Windwitch (The Witchlands, #2)

by Susan Dennard

The truth was, though, that she was stuck. On a ship. In the middle of nowhere. With only the Empress of Insipid for company.

Though we cannot always see the blessing in the loss. Strength is the gift of our Lady Baile and she will never abandon us.

Why do you hold a razor in one hand? So men remember that I am sharp as any edge. And why do you hold broken glass in the other? So men remember that I am always watching.

It was a reminder that she was not merely a princess, nor merely a ship’s captain. Nor merely the rightful queen of Nubrevna—if the Council would just agree to hand over the crown. Vivia Nihar was a Tidewitch, and a blighted powerful one at that. She could drown them all with a thought, so let Serrit Linday and the rest of the High Council try to cross her again. No more stalemates because they thought her unqualified and unhinged. No more tiptoeing around a room because women oughtn’t to run. To shout. To rule. And above all: no more blighted regrets.

Windwitch is much about Vivia that is about Merik

The paladins we locked away will one day walk among us. Vengeance will be theirs, in a fury unchecked, for their power was never ours to claim. Yet only in death, could they understand life. And only in life, will they change the world.

Safi was a wolf in a world of rabbits.

Safi might be a wolf, but Hell-Bards were lions.

man is not his mind. A man is not his body. They are merely tools so that a man may fight onward.

As always, Stix squinted with nearsighted eyes as Vivia approached. Once she realized who was on deck, she saluted. “Sir.” She always called Vivia that—not Your Highness, not Princess. To Stix, Vivia was a ship’s captain. To Vivia, Stix was … Too good for me.

It was time to make amends. Time to bring justice to the wronged. Time to bring punishment to the wicked.

Merik is Batman

Hell-Bard commander … what had Lev said? Fitz Grieg. Caden Fitz Grieg. Never, never could Safi have guessed he’d be the Chiseled Cheater. He was the reason she was here. He had stolen her money after a taro game, and it was that trickery that had lit the fuse on all events to come. If Caden hadn’t stolen her money, Safi wouldn’t have tried to steal it back the next day. If she hadn’t tried to steal it back, she wouldn’t have held up the wrong carriage. If she hadn’t held up the wrong carriage, the Bloodwitch monk would never have gotten her scent. And if the Bloodwitch had never gotten her scent, she’d probably be free right now. Free and with Iseult at her side.

All Caden’s fault 😂😂😂

“Liar,” the empress proceeded, no more sugar to lace her tone. Only iron. “You killed the people I love, and you will pay for it. I will bleed you dry, Hell-Bard from the North Sea. So I hope, for your sake, that you had nothing to do with it.” The empress’s words sang with truth. A major chord of such purity, the intensity almost swallowed the promise’s meaning.

You better hope she won’t escape from captive… Trust me you will regret it

Vivia’s lungs tightened. I use my brain too, she wanted to say. The Foxes were my idea and my hard work. But she wouldn’t say that to her father. He always insisted that they share the glory of any good decisions—and that they share the blame for any bad ones. Guilt tidal-waved through her. She had never told her father about the mythical under-city or the underground lake, and though she insisted to herself it was because she’d been sworn to secrecy by her mother, Vivia’s heart knew the truth. She was a selfish daughter; she didn’t want to share the glory if her hunt for the under-city ever paid off.

There’s nothing wrong with being ambitious and proud of what we done. I think if her mother had been around of Evrane perhaps Vivia wouldn’t had this huge complicated complexity in the first place. The woman has to prove herself to everyone constantly.

Never trust what you see in the shadows, for Trickster, he hides in darkness and dapples. High in a tree or deep underground, never trust if Trickster’s around.

The Pirate Republic of Saldonica was unlike anything Safi had ever seen. Oh, she’d heard stories of the vast city built into ancient ruins, with its factions constantly at war, their territories shifting and morphing. And she’d heard tell of the famed slave arena, where warriors and witches battled for coin—and where the rivalry between Baedyeds and Red Sails was deemed moot in favor of violence and wagers. Safi had also heard how a person of any color or background or nation could not only exist in Saldonica but also could be bought or sold or traded. Then there were the legends of crocodiles lurking in the brackish waterways. Of sea foxes bigger than boats in the bay that would tow down men and ships alike. Yet Safi had always thought those tales nothing more than bedtime stories for an unruly six-year-old who didn’t want to go to sleep yet, Habim, and couldn’t he just tell her one more story about the pirates? Except it was real. All of it. Well, maybe not the sea foxes. Safi knew—firsthand—that those creatures existed, but she had yet to see the Saldonican Bay, so she couldn’t confirm if they resided there.

