To hell with reaching Ramiel. She’d spend the rest of the week here, killing them all slowly.
The crest of the ridge lay ten feet above.
Nesta controlled her breathing, keeping it silent and shallow, as the Valkyries had done. A glance at Emerie told her the female was doing the same, even as rage kindled in her dark eyes.
They’d decided before they ascended the slope that, as Emerie’s wings arced too high above her head, Nesta would assess what lay beyond the ridge. Emerie held two knives; Nesta had one dagger and the Illyrian bow and two arrows. Nesta would have to use her peek to gather information about what weapons the males had, too.
They swapped one final look, just as the males burst into laughter, and Nesta rose. Only high enough for her vision to clear the ridge’s edge.
Ten males sat around a fire, eating. Some had axes, some had swords, some had knives. Nesta picked out the male in the middle, laughing and talking the loudest, as the leader. His face—she’d seen his face before. Somewhere.
No sign of Gwyn. Nesta ducked back down, pivoting toward Emerie.
But Emerie was gone. Dragged halfway down the slope, and held between two grinning males.
No one went in or out of the towering, gray-stoned castle. Azriel and Cassian took turns circling it from high above, waiting for any sign of a departing group, but the gates did not open. Nobody even came or departed from the walled city surrounding it. As if the gates had been locked, its people kept within. No villages dotted the hills around it, either.
The castle seemed to have risen out of the earth and settled there, squatting like some enormous beast over the land.
“Briallyn has to know we’re here,” Cassian said as he alit, his latest aerial survey completed. “You think she’s waiting for us to make a move?”
“I think the better question is if Eris is still alive,” Azriel murmured, shadows whispering in his ear. “I can’t get a read on it.”
“Waiting is pointless. We should break in. Keep out of sight, so she won’t even know we’re there and be tempted to use the Crown on us.”
“I told you: the place is guarded with as many wards as the House of Wind. If Briallyn is moving Eris, we’ll be better off catching him then.”
“Maybe the merchant was wrong.”
“Maybe. We’ll continue surveillance through tomorrow.” Azriel crossed his arms. “I know you want to help Nesta. Maybe Amren can find some loophole in the laws …”
Cassian swallowed hard. “There’s no loophole. If I interfere, we’re both dead. And even if I did, Nesta would kill me if I jumped in to save her. She’d never forgive me for it.”
He’d had nothing else to do except contemplate it these past days. Nesta’s fate was her own. She was strong enough to forge her own path, even through the horrors of the Blood Rite. He’d taught her the skills to do so himself.
And even if the laws had allowed it, he would never take that away from her: the chance to save herself.
“I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to fall for the nightgown, but I suppose that’s the difference between a female thinking she’s a warrior and the real thing,” the cold-faced leader said as Nesta and Emerie were hurled at his booted feet. He chuckled, eyes glassy enough that Nesta wondered if someone had smuggled in a case of wine along with the weapons. “Hello Emerie.”
Nesta recognized the male then. Bellius, Emerie’s hateful cousin.
Emerie only spat, “Where the fuck is she?”
Bellius shrugged. “Found the nightgown a few miles ago. Perhaps some other warrior fucked and killed her.” His smile held nothing but evil. “You shouldn’t have come here, cousin.”
Emerie retorted, “I was brought here against my will, cousin. But now I’ll enjoy proving you and your father wrong.
His teeth shone in the dim, snowy light through the forest canopy. “You’ve disgraced your father. Disgraced our family.”
Nesta eyed her weapons at the male’s feet, all ceded upon Emerie’s capture.
“Was it you who sabotaged the Rite with these weapons?” Nesta seethed.
Bellius chuckled again, though his eyes remained hazy. Flakes of snow gathered in his dark hair. “I wouldn’t call it sabotage. And neither did she.”
Nesta froze. She’d seen that glassy-eyed look before—on the faces of Eris’s soldiers.
And that word—she. Had Briallyn somehow ensnared Bellius with the Crown? He’d looked glassy-eyed when she’d seen him in Emerie’s shop months ago. When he’d recently come back from a scouting trip to the continent. Briallyn must have intercepted him then. Perhaps used the Crown to influence the Illyrians to break their sacred rules of the Rite, to plant the weapons here. But why?