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Chapter Text

“Down, down, down the road 
Down the witches' road 
Blood and Tears and bone 
Together and alone 
If I can't reach you 
Let my song teach you 
All you need to keep our love alive 
If I can't hold you 
Remember what I told you 
It's the only way we survive 
We Survive.” 

The Ballad of The Witches' Road (cover version) 
Marvel 

Prologue  

What is the end? A moment before dawn? Or sunset?  

Philosophical shit, Rina thought. The end was not as simple as the end of some period. If it were that simple, there would be endings every day. What is the end? 

If Rina had to guess who was the instigator of shit, she would blame the feas. Most of those bastard had spent too much time on the bottle bottom, locked in their immortal solitude in the middle of the woods, in a tall tower. And the thousand-year-old fea bastard in the tower would then have grabbed a pen and scribbled his own philosophical reflections on the only vestigial piece of paper left. 

Rina appreciated immortality. The kind of immortality in which people still talked about a person a thousand years after them died. Immortality in the truest sense of the word... Rina didn't know how to deal with it. The idea of a long life - to see what the world would be like in a hundred, or even a thousand years... What would she do with all that time? 

What would it feel like a hundred years from now when all the people she knew were dead and she was still alive? 

Rina stared frustratedly at the piano keys. As if they could offer her an answer. The immortals hardly thought about what it would be like to live forever. They lived from a human point of view forever. They had time to do anything. And most of them wasted it sitting in towers philosophizing. 

But Rina thought about it. Think about time and her own time... which was suddenly five hundred years instead of eighty. Her mother was a witch. That's okay. Rina could have survived the thought that her other parent was not human. But the immortality thing... it bothered Rina. 

All her life she had believed that she was human. And suddenly, everything she had believed was taken away from her. Dad could even have warned. But no! He had remained a sheathmouth, like a garden pet carps. Rina was not – was not – human. It hurt to realize that. 

But she wasn't a witch either. 

Rina didn't have witches' innate... helps. No ironnails, or ironteeth. Just a divine appearance, but it was nothing new for Rina. She had always been beautiful. And ruthlessly exploited it. 

Her thoughts returned like a boomerang to previous reflections. What was the end? 

Now Rina believed she knew the answer to the old fea’s bastard's question. The rest was deaths. It all ended in death. But... 

The moon's rays shone on the piano's black and white keys. The end was the beginning. They were opposing forces. One could not exist without the other. Nothing could end without something new beginning. Some part of Rina's life had come to an end. Is this what growing up was? 

Long slender fingers landed on the keys of the piano. They searched for their place for a moment before calming down. That was a while. Rina hadn't play... What, for five years? Not then Omega mountain. That, too, had been an ending. One death. 

And, perhaps, human life was just that. Endings. And new beginnings. Deaths and rebirths. No matter how much of a witch Rina was, her heart was undoubtedly human. The periods of her life were short. They left scars. Physical and mental. 

Rina's hands did not tremble as she pressed the first chord to the keys. A quiet, timid tune took flight, like a butterfly. It bounced along the moonlit wall. From one echo chamber to another for other instruments. A vibration passed through Rina. 

She moved her fingers and made more noises. More tunes burst into the air like a flock of birds. Rina remembered how much she had once loved that. How it had felt to bring the notes to life. Then that too was turned against her. And Rina hadn't wanted to... No, she hadn't been able to play. Music had once been a lifeline. One of many in this glass castle abandoned by the gods. Rina knew what it felt like to choke behind walls. Dig into the sky among the birds. Be ground-bound. 

More tunes. 

Rina played. For the first time in many years, she actually played. It was a kind of flying. Freedom... the freedom that Rina had longed for all her life without knowing why. The tunes were intertwined. The notes went into dance with the rays of the moon. The song grew and formed. Approaching its end. The end of one time. Rina didn't realize she was crying until the first tears fell on the keyboards. And still only Rina played. Because of everything that has happened. 

Because of her father, who had hidden this from her. Because of the king, whose insatiable thirst for blood had brought witches to Adralan. Because of thirteen witches. Because of her... because of her mother, who had left her to her father. 

The last notes rang out from the piano when the song stopped. They were left echoing in the music parlour, as if desperately holding on to their lives. The song was over. Rina was dead again. 

But there were no endings without beginnings. 

"To understand the present, we need to understand the past,” Rina said to the empty room, knowing that the person standing behind the door would hear. 

"And I'd like to understand it.” Rina turned towards the door. “Are you going to stand there all night or would you come all the way inside?" 

For a while, nothing happened. Ago... The door opened up. And a woman stepped into the moon's rays. No. Not a woman. Witch. 

The witch's hair was snow-white. Skin pale. The face was beautiful like an fea queen. The body was a polished weapon. Fast and deadly. Rina's eyes were lit with burning gold as Manon Blackbeak met her daughter gaze. 

Rina smiled slightly, making room for the piano bench. “We have all night," she said casually and patted the place beside her. “And I've always liked stories." There was a crack in the severe mask of Manon's death. Rina saw the nervousness smouldering under the witch's skin. The last time they had been in this room, Rina had yelled at her. Accused her. She was still angry. Enraged. But Rina was a diplomat. She wanted to hear all points of view. 

"I guess you have a story for me," Rina said and smiled. The smile was not feigned, but also not friendly. Rina wondered how many had made the cruel heir of the Blackbeaks squirm. Well, Rina could now put her name on that list. 

Manon's lips parted, and then she pressed her mouth shut. Rina raised her other eyebrow. Challenged the witch standing in front of her. 

That settled the matter. Manon stepped forward. Towards Rina. Rina didn't move, but she felt the threads of fate moving. Weaving again. A creative new path. A new life path that she could follow if she wanted. The Witch's Way. 

This would be interesting. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 1  

“Now hush, little baby, don't you cry 
Everything's gonna be alright 
Stiffen that upper lip up, little lady, I told ya 
Daddy's here to hold ya through the night 
I know mommy's not here right now and we don't know why 
We feel how we feel inside 
It may seem a little crazy, pretty baby 
But I promise mama's gon' be alright.” 
Eminem 
Mockingbird 

Dorian ran his arms along the witch's scarred body. Manon had tilted her head in pleasure, letting her white hair spread out on the pillows. Beautiful golden eyes were closed. The tips of iron theet peeked out of the ajar mouth. Dorian smiled gloomily and ran his fingers along the witch's inner thighs, coaxing out a small moan. 

"Are you pleading?" Dorian inquired and leaned over Manon. Golden eyes opened. Long, blonde eyelashes rubbed against her cheeks. “You think too much of yourself," Manon purred, sounding as harmless as a mountain cat. Dorianin ilme kiristyi. Staring directly into the witch's eyes, he did with her fingers what would have made any other woman pray more. More and more... But Manon was not a woman. She was a witch. A decades-old killer. 

Dorian never forgot it. Never while fighting for power with Manon. The witch was dangerous and one ill-advised move from Dorian could kill him. That was the most arousing thing about the nights. The dangerous lap dance of death. Manon was not soft. She wouldn't go broke. As Sorscha had gone. 

Dorian stopped when the memory of the healer came to his mind. Sorscha had been soft and gentle . Her hands were not hardened from the use of weapons. Sorscha had been a dedicated healer . Sh e who had helped Dorian hide her magic at the very beginning. When he hadn't been able to control it...  

"Is that how you normally make women moan, princeling?” Manon's quiet voice awakened Dorian from his thoughts. As he turned his attention to the witch's face, he saw a mocking grin raised on her beautiful face. Manon half sat up. Golden eyes had a dangerous sheen. "Are the ladies of the court so destitute that your repetitive groping causes them to be triggered?" 

Repetitive groping? Dorian raised his brow. "I used to think you like where my hand is." To reinforce the words, Dorian flexed his fingers slightly. Manon took a sharp breath. Her sharp nails—thank Gods the iron nails were hidden—pressed into Dorian's shoulders. “I thought so," Dorian muttered, rewarded with an angry glare. He just grinned in response. "Is it the best you can do?" Manon groaned as she regained control of her breathing. Dorian's grin widened. The next movement of her hand caused Manon to gasp sharply and fall back onto the pillows."Tell me," Dorian purred, bending down to press his mouth to the witch's dangerous lips. Manon deepened the kiss by pulling Dorian's tongue into her mouth. The witch softly to abbear his lower lip with her iron teeth. 

It was Dorian's turn to take a sharp breath. He felt a small sting and how blood began to run down his chin. He felt Manon's predator's smile against his mouth as his tongue licked the blood that had fallen on his chin. "It doesn't take much to please a woman. But how many witches have you slept with, princeling?” The witch withdrew from the kiss to smile. Her lips glistened with Dorian's blood. 

Dorian didn't immediately answer anything. He stuck his fingers deep into the witch's white hair. Caressed the snow-white strands. “Don't you care how I normally treat my lovers?”He asked a counter-question. 

Manon snorted. "I'm not interested in people's issues.” Dorian pressed Manon against the mattress. Manon grunted, but Dorian ignored it. He pressed his lips to the witch's pale neck, feeling the pounding pulse beneath her skin. “Normally I take my mistress to a ball,” Dorian said, moving his mouth against Manon's neck. The witch managed to chuckle breathlessly. "If you think I'm interested in seeing one of the castle ball, you're wrong." 

Dorian didn't seem to hear. "I give them beautiful gifts," he continued, pressing a bloody kiss under the witch's ear. "I give them everything they want. Jewellery, dress..." 

Manon groaned, and before Dorian could even realize it, he found himself lying beneath Manon. And that the witch's iron nails had pressed against his throat. “The only gift you could give me," the witch purred lowly, bending over right in front of Dorian's face. “Would be your heart in a velvet box." 

Dorian looked Manon straight in the eye. "If I gave you my heart in a velvet box, would you come with me to the castle ball?" 

"Are you listening at all, prince?" 

::::::: 

Dorian Havilliard woke up from his memory in the middle of one of his father's - King of Adralan – on war negotiations. All the Soviet members sitting at the table, the generals, and even the guards standing in the corners of the room stared at him. Chaol raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. 

Dorian sighed and turned towards his father, whose black eyes were enraged. "Of course I listened," Dorian replied. He wasn't, but the conversation had stalled for the last three hours. He didn't expect anything new to come up while he had sunk into his thoughts to escape boredom. "Continue to think that attacking the Terrasen is not profitable.” 

Judging by the reaction to his words, the Council had not made any progress in the debate. 

"Our neighbor country is ruled by an fea," the king grumbled. “Don't you think the attack is worthwhile?" Dorian sighed. He had gone through a hundred different variations of this conversation. Everyone had come to the same conclusion. Adralan couldn't trust Aelin Galthinus, who was barely nineteen years old. She had slaughtered the human of Terrasen. How could Adralan be sure that Aelin didn't want the whole continent for himself? 

Dorian hadn't pointed out that those intentions sounded more like his father's secret plans. Besides, the humans who had died in the Terrasen Civil War had been responsible for the death of the young queen's parents. It was treason. Some of the humans in Terrasen were similar to most of Adralan's. They were afraid of magic. Feared and hated it. 

Three years ago, when Dorian's own magical powers had manifested, he had done his best to suppress them. He didn't want to know what his father would do to him. There were no feas in Adralan. No magic. And even if there had been... so. People rumored to have magical powers mysteriously disappeared. In the same way as Sorscha. 

Even two years later. Even after Manon...The memory of Sorscha still hurts. It was no longer the same pain. Not the pain that had caused Dorian to throw himself headfirst into danger. To forget even for a moment the burning rage and sorrow that Sorscha's death had caused. For she was dead. Dorian knew it instinctively. 

First there had been an arrest - which Dorian had learned of hours later from Chaol. From the only person who had known about their relationship – and then... She just disappeared. All over. There was no body. No birth certificate. The king of Adralan had completely wiped out Sorscha. As if she never existed. 

Dorian had been furious when she heard of Sorscha's arrest. He had rushed into his father's study and sought an explanation. Through this, the king had learned about the relationship between Dorian and Sorscha. And through that, later, the mother. Mother had been disappointed, father furious. 

The king of Adralan had claimed that Sorscha was a spy for Terrasen. What Dorian hadn't agreed to believe. And the healer had disappeared before Dorian had heard it from her. 

Sorscha had been Dorian's first love. Falling in love had been quick, intoxicating. And that had made Dorian think about abdicating the throne. Now Dorian understood how stupid it had been. A young boy's dream. Sorscha could never have truly become Queen of Adralan. No, because his parents would never have accepted Sorscha as part of the royal family. A woman who had no family or wealth... She was easy to dispose of. Dorian had realized after Sorscha's disappearance that the only way he could prevent it from ever happening again was to become king. A good one. 

And by trying to prevent the king from starting a futile war, Dorian tried to ensure that more people—feas, witches—would no longer die in vain. Prejudice and fear did not justify killing people. Magic powers or not. 

"Terrasen is still recovering from his civil war. I don't think Aelin Galathyneus has the time or resources to attack,” Dorian said sharply. This meeting really got on his nerves. There were so many things Dorian would rather do than sit here. Rina had just learned to stand with support. Which often seemed to be Dorian's foot. 

Eight-month-old Rina was an energetic child who was a challenge to keep up. He had so far succeeded in charming every lady and courtier with whom the Queen had introduced her, despite Dorian's protests. He knew what mother was doing. And he didn't like it. If Dorian had been king- what he wasn't going to become for many more years, if it was up to his father – Rina would have become the next heir to the throne. 

But now, when all power was still in his parents' hands, they wanted to make Rina a bride above all else. Well-behaved wife. She was a princess - yes - but only because it would be easier for the father to form alliances with the help of his granddaughter. Rina was eight months, damn it! But the best engagements were arranged when the children could not yet resist the arrangement. Dorian did his best to resist his mother's efforts to find Rina's groom candidate, even before she could walk. Manon would never forgive him if Dorian allowed his mother to sell her daughter as a bride. 

Manon... Dorian did his best not to think about the witch. The feelings associated with her were... Complex. But it was very hard not to think of Manon when Rina looked just like her mother. 

There was Dorian in her, too. Oh yes. Absolutely was. Rina's black hair, curled up at her shoulders, was inherited from Dorian. Rina's ability to charm everything also undoubtedly came from Dorian. 

"All the more reason to attack now," One of the members of the Council said emphatically. "Before that fea bitch can assemble her army." 

Dorian knew Aelin. Not well. They had met a few times and in another world they might have been betrothed to each other. But Dorian knew that Aelin was only interested in Terrasen. Only her own home and kingdom. She was not a conqueror. Like the king of Adralan. Dorian didn't think his father would stop at Terrasen if he got his way. He would take over all of Erlea and destroy all magic. And Dorian wasn't going to let that happen. Not only because of Sorscha's memory. Not because of Aelin. Dorian believed it was right. He therefore started his campaign – which he had hitherto led alone – to prevent war. It had been enough to at least slow down his father's plans. 

And now Dorian also had Rina. A cheerful little girl who had been entrusted to his care. So that she does not have to grow up in the midst of bloodshed. Therefore, Manon had handed over her daughter to him. To keep Rina away from the horror of witches' lives. 

Because of Rina, Dorian was willing to do anything. Daughter - his daughter. Even six months later, it was hard to believe – the greatest bright spot and joy of Dorian's life. And speaking of which... 

The chair scratched against the floor as Dorian stood up. “The meeting is not over yet," father said sharply. Dorian didn't seem to hear. “We all know that Terrasen is not a real threat. You can go on with this stupid debate, but enough is enough for me! I have better things to do than sit here. I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I'm going to see my daughter now." 

And so well Dorian marched out of the conference room. It wasn't until he reached the corridor that he noticed Chaoli following. “It was dramatic," the guard captain commented. Dorian sighed and rubbed his forehead. He already felt the beginning of the headache. “However, I was right. Terrasen is not the real threat," he pointed out. 

Chaol nodded. "That's the hardest thing for them to admit." 

Those old suspicious assholes would never admit that they were just old suspicious assholes. 

:::::: 

Manon tilted her head. She pressed her nails deeper into the man's tanned neck. The scar left by her teeth was still visible on the side of the man's neck. Manon's brand. That's what made Dorian her prey. 

"It might be hard for you to take me to a prom without a heart, ” Manon purred in a low voice, bending over right in front of the princeling's face . Dorian smiled. That infuriating flirty smile that made Manon angry and want to twist the bottom of Manon's stomach . Dorian's lower lip was still bleeding.  

Manon bent over and pulled her tongue over the wound . Dorian's taste spread to her mouth, but before she could pull back, the Princeling's hand was in her hair . Their lips met and Dorian pulled her tongue into her mouth.  

As she withdrew, Manon had to take a few extra breaths. Manon hated Dorian's influence on her. 

"I'd come up with something," Dorian said hoarsely. His fingers ran caressing along Manon's hair. Manon snorted and in turn inserted her own fingers into Dorian's hair. "You think too much of yourself again." 

Their dominance changed again and Manon again found herself lying under Dorian. “ Do I think too much of myself if I try to persuade a beautiful woman to join me at a ball? ”  The princeling inquired with a grin. Manon raised her eyebrows. "I'm not a woman."  

