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need to tell me why you’re here, Sylas. I can’t help you if you don’t. As I mentioned, Skelna was a part of our heritage. Children leave her offerings once a year to thank her for guarding the forest. As scary as you two found her, she is going to be missed. She may have been a monster, but she was our monster.”

“I understand,” Sylas said, “And I’m sorry.”

Dianthe couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Everfield had fallen. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard Sylas drag his pack in front of his knees and saw, out of the corner of her eye, him pull the blue orb from it.

“We had to kill Skelna for this. It was in her stomach.” Sylas held out the blue orb.

“Fates above,” Zander said. “No… Is that? It can’t be.” He took the orb and rotated it, holding it up to the light to spy the piece of the key within.

“Do you know what this is?” Sylas asked.

He shrugged. “Only from legend. It looks like one of Medea’s lost orbs. If I remember correctly from my reading, there are supposed to be five?”

Sylas’s eyes sparked. “We have the other four, Zander. We have the key.”

Zander’s gaze met his. “Do you know what the key unlocks?”

“A vault somewhere with a weapon.” Sylas rubbed his palms together. “We will get that weapon, and we will overthrow Eleanor.”

“The folk tales say it’s her grimoire,” Zander said, his face suddenly serious. “And if it is Medea’s grimoire, it belongs to Darnuith. Medea was our queen. Her lost magic belongs to us.”

Sylas lifted the orb from his hand and returned it to his bag. “I don’t know what type of weapon it is, but I’ll keep what you’ve said here in mind.”

“Do that, Sylas,” Zander said firmly, suddenly sounding much less friendly. “Our kingdom grieved the loss of Queen Medea and her unborn child for centuries. She is revered here. Anything you find ultimately belongs to us, her people. You don’t want Darnuith as an enemy.”

An enemy? Dianthe suddenly found her voice. “Enemy? We’re trying to help you. You know what happened to Everfield and Nochtbend. Darnuith could be next. Are you threatening to side with Eleanor against us?”

“Of course not. We will never support Eleanor.” Zander shook his head dismissively.

“Well then, think twice about what you are saying, because Eleanor will use our division against us. Medea didn’t leave these orbs or the weapon to Darnuith. She left them to her descendants.”

Zander sniffed. “She didn’t have any descendants. Her baby died with her. We are her people.”

Dianthe shook her head. “She and her sisters lived on, and those two witches”—she pointed at the bar where Clarissa and Avery were laughing and drinking something black and bubbly—“they are two of three descendants of Circe. They are the three sisters foretold to end Paragon’s reign, and this weapon belongs to them.”

Zander looked again at Clarissa and Avery as if seeing them for the first time. “By the fates, you have the three sisters, here and ready to fight for the Defenders of the Goddess.”

Sylas nodded. “We do. You’ve healed one of them.”

“Couldn’t heal her. She’s completely immune to magic. Simply bandaged her,” he said absently.

“We have to get back,” Dianthe said. “Colin doesn’t know what’s happened. If we don’t return soon, he’ll consider sending out a search party and put more of us at risk. We’ve already tempted fate by keeping the three sisters separated.”

“Again, thank you, Zander, for your help,” Sylas said. “You are and always have been a key member of the Defenders of the Goddess. If Queen Penelope gives you hell about who killed Skelna, I won’t blame you for whatever you have to say, but right now we have to go. We have a war to plan.”

“Very well. Enough for now.” Zander stood. “Go then. I’ll clean up this mess with Skelna. But we will discuss the ultimate ownership of the grimoire should you find it.”

“Fair enough.” Sylas shook the warlock’s hand.

A short conversation later, Dianthe circled up with the others, hand in hand with her mate. Nathaniel, Avery, and Clarissa opened the way home.

Arriving on Aeaea with Dianthe in his arms was a relief to Sylas in more ways than one. Yes, she was safe. They all were. But more importantly, she was his again. They’d reached a crossroads in their marriage where they were both challenged to either dive into the dark recesses of each other’s souls or take the sunny path away from each other. He was glad he’d dove.

“Oh, this feels heavenly.” Dianthe spun from him and raised her arms to the sun. “As much as I am passionate about our mission, I could do without spending another day in Darnuith.”

He grinned at her and cocked an eyebrow. “All it takes to break you is a little snow and ice?”

“And perpetually gray skies. And the wind. Don’t forget the cruel, biting wind.”

He pulled her back into his arms. “I’ll keep you warm.”

She fluttered her lashes up at him. “Always.”

While Avery sought out Tobias to assess her wound, Sylas led Dianthe to their tent to change into something more comfortable for island weather. He would have enjoyed celebrating their successful mission with some time in bed, but she held back when he pressed his mouth to hers.

“You promised to keep me warm, but will you keep me fed? I’m starving.”

“It smells like dinner in the main tent, and I’m guessing a debrief is in order. Everyone is going to want to know about Aborella.” He slung the bag with the orbs over his shoulder and allowed her to lead him toward the food.

As soon as they walked into the tent, cheers went up from the others who had gathered there, Alexander whistling and clapping his hands while Rowan and Nick whooped and punched the air.

“Welcome back,” Colin yelled, jostling through the crowd to draw both him and Dianthe into firm hugs. “I send you out for two orbs and you return

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