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Sitting atop her frozen throne, a cold chill gripped Ashlynn’s heart when she heard Talauia’s words. Some things, they really shouldn’t be healed, even if it was possible. She’d learned that lesson with painful clarity during the trial the Ancient Willow subjected her to.

In her vision, Ollie was brought before her with horrible wounds and a severed arm.

She and Heila had combined their power to restore his lost limb, unknowingly inflicting harm on the Ancient Oak that it might never recover from.

Moreover, because Heila had exhausted herself to heal Ollie, later on, she wasn’t able to help heal anyone else and several more people died from their wounds because of Ashlynn’s selfish decision.

Just because a thing was possible didn’t mean the price was one that should be paid.

As Ashlynn looked at the trembling figure of Talauia, her wings trembling with the weight of countless angry stares and the even heavier tears flowing from Odette’s eyes, Ashlynn wondered whether Ritchel’s wounds were truly impossible, or the price was simply too high for Talauia to pay.

"That’s not right!" a young hunter among the Frost Walkers shouted. "My father died to protect Lord Ritchel, but this witch won’t heal him? She’s just going to let him die?

Where is the justice in that? There isn’t any!

" he shouted, his dark purple horn swirling with furious energy.

"If there is no justice, I demand vengeance for the dead!

If Lord Ritchel dies, then the witch dies! "

"Yes! Justice or vengeance," another young Frost Walker standing nearby shouted. "Kill the witch!"

"Justice or vengeance!"

"Kill the witch!"

"Save Lord Ritchel!"

"She killed my husband! Where is my justice? I will have my vengeance!"

The shouts grew louder and louder, particularly those coming from the family members of Ritchel’s fallen Honor Guard and icy energy began to gather in the hall once again.

At a look from Nyrielle, Savis, and Tausau both moved from their seats, taking up positions to either side of the Thistle Witch and radiating bloodthirsty menace outward, making it clear to everyone that to attack her meant attacking everyone who Nyrielle had brought to the High Pass.

Talauia jumped in surprise, having momentarily expected the powerful vampires to seize her and offer her up to the Frost Walkers in order to secure their cooperation.

It would hardly be the first time she’d found herself confronted by ancient vampires trying to rob her of her freedom, but when these two arrived, it was the Clanless Tausau who gave her a reassuring look before he faced the angry crowd.

"You fought with us," Tausau said softly. "That makes you a sister in battle. We will not give you over to these cowards who can only shout for someone else to give them justice."

"I don’t know, I don’t know what to..." Talauia began to say, taken completely off guard by their actions but before she could say anything further, the hall began to still as Ashlynn made her move at last.

Unlike Nyrielle, she didn’t demand silence. Her powers were weak enough at the moment that she saved what energy she had for things that were truly important and shouting down a crowd wasn’t among them. Instead, she simply stood and raised one bandage-wrapped hand high above her head.

The effect wasn’t immediate, but it didn’t take long for the people who were shouting and glaring hatefully at Talauia to realize that their companions had gone quiet and turned in the direction of the dias.

One by one, people turned in the direction of the dias, waiting to hear what the Mother of Trees had to say.

Or at least, most people did. There was still one person, the young Frost Walker who had started this outburst, who dared to step forward and address the Mother of Trees directly.

"Your Dominion," he said, his voice echoing off the distant walls and high ceiling of the Great Hall.

"The Thistle Witch isn’t of your coven, but you are the greatest witch here.

Please, grant us our revenge. Give her over to us and let us claim her life for the lives of our fallen fathers and grandfathers. Give us our vengeance!"

"You want to be given vengeance?" Ashlynn said, looking down at the young man and shaking her head. "What grave did you crawl out of to be owed vengeance? What crippling wounds have you suffered to need someone to claim your vengeance for you? You want vengeance?" Ashlynn asked in a mocking tone.

"Tell me your name, young man," she commanded. "Tell me who dares to ask the Mother of Trees for vengeance."

"I am Darfrir, son of Daldis who died at the Thistle Witch’s hands," the young man shouted, refusing to back down. "My mother lost her husband and my father will never see me take a mate. He will never rest if he died a meaningless death, so I am owed this vengeance!"

"Very well, Dafrir, son of Daldis," Ashlynn said calmly.