Dorian chuckled. His hand ran along Manon's shoulder . Rose to the face. "I'd pay you a beautiful party dress ,” she said, brushing Manon's lower lip with her fingers.  

Manon chuckled softly. Snapped the skin of his thumb and again felt the taste of the boy's blood on her tongue. “What else?" Manon asked, pulling her tongue over Dorian's new wound. The prince's taste was more different than that of any other human she tasted. Perhaps it was due to magic. 

"Beautiful jewelry," Dorian offered. His other hand ran along Manon's leg. Gravitated towards his still sensitive center. “And you think it's enough to get me to a mortal ball?" Manon asked. Dorian smiled and pressed his lips to Manon's. Manon greedily replied to the kiss. She stuck her fingers into Dorian's curly hair and pulled him closer. “In a week's time there will be a ball here," Dorian said against her lips. 

"May I invite you to be my companion."  

Manon had withdrawn from the kiss and looked into Dorian's sapphire blue eyes . Sh e later blamed the lapse or claimed to herself that someone else had spoken through her, for she replied: “ Shall I have your heart in a velvet box then?"  

Dorian smiled. That cursed, flirty smile that no mortal should have been capable of . “ Of course, the witchling. I treat my mistresses well."  

Manon rolled her eyes . Dorian was not her lover. He may have had a moment's fun, but nothing more.  

"Alright, then," Manon said, shrugging her shoulders. She pulled Dorian into another kiss.  

Manon hadn't known what she agreed to. But those words "alright, then" had finally created Rina. 

::::::: 

Manon Blackbeak stared expressionlessly at the wall of her grandmother's office, waiting for the witch to pay attention to her. 

Manon had had a miserable night as hell. Actually, all the nights in the last six months had been miserable. Manon had woken up in the middle of the night trembling from a nightmare in which Baba the Yellowleg - the late Matron of the Yellowlegs - murdered her baby - her two-month-old baby, little Rina. A crunch had echoed in Manon's head when she woke up. 

Instinctively, she had frantically searched for a small shape in her bed, but feeling nothing but emptiness around her, she had rushed to the bathroom. 

She had spent the next quarter vomiting her insides in a bucket with her knees against the cold tiles in the bathroom. When everything came up, she had been left lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Rina was not dead. She reminded herself of it every time a nightmare pulled her from her sleep. Rina - her daughter and the best achievement of her dark, miserable life - had not died on that fateful day in the woods when Baba Yellowleg and her witch circles had attacked her. Rina had survived. Manon had survived. All Thirteen had survived. 

Yet there was an empty hole in Manon's chest that had once housed a place for her daughter. And while he was still alive and safe, hidden behind Adralan's walls, that still didn't stop Manoni's raging despair. 

She wanted her daughter back. She missed Rina so much. It tore her to pieces during the day. Killed every night. And the worst part was that Manon had to pretend that everything was as before. That, confronting her grandmother, Manon could not express her knowledge of what she had done to Asterin. What would have done to her. Or, if Baba Yellowleg was to be believed, what she would have done to Rina. 

Asterin had found Manon lying on the bathroom floor, staring into the void. The cousin hadn't said anything. She had just poured water into the bathtub and then helped Manon into the water. She had fetched food and ordered someone—Vesta and Sorrel, as Manon later learned—behind the door to stand guard. 

Manon hadn't moved from her seat when Asterin returned. She had spent the whole morning in the tub brushing her stomach and the linea negra that cut through it. An eternal reminder of the pregnancy she had gone through. 

At times it was a beautiful memory. Sometimes it was more painful than any of Manon's battle scars. It wasn't until her grandmother's invitation to come into her office that Manon got up. She was dressed and fitted to her face with her cruel mask. Grandmother wouldn't know how much Manon suffered deep down. It was bad enough that some mornings Manon couldn't get up. Thirteen were allowed to work to hide the deteriorating condition of their leader. If the ability and strength of the Thirteen were to be doubted, it could endanger more than Manon's position as heir and the Thirteen's leader of witches. 

Therefore, Manon now stood in her grandmother's study, staring into the void, waiting for the old witch to speak to her. Asterin was on the other side of the door. And probably eavesdropped in case Manon needed help. 

"You've been a burden to me for the past few months, Manon,” Grandmother began, not turning to look at her. 

Manon said nothing. That would be of no use. And after all, Grandmother was right. Manon hadn't left Blackbeak's keep for six months. It was part of the grandmother's punishment with which she had tried to humiliate Manon and the Thirteen. She wanted all the Blackbeaks to see how Manon was restored to her place and Manon to be reminded that she was not above her grandmother's orders. She and Thirteen had been gone too long. After the wounds from the flogging, the Thirteen had received only minor assignments outside the Blackbeaks keep. Manon had not been allowed to leave at all. It was relieving and excruciating. Grandmother wanted Manon to feel useless. She wanted to show that without her grandmother, Manon was nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

Manon didn't have the strength to care. She hardly had the strength to pretend to be okay in front of her grandmother and other witches. She really couldn't care about her grandmother's petty punishments. 

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Grandmother asked. Manon sighed inward. "You're right," she said in a completely insensitive voice. Somehow she managed to prevent her exhaustion from hearing. 

Grandmother still hadn't turned to her, but Manon sensed irritation radiating from the Matron. "I have new commandments for you and the Thirteen," Grandmother said, putting her pen down on the table next to her papers. The faint autumn light filtered through the window and illuminated Grandmother's black, shiny hair, which was beginning to show a hint of grey. 

Manon tore her cuticles, waiting for her grandmother to continue. Before, she had been able to stand without moving, now too long immobility made her restless. She had to fight with herself so that she wouldn't start nervously changing weight from one leg to the other. 

"Baba Yellowleg is dead," Grandmother said, causing Manon to freeze completely in place, like an ice statue. Grandmother continued and Manon was grateful that she still had her back. “Baba and her whole coven had been slaughtered,” The matron continued, completely unaware of the emotions running through Manon. Horror, relief and – cruel pleasure. 

"The Yellowlegs have been looking for murderers and have declared vendetta. I want you to keep your second close to you when you leave Blackbeak keep. I don't want to look for a new heir." 

Manon felt her shoulders stiffen. "I know how to take care of myself," she said, her voice sharpening. The Matron snorted. "Baba Yellowleg was hundreds of years older than you. Still, someone managed to surprise her and kill her. You'll be glad if you become even half such a good witch!" 

Manon had to hold back a mocking smile. She knew what had happened to Baba Yellowleg. She herself had struck a deadly blow. 

"Command me and I will obey," Manon said, burying her memories of Baba Yellowleg's cries of pain. She had spent many minutes ripping Baba's iron nails off the old witch's fingers. 

"I want you to find Baba Yellowleg wagon. Their content...” Grandmother finally turned to look at Manon. An unholy desire burned in the black eyes. “Baba Yellowleg Mirror Collection is one of the most precious treasures of iron-toothed witches. And of course, let's not forget the crown of the Queen of Corcha." 

Manon remained expressionless, even as questions swarmed inside her. “Don't the wagons belong to the Yellowlegs?" Manon had to ask. 

Grandmother waved her iron nails hand. They flashed in the lukewarm light of the sun. "Even Yellowlegs don't know where Baba hid her wagon,” The Matron said. "I know the Bluebloods are scouring the country looking for them. Our spotters reported a few clashes between the Bluebloods and Yellowlegs." 

Manon nodded. Grandmother continued: “I want you to find them before anyone else. Blackbeaks fighters won the war. The crown of the Corchans belongs to us. And the mirrors of Baba Yellowleg will increase our power." 

Grandmother's power, Manon thought, but didn't let her thoughts show on her face. The High Witch of the Blackbeaks wanted to increase her power. And would do so by any means. 

"Command me and I will obey," Manon said steadfastly. Grandmother turned back to her papers. "I want you and your witches scattered around Adralan. That's where Baba Yellowleg was last seen with her wagon." 

If Grandmother had faced Manon, she would have seen the shock running down her face. How her eyes widened and her mouth opened wide as Manon breathed sharply. Adralan...Adralan...Rifthold...Dorian - Rina!  

"You're leaving in the morning," Grandmother said, not noticing Manon's reaction. She glanced over her shoulder and Manon quickly fitted his obedient heir's mask on her face. "Don't disappoint me." 

Manon touched her forehead with two fingers and barely managed not to tremble. Rina, Rina, Rina...”Like you want grandmother." 

::::::: 

Dorian was meticulous. Harvesting for the masquerade dance – the last of the fall season – was only a week away and he had a lot to do. In addition to meetings and other court meetings, he had to try on his own costume – and, of course, order Manon's. Dorian wasn't one hundred percent sure the witchling would show up, but he prepared himself as best he could. 

He did not have Manon's exact measurements, but he had ordered dress for his mistresses before . Dorian relied on his own estimate . The seamstress—a young man with glasses constantly sliding down the bridge of his nose—raised his eyebrows when he heard Dorian's plea.  

"Do you have a new mistress whom you are leaving,” The seamstress asked as he wrote down dimensions given by Dorian. It was true that Dorian often ordered such expensive clothes when he was going to abandon his current bed partner. Usually, expensive gifts prevented women from getting very angry when Dorian left them. 

Now Dorian grinned. "Quite the opposite," he replied. “Rather, I hoped that she would not leave me.” Manon's visits to Dorian had never been regular. Manon's visits to Dorian had never been regular. 

Manon had visited Dorian's bed five times and Dorian hoped the witchling wouldn't get bored with him. It wasn't just about lust. No. Manon was the drug that got Dorian's mind off Sorcha. And he did his best to keep the witchling interested. Dorian didn't know what he would do if the witchling didn't return. He needed Manon's sense of danger, the adrenaline that made him feel alive. Without it...Even now, Dorian could only live day in and day out by reminding him that Manon would return to him. Some evening. If the intervals between visits dragged on, Dorian's thoughts returned to Sorscha and the pain returned. A heart-wrenching pain Dorian didn't think he could cope. Didn't know if he even wanted to survive. 

Wasting a small fortune on a formal dress was nowhere to be felt . If only that were enough for Manon to keep going.  

The seamstress raised one eyebrow and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Oh. What color dress do you think your companion wants. Golden, yellow, orange? Something like autumn colors?" 

Dorian amused himself for a moment at the thought of Manon in an orange suit before saying: "Blood red. Black lace. Black corset." 

The seamstress looked up from the paper on which he had written Dorian's order . “ Are you sure, my lord?" he asked. "Isn't that a bit... dark?"  

"Make it scary. Something like that, ” Dorian nodded towards one of the sketches behind the man . The seamstress looked at the sketch Dorian had referred to, and Dorian could have sworn that his face turned pale. “ Your Highness," stammered the seamstress, "it's a very complex design and takes a long time to sew. And I don't know if it's very suitable for a woman of your worth. I don't know..."  

"I'll pay triple if you finish it before the end of the week. And women worthy of me don't belong to you," Dorian interrupted the seamstress. The man's cheeks flushed when he heard Dorian's words.“Of course, of course," he hurried to say quickly, forcing a painful smile on his face. "The mask is probably the same color scheme." 

"Of course," Dorian said. Soon after, she left the seamstress's house satisfied and the purse much lighter . H e had paid half the amount in advance, with him thanking his profusely for his generosity . Dorian trusted that the seamstress would also keep her mouth shut in exchange for the amount of money. H e didn't want anyone to find out he had a companion before ball night . Except... He would be forced to tell Mother. Dorian needed something from her.  

Dorian found Queen Georgiane in the living area of his apartment reading a tall stack of papers . Next to him was a cooled teacup . “ Dorian," said the queen, seeing her son at the door.  

"What brings you here?" there was an appraising look in the green eyes. Dorian smiled at his mother and entered the room. "I need a piece of jewelry from you," Dorian began, stopping in front of his mother. 

Curiosity flashed in the green eyes, which the queen quickly hidden. “What exactly?" he asked, picking up his chilled tea from the table. The tea had suddenly warmed up again to steaming. Dorian knew his mother would be more willing over a hot cup of tea. 

"I need Heart of Adralan."  

The Queen nearly gushed her freshly drunk tea out of her mouth.  

::::::: 

Dorian pushed the door to Rina's room open, not bothering to knock. He was greeted with a delighted squeal and an angelic face turned to a smile. Rina sat on the floor, squeezing Hugo the raven—her favorite toy—by the neck. Dorian had long wondered how many injuries and traumas Hugo had after Rina's abuse. 

Eight-month-old Rina barely noticed how violently she treated her bird stuffed toy. She dragged it with her everywhere, which was not appropriate for Dorian's mother. Geroriane thought the creature was ugly and tasteless. But Rina loved it above all else and refused to give it up - no matter what other toy was offered to her. 

Olga - Rina's wet nurse and nanny - sat on the floor with Rina and collected in a braided basket toys examined and abandoned by the little princess. Mother had tried again to get Rina to find a new favorite. 

Olga looked up, awakened by Rina's shriek of joy. A smile spread across her beautiful face when she spotted Dorian in the doorway. Olga was Rina's only nanny who had survived more than a week. She had appeared out of nowhere, so to speak, after Rina's fifth nanny had resigned after the first week, claiming the little girl was cursed. It was not entirely an invention of the nannies themselves. 

Olga stood up and shook her dark skirt. Olga looked young – barely in her twenties. Her own daughter had died a few days after birth, which is why she had sought wet nurse. 

Olga was Rina's closest equivalent to her mother, and within days Olga had adopted Rina as her daughter. Olga had black hair that reached her shoulders. Her eyes were the colour of freshly turned soil and her skin was pale. She was beautiful, and Dorian knew a few nobles had looked after the young nanny. 

But Olga was not interested in finding a husband for herself. She devoted herself entirely to her work of caring for Rina. Even the Queen had to admit that Olga did her job well. Rina was fundamentally suspicious. That's why so many nannies had given up. The little princess's trust was hard to win. But Olga had succeeded in it. At least as well as an outsider was able to win the trust of the witch's daughter. 

Dorian had always liked Olga. She was more relaxed and friendly than most of Rina's first nannies who left the castle swearing the child was cursed. Rina was not cursed. Just enchanted. 

Dorian answered Rina's smile as he leapt across the room and grabbed his daughter in his arms. Even he had a hard time seeing through the enchantment of his own creation some days. Sometimes Dorian had to focus seriously to see Rina's true face through the magic. Most people who saw Rina's face thought she was angelically beautiful with her pale skin and blue or, depending on the day, green eyes. 

Under the enchantment... Rina's skin was not only pale, but downright glowy. It seemed to glow with health and life. The curly, shoulder-length hair was shinier and blacker. The face was not only angelic, but breathtakingly beautiful. Just like her mother. 

And then there were the eyes. Not the blue ones, as some claimed. Not the greens, as Dorian's mother said. Rina's eyes were big, lined with thick lashes, and of different pairs. The left eye was burning golden, the right was sapphire blue. 

Doriania didn't think anyone besides her had seen Rina's real face. The nannies – who spent the most time with the child, much to Dorian's annoyance – had caught glimpses. That's the talk of a curse. 

Rina was too beautiful to be human. Dorian saw it because she knew how to look. Others saw what they wanted to see. A beautiful little girl who would one day become a wonderful wife. Some were more sensitive to Rina's abnormality. Some seemed to know that even though Rina's blood was red and stained the child's cheeks reddish, there was still something about her... Different. Manon had known that about her daughter. That's why she was here. Safe from the other witches, as Manon wasn't sure if Rina had enough witch. She wasn't sure if Rina would ever grow iron nails or ironteeth. 

Dorian pressed his giggling daughter to his chest and felt small fists clench into his jacket. "Have you been nice today?" Dorian muttered in his daughter's hair. Hugo the raven was caught between them. Rina gurgle something in her own tongue and laid her head on Dorian's shoulder. Dorian saw Olga open her mouth to answer his question about the day, but Rina got there first. 

When the little one had done this for the first time, Dorian was about to drop his then six-month-old daughter. A stream of thoughts, feelings, and fuzzy images struck Dorian's consciousness like a handful of pebbles. That's what Rina told him about her day. Relayed information directly to the brain of the opposing party. 

When Olga said, "Your mother brought a basket of stuffed animals today in the hope that Rina would fall in love with one of them," Dorian had seen each of the stuffed animals and felt Rina's thoughts about them. Rina had hated the grey teddy bear and the stuffed horse had been funny to her. Olga went on to talk about their outdoor activities, while Rina had already gotten back to her room in her own story just before Dorian arrived. The images ended when Rina had heard her father's footsteps. 

For reasons of courtesy, Dorian listened to Olgan's account of the things that Rina had already told him. 

Rina didn't do it with anyone else. Even with Chaol, who knew about it but had never experienced it. Dorian knew that Rina did not want to pass on her thoughts to others. He didn't trust Olga or even Chaol enough. 

"Oh," Dorian said as Olga finished her account. Rina looked at him cheerfully with her big eyes, smiled at the few teeth that had already erupted. Dorian knew that Rina had missed him. It was conveyed by the tone of thoughts. But there had been more to Dorian's longing. A fuzzy image of a white-haired and golden-eyed witch. It was Rina's way of asking "where's mother?"  

