, the stone circle waits, and I think of how many Norths have died as sacrifices to guard it.

“Will you send me away, then?” I ask.

He frowns at the forest below for several long moments, as his hand idly scratches Bell’s mane. “It isn’t safe for you here.”

“I am sure my employer will recover soon, and then I will be out of your way for good. But until then ... give me a fortnight,” I plead. “Let me continue to teach Sylvie. She has made such progress in mere days; it would be a shame to waste that. I can write out lessons for her, a guide for the next year or more of what she should study. It would help you to prepare her in case ...”