"Clear a path for this young avenger. Captain Virve," she added, looking into the crowd of Nyrielle’s people behind the formal delegation and finding the head of her guard there.

"If he lacks a blade, give him one so that he may fight to claim his revenge. "

"Auntie Ashlynn, Auntie Ashlynn," Talauia said, turning multifaceted purple eyes on her friend that were filled with hurt. "I won’t let him, I won’t let him kill me. He’ll die if he tries, he’ll really die!"

"I know he’d die," Ashlynn said, startling the young Frost Walker who had just begun to make his way through the crowd and stopping him in his tracks. "He’s weak and angry, and crying out in hurts. He wants revenge because he thinks it will stop the pain he feels and so he’s flinging himself forward like a madman to die at your hands, achieving nothing other than adding to the tragedy of a battle that should never have been fought. "

"Shut up," Dafrir barked only for his horn to dim abruptly when he realized who he’d just snapped at. "Your Dominion, you don’t know! You don’t know what it’s like to see the person who killed your father standing right there, and to be able to do nothing about it!

But if you give me a chance, even if there are nine chances in ten that I die without taking her down with me, I’ll still turn my life into a spear and hurl it at her heart! "

"You think my darling doesn’t know what it is to burn in the fires of hatred that drive revenge?" Nyrielle said with a light, musical laugh. "If your father was the sort of person my Ashlynn was, he would have crawled out of his own grave, refusing to die until he’d had his revenge."

"After that," Nyrielle continued in a voice filled with pride.

"He would have driven his body to the breaking point again and again, turning himself into a weapon and an instrument of vengeance that could tear through the walls of thorns of the Briar, stopping at nothing until he tore the Thistle Witch’s heart from her chest."

All around the hall, many eyes opened wide with shock.

For the few who knew Ashlynn’s story, people like Heila, Virve, and Lennart, their hearts filled with the same pride as they heard from Nyrielle as they thought of everything they had seen Ashlynn endure on her path to claim her revenge against Owain Lothian.

To hear her used as an example now, before so many people, brought mist to their eyes as they watched comprehension begin to dawn on the remainder of the audience.

"I met my darling Ashlynn the night of her marriage to Owain Lothian. The night that he beat her to death before dumping her in a shallow grave with nothing more than a bedsheet," Nyrielle explained with dark eyes that seemed to suck the light out of the young hunter’s horn as she glared at him.

"She crawled out of that grave on her own, and she walked to the edge of the Vale in the cold and the rain. When I offered her the power to obtain her revenge, she paid with an unending life of service to obtain the chance, just the chance, of claiming her revenge."

"Next to her, what are you?" Nyrielle asked coldly. "Jumping about, shouting about trading your life for revenge when there isn’t even a wound on your body. And you say she doesn’t understand? Boy, it’s you who doesn’t understand.

But if you’d like," she said, standing from her throne and gathering dark energy around her hands.

"I can wound you the way she was wounded and then you can fight for your vengeance. .."

"Enough, my love," Ashlynn said, stepping next to Nyrielle and placing a hand gently on her forearm. "I think young Dafrir understands the point now," Ashlynn said, turning her attention back to the slack-jawed young man.

"I won’t deny you your vengeance," Ashlynn said, lowering her head and hiding her eyes behind the brim of her witch’s hat as if she couldn’t bear the sight of watching him try to claim it.

He might give himself one in ten odds of succeeding but anyone who had seen or heard what Talauia was capable of put his much, much lower.

If he were truly to try, the scene that followed might dye half the hall red with his blood.

"Your heart can burn and drive you to madness, but ask yourself something first. Go and stand beside your father’s body and ask yourself this question.

Would his spirit rest better if you were to die senselessly today?

Or would he rest better if you found that mate you mentioned and brought a grand child to pay respects to his horn in the ancestral cave? "

"But before you even ask that question," Ashlynn continued. "Ask yourself if there’s any need for vengeance in the first place. The Thistle Witch said that she could not heal Lord Ritchel to allow your father’s spirit to rest, but that may not mean that his life is lost," she said, turning her attention back to Talauia.

"Tala, my friend," Ashlynn said gently. "Will you answer a few questions for me?"