Even six months later, Rina still remembered her mother and regularly asked after her. Dorian didn't know when the inevitable would happen and Rina would forget her mother. The image of Manon in the little one's mind had already begun to disappear. Dorian should not remind Rina of her mother. He had promised Manon. Rina reminded Dorian every day of the witchling. Rina looked just like her mother, although no one except Dorian saw it. 

Manon had wondered if there was enough witch in Rina. The first abilities that Rina had manifested were magic. The ability to transfer one's own thoughts to the minds of others. But Dorian knew Rina was her mother's daughter. And he hoped Manon would return one day and see it for herself. That, Rina really was a witch. 

But until then... Dorian shook Manon out of his mind. “I guess I'll take her now," Dorian said, giving Olga a quick smile that impressed every woman he met. “You can take the rest of the day off." 

Olga replied with a smile and curtsey – Dorian had asked her to stop the formalities, but Olga hadn't listened- "Thank you Your Highness," Olga said. That's one thing Dorian had asked her to stop. And one thing that Olga did not take to her hearing ears. 

Dorian sighed. "You know I don't like that, Olga." 

Olga's smile turned mischievous. "And I like my job, Your Highness." 

Rina chuckled it as a sign that she liked Olga too. 

::::::: 

Manon swear herself as she flew over Riftholdi. Why did she have to agree? And why the hell did she keep her promise to Dorian. She would not have been forced to return a week later, as Dorian requested, that the princeling could take her to the ball. But she was nearby and... Manon was forced to admit to herself that she was curious. And maybe she wanted a reason to tear Dorian's heart out of her chest. 

Sighing, Manon gave in to her curiosity and flew with the red cloak behind her, waving through the darkening evening . The townspeople were far too focused on their harvest festivals to notice a witch flying over the city . They ignored the shadow that passed by the rays of the setting sun. It was good, Manon thought. Sh e did not want to attract attention . Especially not on a night like this, when she was going to disregard all the orders given by her grandmother . Grandmother would tear Manon apart if she ever heard that she – even considered – sneaking into Adralan's royal ball. And in the prince's arm . Manon should be glad if her grandmother spared her life after such indiscipline and carelessness.  

She was the heir to the Blackbeak. A cruel killer whose duty it was to hunt the Corchans to extinction. And there she flew towards the glass castle like an attention-seeking whore. This was definitely one of the stupidest things he had done in her long life. 

Still, she flew over the Riftholdi. Around the glass castle and lowered her boot-clad foot on the railing of the stone balcony. Dorian's familiar scent greeted Manon as she lowered her broom to lean against the balcony railing. 

Manon once took a deep breath - swear herself an idiot - and stepped through the dark blue curtains into the tower room.  

She could no longer back down.  

Dorian stood at his desk, studying the paper, and running his tanned fingers along a line of text. The black hair was fluffy, as if the princeling had raked it in his thoughts. The Golden Prince's crown was tossed on the bed, like a child's stuffed bear. Except for his messy hair, Dorian looked like a real prince for once. He was wearing a neat, black jacket and black straight trousers. The shoes were polished. A cloak of the same shade hung over his shoulders as Manon's. 

As if warned by some instinct, Dorian looked up from the paper in front of him to see Manon who had stepped through the curtains . The wrinkle between her brows smoothed and the corners of her mouth rose into that cursed grin, causing irritation to roll over the bottom of Manon's stomach like a snake preparing to attack.  

"Witchling," Dorian said, straightened his back. Manon noticed how she moved the book over the paper she had just read. "Princeling," Manon said, turning the corners of her mouth into a seductive smile as she walked across the room softly right in front of Dorian. "You look like a prince for once." 

Dorian's brows raised. “Was that a compliment? I'm flattered." Manon rolled her eyes and averted her gaze from the princeling's sapphire blue eyes. She looked at the room bathed in dim candlelight, and that's when she spotted Dorian on the bed - next to a discarded crown - something that caused her iron teeth to snap down. “What is that?" she asked, folding her arms on her chest as she examined it... It had sleeves made of black lace that left the shoulders bare. The sleeves converged with a bodice sewn from blood-red fabric, which was so low that it left the collarbones exposed to the cool autumn air. Under the red bodice was made of black leather...It was a leather corset and underneath it the "it" continued as a blood-red, layered hem stylized with black lace sewn into it. 

"Oh that," Dorian—that damned boy—had stepped behind Manon. "It's your ball dress."  

Manon couldn't help the rasp escaping her throat. "Are you serious!"  

"What?" Dorian laughed – the boy laughed! - "You promised to be my companion. And I promised you a bress."  

"You promised me your heart too," Manon growled. Dorian's hand wrapped around her waist and Manon felt his chuckle in her body. “You will get it after the ball. But that requires you to put on that dress nicely and try not to kill all the party guests." 

Even years later, Manon still wondered what made her do it. Which made her grab the dress – which Dorian had made for her. "That's all you're asking for!" Manon marched into the princeling's bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her, Dorian's laughter ringing in her ears. 

Manon hissed with restrained emotion as she first took off her weapon, then her witch leather, and then her undershirt. And – after a moment's hesitation – unscrew the bandages covering her breasts.  

Standing mostly naked in the bathroom, she stared at the dress, unable to decide what to feel. Contempt, hatred... was this Doria's way of embarrassing her? 

The dress was far too gorgeous for that, something in Manon's mind claimed. Manon shook that part of her mind into silence and—telling herself she was doing it just so she could tear Dorian's heart out of her chest at the end of the evening—she grabbed the dress and slipped into it. 

Feet to the hem, hands to sleeves... Manon stared at himself in the small mirror and grimaced. Dorian really knew her measurements. The dress was made perfectly to fit her body in just the right places. Sighing deeply—and exorcising the gods—Manon began lacing the corset. Not too tight. Manon should be able to move. She would not to be captured by this dress just for Dorian's pleasure. It turned out that the corset was more flexible than Manon had expected. When she laced it tight enough in her own opinion, it didn't make it much harder for her to breathe. 

Actually, it just felt like a belt a degree wider. Whatever the corset was made of, it was designed to be comfortable. Manon didn't even want to know how much Dorian had paid for a suit that might never have been worn. 

Manon glanced at herself once more in the small mirror, left her clothes off on the floor, and stepped out of the bathroom. Dorian was waiting for her by the bedside. He had donned his golden crown and tied a sword to his belt. Hearing the quiet rustling of the dress against the floor, Dorian turned to look at Manon and his blue eyes flashed. 

Dorian's gaze moved slowly from head to toe and back . “ You look gorgeous," Dorian said quietly, meeting Manon's gaze . Manon shrugged. "I'm a witch." she just said.  

Dorian grinned and then stepped aside, motioning for Manon to sit at his desk . There was a small mirror and some makeup on the table. "I guess you know how to make up yourself?"  

Manon didn't bother to answer Dorian's question, but sat down in Dorian's office chair. Sometime when they were young – almost a hundred years ago – she and Asterin had learned for fun. Grandmother had put a stop to it. They were witches, immortal killers who did not need mortal poisons to beautify themselves. 

Manon grabbed the eyeliner and, with the killer's steady hand, did the necessary makeup. Dark eye makeup, red lips... Manon opened her braid and let her hair go free. White waves ran down her back, like a waterfall. 

Suddenly, Dorian was beside her and urged Manon to turn towards him. Manon rolled her eyes and turned in her seat towards Dorian. 

The princeling smiled. He had a shoebox in his hand . "Shoes," Manon said, gritting her teeth . She would have preferred to go barefoot rather than agree to put on Dorian's dancing shoes.  

Dorian smiled slightly as he opened the box and landed on one knee in front of Manon. “ A lady cannot go to a ball with a prince without shoes, ” The princeling remarked with a grin and as he lifted the hem of Manon's dress.  

"I'm not a lady," Manon growled low as Dorian slipped a low-heeled black leather heel onto her foot.  

Sapphire blue eyes looked up, glowing with mischievousness. “What about the fancy witch?" Dorian inquired, moving his hand up Manon's leg. Pressed his lips to her calf. Manon took a gasp. "Don't fool around with me, princeling," she warned, scratching the surface of the table with iron nails. 

Dorian chuckled and grabbed Manon's other leg. Slipped a black graceful shoe into it too. Dorian stood up at Manon's feet, and before Manon knew it, Dorian pulled her to her feet as well. 

"How do you feel?" the princeling asked, as Manon became familiar with the feeling of high heels. To her annoyance, Manon had to admit like a corset, the shoes were surprisingly comfortable too. "Not the worst thing I've ever experienced," Manon growled, releasing her hands from Dorian's grip and stepping back. She had to change her center of gravity to stay upright. 

"Alright," Dorian chuckled, and Manon glare the princeling warn. He had clearly seen Manon's staring.  

"Well," Manon said grumpyly, trying to regain at least some of her dignity. "Do you have any other crazy demands, or are we already leaving?"  

Or I can also rip your heart out of your chest right away.  

Dorian smirked. Cursed princeling!  

"Only one," he said softly, picking up a velvet box from his desk. Manon raised her eyebrows. "Is there a knife I can use to kill you?"  

Dorian chuckled. "No. Here's another family heirloom.” He opened the dark blue box and Manon was left speechless for the first time in a hundred years. On a black velvet pillow rested a ruby necklace the size of a baby's fist. 

"May I introduce," Dorian said, sounding far too self-righteous, "Heart of Adralan."  

::::::: 

Manon wrapped her red robe tighter around her shoulders for protection from the cool autumn wind. The cool roof tiles felt uncomfortable against her palms as Manon observed one of the oldest gardens in the glass castle spreading beneath her. Asterin beside Manon moved restlessly. Ghislaine was motionless, but Manon sensed her impatience and restlessness. 

They had flown over the Riftholdi at dusk and then circled the castle, quietly moving from roof to roof. No one had noticed the witches lurking under the wings of gargoyles and on the crest of the wall. Not that they have found what they wanted either. It was past noon, and Manon hadn't noticed a single sign of Rina. They hadn't found the little one's room, and Manon hadn't seen her in any of the rooms they had passed. Restlessness and uncertainty pulled her shoulders into a crouch. 

The Thirteen Coven had dispersed two days ago at the border to Adralan. Before dispersed up, they had had many heated debates, played cards, and wrestled to compete over who would go with Manon and Asterin to the Rifthold. As ordered by her grandmother, Manon had to keep her second close to her. Thirteen had been arguing fiercely about the last place until Manon was tired of the constant argument. She had commanded Vesta and Sorrel to lead two other groups. Sorrel's group would go north, Vesta's group to the east. Neither seemed satisfied, but they did not argue against. Manon told Sorrel and Vesta to decide among themselves who would go with them, but she would take Ghislaine. Without taking a moment longer with her witches, Manon had marched into her tent and thrown herself on the sleeping surface, knowing that she would not sleep. She was too restless. She waited. Waited to see her daughter again. 

The longing had turned into physical pain that was dragging her violently towards the Rifthod. And Manon was no longer going to turn a deaf ear to her deepest desire. But now, on the roof of the stone castle – the older part of the glass castle – she didn't know what to do. This was already the fifth place where they had been lurking and waiting for Rina to appear. All Manon could do was wait, because she didn't know where to look. 

Under their feet was one of the castle's numerous ballroom, where the annual harvest balls were held. A memory of that night... Manon rejected it before the memory could sharpen in her mind. She wouldn't think about it. Not that, silly dress. No ruby. Not the moment when she and Dorian had run away in the middle of a ball into the very garden that spread out beneath them. 

Manon remembered the fountain, remembered the tree against which Dorian had pressed her. Memory of carp swimming in an artificial pond. That night had changed everything. Manon knew that without that night, she would never have continued her visits long enough to make them possible for Rina. Enabled... everything that had happened the previous autumn. And after. Made it possible that Manon now sat on the roof of Riftholdi Castle, waiting in hiding for a chance to see her daughter. Not even a glimpse. Just one glimpse... 

Manon closed her eyes and drew the scent of frost and decaying leaves into her lungs. The first frosts had just tested Adralan with its cold. The ice and frost had melted with the rising sun. But the smell was still felt in the air. The freezing wind of the coming winter. 

"Your father is crazy if he thinks he can attack Terrasen." Manon's eyes fluttered open when she heard the sound. Ghsilainen and Asterin became alert when they noticed Manon's change in posture. 

Manon recognized the voice. She had met Chaol once, and she remembered the voice of the captain of the royal guard from that last morning before Manon had disappeared from Dorian's life for eleven months. 

"In case you haven't noticed," another voice replied to Chaol, who caused Manon's heart to skip a beat, "My father is crazy," Dorian said, sounding irritated, as he stepped out of the castle doors with a boy by his side, whom Manon recognized in the back of his head. Dark hair reaching to his shoulders, a black cloak draped his stalwart shoulders. Captain of royal guards Chaol Westfall. Former heir to Anielle. Dorian had mentioned his friend a few times. Admittedly, when he and Manon had met for the first and last time, they had both been wearing masks. 

Dorian's black hair was once again in a mess, as if he was raking it. A red cloak fluttered after his, as the princeling entered the garden. He was a few inches taller and lanzier than his friend. 

Manon was quick to take note of all this. Noted the fact that Dorian didn't seem to have aged much since Manon last saw him. Chaol beside him walked hand on sword, ready to defend the prince and the little girl writhing in the prince's arms. 

Rina. Manon took a sharp breath as Rina let out a high-pitched, irritated groan as she wriggled in her father's arms, as if wanting to lie down. 

The child had grown since Manon last saw her. Of course there was. She was eight months old. Almost nine months. 

Rina's black hair was longer and thicker. They landed on the child's shoulders as a cloud of curls that hardly anyone had the heart to cut. The face had only become more beautiful and there was a stubborn look in the eyes. Her daughter's beautiful, unpaired eyes. Manon drew air into her lungs and felt the smell carried by the wind. Hoarfrost and sun-warmed leaves. 

"She's beautiful," Ghislaine whispered, leaning forward to see the child better. "Looks just like her mother," Asterin's voice sounded choked, as if she holding back a cry. Manon had to swallow a few times to keep her own tears under control. She couldn't let tears cloud this moment when she saw Rina again. Her little one. 

"Oh my gods, Rina!" Dorian groaned, waking up the three witches squatting on the roof. "The earth is cold." Rina continued to twist, looking more irritated by the moment as father wouldn't let her go. Dorian sighed. "Alright, then," he muttered. As soon as Dorian lowered his daughter to the ground, Rina calmed down. 

They hadn't made it far into the garden. Only to the nearest tree that had dropped its leaves ages ago. And Rina began to study the magazines curiously. 

"She seems pleased," Chaol remarked, prompting Dorian to roll his eyes. "Rina knows how to be stubborn,” he muttered, and Manon saw a smile pulling the sides of the prince's mouth upwards to her spy place. "And demanding." 

Rina hissed excitedly and threw the leaves she had collected in her arms into the air. Manon had unwittingly placed a hand on her stomach. Touched the place where Rina had been before. How could that cheerful little girl be her? Manon's heart ached. Somehow she had managed to create something so beautiful and lively and joyful...Asterin's hand landed on Manon's shoulder and awakened him from her thoughts. She said nothing for which Manon was grateful. Asterin just clearly made it clear that she was in it. That, Manon wasn't alone. 

"The council is of no use," Dorian said. Manon hadn't noticed when the two boys had returned to their earlier conversation, but now it temporarily caught Manon's attention.“They just revolve around the same thing day in and day out without really getting anything done!" 

Chaol crossed his arms over his chest and said, "My father has declared his support for the attack." Dorian grunted. "Yes, of course." 

"They're afraid," Chaol said, as if trying to get Dorian to see the situation from every angle. "I guess you've noticed that magic is getting stronger.” Dorian didn't say anything, but his expression told the answer. Yes, it was. 

Chaol continued, but Manon no longer listened. Her attention had returned to Rina when Ghislaine muttered, "What she do it now?" 

Rina had stood up. Without support or anyone noticing, the little one had risen to her wobbly feet, clearly bored with her father and Chaol - uncle? - debate. Rina's light purple fluffy coat was muddy and her little boots were stained with dirt. The little one didn't seem to care. 

She looked around, her little red lips slightly parted as if – as if smelling something. Manon stiffened, even before the large pairs of eyes rose towards the ceiling. And they noticed her. Manon's breath was taken away as her small face brightened and the corners of her mouth turned into a smile, revealing a few small teeth. She already had teeth! 

"She noticed us," Asterin said, sounding excited rather than worried. Ghislaine's hands clenched into fists and Manon... Manon heard the beating of her own heart in her ears. 

Rina started toddling towards them, just walking with the wobbly steps of a learned. The joy shining from her face caused Manon's heart to melt into a puddle on the bottom of her stomach. The fastest, with a hundred years of experience, Manon set off. Between the castle and the wall was a small corner hidden from prying eyes. No one inside would notice it and someone in the garden should know where to look. 