Caden was not a Hell-Bard now. That person had been grim and terrifying and quick to attack. Nor was he the Chiseled Cheater, who was sly, charming, quick to quip. This Caden was lean and scarred and muscled. He was duty, he was darkness, he was … heartbreak. Yes, something about Caden seemed hollow. Lost. Similar to someone else Safi knew. Her uncle.

“Everyone lies,” she finally said. “I don’t.” He popped the cork from the healer salve, and with a clean linen, he scooped some out. The instant it touched her wrists, the pain receded. Cold fizzed in. “Of course you lie,” she argued, eyes closing to savor the cool relief. “I told you, Hell-Bard. Everyone lies. It’s in the way we banter with our friends. It’s in the mundane greetings we give passersby. It’s in the most meaningless things we do every single moment of every single day. Hundreds upon thousands of tiny, inconsequential lies.” Caden’s careful application paused. “And do you sense them all?” She nodded, eyelids lifting just enough for her to meet his unflappable gaze. “It’s like living beside the ocean. The waves eventually fade into nothing because you’re so used to it. You stop hearing each crash, each swell … Until, one day, when a storm comes along. The big lies—I feel those. But the little ones? They ride away on the tide.” He offered no reaction, his face utterly still as if he was thinking through each sentence. Each word. Each pause.

Safi dealing with that is… hard. Imagine not able to stop those feelings from suffocating you, that you feel it from everybody, all day long.

A Firewitch. Aeduan’s skin prickled. Fire … unsettled him.

Poor Aeduan :(

“The royal line sorely needed the Nihars in it,” Serafin continued, warming to the subject. “Until I came along, Jana had no respect. Not from the civilians, not from the Forces, and especially not from the Council. I earned that for her, you know.” “I know,” Vivia repeated. “And I will earn it for you too.” He smiled tenderly, his watery eyes disappearing in the folds of his skin. “Once I am well again, I will march into that Council and tell them to put that crown upon your head.” “Thank you.” She smiled tenderly back—and it was real, for Noden only knew what Vivia would do without her father by her side. Or without that Nihar blood in her veins. Join her mother, she supposed. “I only want what’s best for you, Vivia.” The breeze kicked at his wispy hair. “And I know you only want what’s best for me.” Vivia stiffened, the shame roiling hotter. Her father was so frail. No matter what the healers might say, he was on the verge of death. So of course she would try to heal him. Of course she would tell him about the underground lake. Yes, something spidered down her spine at the thought of it—and yes, her mother had said to keep it secret, but that was before Jana had leaped to her death and left Vivia all alone. It was before she’d decided her own melancholy meant more than her daughter. Serafin had stuck by Vivia through everything. He was a good father, even if Vivia was not worthy of it.

My heart is cleaving for Vivia 🥺

Someone owed Aeduan a life-debt. It was … A first. A first that he didn’t know how to swallow. The Threadwitch Iseult was alive because he had made it so. She could breathe her current breaths and could taste the river’s water because he had saved her life. Though she had also, in a way, saved his. First, she had not killed him while he lay unconscious in the bear trap. And second, she had been the one to hook them to that stone before the Falls. But Aeduan decided not to mention any of this, for if the Threadwitch believed she owed him three lives, then that gave him an advantage. That, he could use. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know when, only that he absolutely would.

He is so soft for Iseult

To Safi’s shock, he leaned seductively right back. Before her eyes, Caden transformed into the Chiseled Cheater. It was amazing how stark the contrast—and how quick the change. The Hell-Bard named Caden, so duty bound and intense, relaxed into the Chiseled Cheater, all charms and sweet smiles. He flashed such a smile now, and heat swept over Safi. Furious heat. Attracted heat. Confused heat. For it was that perfect thrice-damned grin that had gotten her into so much trouble in Veñaza City.

I wonder if there’s two versions of a Hell-Bard. The original person before the change and the Hell-Bard Persona that was manifested

“I want you to see the truth! I want you to face it, sir. I ain’t blind, you know—I’ve seen the marks on your chest, and on your arms! Just like the dead man in the cellar. We need answers, sir, and I think I know where—” “And I ain’t blind either, Cam.” Merik finally turned toward her. “I can see blighted well that you’re a girl.” For half a windswept breath, she gawped at him. Surprised. “Is that what you think I am? All this time, and you still haven’t sorted it out?” Then she barked a hollow laugh. “Why am I surprised? You didn’t notice me when we were on the Jana. You couldn’t even remember my name back then, so why should I expect you to understand—to see me for what I am now!” Cam thrust in closer, until there was nothing but her face mere inches away. Too close for Merik’s hot winds to even spiral between. “You think you’re so selfless,” she spat. “You think you’re working to save everyone, but what if you’re going about it all wrong? At least when I live as a boy, no one gets hurt. But you pretendin’ to be a martyr? Pretending to be the Fury? That hurts everyone.” Too far. Merik’s winds launched up, sweeping between them. Knocking Cam back and kicking books in all directions. But she wasn’t finished. She wasn’t even fazed. She just stretched to her fullest height and roared, “Stop seeing what you want to see, Merik Nihar, and start seeing what’s really here!” Then she launched past him, aiming for the door. It slammed, leaving him alone with his winds, his rage, a...

