Windwitch (The Witchlands, #2)

by Susan Dennard

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.

Only now, now that she couldn’t have this one huge dream that she’d been whispering to herself couldn’t possibly be true … That she was part of the Cahr Awen. Only now did she realize how hungry she’d actually been for it.

pain was her lesson for dreaming too big.

“Yet men have always believed that they know better than those who came before.

Vivia stood. She was outnumbered, and she only had this blade to protect her since no water was near. It didn’t matter, though. This girl was threatened; Vivia would help.

Merik simply laughed at that—as if blades mattered to his winds. To his rage.

Merik straightened, lifting the man’s cutlass with both hands. Ready—hungry—for the retribution that lived within this steel. He would sever the neck, the arteries, the spine—

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.

“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.”

“Oh, Threadbrother, you should not have used your magic near me.” With that statement, Merik went rigid. Threadbrother. It … couldn’t be.

There was so much she wanted to say as they shambled toward the surface. A thousand questions, a thousand apologies, and a thousand gruff older-sister criticisms. Yet like the water, fast building in the plateau, all these words Vivia yearned to say had nowhere to go. They simply pressed against her ribs, bowed against her mind. So in the end, she said nothing at all.

The holiest always have the farthest to fall.

He’d seen what he’d wanted to see, even though, in the deepest furrows of his mind, he’d known Vivia was not the enemy. He had simply needed someone to blame for his own failings.

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.

“Yet only in death, could they understand life. And only in life, will they change the world.”

War is senseless. She’d always thought he’d meant it figuratively. Now she knew he’d meant it exactly as he’d said. War was senseless, overwhelming her sight, her touch, her hearing. Even her witchery. Every piece of Iseult was crushed. Crumbled. Shattered to shreds.

It made no sense. A child who could move the earth. A child who could control a mountain bat. Yet there was no denying what Iseult saw.

Then together, the three of them continued up the rainy cliffside while a creature of legend, a creature of battlefields, cleared the path ahead.

This was not the Threadwitch who had cornered Aeduan beside a bear trap. Nor the Threadwitch who’d sparred with him that very morning. This was a woman changed.

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.

“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.”

Otherwise, you’ll run off and then the emperor will hang use all

Us* Damn typos…

She realized she was smiling then—though over Aeduan, over the wish, or over Safi, she couldn’t quite say.

“Let us never forget my brother, the prince of Nubrevna, and the admiral of the navy, Merik Nihar. For though we cannot always see the blessing in the loss…” “… strength is the gift of our Lady Baile.” The room shook from all voices rising as one. “And she will never abandon us.”

Then Merik Nihar set off, content with no riches, no gold, and no crown, as long as he had friends by his side.