In one smooth motion, Manon jumped down from the roof and landed around the corner, within reach of her daughter. She knew Rina had seen where she—they, for Asterin and Ghislaine had followed right on Manon's heels—had gone. 

Rina toddled on her short legs as fast as she could, Dorian being too focused on her conversation with Chaol to find her daughter missing. Manon waited, his heart pounding, for the moment she knew lay ahead. And when she saw Rina peeking into the alley with curiosity shining from her face, Manon had to use willpower to stop herself from rushing forward and not grabbing Rina in her arms. 

"Hey," Manon whispered as Rina toddled around the corner. The child's face lit up again when she noticed Manon, but she hesitating when she noticed Ghislaine and Asterin standing behind her. 

Cautiously, so as not to frighten the little one, Manon crouched down and stretched out her hand towards Rina, who had hesitated for a moment. Nothing more was needed. 

Rinan let out an elated squeal and almost ran the last few meters into Manon's arms. Manon grabbed her daughter in her arms and pressed her against her chest. Tears tingled her eyes as she received her little witch in her arms. And suddenly there was light and color everywhere again. The grayness was gone and Rina's scent captured all of Manon's senses. “Hey,” Manon whispered again and pressed the kiss to the curly hair pressed against her shoulder. Rina coo contentedly. She remembered... somehow she still remembered Manon. 

Manon had to swallow a few times again to keep her tears in check. “You've grown so much," she said, brushing Rina's curls. Manon didn't know if she was squeezing her daughter too hard, but Rina didn't seem to mind. She looked at Manon with her big eyes, looking so happy that Manon had a hard time breathing. And then she took a sharp breath as her mind filled with images and feelings. She almost dropped Rina, and if Asterin hadn't be ready Manon would have actually dropped her daughter. Now Asterin grabbed the little one as Manon's hands gave way as images and emotions flooded her mind like a flock of birds. The shock paralyzed her muscles. 

"Are you okay Manon?" Ghislaine had rushed to Manon's side, a worried look in her eyes. Asterin stood two steps away, with a struggling Rina in her arms. There was also a worried wrinkle between her brows. Rina looked frustrated and wriggled in Asterin's arms, reaching towards Manon, looking irritated and impatient. Manon's hands were in front of her as she was still holding her daughter, who grew more irritated by the moment in Asterin's arms. "Manon?" Ghislaine grabbed Manon's arm, as if afraid she would collapse to the ground. "What happened?" 

Manon couldn't answer. She stared at her daughter, who stared at her demandingly, squeaking impatiently at the same time. Images and emotions... fuzzy images that had stopped coming in the moment Rina had been knocked out of her. A premonition came over Manon. She shook Ghislaine away from herself and stretched out her hand toward the two, who were already struggling to hold onto the twisting child. "Give her back to me, Asterin," Manon said softly. But so insistently that Asterin would not argue against. The cousin glanced at Manon nervously before giving Rina back into her mother's arms. 

Rina immediately calmed down and pressed her head against Manon's collarbone. Little fingers played with her red cloak. This time, Manon was reserved as emotions and images invaded her senses. 

The pictures came in a quick series. Playroom, stuffed animals, black-haired woman. Dorian, Chaol... joy, sadness, irritation and... Manon's own face. A fuzzy memory in the mind of an eight-month-old little one. And then another, sharper image of her. Rina told her about her day. Her life. She transferred her feelings and memories directly to Manon's mind, not clearly understanding that something had to happen in between... Three-faced mother! 

“Rina!” the shouted awakened Manon from his thoughts and stopped the flood of Rina's memories. “Rina!” Dorian shouted again, a voice full of concern. "Where on earth has that girl gotten to?” Chaol's tense voice asked. "She can't walk without support yet." 

Manon glanced down at Rina, who looked up, blinking her long eyelash. A true paragon of innocence. Manonin felt a sting in her heart, but she swallowed her despair and took a few steps toward the mouth of the alley. 

From there she saw Dorian walking anxiously along the path in the garden, shouting his daughter's name. “Rina! Come here! This is not fun! Rina!" 

Chaol had disappeared somewhere. Undoubtedly to seek additional troops for exploration. "You need to go back," Manon whispered to Rina. "Your father is worried." 

A new flood of images and emotions flooded Manon's mind. It's like Rina said, " Dad is always worried.” Manon pressed a soft kiss to her daughter's forehead, and before she could change her mind, she lowered Rina to the ground. "Go now," Manon urged, pushing Rina forward cautiously. "Don't let your father worry for nothing." 

Rina looked at Manon, looking confused and sad. She grabbed Manon's outstretched hand and again Manon felt her daughter's feelings. Felt her confused question. "I don't know, little one," Manon whispered in a hoarse voice. Her throat choked. "I don't know. Go," she pushed Rina towards the garden again, and this time the little one obeyed. She let go of Manon and ran towards her father, giggling to attract his attention. 

Manon, leaning against the wall, watched as Dorian turned around and saw Rina. He let out a few selected words before hurrying to meet his daughter and grabbing his in her arms. “You can't walk," Dorian huff as he pressed the child to his chest. “Why didn't you tell me you could walk?" 

So Rina did it with Dorian as well. Conveyed her feelings directly into the mind of the princeling. Manon turned her back on the scene and met the gaze of two witches in her coven. “What just happened?" Asterin asked. Not hostilely, she was just confused. Manon shook her head. “I'll tell you later," she said, glancing over her shoulder once more towards her daughter and Dorian. 

She could see from Dorian's expression that Rina was telling about what was happening. Manon couldn't afford to stay there. "We have to go," she said. Ghislaine and Asterin obeyed, glancing once at each other in confusion. Manon ignored them. Her lungs were still filled with the scent of Rina's hoarfrost and sun-warmed leaves. 

:::::: 

Dorian looked contentedly at the shocked expression that spread across Manon's face. For the first time in their acquaintance, the witch had been left speechless. It was precisely because of this reaction that it had been worth wasting an hour of life convincing Queen Georgiane. Doria had had to use all means less severe than violence to persuade his mother to give him Heart of Adralan. It was one of the oldest and most valuable pieces of jewelry in the Havilliard family. 

On a black velvet pillow rested a blood-red ruby cut into the shape of a heart. It was embedded in a thick braided gold chain. Still, the chain looked too thin to support the weight of the entire piece of jewelry. "Are you serious?” Manon's words sounded as if a witch had to force them out of her mouth. Golden eyes lifted up at Dorian, and iron teeth flashed by candlelight as the witch grimaced. "What is this pretending to be?" 

Dorian smiled. She picked up the jewelry from the pillow - it even felt heavy on Dorian's palm - and circled behind Manon. The witch didn't kill her right away, and Dorian looked at it as an encouragement to take the jewelry around Manon's neck and fasten it in place. The quiet click of the lock echoed in the room as Dorian lifted Mano's hair out from under the chain. 

"It's heavy," Manon said, brushing the treasure placed around her neck. “Unfortunately, you can't own it," Dorian said, stepping past Manon onto the bed. “What shall I do with a ruby?" Manon growled. Dorian shrugged, pretending to be indifferent. He opened the flat box lying on his bed containing his and Manon's masks. The left one was blood red, with black details. Right-sided black with blood-red details. The seamstress had indeed done a commendable job. Dorian should remember the seamstress's name for the future. 

"You would steal," Dorian suggested. "You would sell." Manon snorted. Dorian turned around and met the witch's golden eyes gaze. Manon looked gorgeous. Dorian's mouth went dry as he let his gaze sweep over the witch one more time. The dress she ordered followed Manon's body in just the right places. Compared to other dall dresses, the hem was narrower and easier to move around. The open white hair made Manon look like a runaway goddess from the chapel image. And then, of course, there was Heart of Adralan, resting on Manon's neck. Not a goddess. This woman - this witch was a queen. 

Dorian held out a red mask towards Manon. Manon raised her eyebrows at it. "Masquerade?" she asked, glancing at Dorian. "You, if anybody, probably want to hide your identity," Dorian remarked, grinned. Manon growled something Dorian couldn't figure out, but grabbed the mask. 

She placed it on her face and then glanced at Dorian with her red lips parted. “ Are you going to ask me to put on something crazy, or are you finally getting to the point?"  

The crown could dress you, Dorian thought, but didn't say it. He put on his own mask and held out his hand to the witch. "May I have permission?" 

Manon rolled her eyes, but laid her white fingers on Dorian's tanned palm.  

::::::: 

"Say dad." 

The two-year-old little girl raised her eyebrows at him, looking disturbingly much like her mother. Dorian sighed and wondered what he was doing wrong. He was ninety percent sure that Rina could speak. She just didn't want to do that. As with walking, Rina only started it when it suited her. 

Dorian knew very well the reason for not talking. He was reminded of it daily. Rina saw no reason to speak when she was able to transfer her thoughts directly to the mind of the other party. She probably would have done it with the others already, but Dorian had denied it, explaining to Rina that it was too dangerous. The child was far too smart to be only two years old. She understood the risks. 

And Dorian was pretty damn sure Rina understood the reason why she should start talking, too. But no! Rina was stubbornly silent. To others—like Dorian's father, his mother, and his brother, who had returned from boarding school for the summer—Rina's lack of speaking was seen as a defect. Dorian couldn't explain that her daughter was half as smart as most people her age. Rina didn't speak because she wouldn't have understood. She didn't speak because she didn't want to move her mouth. 

Doriania had been having her one-sided conversation for the past hour. Rina no longer even bothered to transfer her thoughts to him. Nowadays, the little one didn't even need a touch of it. All she had to do was look at who she had business with. Chaol was startled when Rina transferred her thoughts to his mind for the first time. 

Dorian had somehow managed to convince Rina that she couldn't do it with anyone but her and Uncle Chaol. Even Olga hadn't experienced Rina's intrusive way of protesting. 

"Rina," Dorian said, staring into his daughter's defiant eyes. "Now say dad." 

Rina squinted her eyes and looked away demonstratively. It really was a matter of choice and nothing defect. Still, Georgina had begun to talk about replacing Olga with a more experienced nanny. Perhaps Rina would need a harsher teacher to open her verbal coffin. 

Dorian knew from experience that it wouldn't help. Discipline and orders did not make Rina obey. She had to be justified why she should act in a certain way. Dorian's reasoning had clearly been poor, as Rina still refused to speak. 

"Okay," Dorian sighed. They were in his room. Rina sat on her bed wearing a pink ruffled dress of her mother's choice, which Rina hated. But since she didn't speak or argue against anything – except mentally – the Queen dressed Rina however she wanted. Rina's curly black hair had been combed off her face and rolled into a bun. Which Rina also hated. Then there was the giant butterfly-shaped hair ornament, about which Rina had mixed feelings. Rina liked butterflies, but was clearly unsure if she wanted one in her hair. 

That's where Dorian got the idea. Despite the fact that Rina seemed to be a genius among her peers, she was still a little girl. “What if I told you your grandma would stop dressing you in those ridiculous outfits if you started talking," Dorian suggested. He sat on one knee in front of Rina. Rina slowly moved her doubtful eyes of different colors to him. Dorian felt in his mind like the flick of a bird's wing. A silent call to continue. Rina had indeed come her mother. 

"If you spoke, you would be better understood. You could say everything that is on your mind. It wouldn't be much different from what you're doing now," Dorian continued, seeing the crease that appeared between Rina's brows, "but you could do it with everyone." 

Rina looked at her father for a long time and evaluatedly. Then she sighed and her shoulders drooped. Dorian grinned. The sigh was a sign of tacit acceptance. "Say dad," Dorian urged. At least he would be able to tell everyone that his daughter's first word was dad.  

"Anagram." 

Dorian stared at Rina. The devil smiled at him smugly. "Anagram," Dorian repeated. Rina must have been able to talk for the past year and hadn't bothered to tell anyone. 

"Could you say dad?" Dorian tried, even though he realized he had already made a mistake by asking Rina to say it. 

"Uncle Chaol." 

"Dad." 

"Grandma." 

Dorian crossed his arms. Rina crossed her arms. "Say dad," Dorian demanded. 

"Asshole." 

Dorian hoped that Rina meant her grandfather and not him. Apparently, she had used that phrase for too long about her own father, if it had already caught on to her two-year-old daughter's vocabulary. 

"Dad," Dorian tried. 

"Mom." 

Dorian sighed. And somehow Manon managed to beat him here too, even though she was not even there. Everyone always said that the child was said first by mother, and only then by the father. 

There was a knock at the door. Dorian looked up and saw the door handle turn. Queen Georgiane entered the room with the hem of her emerald green gown fluttering. 

"Mother," Dorian said, and stood up, shaking his pants. “What brings you here?" Rina sat on the bed, looking at her grandma curiously. Gergiane smiled at Dorian and then at Rina. "We have found a new nanny," She announced, looking exceedingly complacent. "She's handled unspoken cases before." 

"Rina is no case," Dorian said prickly, folding his arms. Georgiane sighed. "Of course not, but her non-speaking is a problem. She can't debate children her age." 

"Dad said you can't wear me in ugly dresses anymore if I start talking." 

Dorian had to turn away so as not to burst into laughter at the sight of his mother's expression. But that's where it had come from. Dad. In the first sentence his daughter ever uttered. 

"She's talking," the queen said after recovering from her initial shock. Rina rolled her eyes. "I have to," she said, as clearly as any two-year-old. The words lagged and soared in the wrong places. It was still difficult for her to form letters, and s and r came out of Rina's mouth distorted. "You can't read minds." 

As with walking, Rina spoke better than anyone could have expected. Especially since everyone had thought she couldn't speak. “And I want Olga back," Rina continued after a moment of silence. 

Gerogiane was silent for a moment, glanced quickly at Dorian, and then hurriedly turned towards the door. "Let's see what I can do." 

After the queen left, Dorian gave Rina a quick smile. "Do you notice?" he asked. Rina snorted. She didn't bother to speak for the rest of the day. 

::::::: 

Manon felt the weight of the necklace around her neck as she walked on Dorian's arm toward the ballroom. After a couple of uncertain steps, Manon had found balance with high heels. She had never worn such impractical shoes.  

Dorian hadn't said anything since they left his room. Dorian had led Manon through the corridor maze like a real gentleman, but Manon had noticed that he was in other worlds. Manon wondered again why she did this. Why had she agreed to a ball dress—which wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as she had expected. The shoes weren't that bad either. And then, of course, there was the ruby that Dorian had hung around her neck. Manon held her head high despite the weight of the jewel. It was the heaviest accessory Manon had ever carried. Witches did not wear jewelry. They were above adornment. 

And still... nevertheless... Manon was in it. Dressed like a mortal fool. Grandmother would be furious if she ever found out about this.  

Dorian's stopped caused Manon to wake up in her thoughts. She blinked, looked around, and realized they were standing in front of the large double doors. The tunes of the violin quartet echoed behind the doors. Manon heard the quiet speech and laughter of the people. Smelled perfume and aftershave. On either side of the corridor stood stone-faced guards. There were twelve of them. Manon had counted them as she let Dorian lead her down the corridor. 

"When we go through those doors," Dorian muttered, so quietly that his mouth barely moved, "there is no turning back. You can still retreat the witchling." Manon stared at the doors. She did not allow herself to glance at Dorian or think about the absurdity of this situation. She didn't let herself think anything. 

"Then I guess we'd better hurry up," Manon said just as quietly. "I'm not used to backing down."  

Dorian chuckled lowly. "Of course not." Manon grinned discreetly and raised her chin. Dorian nodded to the guards, who grabbed the door handles and pulled them open. Manon Blackbeak, heir to the Blackbeaks witchclan, filled her lungs with fresh air and entered the Riftholdi ballroom in the arm of the Prince. Like she was any of the women waiting in the hall. Not at all. Manon hid her smile as they stepped out of the twilight of the hallway into the ballroom lights. She was not a woman. She was a witch. 

Heir to the Blackbeaks, beside Adralan's heir.  

:::::: 

Manon sat on the roof under the wing of a gargoyle. Like so many times in the past five years. It had become a habit. On the rare occasions when Grandmother's orders brought Manon close enough to Riftholdi, she flew here. Alone or with the witches she happened to have with her. Manon no longer toured the castle looking for an opportunity to see her daughter. She had learned that no matter what day—rain or shine—Rina would visit the large garden. It seemed to be part of her daily rhythm. Which no one had wanted or bothered to change. 

It made it much easier for Manon to know where she could see her daughter. Her little one—who wasn't that little anymore. She was five, almost six years old. The last time Manon had seen her daughter, Rina had been four. 

She came here as often as she could. It wasn't often enough. No. Absolutely not. The pain never eased. Almost the opposite. Manon hadn't gotten within touching distance of her daughter since that quiet day five years ago. When Rina had been less than a year old. It had been the last time Manon had held her daughter. Some days she was grateful for it. At other times, she wished that had never happened. She didn't want to give herself hope. And then there were those days when Manon wished she hadn't let go. That she would have taken Rina with her instead of urging her to return to her father. Rina would have been glad to come. She wanted to be with Manon. Wanted when she still remembered her mother. 

Manon knew that young children easily forgot. Rina no longer remembered her. And it hurt more than anything else. 