Oh Merik….

Dead grass is awakened by fire, dead earth is awakened by rain. One life will give way to another, the cycle will begin again.

“What was it like, being a monk?” She stepped closer. Three more kicks, and he moved to squats. One, two— “Anyone can become a monk,” she went on, striding in front of him now. “Regardless of their background or their”—she waved at him—“witchery.” “No.” Aeduan knew he ought to leave this conversation and the Threadwitch alone, but he couldn’t let her words—false as they were—hang between them. “Trust me, Threadwitch,” he huffed between squats, “monks can be as cruel as the rest of humanity. They simply do it in the name of the Cahr Awen.” “You left because of cruelty?” Aeduan paused at the top of his next squat. The girl’s face was blank, and even her expressive nose was completely still. He sighed. “Simply because I have lost faith in the cause doesn’t mean the training has lost all of its usefulness.”

“I didn’t challenge you,” she said coolly. “Getting too close is considered a challenge in most cultures.” “Then teach me.” His eyebrows lifted. “What you just did, pinning me like that. Teach me, so I won’t make the same mistake again.” “We don’t have time for that.” He shook his head, and then with great deliberation, he turned his back on the Threadwitch. She attacked. And Aeduan smiled.

Just kiss ya two please

“She deserves no less!” came the muffled reply. Then an impassioned, “Why should we take only pieces of the Sand Sea when we could have all of Marstok instead?” A moment of crackling silence while the blood seemed to drained from Vaness’s face. Then a choked cry split her lips. She lurched from her stool and to the window. Before anyone could stop her, she had the shutters yanked open. “Stand down!” she shrieked as smoke billowed in. “As your empress, I order you to stand down!” “For the Sand Sea! For the Sand Sea!”

Plans always backfires

“On our honor,” Caden croaked, the words seeming to take great effort—and to cause great pain—“we won’t hurt you.” It was the first assertion from a Hell-Bard that rang against Safi’s magic, and it was true. “We won’t capture you again,” he went on, his face screwed tighter. “We’ll all escape together.” Still true, true, true—there was no denying it. Safi’s magic was alight with the honesty in his words, and though it made no sense to her, she couldn’t deny what she saw. What she felt. “Free them!” she shrieked at Vaness.

Is the noose what powers the Hell-Bards powers? Or perhaps it what binds their previoud selves

There are degrees of everything, Caden had said the day before, which doesn’t fit well into your true-or-false view of the world.

She was broken. She was useless. She was the pointless half of a friendship. The one who would live forever in shadows, no matter what she did. No matter whom she fought.

“At the Monastery,” he went on, releasing her, “they taught us that when the Paladins betrayed each other, they fought their final battle here. Their deaths cursed the soil, so no man can ever claim the Contested Lands. I think it all a lie, though.” “Why?” He took a moment to answer, his hand flexing, as if she’d squeezed too tight. “Because,” he said eventually, the slightest frown marring his brow, “it is always easier to blame gods or legends than it is to face our own mistakes. This land is no more cursed than any other. It is simply steeped in too much blood.”

“Merry,” she said at last, a breathy, almost chuckling sound, “you look awful.”

It was like the smoke from Admiral Kahina’s pipe. Except … this was magic. This was wrong. It set Safi’s skin, her witchery to shuddering. Her gut rebelled too, for this was torture. Plain and simple. Whatever that noose did, without it, the Hell-Bard was in agony.

I sense that Hell-Bards don't cleave… I wonder why.

Why did he have to find her? Iseult wondered, heat splintering through her shoulder blades. For if Aeduan hadn’t found this child, then Iseult wouldn’t have to continue alone. Safi was southeast; Safi was all that mattered. Safi was the rose in the sunshine, and Iseult was the shadow behind. Without her, Iseult was just a bumbling collection of thoughts that constantly led her astray. Safi was the Cahr Awen. Iseult was merely the girl who wished she could be. Iseult hated herself for that truth, but there it was. She wanted to go after Safi; she wanted Aeduan to lead the way; she wished this child would simply disappear. Monster, she told herself. You’re a monster.

