As we walk, Carter and Bryce bicker about sweets, but I tune them out and take in the city that’s changed so much in the ten years since I’ve visited. Some of the last good memories of Holly are here during the Dark Star Festival, the month before she died.

It used to be so much easier to travel the Drained Wood. The forest was still dangerous then, but not so overrun. We used to take quarterly visits to Lunameade in much larger groups. Back then, the fort was a resting place for traveling tradesmen before the perils of the woods, and a place to regroup for anyone traveling from Lunameade after they survived the Drained. That seems like a distant fantasy now.

These days, we take only the strongest riders who are prepared to take the twenty-mile journey from Mountain Haven to Lunameade at an all-out gallop, on horses that are blessed by healers with magic from Divine Elvodeen, so that they’re in peak condition for the perilous journey.

What strikes me most about the city is that the nature is so perfectly curated. In Mountain Haven, everything is wild, natural, and overgrown. Here, the flowers are neatly contained in planters and window boxes and magically still in bloom even though the season is turning. The trees are weak, removed from the outside and replanted in squares too small for them to really grow in.

“Any thoughts on how they manage to keep the lights on?” I ask, finally turning my attention back to Carter and Bryce’s bickering.

Bryce laughs. “About that. The streetlights and wall perimeter lighting are clearly an upgrade since the fort fell. It seems our sources were right. There are a lot of rolling blackouts, but we can’t figure out how they power all of this or how they have such an elaborate network. It’s likely some blessing from Stellaria that allows them to channel light through a system of sunstones. Safe to say your city girl is going to have to adjust to the candlelight at the Haven.”

“The adjustment should be short-lived,” I grumble. “What about Rochelli?”

Bryce grins. “That part is more fun. Somehow, everyone seems to know someone who knows someone who met him. Not one has laid eyes on him.”

“Could be an alias,” I say.

Carter shrugs. “Could also be a group of people instead of just one man. Regardless, the consensus is that he’s the leader of this resistance in the city.”

I frown. Hard to believe that even behind these tall city walls, they can still find a reason to revolt. “What’s their issue?”

Bryce runs his hands through his hair, tucking it behind his ears. He winks at a woman walking by. She smiles and watches him appreciatively as we pass.

“There have been as many breaches in the past six months as there were all of last year,” he says once she’s out of earshot. “They’re rattled at the lack of protection, but it’s more than that.”

Hearing that makes my blood run cold. It’s one thing for the Drained to be worse at the fort. We are a smaller and more isolated target. But if they’re also coming at the city this hard, that’s a very bad sign.

Bryce pauses and turns, pointing up at the building next to us as if admiring the architecture. “From what I can tell, they have the ‘unblessed’ pay blood tithes on a cycle. They have a book where they keep records of who is due on a particular day.”

I frown. “Does that work?”

Carter throws an arm around my shoulders. “You tell us. Your new in-laws are the most powerful magical family in Lunameade. I’d say it must do something.”

I shake my head. The Carrenwells aren’t just powerful because of their magic. They’re powerful because they can see magic, and that has given them the advantage of always knowing what type of fight to be prepared for. It’s the reason that no one will challenge them outright. Those who have tried have died.

“The shift is that they seem to have adjusted the blood tithe requirement from once every thirty days to once every fifteen days,” Bryce says. “No idea why they⁠—”

The soft din of the square is cleaved by shouting. We turn toward the well to see what’s happening. Two city watch guards drag a man toward the Blood Well. The people in line watch with rapt interest, but the rest of the townsfolk milling about the square avert their eyes as if they’re used to this.

The man stumbles to his knees. He’s old—his body bent with age and hair white and sparse. He has to be pushing seventy.

“I don’t owe you blood. You’ve had it every month of my life since I was of age. And what do we have to show for it? A failing wall, dark nights, and an even darker future,” the man shouts.

“Sir, it’s your blood day—perhaps you’ve just forgotten,” a guard says, his voice calm and placating.

“I’m not senile! I’m just tired of the charade. The magic is failing.” The old man takes a swing at the guard.

The guard grabs his arm and twists it behind him. His partner grabs the old man’s other hand and slides his blade across the man’s palm. They drag him to the well, and the rest of the line watches in a mix of horror and resignation.

“Barbaric,” Carter mumbles as they force the old man’s hand over the well and dark blood drips down into the abyss. The guards mumble something as the blood pours down.

Finally, they let him go. He hobbles away and takes the piece of gauze offered by a young man beside the well.

The old man spits at the city guards’ feet. “Bleeding us all dry for power. You’re no better than the Drained.”

Bryce whistles, and I scowl at him.

“What?” Bryce shrugs. “He’s got a point. I don’t claim to understand the magic of the wells, but it does seem excessive for such an old man. I thought there used to be an age cap.”

“There did. But I guess desperate times call for desperate measures,” Carter says.

“And desperate measures can be exploited,” I say.

This is the place where I can drive a wedge between the Carrenwells and the magicless people of Lunameade, and my future wife holds the key to their weaknesses. All I have to do is get her to reveal them.

The ten-year anniversary of the attack on Mountain Haven is imminent. For the first time, it feels like I’ll be able to ease this driving ache for vengeance that has lived in my chest ever since the wall fell.

OceanofPDF.com

8HARLOW

The Carrenwell House ballroom is full of all the people who gawked at me the night my betrothal was announced, only now they’re being way less subtle. Their looks are a mix of judgment and curiosity.

I’m only recently out of my formal widowhood mourning period, but many of our people believe a year of mourning would be more appropriate than six months.

I stare back, challenging them to say anything.

These dinners always begin less formal because everyone arrives fashionably late. I lean against the bar and look at several couples swaying on the dance floor to the soft music played by the string quartet. The power is on tonight, so the blown-glass chandeliers shimmer in the large glass windows that look out to the front driveway.

The bartender tops off my wine, and I take a bracing sip. I cross the room and take my seat next to Kellan at the table with all of my siblings. I ignore the empty seat on the other side of me, just like I ignore that my new fiancé is late.

“So?” Kellan says, keeping his gaze casual, his smile playful as he looks around the room.

“Well, what?” I ask.

“How is your husband-to-be, Low?”

“Who?” I ask, sipping my wine.

Finally, he turns to narrow his gaze on me. “Really? That bad?”

I shrug. “He tried to work me like a common schoolgirl.”

Kellan purses his lips. “So he was nice to you?”

I scowl. There’s no way to explain without admitting where I’ve been going when I sneak out. While I’m sure that Kellan wishes his loyalty could be to me first, I don’t live under the illusion that it is. If I admitted that I was putting myself at risk this way, that I was risking people finding out about my power, that I am the Poison Vixen he’s been hunting for the past six months, he’d be forced to tell our parents. The only reason I’ve kept him off my trail this long is because of the signature vials of poison I leave behind and the fact that he doesn’t know about the glamour necklace Aidia gifted me. By changing my appearance for every job and leaving behind empty vials with traces of different poisons, I seem to have sufficiently convinced him that it’s a group of women working together.