Vesta nervously shifted weight from one leg to the other. She crouched on the edge of the roof next to Manon. A little further back were Faline and Fallon, looking down at the garden, looking hungry. The last time they had seen Rina, the little one had been two years old. A quiet little ghost on the heels of the Queen and her entourage. 

She was no longer so quiet, Manon thought tiredly. They had been sitting on the roof for nearly two hours, and the midday sun was shining. It was summer and the heat made Manon exhausted. The last time Manon had seen her daughter, the little one had been chattering in her glass-clear voice. She had commendably caused outrage in the queen's entourage. The case involved a husband who cheated on her wife with a hired man. Manon didn't remember it exactly, but it didn't matter. Only Rina mattered. Only Rina... 

Manon's thoughts were interrupted when a door slammed open beneath them and a little girl in a white petticoat ran into the garden. It took Manon two seconds to recognize Rina. First of all: she had grown a lot. Second, Manon had never seen her daughter - who had grown up in a castle - looking so unruly. 

Black curly hair was messed up. The hem of the white petticoat was torn. There were scratches on her arms and her legs were bare. 

Rina rushed into the garden with the hem of her dress fluttering, looking as if she had been chased. She stopped, sliding into the middle of the garden, looked around in alarm. Manon's instincts were alert, and she was trying to reach for the threat that had come to her daughter—her daughter, damn it! - upset. If something threatened her... Manon's iron nails flashed in the sun's rays. She wouldn't let anyone hurt Rina. 

If something threatened her... Manon's iron nails flashed in the sun's rays. She didn't let anyone hurt Rina. Her cheeks were flushed and sweat had glued black curls to her forehead. Before Manon could decide whether to jump down into the garden to protect her little one, just to stay on the roof to get the benefit of the surprise, Rina set move again. Quickly like a forest fox, Rina hurried to an old oak tree growing on the left side of the garden. With smooth movements, Rina grabbed the lowest branch and, much to Manon's surprise and pride, started climbing like a cat. 

"She's grown since last time,” Faline commented as she watched Rina's little body disappear into the branches. “Who taught her to climb?" Fallon wondered. But before Manon could even guess the answer, Rina's pursuer – or rather – pursuers, appeared. 

Two servants in identical dresses – one with a hairbrush in hand – ran into the yard, buns messed up. Manon raised her eyebrows at the vision. The iron nails hissed when she pulled them back in after finding the duo harmless. Still, Manon remained vigilantly seated on the edge of the roof, ready to intervene if needed. 

"Where did she go?" The older woman panted and leaned her knees. “The Queen will sack us if she finds out we lost her." 

"Rina!" the younger servant shouted, hands on her hips and nostrils dilated with anger. "Come here right away!" 

Nothing happened. Rina stayed in her tree, and even Manon couldn't see her from her seat. "You know that doesn't help," the older woman remarked, straightening her back with a groan. "Have you tried telling the coffee table to move yourself?" 

Did that old woman just compare Manon's daughter to a coffee table? 

The younger woman rolled towards her colleague and flicked her hairbrush in front of her face. “I'm not going to lose my job because of one unruly brat!" she quipped. "That little demon, gets permission to learn to respect..." 

"Is there a problem here?" 

Manon had been far too focused on the younger servant and not jumping off the roof on the woman neck, that she hadn't noticed Dorian until he spoke. 

The princeling had at one point walked out of the castle doors and now frightened two servants by opening his mouth. Manon noted with satisfaction the younger woman's pale face. Dorian was wearing only a white shirt carelessly crammed into his trousers. His hair was messed up as usual. The pale servant's cheeks flushed now that she noticed the same. 

"We..." she stuttered and didn't seem to know what to say. The older woman saved the situation by pushing the younger woman out of her way and addressing the prince: "Your daughter, Your Highness. She ran away from us. The Queen wanted us to prepare her for the evening." 

Dorian raised one eyebrow. Manon tensed. Rina was no problem. She was a witch who didn't want to be chained... 

The older woman continued talking and crossed her arms in front of her. "We'll take care of it," she promised, glancing around the garden. Her gaze didn't stop at the tree. Unlike Dorian, who would smile before turning to say to the servants: “I will take care of this, ladies. Just go inside." 

"But Your Highness," the younger servant tried, but Dorian's gaze silenced her. “I will bring her back into your care in a moment. My mother doesn't notice anything." 

The women hesitated for a moment—only a moment—before bowing and disappearing through the castle doors. Dorian was now - seemingly - alone in the garden. He put his hands behind his back and walked unhurriedly to the foot of the old oak tree. Dorian looked around, smiled slightly towards the sky, and said, "Would you like to come down?" 

For a while it was completely quiet. Dorian leaned his back on the tree trunk and looked at the garden, as if he didn't know Rina was hanging somewhere above his head. 

"Not really," came the reply, after a long silence. Manon's hands clenched into fists when she heard her daughter's high-pitched voice among the branches. Vesta had come right beside her, an amused expression in her black eyes. Vesta laughed. 

Dorian glanced up with a small smile on his face. "Is there a reason you're causing Lulu and Mary trouble?" 

"Did you see the dress Grandma wants to wear me in?" 

Dorian sighed. He took a step away from the tree before saying. "I understand the problem, but you can't avoid it forever." 

"Why not?" Rina came into view, jumping lightly onto the second lowest branch, which was about Dorian's head high. "I don't want to go." 

Dorian chuckled and shook his head. "I don't think either of us have a choice, Rina." 

Rina snorted and waved herself to hang from the branch the wrong way up. She held on her knees to hold onto a branch. The hem of the white petticoat remained between the knees and the branch. “I shouldn't even do anything," Rina murmured, dangling her hands over nothing. 

Manon's whole body jerked forward. Vesta and the other Demon twin had to hold her back so that Manon wouldn't rush to lift Rina off a tree branch. The little one could fall and fold her neck! Why didn't Dorian see danger? 

"Aren't you?" Dorian asked, smiling at his daughter slightly. Rina sighed in frustration. "You know what I mean." 

Dorian laughed. The sound was warm and new to Manon. She didn't remember Dorian ever laughing like that. "You sound just like your mother." 

Manon stiffened. Vesta and the twins stiffened too. You sound exactly... You sound exactly... the younger servant had called Rina a little demon... You sound just like your mother. Manon's mind got stuck in those words. 

You sound just like your mother. 

"You say that often," Rina said, folding her arms over her chest. Long black hair flowed towards the ground, thick and dark, like a waterfall. “You always say I sound or look like my mother." 

Manon's heart skipped a beat. And then it’s galloped. Of Dorian, Rina reminded her. Manon didn't know... She didn't know how to deal with it. Because of her... Because in her opinion... 

"So I guess I'll say," Dorian said, his expression softening. "But you resemble her very much." 

And did not remind! Manon's nails dug into the soft skin of her palm as she clenched her hands into fists. Rina did not resemble her in the slightest. Rina was cheerful and soft and... all that Manon had never been. 

"That's what I've heard," Rina said, stretching the word long, and swing gracefully down the tree. Her feet hit the ground at a bad angle. Rina tripped over the hem of her dress and fell on her back to the ground. "Oops," she said. 

Dorian chuckled softly and bent down to lift his daughter off the ground. “Look like you've run through the forest," the princeling said as he picked leaves and pieces of twigs from Rina's hair. Rina rolled her eyes. “I'd rather run through the woods than agree to wear it, a ridiculous dress,” she moaned and curled up against Dorian's chest. Dorian sighed. 

"What if we made a compromise?" he suggested, clearly piquening Rina's interest. How many five-year-olds knew what compromise meant? 

"Go on," Rina said. "I like compromises.” Dorian smiled and plucked one more leaf from the cloud of curls covering Rina's head. “You come to the ball, but you get to choose the costume yourself." 

Rina's expression was suspicious as she looked at her father's expression from below. "So if I want a black sequined dress, I get a black sequined dress." 

Dorian grinned. "Of course."  

Rina thought for a moment, then nodded. "Okay," she said. 

Manon watched silently as Dorian carried Rina through the castle doors. "She doesn't remind me," Manon muttered softly after the two disappeared. 

A light touch on Manon's shoulder awakened her from her thoughts. There was a gentle smile on Vesta's face. "She do," she said. "You're the only one who can't see it." 

::::::: 

Dorian's arrival at the party caused a flurry of whispers. He put on a polite smile and led his companion—heir to the Blackbeaks clan—down the stairs to the other guests. Manon clearly stood out from other court lady. When others wore bright colors—yellow, orange, gold, and bright red—Manon's black-and-red dress was like a bloodstain in the middle of autumn leaves. It wasn't the only thing that made the witch stand out. 

While the other women's hair was wrapped in a tight bun over them head, Manon's hair ran free down her back, like a snowy cloak. Her posture was different. Straighter. The movements were more graceful. Killer light steps. And then, of course, there were the golden eyes that looked at the party guests through the eye openings of the red mask. 

Something about Manon – and Dorian knew exactly what – made human dodge. Dorian smiled calmly at the courtiers they passed, who stared at Manon with open lust or fear. The women they passed, on the other hand, hid behind their fans, whispered at each other, glancing at Manon curiously or openly enviously. Dorian's smile only widened as they split the crowd. Usually - whether he had companions or not - the ladies of the court hung on to him the moment he stepped through the door. However, no one dared approach Dorian now that he had a force of nature like Manon's in his arm. 

"You must drop a curtsy," Dorian muttered to Manon as they approached the platform where the king stood with Dorian's mother by his side . Queen Georgiane stared at Manon from behind her golden mask, trying to figure out who the woman in her son's arm was . The king, on the other hand, stared at Manon for too long . Although only half of the witch's face was visible, no one could deny the beauty of his companion.  

"Why?" Manon asked, barely moving her mouth. Dorian had to hold hisself back so she wouldn't smile. “That's what human do," he said quietly. Manon raised her chin a hint as they walked closer and closer to the king and queen. "It's not my custom to bow to human." 

For a moment, Dorian began to find it harder to hold back his laughter. “I know," he said. He wanted to see his father's expression if Manon didn't bow. “But the fun would end too early if you didn't bow. People might panic if they realized I brought a witch into the hall." 

Manon's red mouth turned into a smile . “ I would enjoy it, ” sh e said quietly, flashing the tips of her iron teeth . Dorian began to feel like introducing her to a couple of council members.  

"Do it for me," Dorian said quietly, as they were only a few steps away from the podium.  

Manon glared at him out of the corner of her eye. “You'll pay for this later," she muttered as they stopped. Dorian bowed to his father and, much to Dorian's relief and astonishment, Manon bent her knees. She curtsy, though she kept staring the king in the eye. 

This was going to be an interesting evening.  

::::::: 

Dorian stared blankly in front of him and counted the minutes. If he could stand and socialize with people for another hour, he could retreat to his rooms and no one would be surprised. Dorian had already toured the hall twice, danced with more women than he could remember, and discussed many trivial matters. His patience was really beginning to be tested. 

Dorian let his gaze circle the hall, looking for the familiar black bun. His seven-year-old daughter had disappeared about an hour after she got tired of listening to adult conversations. But, as Dorian had noticed as he looking his daughter with his gaze, she hadn't joined the other five children in the corner. No. Rina had slipped into the garden and, judging by what Dorian knew, she still hadn't returned inside. 

Dorian's gaze shifted forward and hit Georgiane. She, too, looked around, with a small wrinkle between her brows. Dorian hid his smile. The Queen also sought Rina, no doubt to introduce her to the six women standing with her. Dorian hoped that Rina would stay hidden and not come away until the end of the party. They both wouldn't have to get bored. And Rina didn't have to suffer from a headache. 

Rina was getting stronger every day, which would have worried Dorian had she not had more control over her powers, unlike Dorian had had seven years ago. Seven years? Was it really that long since he had last seen Manon? Manon... Dorian closed his eyes and again began to wish that the party was already over. 

Dad?  

Dorian opened his eyes as Rina's voice echoed in his head. What now, sweetie? He asked, sensing Rina's anxiety through the narrow bond between them. Rina was normally adept at keeping her emotions separate from spiritual conversations, but now anxiety rolled over him like a wave. 

There's a man here... Rina's voice was uncertain even in Dorian's mind. And he wonders what my body looks like under my dress.  

The glass in Dorian's hand nearly shattered and his magic almost destroyed everything within a ten-metre radius. Rina's ability to read thoughts had blossomed a few months ago, causing many tight situations and Rina many migraines. Dorian wasn't sure where Rina's ability to read minds came from, but Dorian really wished Rina didn't have to hear so much. 

Where are you? Dorian asked quickly, looking for Chaol in the hall with his gaze. In the Garden. Rina said, a mental voice full of anxiety. That guy comes closer.  

Come inside . Dorian commanded, noticing Chaol near the garden doors. The captain of the guard droop against his spear. Fuck, Dorian swear in his mind. He stands between me and the doors. Now Dorian swear aloud. He did not bother to apologize for his behavior to his interlocutors as he hurried through the guests,pushing people away from him, ignoring grumpy expressions or exclamations. 

Retreat! Dorian mentally commanded Rina, who sent a wordless nod. “Chaol!” Dorian patted his friend on the shoulder, waking him from his lethargy. “What..." Chaol blinked, registered Dorian's expression, and immediately became alert. "What is it about?" 

Dorian didn't bother to answer. Instead, he crowded in between a couple of party guests and stepped into the garden. The late spring breeze whipped around the enlivening scents of flowers and newly awakened grass. 

The sun had just set and the moon was making its slow journey towards the lid of the sky. And in the faint light of the moon, Dorian saw his daughter. 

Rina stood in a dark purple dress –which she had drawn herself and instructed the seamstress to make - next to a carp pond. She clenched her hands in front of her and stared at the tall man standing in front of her. The man was sturdy and dark-haired, but from behind Dorian could not recognize him. 

Next to the moonlit pond, Rina looked supernal. Her pale skin shone dimly. The big startled eyes - which looked blue because of the enchantment - shone like sapphires. Her round face was like the angels in paintings. The dark dress only emphasized the impression. 

"Why don't you come closer, little one?" The tall man coaxed Rina who remained still, her gaze shining with alarm. "I'm not going to do you any harm." 

Rina wrapped her arms around her and glanced over the man's shoulder. Her expression smoothed in an instant when she spotted Dorian. And Chaol behind him. 

"Dad!" she exlaimed, run quickly—too fast for a human—past the man who turned around as Rina slipped past him. Dorian saw the hand with which the man—whom Dorian now recognized as the husband of the daughter of one of the council members—had intended to grab Rina. The man stiffened at the sight of Dorian. And his face turned pale as his gaze shifted to Chaol. 

"Do you have something to do here?" Dorian asked in such a cool voice that Manon would have been the proud. Rina caught up with her dad, and Dorian picked her up without a moment's hesitation. Rina hid her face against his shoulder. The girl was shaking. Whatever she had seen in his mind had clearly shocked her. 

"I just talked to her," the man defended. Dorian couldn't remember his name, and he didn't care to remember it now. All of her attention went either to the shaking Rina, or to the fact that he didn't hit his magic against the man. Dorian wished at that moment that he could have let Manon brutalize the man. To make him a recognizable mass that feeds on crows. 

But Manon wasn't here. And Dorian had no authority to kill a man without evidence. But that didn't stop accidents from happening. If, for example, a man caught fire in the middle of the yard, it would not cause any questions. But before Dorian could decide what to do with him, Chaol put his hand on his shoulder. 

"I'll take care of this," said the captain of the guard, and stepped towards the man. “Take Rina inside. This party is over." 

Dorian opened his mouth to say something, probably to argue against, but Chaol's gaze silenced him. "Rina has been scared enough today," he said in a low voice. "I'll take care of this," Chaol repeated. 

Dorian squeezed his mouth into a tight line and nodded. That was probably the wisest thing to do. Dorian knew that if he didn't go away, his magic could unravel and destroy the man in front of them. As if he didn't deserve it. "Wait," the man opened his mouth as Dorian turned his back, pressing Rina against his chest. “My father-in-law sits on the Royal Council," the words were downright anxious. "Don't you know who I am?" 

Dorian glanced over his shoulder once when an animalistic howl could be heard through the garden. The man had bent twice, holding his crotch. “Yes, I know what you are," Chaol said calmly, strike the man's crotch with his foot again. He shouted. Dorian hid his smile. 

"I recognize a pedophile when I see one." 

Dorian entered the ballroom with a man's new cry of pain echoing behind him. It sounded almost as good as the sound that would have come if Dorian had let his magic rip him apart. 

Rina giggled softly and Dorian glanced down to see Rina's flushed cheeks and small smile. “What makes you laugh?" Dorian asked, dodging the party guests to get to the door. “Uncle Chaol," Rina chuckled. "He kicked Forst in the crotch." 

Or Forst. Dorian should talk to his father-in-law. "Do you think it's funny?" 

Rina snicker and pressed her face against Dorian's coat. "Why shouldn't it be fun?" 