Oh Iseult

The next moment, Merik was trapped in black. No up. No down. No sensing where he ended and the shadows began. Eclipse. That sensation of light where there was none, of pain with no source. He fumbled forward, but there was no wall to guide him. Nothing at all to grab hold of. Only the words slinking up from behind. “That song isn’t Nubrevnan, you know.” The voice was so close. A claw to scrape down Merik’s spine. “The fool brothers are older than this city, their tale brought down through the mountains. Back when I had a different name. Back before I became the saint you call the Fury.” A wind trickled against Merik’s face. He inhaled deep, letting air circle to him. Letting magic gather in. He could feel the tunnel now. Could feel the floods approaching to his right. All he had to do was run. Or so he thought as he kicked into a jog. The shadow man laughed. “Oh, Threadbrother, you should not have used your magic near me.” With that statement, Merik went rigid. Threadbrother. It … couldn’t be.

Kullen ;(

And there it was—that was who she was. Split right down the middle, she bore her father’s strength, her father’s drive. She carried her mother’s compassion, her mother’s love for Nubrevna. As that certainty settled over Vivia’s heart, she knew exactly what she had to do. It was time to be the person she should have been all along.

Sotar hollered for her to stop. “The fire will kill you!” Of course it would. Vivia knew that death awaited her on the water-bridge. Those black, unnatural flames would hit her skin and burn, unsated, until they hit the bone. But Vivia also knew that she could not leave thousands of people—her people—to die. If the dam broke, the seafire would only spread. First the city would burn. Then the city would drown. Vivia dove headfirst into the wharf. Through smoke, through flame, until she was too far below for the seafire’s bite to reach her. Then she swam as fast as her magic would carry her onto the northern water-bridge.

🥺🥺🥺

The Firewitch collapsed. Dead.

And stay down

Now here he was, facing it again. Remains. A corpse. Horrifying, yet unmistakable, even as his mind whispered, Stop seeing what you want to see. Kullen spotted Merik. Lightning flashed, illuminating a toothy smile. His lips stretched in a way that was simultaneously familiar and thoroughly inhuman. Black winds spiraled endlessly behind him, carrying debris, autumn leaves, and sage. “No words of welcome, Threadbrother?” “You aren’t my Threadbrother.” Merik was shocked by how evenly his voice came out. “I saw my Threadbrother die.” “You saw me cleave.” Kullen spread his arms, almost languidly, and lightning laced from his fingertips. “Cleaving need not be the end, though.”

Then cleaving… Depending on the person could theoretically make them strong? Physically change them and emotionally warped them???

She clasped it tight, her fingers lacing between his. Together they ran.

Iseult nodded, as if this plan suited her. For some reason, the movement bothered him. Her easy acceptance made his lungs stretch tight.

Which left Aeduan, as always, on the edge of a scene, watching while the world unfolded without him beneath a darkening sky.

Safi forced herself to keep speaking. “How can you tell what my magic is? What is it that Hell-Bards do? You told me if we survived that you would explain.” “I was hoping you would forget that.” His eyes flicked up. “Can’t trick a Truthwitch, I suppose.” “Answer the question.” “Let’s just say…” He chewed his lip for a moment. “Let’s just say that we Hell-Bards were once heretics too. Just like you.” Here he paused to set aside the bloodied linen and grasp the needle once more. “Our magics were taken away from us, Domna, as punishment. Now we serve the man who took them from us. To remove the noose is to die.”

“It’s beautiful,” Cam said beside Merik, her left hand held across her heart. The healers had told her to stand that way, and for once she was doing what she’d been told. No, no, not “she,” he reminded himself. Cam was a boy, and though Merik wasn’t used to that yet—to thinking of Cam as a “he”—they had weeks of travel ahead. Plenty of time in which Merik could retrain his mind.

I’m glad that despite the rough tackling of a trans character it wasn’t a huge problem. Cam was Cam and it was everyone else struggles with it and I’m glad to see Merik finally seeing that

Merik had forgiven Ryber too, for leaving him in the Nihar Cove. For keeping her secrets, and even for claiming Kullen’s heart, Kullen’s time, Kullen’s love. After all, both Cam and Ryber had come back for Merik when no one else had. Well, no one but Vivia. He smiled at them then. He couldn’t help it. “Come,” he said, slinging his bag onto his back. For the first time in weeks, he felt alive. “We’ve a long way to go, and the sun will be gone soon.” Then Merik Nihar set off, content with no riches, no gold, and no crown, as long as he had friends by his side.

I love how she ended this book. Best way