At some moments, Rina bore a frightening resemblance to her mother. Frighteningly much, her frightening mother, who, as far as Dorian knew, had only returned once. Once... although Dorian believed that she had been to Adralan more often. Much more often. Dorian knew Manon. And knew that he could never abandon his daughter. Not really. 

And therefore Dorian was not ready to give up hope yet, to see Manon again. 

:::::: 

Manon refused to lower her gaze. She bent her knees as much as the courtesy demanded, but refused to look away from the black eyes of the King of Adralan. She would not bow to this man. And Dorian would pay for this later. 

The king's gaze was cold when he met Manon's eyes. Unlike the others, Dorian's father was not wearing a mask. His tanned face was completely bare. The son had become his father. Down to black hair and tanned skin. Only the eyes were different. On the king, they were black. Dorian's were sapphire blue. Also... The essence was different. The king's essence was cold, full of suspicion and hard-to-hide cruelty. No cunning cruelty that Manon practiced. On the face of the king of Adralan was the shadow of the cruelty that had caused so many men to try to tamper with Manon. Many had tried, no one had survived. 

"My son," said the king, averting his gaze from Manon's golden eyes to address Dorian. Manon hid her smile and firmly behind her lips pulled the iron teeth in. Better not to attract too much extra attention. 

"I see that you have a lovely companion by your side,” the king turned his gaze to Manon and measured her from head to toe. His gaze lingered for a moment on Manon's breasts before slowly moving upwards to her neck. Manon wasn't sure if he was looking at her body or Heart of Adralan resting between her collarbones. 

She had already noticed the Queen staring at the jewelry, green eyes with disapproval and curiosity. Manon didn't know or care what the Queen thought of her. Manon was many decades older than her. She wouldn't have to worry about people's thoughts. 

"Who are you, if I may inquire?" The gaze of the king of Adralan had returned down Manon's neck, and now she was sure that the old man was staring at the neckline of the dress . Manon had to restrain herself so as not to grate the king's eyes from his head.  

Next to Dorian Manon stiffened. He had not clearly planned how he would introduce Manon to the court. She hadn't thought about it either, but Manon was better at hiding her reaction. She gave the king a menacing smile - which made the Queen's cheeks pale under makeup - and said softly: "I'm Lady Raven, from the mountains of the north." 

Raven, Blackbeak... Manon's smile widened. She noted the guards who lay their hands as if by mutual agreement towards their weapons . Manon would have liked to expose her iron teeth. People sense danger when she is present.  

The king's expression was tense, but he nevertheless nodded. Manon saw a throbbing vein on the king's neck. Fear or anger? Manon didn't know. But it didn't interest her either. She had come here to celebrate. In honor of that, she could slit one throat. People had their wine, Manon had her blood. 

"I hope you enjoy the party Lady Raven," the king said, and Manon did not imagine the tension in his voice. "It was a pleasure... to meet." Lies. The king would have liked some excuse to throw Mano out. 

Manon smiled widely. "That was the goal, too." Manon would have to decide whether to slit Dorian's or his father's throat during the evening.  

Before Manon could even consider her options, Dorian pulled her into the crowd. People dodged in front of them, were either silent or muttered their greetings . Dorian answered them all, smiled, and stopped to ask a few how they were doing . Manon followed suit and rolled her eyes a few times as Dorian smiled and shook his hands.  

"You're like a goldfish in water," Manon muttered as they reached the large windows. Dorian winked brazenly. "Whatever you say, Lady Raven."  

Manon sighed. "Shut up." Dorian chuckled.  

Manon was already beginning to suspect that tonight was a mistake.  

:::::: 

Manon watched the moonbeams play in the beaded curtains hung in front of the balcony door. They were the only visual barrier between an eight-year-old girl standing on the balcony hwo sleeping soundly in bed. Rinan had left the dark blue curtains on both sides of the balcony unclosed. The rays of half moon were able to penetrate the room without hindrance and touch the beautiful face of Rina's image. It also allowed Manon to guard her daughter's sleep. 

The stars shone brightly in the cold winter sky. The courtyard below was completely covered with snow. Rina's balcony windows were frosty. The fire in the fireplace had been extinguished hours ago and Manon had been thinking about entering the room and lighting the fire again. What if Rina got sick? But nothing seemed to be wrong. Rina was curled up under her blanket, black curly hair around her head like a magpie's nest. 

Manon knew that standing in the cold winter weather and observing Rina was stupid. Stupid. Absolutely stupid. But Manon couldn't get herself to leave. She could not look away from the daughter she had given birth to in this world. Rina looked so... Small. And fragile. 

Manon had noticed that Rina was small in stature. Her growth spurt had not yet begun. Due to her size, Rina could have been mistaken for a six-year-old. However, the face spoiled the impression. 

Manon didn't have many opportunities to look closely at her daughter's face. Seldom yet so close. Manon moved closer to the window like a shadow. She saw her reflection from the window as she laid her warm fingertips on the ice-cold glass. Manon had pulled the hood of his cloak to protect her hair. In the image reflected on the window glass, the red tone of the cloak stood out clearly. It's like there's just a ghost inside without a face. As if Manon wasn't real. 

Trying to ignore her reflection in the mirror, Manon focused her gaze to see through the glass inside the room. A small wrinkle had appeared between Rina's brows. As if he was worried. Pale lips stood out, she muttered something ambiguous and turned her side. Manon's fingers pressed more tightly against the window glass. Rina's back lifted too fast with her suddenly accelerated breathing. 

What happened? Was everything okay with Rina? What was... 

"Don't!" Rina groaned and then screamed—still in a deep sleep. "No!" 

She turned on her back. Wallow in her bed like a possessed one. "Don't," she groaned. "No, no, no..." 

The window glass crackled under Manon's fingers. A small crack appeared in the glass, but Manon barely noticed. Her hand was already on the cold metal handle of the balcony door. With one swift thrust, the door opened, causing the pearl curtains to jingle against each other. 

A cold gust of wind found its way into the white-painted room, and Manon stepped over the balcony threshold with it. The metal handle of the door bit into her palm, chilled by the frost. Manon let go, still feeling the cold in the palm of her hand. Silent, like a gust of wind, Manon walked across the room and knelt beside the bed. 

Rina complained quietly. Warped and turned. “Don't! No, no, no..." Tears flowed down her pale cheeks, and the next groan came out as a sob. “Don't." 

Manon sat on her knees beside the bed with her arms precariously raised. She didn't know how to reassure her daughter. But Rina was scared... what she ever dreamed of had terrified Rina. Cautiously—afraid of waking Rina—Manon stretched out her hand and gently ran her fingers through Rina's curls. The little girl shuddered. "Don't." Manon stiffened. More tears streamed down the little one's cheeks. "Don't, please." Manon's heart was racing. Throat choked. 

"It's okay," Manon whispered. Gently swiped her daughter's face. Moved hair away from her eyes. "Nothing to worry about." 

Rina panted and sobbed as Manon stroked and did her best to calm her down. "Everything is fine. You're safe," Manon whispered into Rina's ear. Breathing slowly began to calm down. The tears had stopped. Prayers had become quieter. “You have nothing to fear," Manon said in a low voice, caressing Rina's hair. “Nothing to worry about." Manon closed her eyes and filled her lungs with the scent of Rina's hoarfrost and sun-warmed leaves. Safe. Safe. Safe... Manon said it to herself, as well as telling it to her little girl. "You're safe," Manon pressed a gentle kiss into her black hair. 

It was then that her keen hearing detected hurried footsteps from outside the room. Manon was instantly on her feet and backed away towards the balcony doors behind her. Fuck, she should have noticed the steps sooner. 

Manon couldn't afford to get caught. Not for the servant. Not for Dorian. Manon's hand clenched around the cold doorknob when..."Mom?" 

Manon's gaze turned lightning through the door to Rina, whose eyes were wide open. And targeted Manon. Her eyes were blurry, as if the little one hadn't managed to focus yet. She blinked and frowned at Manon, who was frozen in the doorway. 

The footsteps stopped behind the door. The handle began to turn from the head with a quiet squeak. Rina's eyes closed and Manon hurried to the balcony in one flash of a red cloak. 

When the door opened properly, Manon was already in sky. With her heart racing and Rina's last words blaring in her ears. Mom... 

:::::: 

Rina blinked a few times to understand what she was seeing. Empty room. A moment ago, it had not been empty. Someone had been standing in front of the balcony door. Someone to have wore a beautiful red cloak. 

Rina sat up, rubbing the final tears from her eyes. The door to her room opened quietly and caught Rina's attention. The nanny peeked in, holding a candle in one hand. White hair shone in the light of a dim flame. Bright blue eyes inspected the room before stopping at Rina. 

"Are you okay? I heard you scream." 

Nightmare. Again. Rina sighed inward. “I'm fine," Rina said, trying to smile, even though she still felt the fear of nightmare in her muscles. "It was just a bad dream." 

The nanny's brows were furrowed. "Would you like to talk about it?” She asked, and opened the door a little more, as if to enter. Rina panicked. “No need," she said, forcing his smile into her eyes. "I don't even remember it anymore." Didn't really remember. Just long nails and the cruel smile of an old crown... 

Rina jumped off the bed and almost immediately slipped into the melting snow beside the bed. She managed to fix her balance before the nanny noticed. "Are you sure?” The old woman asked suspiciously. She looked at Rina searchingly, and she felt like she knew she was lying. This nanny was new. She had been hired as soon as Olga had resigned from her position. Rina had not yet formed an image of her new nanny and did not trust her in the slightest. She was more specific, stricter, and looked at Rina – when she thought Rina wasn't noticed—with a sad expression on her face. It's like she knows something Rina doesn't. And Rina didn't like it. No. Not at all. 

"Just go back to sleep," Rina said, smiling her false smile. She had become quite adept at fake smiles. "I just drink water and go back to sleep. See you in the morning." 

Drop dead, Rinan was tempted to say. The old woman frowned and looked past Rina. Towards her balcony. "You shouldn't sleep with the balcony door open. You're can catching a cold." 

Was the balcony door open? Rina kept her face to basic readings. She never got sick. “I was hot, so I opened the door before going to bed." The lie came automatically. Easily. The nanny stood at the door for a moment, her eyes on Rina, before clenching her mouth into a tight line and nodding. Rina didn't know what she was thinking. She didn't want to know. Rina had only just learned to shut other people's thoughts out of her mind. "Good night, Rina," the nanny said and stepped out, pulling the door shut behind her. Rina stayed alone in a quiet room. 

She felt the cold winter wind in her ankles and turned to look at her balcony. The door really was open. But instead of closing it and going back under the blanket, Rina stepped onto her balcony. The snow tingled cold against her bare feet. Rina looked around curiously. Footprints had sunk into the thin layer of snow. Rina raised her eyebrows. Boots, she thought. Shoe size 37. She turned around and her gaze fell on another detail. 

Rina stepped closer to the glass door of her balcony and stared at one pane of glass. It had a long crack. It's like something flew into it. Or... someone would have pressed heavily on it. Rina raised her hand and ran her finger along the crack. A sharp twinge in her index finger caused her to yank her finger away abruptly. She had cut open her fingertips. Two drops of carmine red blood fell on the snow. 

Rina watched as blood flowed down her wrist. The wound was not deep, but it was stinging. Red suits me, Rina said in her mind. She put a finger in her mouth and, sucking on her wound, she stepped back inside and pulled the door shut behind her. Instead of sleeping - because she knew she wouldn't sleep. She never got it after that dream - Rina lit a candle, grabbed a pen and started drawing. 

A few drops of blood fell on the paper, but that didn't bother Rina. That's exactly the shade she wanted. 

Chapter Text

Chapte 2  

“The feeling that I'm losing her forever 
And without really entering her world 
I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter 
That funny little girl 
Do I really see what's in her mind? 
Each time I think I'm close to knowing 
She keeps on growing 
Slipping through my fingers all the time.” 
Abba  
Slipping through my fingers 

Manon Blackbeak let her golden gaze circle the hall. People try to stare surreptitiously. Only a one or two had the courage to stare straight. Manon met their gaze and smiled half. Even though she had retracted her iron teeth, just a glimpse of white perfect teeth made people look averted.  

They sensed that Manon wasn't like them, but they didn't know what she was. The king's stare was the most scorch. Manon had glanced once in the direction of the thrones and saw the king's black eyes pointed at her appraisally. Manon had smiled at the man and noticed how it took the cold king to be confused. The gaze fell for a moment down on Manon's neck. Manon wondered again if the king was looking at her breasts—which the dress did justice—or the jewelry Dorian placed around her neck. Either way, the king got on Manon's nerves. As a human being, there was something disturbingly cruel about him. 

"Are you trying to challenge my father?" Dorian appeared out of nowhere beside Manon. He had disappeared for a moment, but now he was back there in both hands with a glass of red wine. Manon's attention turned from the king to Dorian and he took the glass offered by the princeling. "It's none of your business," Manon said, drinking from her glass of wine. Sweet, thick and semi-dry. Manon smacked her lips. Not bad. 

"My father wonders where I found a beauty like you,” Dorian said with a grin and leaned against the wall next to Manon. Manon rolled her eyes and drank more wine. "What are you going to say to him if he asks?” Manon inquired, glancing towards the king. He had averted his gaze and was talking to a courtier. "I say I found you by luck. Isn't that true?" 

Manon didn't bother to answer. She let her gaze circle the hall again, and noticed many ladies of the court glancing in their direction, hiding behind their masks and fans. They looked at Manon either curiously or contemptuously. Manon noted the most contemptuous glances and wondered how their expressions would change if they found out who she was. 

"I'd be more worried about my mother," Dorian's words distracted Manon from whispering women back to Princeling. "Really?" she asked, looking into the queen's room with her gaze. The Queen did not stare at them directly. She was seemingly focused on a conversation with another older woman. Manon noticed how a green gaze occasionally flashed quickly towards her and Dorian."Why?" Manon asked. The wine had almost run out of her glass, and Dorian hadn't even touched his own yet. 

"She know all at court," Dorian said. "So what?" Manon asked, sipping the last of the wines from her glass. It really was good. Although the blood pulsating in Dorian's carotid artery could taste even better. Manon was a wolf in sheep's clothing in the middle of a flock of sheep. And she didn't know what she was doing there either. If she were careless, she could accidentally eat one of the sheep. Or, possibly, a ram who playing king. 

"She knows you don't belong at court," Dorian explained, following his mother's elaborate movements with his gaze. “ It can become a problem later."  

The wine must have risen to Manon's head, for she said indifferently: "Later is not now." 

Dorian glanced at her, another black brow raised. Manon took her empty glass to her mouth, wishing there was still wine in it. What the fuck did she think she was doing here? 

Why had she agreed to this?  

Manon didn't know. This kind of behavior was not typical of her. But on the other hand, she thought, leaving Dorian alive wasn't Manon's typical behavior. 

Just then, the string quartet started a new song and woke Manon from her thoughts. Dorian smiled smugly, grabbed Manon's glass and put it down. Then she held out her hand. "Can I get this dance?" 

Manon crossed her arms to her chest. "Witches don't dance."  

And they don't go to balls, and they don't socialize princes... Doria's face had that annoyingly flirtatious smile that Manon hated. "It's okay," the damned boy grinned. "I'm leading." 

And before Manon could argue back, Dorian grabbed her hand and dragged her after him to the dance floor.  

:::::::: 

Manon Blackbeak sat at her desk and rubbed her forehead in frustration as she read the report in front of her. It was snowing outside. Elsewhere in Erlea it was spring, but up in the mountains it still looked like it was midwinter. 

Manon crumpled the report in her hands and tossed it into the fire burning in the fireplace. There was nothing important in the paper. It was just about the fighting skills of the youngest witches – just twenty years old. It was not praiseworthy. The witches were hardly any more than a witchlings. Even though they had already come of age four years ago. It was useless to expect miracles from young witches. Sighing, he got up from her chair and rubbed her back. Manon had sat at her desk for three hours, wading through frustrating, boring reports that her grandmother couldn't go through. If this was a new way to punish Manon, grandmother had become more creative. 

Manon needed a break—at least for a moment, something else to think about, other than the young witches and their shortcomings—so she walked to the door of her room and stepped the spiral staircase. 

Manon's room was located at the top of one of the towers of the Blackbeak keep. A narrow staircase led there, at the foot of which there was a door. The hinges creaked loudly as Manon entered the narrow corridor along which were the rooms of the other Thirteen. Manon had deliberately left the hinges ungreased. She would immediately hear if someone tried to sneak into the staircase. 

Manon leapt past the Thirteen rooms, only glancing at the closed doors quickly. More than one-half did not spend the night often. Vesta, Lin, Imogen, Thea and Kaya had their own cabins deeper in the mountains. Vesta, as far as Manon knew, was in her own cabin. Lin and Imogen were on the mission, as were Thea and Kaya. 

Vesta's cottage was her mother's old. Manon had heard many stories about Vesta's mother – Valeria Blackbeak - and what she had been up to far from the eyes of others. Even the actions of the Bluebloods would have been overshadowed by the madness of Vesta's mother. The witch who spoke to fire and water... Manon grimaced. She didn't understand how Vesta stayed to live in her mother's old cottage. The Matron would have wanted to burn it years ago, but Vesta had stubbornly argued against. She eventually won the controversy — which was rare. 

Manon passed Asterin's room, the door of which was open. Manon didn't know where her second was at the time. Asterin sometimes disappeared into her own ways. Manon had turned a blind eye to it for years, and even now she didn't mind it. Asterin had had a difficult winter. Sometimes she had such times. After getting to know her cousin better, Manon had begun to notice such things. Eighty years and the memory of the witchling still caused Asterin to retreat into his shell from time to time. Manon had moved her hand to her own stomach without realizing it. 

She stroked it and thought about her own little one. Rina would be ten now. She would be eleven in two months. While winter was a difficult time for Asterin, spring evoked old memories in Manon. The nightmares of Baba Yellowleg and her daughter's broken neck came back stronger. Manon had woken up last night to vomit with Baba Yellowleg's laughter ringing in her ears. If Asterin had to be left alone to collect herself, Manon would allow it. 

Sorrel's door was ajar and Manon peeked in to see if the third were there. The room was empty. The bed was neatly made. The fireplace ledge was spotless. Manon didn't know how Sorrel managed to keep her room so clean. 

Ghislaine's room was empty. She was in the large library of the Blackbeak keep. Manon knew it without guessing. 

The twins' rooms were next to each other. Manon knew where they were. Faline and Fallon were in the arena practicing the renew coven. They enjoyed being able to torture the newest fighters. Manon decided to tell them to focus especially on the younger witches. Some of them didn't even have a witch coven yet. It was worrying. There hadn't been so many coven witches among the Blackbeaks for a while. Several witch coven were formed when witches were about fourteen to eighteen years old. Manon had assembled her own coven of witches when she was seventeen. But she was the heir. She was supposed to have a powerful coven. 

Manon's Shadows - were in Adralan. Edda and Briar had been sent on a reconnaissance mission near Riftholdi because of the Yellowlegs. Many of them had been spotted within the walls of Adralan's capital. Manon had ordered - or perhaps more so asked – her Shadows to check on Rina as well. They did it more than willingly. Especially since the Yellowlegs roamed the streets of the city. 

Manon turned from the corner of the corridor and stopped at the door of the small library of the Thirteen Towers. Or well, mostly it served as a repository for books found by Ghislaine. There had been so many of them over the years that there was no way they could fit in Ghislaine's room. The library often served as the meeting room of the Thirteen. Few had the courage to climb the tower of the Manon’s Coven. Manon drew her lungs full of air and smelled the smell in it. 

The young witch had been someone brave or foolish when she came. Manon wanted to hear an explanation before throwing the intruder out of her room window. 

Manon pushed open the library door and prepared to confront a cheeky witch berated for disrespect, but...The little witchling—barely more than nine—jumped farther out the door, eyes wide in terror. 

Manon stopped there and stared at the child. She was small, like she couldn't get enough to eat. The long white hair ran open over the girl's pale face, which the witchling suddenly pressed when she saw Manon. “So-so-sorry,” The girl stuttered in a broken and small voice. “I just- I just..." Cobalt blue eyes were wide and startled, as the girl stared at Manon's boots. "I know I shouldn't be..." 

Manon raised her hand to silence the witchling. The child recoiled as if waiting to be beaten. Manon froze, staring at the girl's fluffy white hair. She saw no more of the little intruder. "Who are you?” Manon asked. She did her best to keep her voice calm. She couldn't calm the children, but she was curious. What did the witchling do here? 

“Theresa,” The girl whispered quietly and in a trembling voice. She still didn't look up. "Look at me." Manon commanded. 

Theresa slowly lifted her gaze from Manon's boots to her face. Manon kept her expression to the basics, even though he felt like raising an eyebrow when she saw the young girl's face. 

Theresa was beautiful. Even by witches' standards, the witchling standing in front of Manon was extraordinarily beautiful. The skin was glowy and smooth. The eyes were bright and a clear blue. The face was heart-shaped and sensitive. However, the impression was ruined by chapped lips, lifelessly drooping white hair and sunken cheeks. Tämä lapsi oli nälkiintynyt. Manon knew of no one who would have allowed such a young witchling to starve. 

"Why are you here?" Manon asked, lowering her hand. It seemed to calm Theresa a little. The witchling wrapped her skinny arms around her small body and muttered in a barely audible voice. "I'm looking for a book." 

Manon glanced at the shelves. Some books had been moved. Ghislaine didn't like it when her collection was tampered with. "Why?” Manon continued her interrogation. She crossed her arms to her chest, waiting for an answer. Theresa trembled. Out of fear – or cold? Manon was cool in the room, but the child was so thin that he was definitely frozen. 

"My sister," she burst out, "my little sister, Azalea, is very sick. She has always been ill, but now I fear she may die. I... I heard that Ghislaine Blackbeak has books all over Erlea. Even some ancient writings of healers. I was hoping... I was hoping to find a book to help heal her. I wasn't going to steal anything," The words quickly came out of the girl's mouth, in a shaking voice. 

Manon was silent and measured the girl from head to toe. The child was too young to care for anyone. "Why doesn't your mother do it?" Manon asked. Moment by moment, it seemed more like Theresa, and apparently her sister, were being mistreated. 

"She's dead, my lady," Theresa whispered. "She died giving birth to my sister." 

Or so. 

"Who will take care of the two of you then?" Manon continued her interrogation. Theresa glanced anxiously over Manon's shoulder before saying, "Our Aunt Laucia.” There was fear in the voice. Laucia. She was older than Manon and belonged to the lower coven. Manon recognized the name, even though she couldn't remeber of the witch's face. 

"Why doesn't she take care of your sister?" Manon asked. Theresa's blue eyes flashed with rage, but it died out almost immediately. It's like she's too tired to be angry. "She thinks Azalea is weak if she can't overcome her illness herself. Blackbeak has no use for weak witches and Azale is weak when she doesn't heal, Aunt say." 

The anger that had awakened inside Manon erupted into rage. How dare anyone abandon two witchlings! Theresa was almost Rina's age! Maybe she was Rina's age, but because of her malnutrition, she looked younger. Manon's maternal instincts had awakened. She didn't know this witchling, let alone her sister, but she knew she couldn't let it be. 

"Why do you look like you haven't had food for days?" Manon asked. For several weeks, perhaps there would have been a more correct expression. If Theresa was taken aback by the question, she didn't show it. "Since I don't train with other witches," the answer was toneless, as if she had to tell it many times. “Why don't you practice?" Manon asked, even though she believed she knew the answer. She should send a few of her witches—maybe Faline and Fallon—to talk to Theresa's aunt. “I can't leave Aza alone for long. Otherwise, she will die. Today I can, because she feels better. But I have to go back soon. Before my aunt returns." 

Theresa shivered, and Manon saw all the color that had risen on the little girl's face drain away.  "Will she hit you?” The question came as a surprise to Manon herself. The witchling were not hurt. They might be disciplined after they turned ten and did something stupid, but beating a witchling without justification for no reason was an affront to the gifts given by the Three Faces godess. Theresa looked at Manon with her brows furrowed in confusion, surprised by the question. "Of course she hits." 

Manon's heart drooped in her chest. She restrained herself barely so that her iron nails were not exposed. Theresa was just beginning to relax. "For what reasons?" 

Theresa shrugged her shoulders and trembled again. She had a cold. “Because I'm weak when I'm trying to keep my sister alive. She is reportedly dying anyway and I should focus on my own success. She hits me whenever she notices that I've skipped a workout. And then deny me food," Theresa paused for a moment. And then she said vehemently. “I can't let Aza die. She's the only one I have left!" 

It broke Manon's heart to see tears welled up in the little witch's eyes. She swallowed. Took a deep breath. The girl's scent spread to her tongue. The first breath of frost frozen and the smell of lilys that have just blossomed. There was something vaguely similar to Rina's in the scent. Manon felt her frown frown as she examined the little girl crouching in front of her. She was undoubtedly a witch. A witch who had the courage to climb the Tower of the Thirteen in search of some way to heal her sister. An idea began to form in Manon's mind when the library door was thrown open and Asterin marched in with an envelope in her hand. 

On her heels leapt Sorrel, Vesta and demon twins. "Manon," Asterin began, then fell silent when she noticed the smell of fear wafting through the air. Her gaze fell on Theresa crouching beside the bookshelf. Asterin's pale brows raised, and she turned toward Manon for an explanation. 

Manon waved with her hand, interrupting Asterin. She turned towards Faline and Fallon, knowing what she should do. Asterin would have to wait. Theresa should be treated first. “You two," Manon said. She knew where Theresa's aunt lived. All witches who lived outside the castle had to be reported separately. “Go to the mountain cottage inhabited by Laucia Blackbeak. Bring her to me," The twins glanced at each other once, then at the witchling pressed against the bookcase. Theresa looked like she wanted to disappear through the wall. They nodded. "Laucia has a witchling with her. She is..." Manon turned towards Theresa. "How old is your sister?" 

Thresa trembled. Now, apparently, also out of fear. The appearance of five witches had frightened her. “Five years old," she whispered, lowering her gaze. Manon nodded. "And how old are you?" 

Theresa refused to meet Manon's gaze as she muttered: “I just turned nine." Two years younger than Rina. Too young to take care of herself, let alone her five-year-old sister. The four-year age difference was rare for witches. 

"Laucia has a sick five-year-old witchling, Azalea, in her cottage. Take her directly to the hospital ward. Tell the witches here to do all they can to save the witchling." Theresa's aunt should have done it a long time ago. 

It was up to the medically skilled witches to judge if Azalea would survive. Faline and Fallon nodded again. Their expressions were darkened as they began to realize what a starving-looking witchling and another sick witchling meant. Laucia would not survive this. Not if it was up to Manon. 

Manon had seen the punishments for abusing or harming witchling before. She had participated in lengthy executions twice—three times if Baba Yellowleg was lowered—and the punishment had never seemed sufficient. 

After the twins left, Manon turned towards Vesta.“Vesta,” She said, and the red-haired witch straightened her shoulders. “Take Theresa to the kitchen and make sure she gets to eat." Theresa had raised her head when Manon turned towards the witchling again. “When was the last time you ate?" It was a demand that did not tolerate objections. 

Theresa's gaze lowered and she began to play with the hem of her shirt. The shirt was far too big for the child's narrow shoulders. “I drank water yesterday," she muttered in a barely audible voice. Manon raised her other eyebrow. "When was the last time you ate?" 

Theresa glanced up. "I don't remember," she whispered. Manon again had to concentrate that the iron nails were not exposed. Asterin, Vesta and Sorrel also seemed to have similar problems. "I'll take care of it," Vesta said, reaching out and cautiously grabbing Theresa's little hand. Feeling the touch, Theresa stiffened, but then relaxed. She followed Vesta out of the room, her white hair falling to her face. 

When the two were sure to be out of hearing distance, Asterin muttered, "Did maternal instincts wake up?" Manon snorted and let her hands fall beside her sides. "Haven't you woken up?" she asked, raising her eyebrows to her second. Asterin smiled and shrugged. But Manon recognized the expression on her cousin's face. “What are you going to do with her?" Asterin asked, crossing her strong arms. 

Manon glanced at Sorrel. "Go to my grandmother and tell her about Laucia's crime. I'll follow shortly. After you leave my grandmother's office, find Theresa a room and suitable clothes. Neither of the girls will return to that cabin," Manon commanded and Sorrel nodded. Manon looked at the library around them. A long space lit by candles with tall bookshelves on both walls. In the middle of the room there was a round table, and on the back wall - next to the large windows - was a sofa set. 

"In exchange for education and protection, Theresa serves in thirteen districts until she comes of age," Manon announced, closing her decision with her words. She turned to meet the glances of her second and third. Both seemed stunned, although the practice was not uncommon. Manon just had never wanted to take anyone as a protégé of the Thirteen. 

Sometimes some older coven took charge of the witchling and took on the duties of servants, the witchling received education and protection. For thirteen, Theresa would be the first protégé. Grandmother had pressured Manon a few times to take charge of the witchling, who would do all the household chores for Thirteen. Manon hadn't even given it serious consideration before this. For some—like her grandmother—taking on a protégé was a practice. Thea and Kaya had been employed by the Matron's Coven before Manon recruited them into the Thirteen. 

The status of protégé often ensured a better position and coven in the clan for witchling. 

Manon had been impressed by Theresa. Loyalty to her sister and courage to climb the Tower of the Thirteen to seek the answer to her sister's illness...Theresa earned and needed protection and education more than anyone else. 

"Shall I arrange a room for her near the Tower of the Thirteen?" Sorrel asked. Manon nodded. "Tell my grandmother that the girl is mine now. Others have no claims on her.” Sorrel bowed her head, and Manon seemed to see a faint smile on the corner of her third's mouth. She touched her forehead with two fingers. Then she left and pulled the door shut behind her. 

"Protégé," Asterin said, turning to grin at Manon. “You're really softening." Sometime before, that phrase would have caused Manon to beat up her cousin. Now she just rolled her eyes. "Did you see that girl? Small and starving. And yet braver than half that age." 

"True," Asterin chuckled. But then she got serious. “Assure the Matron that neither of them—Theresa or her little sister—will have to witness their aunt's execution." 

Manon nodded. She had already decided that Theresta or her sister would not see Laucia's punishment. They had experienced enough. Manon didn't yet know what to do with Theresa's little sister. The child was still too young to be a protégé, but Manon would make sure that the witches who cared for the witchling in Blackbeak keep knew who to answer if something happened to Azalea. 

"This came from the Shadows," Asterin's words stirred Manon out of her thoughts. She turned towards her cousin and saw the envelope she was holding out. “What is it?" Manon asked, though her heart—a heart that had begun to beat violently—already knew. “Rina,” Asterin said only when Manon took the envelope. 

"I'm going to check Vesta and Theresa. I tell the girl what to do with her. I'm also going to see the twins." Manon barely realized to nod to Asterin's words. Her whole attention was on the envelope. 

Manon barely realized her cousin had left when she tore open the envelope in one smooth motion and pulled out the letter. The shell floated to the floor as Manon opened the folded, crumpled paper at the corners. A few lines were written on it in Briar's narrow but clear handwriting. 

Two days ago, the King of Adralan left Rifhold with Dorian and Rina in a small entourage towards the mountains. We followed them as long as we could, but eventually lost them. 

What we found out is that they are on their way to the White fang Mountains. Edda heard the king say something about Ferian Gap. Because of the winds, we couldn't follow them all the way there, so we returned to Rifhold to spy the Yellowlegs. 

Rina is doing well. She has grown a lot. I wish you'd seen how much trouble she caused before leaving. At least she didn't kill anyone, which is the only thing she didn't. Rina has become beautiful. She looks just like you. 

We will return in a few weeks, probably before the King of Adralan returns with her entourage. We have already sent our report on Yellowlegs to your grandmother. 

They're looking for Baba's wagon, how else . They are not in Rfithold. And if they are, they are so well hidden that even we can't find them. Better that they remain hidden.  

Briar  

What was in Ferian Gap? Manon read the letter twice. And then one more time, before putting the paper down. She folded it twice. And then tore in half. She walked to the fireplace in the library and lit a fire. Manon used Briar's letter as kindling. Within these walls, Rina did not exist and all evidence of her had to be destroyed. 

Still, Manon still hadn't been able to burn the crown of star flowers she kept between one of her books. Manon watched as the halves of the paper curled, turned brown, and burst into flames. Anxiety had settled in the bottom of her stomach. Ferian Gap was far from Adralan, but she convinced herself that Dorian wouldn't let anything - absolutely anything - hurt Rina. She had to rely on that. And Manon trusted Dorian. 

::::::: 

Dorian dragged Manon onto the dance floor among the slowly rocking couples. Manon looked as if she could slit throats when Dorian lowered his right hand to her waist and squeezed the fingers of his left hand around the witch's hardened palm. Manon reluctantly placed her hand on Dorian's shoulder—very close to his throat. It didn't go unnoticed by Dorian. 

"Are you going to slit my throat in the middle of a minuet?” Dorian asked as he began to lead Manon through the first complex dance pattern. Manon grunted low, and the couple dancing next to them spun away. Dorian chuckled. “Witches don't dance," Manon growled, glare around through the eye openings of her mask. Red lips were twisted into a grimace that only drunks could to think a smile. 

"Don't dance or can't dance?" Dorian asked lightly and rolled Manon's back against his chest. A growl from the witch made Dorian grin. Manon would indeed tear his heart from his chest for this good. "Shut up," the witch muttered quietly. Despite the fact that Manon clearly did not know how to take steps, she walked much smoother than any of the other women fattening on the parquet. It caught my attention. Dorian saw how many men—and women—watched Manon's movements from the edge of the dance floor. 

Lady Raven certainly attracted attention. Manon was undoubtedly the most interesting and wonderful woman in the entire ballroom. The red-and-black dress was a dark contrast to the bright party dresses of others. Open white hair blatantly separated her from other women who had gathered their hair in buns around theyr head. Posture, how she moved... These people subconsciously seemed to know that there was a beast among them. But only Dorian really knew who he was dancing with. 

"They're staring," Dorian whispered in Manon's ear . Golden eyes glanced at his, and even though the mask covered it, Dorian could have sworn the witch raised one eyebrow. “ You're a prince," Manon remarked as Dorian spun her away again . The red hems flare with the movement. When they returned to face each other, a grin played with Manon's red-painted lips . “ Of course they are staring," she continued to the end of his sentence.  

Dorian looked around the hall and shook his head. "Not this time," he said. They danced past council Mullson and Dorian took note, how the man stared at Manon with his mouth open, completely forgetting about his wife. Dorian gave the minister a quick smile before dancing with his witch farther away. 

"They're staring at you," Dorian hummed. Manon looked at her and tilted her head charmingly. Even Dorian heard the gasps. Manon's small grin widened into a smile. “Do you want to cause a scandal, princeling?" the witch asked. Another dance step brought Manon's back against Dorian's chest. 

"I'm listening," Dorian lowered his head to Manon's shoulder. “ I have nothing against scandals."  

Manon smiled. Her long nails - and Dorian realized Manon had exposed her iron nails . Not that anyone noticed it in the dim light of the hall - they pressed against Dorian's cheek and turned her head.  

Sapphire blue eyes met golden ones. “ Good," Manon said. And before Dorian knew anything, Manon's cool lips were on his . I could feel Doria's iron teeth as they pressed against his lower lip.  

The ballroom disappeared around Dorian. There was only a woman – a witch – who demanded Dorian's lips for herself in front of everyone's eyes. Dorian felt his body react to Manon's closeness as the witch deepened the kiss. 

And then the music stopped and Manonin rolled away, her iron teeth flashing before they retracted inside her gums. The iron nails had also disappeared. Dorian's hearing returned with waves. He heard the murmur, though he could not make out the words. They stood in the middle of the dance floor, and Dorian saw no one but a smiling Manon. 

At that moment, Dorian was glad that his coat was long. “ It was interesting," Manon hummed, wrapped her arms around Dorian's arm, and pulled him behind her away from the dance floor.  

Dorian kept his back straight and noticed the women Manon smiled at. And the king, who stared in their direction, his face stiffened in dismay. Manon's act was presumptuous.  And maybe it was still the intoxication of a kiss, but Dorian gave his father a wide grin. Father would have time to think about what that would mean. 

(The next day, the kiss on the dance floor was on the front page of every Riftholdi magazine. A drawing of Dorian by a journalist did not do justice to Manon's beauty.)  

:::::: 

Dorian Havilliard gritted his teeth as he walked along the corridors illuminated by the spring sun. Summer was around the corner. The days were warmer and longer. All the snow had almost melted. And Rina's eleventh birthday would be a week away. 

Queen Georgiane had already started planning the party in midwinter, and now that the party was only a week away, the whole castle was bustling with invited guests, servants and other people that Dorian couldn't care about. No one seemed particularly interested that Rina wasn't in a festive mood. After returning from Ferian Gap... after what had happened on Ferian Gap... Rina had turned inward. She had always been like that. Kept some things to herself and carefully selected her company, but now... she didn't even want to talk to Dorian. 

Dorian had tried to talk to her daughter on Mount Omega after a guard reported what had happened. He remembered sitting across from his petite daughter in the dim light of the infirmary. 

"What happened to the White Fang?"  

"It's none of your business."  

The expression on Rina's face... Dorian had seen it too many times on Manon's face. Once Manon didn't want to tell something. 

Rina had shut herself in and retreated into her shell. The journey back to Adralan had been just as painful. Rina had sat in front of Dorian in the saddle, and Dorian had seen every single startle. Every movement of the horse seemed to cause excruciating pain in the young girl's wounds. 

It was widely believed that Rina had fallen into the bait beast pen through carelessness and they would have grated Rina's back to the wounds. Somehow, miraculously, however, she had survived and been dragged out of the pens, barely alive. 

But Dorian had seen the wounds. They weren't the claw marks of wyverns — Dorian still couldn't believe how his father had managed to create something like that. Rina's back looked as if it had been beaten or whippep to blood. 

Rina refused to talk about it. For the rest of the visit, she had spent time with her four new pets - Dorian still didn't know how Rina got the trainers to agree. 

So much had Rina told Dorian that the four cubs—wyverns the size of an adult dog—had helped her out of the bait beast pen.So it was true that Dorian's daughter - little reckless Rina - had fallen into a bait beast pen! For that reason alone, Dorian would have a hard time looking Manon in the eye if she ever saw a witch. He had let Rina—who was damn ten—get into so much danger! But apparently he had walked out of the bait beast pen without a scratch. Which guess was the most shocking part of the whole story in all respects. But after that, something had happened that everyone was talking about Rina's wounds and the incredible survival grate. 

Which Rina herself did not want to talk about. Normally, Rina was never silent. Now he had been resolutely holding a coventry for half a month. 

Dorian sighed and rubbed his forehead. He had sat for three hours in a meeting listening to the Council squabbling. They had talked about wyverns - the purpose of which Dorian still did not understand. What did my father raise them for? So far, Terrasen's threat had been left out of the meetings. Dorian didn't think his father had given up on the idea, but a change of subject – if only for a moment – was welcome. After the meeting, Dorian had visited his mother and asked if he had asked Rina what she wanted for her birthday. 

The Queen had replied that Rina had not agreed to meet her to discuss the matter. Normally, Rina made sure that the party arranged for her looked like her. Realizing that Rina was still keeping to herself and wasn't actively arguing with her mother scared Dorian. What if Rina didn't go back to normal?  

So here he was. On the way to his daughter's apartments. When Rina had turned eight, she had asked for her own apartment further away from Dorian. It was in the same tower, just one floor below. Rina had justified her request as a desire to become independent. Dorian didn't know if Rina would even be able to become more independent. Rina was born independent. 

Dorian sighed heavily and stopped behind his daughter's door. He raised his hand and knocked. There was no answer, but Dorian hadn't expected it. If she wanted to keep him away, Dorian thought as he pressed the handle down. The door would be locked. 

The door opened easily, revealing an empty living area. Or well... More of a room resembled a seamstress's study. There were drawings and sewing patterns on the walls. On the coffee table was a pile of non-fiction books, pens, chalk and a pile of dirty plates. Fabrics, knitting needles and thick woolen yarn were piled on sofas and armchairs. A wooden mannequin stood in the corner, as if ashamed, wearing the of a half-finished dress. In the other corner—the only place where the fabrics and threads that had taken over the rest of the room—stood a large and long, untidy bookcase. Rina rarely let the servants clean for her. She cleaned herself if she was in the mood. So the room was cosmic chaos. For Rina, things were in place if they were where she had left them. 

Next to the bookcase was a dusty piano. Dorian could already see at first glance that it hadn't been play for a while. On top of the piano were a pile of sheet music and half-finished compositions. Rina had thrown her dancing shoes - the Queen had demanded last winter that Rina start practicing ballet - under the piano. 

Sword – Rina had replied that she would only agree to ballet if she could start combat training – leaning on the sofa, blade half exposed. There were no curtains in Rina's living room. Rina must have torn them down with inspiration. Dorian believed he recognized the shreds of an old dark purple curtain under the needle of Rina's sewing machine. 

Shaking his head, Dorian walked through Rina's living room—wary of piles of books that didn't fit on the bookcase—until he reached his daughter's bedroom door. It was ajar. Dorian opened it and entered Rina's bedroom. 

Unlike the living room, Rina's bedroom was clean. The small book shelf – where Rina kept her favorite books – was not only in alphabetical order, but also in Rina's own favorite order. On the white desk - next to the large balcony doors - was a pile of papers. Rina's drawings and homework. 

The bed was made and the silk curtains carefully pleated around four posts. The bathroom door was wide open, revealing clean countertops and an empty bathtub. Beaded curtains sparkled in the sunshine and threw many colorful rainbows on the floor. The door to Rina's walk-in closet was tightly closed. Dorian had never dared to glance inside. The gods knew what kind of chaos reigned there. Rina preferred to sew her own costumes or make radical changes to the clothes Georgiane bought her. 

Dorian hadn't dared to buy Rina any clothes since she turned nine. Mother thought Rina's behavior was ridiculous. Why make clothes yourself when Rina as a princess could get everything ready? Dorian had noticed that his mother wished Rina to be pampered and bribed like Hollin. 

Hollin... Dorian sighed. There was yet another problem with his long list of problems. Hollin was Dorian's now 21-year-old arrogant little brother who changed mistresses like socks. Georgiane had spoiled his brother, but at least the mother knew she could control her youngest son's whims. Unlike Dorian and Rina's mental movements. 

Hollin had arrived in Riftholdi a few days ago with his lavish noses, his first official wife on the hand side. Dorian was surprised that Hollin had bothered to show up for his niece's birthday, especially since Hollin couldn't stand Rina. Not that Rina tolerates Hollin. 

Dorian assumed that Hollin was somehow afraid of Rina and had therefore moved out of the glass castle as quickly as possible at the age of nineteen. It hadn't moved Dorian much. Hollin was less annoyed when he was far away. 

In Hollin's absence, Georgiane had begun giving Rina gifts, hoping that her lively temperament would be tamed, before she would be allowed to attack the high society. That had not happened. Rina had not become tame, nor had she turned into the well-behaved lady her mother would have wanted. 

Rina, on the other hand, had begun to sharpen her nails—metaphorical nails at this point—on other children of noblewomen. The girls burst into tears after talking to Rina for five minutes, and the boys turned pale when her name was mentioned. Dorian didn't know if he should have been so proud of it. 

Mother kept harping on about how Rina's behavior would make it harder to marry her in the future. Rina was too hard. Usually Dorian wanted to kill his father because of his stupid ideas, but his mother's obsession with marrying Rina away as quickly as possible made Dorian wish for a chance to choke the queen with a pillow. 

Rina was not difficult, and she did not behave badly. Rina just had... Opinions. To put it mildly. And he wasn't some difficult pet that was passed on when the former owners got bored. 

The question "Dad?" woke Dorian from his gloomy thoughts and made him look up at the balcony door. And for a moment, Dorian believed he saw Manon. 

Against the light, the figure dressed in a white long-sleeved nightgown was Manon for him. 

Dorian blinked and the sight vanished. 

Rina stood in front of him, arms folded on her chest and one corner raised. It was easier to see through the enchantment today. There was an inquiring look in the eyes of different colors. Her pale skin shone, as if light was shining from inside Rina. Black, straight hair stretched open towards her daughter's slender waist. 

Dorian blinked, then frowned. "Have you done something to your hair?” he asked, measuring the new appearance of his almost eleven-year-old daughter. Rina sighed and waved one of the black strands over her shoulder. 

"I straightened it out," Rina said, shrugging her shoulders. "I thought I would be taken more seriously if I got rid of my curls." 

Rina glanced quickly towards Dorian, who had realized she had been staring. But Rina... she looked just like Manon. Day by day, just more, but now that the curls inherited from Dorian were gone...if Dorian had only seen Rina's left profile, she would have looked like a very young Manon. 

Dorian shook his head and banished thoughts of Manon. “We took you seriously before," he remarked, trying to focus on the present. “It has nothing to do with curls." 

Rina sighed and rolled her head with an expression on her face that told her to restrain herself tightly. "Yes," Rina said, crossing her arms to her chest. “If my hair is straight, it's harder to consider me a child." 

It was true that the curls brought out Rina's wild and ferocious side. But childish...”What is this all about?" Dorian asked, taking a step forward. He noticed that a river mussel pearl hung from a silver chain around Rina's neck. The jewelry looked new, although the pearl was not one of those sold in jewelry stores in the city. 

Rina quickly glanced up, and then became noticeably interested in the lace sleeve of her nightgown. Dorian began to suspect evil. "Have you done something?" 

Quick glanced up. Eyebrow lift. The fingered of the sleeve of the nightgown stopped immediately. "For once, I haven't done anything," Rina said and met Dorian's gaze. The nervousness was gone, and Rina stood in front of him, upright like a dancer. It was as if Rina was nervous just because she was supposed to. Dorian had noticed that Rina sometimes mirrored other people's behaviors, and he didn't understand why. 

"You asked me a few weeks ago what I wanted for my birthday,” Rina's tone was declarative. She smiled slightly, and Dorian raised his eyebrows. “And now have you invented?" 

Rina nodded. She straightened her shoulders and said: “I want to attend Council meetings from my birthday." 

Dorian was dumbfounded. He stared at his daughter, who looked back expectantly. “Do you want to attend council meetings?” He made sure, even though he knew he had heard correctly. Rina had spoken clearly. 

Rina nodded. Dorian opened his mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say. Rina – at Council meetings? That would be carnage. 

Like Hollin, many in the council unknowingly or knowingly feared Rina. Rina was too much for them. Especially after Rina survived the wyvern herd and persuaded the trainers to hand over four cubs to her care. 

Some would oppose Rina's accession. Others would do their best to break Rina. Dorian didn't know if Rina knew what kind of reputation she had. Dorian knew that Rina knew she had influence.Most of which he had acquired herself. For the bastard princess, it was not distributed with a golden spoon. 

Rina herself had acquired her reputation, because of which even Dorian's father was looking for a way to break his granddaughter's nature. Turns out that she was just a girl. Rina never agreed to be "just a girl." 

"Rina, sweetie," Dorian stepped right in front of his daughter. She was taller than Rina, although Rina had stretched somewhat during the winter, “The Council will not welcome you with open arms. Are you sure you want to voluntarily go into that trap of death?" 

Rina shrugged her shoulders again. “I know. That's exactly why I want to go there. I want to know what those narrow-minded uncles are planning." 

Dorian sighed. Rina had made her decision, and she wasn't about to turn it around. Father would have a heart attack when Dorian suggested—demanded—that Rina be allowed into meetings. This can become something very entertaining. “Let's see what I can do," Dorian said. The smile spreading across Rina's face was indeed worthy of a few angry counselors. Dorian would have to bet with Chaol on how long it would take for Rina to get one of the self-righteous ministers to resign. 

"Thank you," Rina said and, after hesitating for a moment, jumped up to hug my Doria. Rina rarely hugged. Her way of showing affection was in gifts, not physical contact. Dorian wrapped his arms around Rina's small body and squeezed properly. “It was the weirdest birthday request I've heard in a while, but I'll do my best to get you to the council,” Dorian said, carefully lowering Rina to the ground. 

Rina's cheeks burned red with excitement as she grinned. Dorian grinned back and then asked, "Would you like a more fun and normal birthday present first?" 

Dorian had had more to do in his daughter's room than check that she was okay. 

Rina's eyes flashed and her mouth opened. “Have you bought me a gift?" she asked. Dorian smiled and gestured with his hand. "Thought about giving it only next week, but I feel like now is a good time," he winked at Rina, who looked at him suspiciously. "Then give it away," she said. Rina did not respond well to surprises. Therefore, she did not get along with the queen. "Dress up," Dorian urged. "We have to go to the dog shelter." 

Rina's eyes widened, and then the corners of her mouth rose into a smile. "Oh my gods! So you'll get me a dog!" 

A wolf dog, Dorian thought as he watched his daughter slip into the bathroom to get dressed. Dorian had realized one thing after Omega Mountain. 

Rina liked beasts. 

:::::: 

After they left the dance floor, Dorian took the lead again and he ushered Manon past the staring guests to the serving table. Next to wine glass pyramid was set with all sorts of delicacies, to which Manon rolled her eyes. Humans and their food preferences.  

All kinds of snacks were laid out on the table, such as pralines and small sandwiches. Without pickying, Dorian grabbed a small piece of bread with something mashed on top of it from one plate and pushed it into his mouth. Seeing Manon's raised brow hair, he grinned. “Prince's advantages," he said, snatching two sparkling glasses from the table. He offered one of them to Manon. "No need to use tongs." 

Manon accepted the offered glass and gulped half of it down her throat, glancing at the party guests staring at them. What had happened to her on the dance floor? All those people—those women—had stared at them—stared at Dorian—as if waiting for the moment when the prince would get tired of Manon. 

Manon had unwittingly exposed her iron nails and iron teeth. Dorian may have been a prince, but he was the princeling of Manon. So she did the only thing with which to mark the territory in the world of humans. If Manon could, she would have started slaughtering the festive crowd. 

Instead, Manon kissed Dorian in the middle of it all, satisfyingly noting how it made most of the women withdraw or look the other way. It would undoubtedly cause a scandal, but Manon would not witness it. She would be gone by then. Hopefully once and for all. These balls were the height of madness and stupidity. Manon couldn't be more brazen in violating all the principles of the Blackbeaks. Obedience, discipline and brutaly. 

Manon stood in the midst of the human's feasts to which he had come in the prince's arms, like a court lady. Not like a witch. Not like the cruel creature her grandmother had raised. 

Manon sipped her sparkling glass empty and laid it down on the table. She hadn't even thought about the horrible punishment her grandmother would inflict on her for this if she found out. Manon glanced at Dorian, who was drinking his own glass beside him. The Princeling was indeed bad company for Manon, as Manon found herself thinking "if Grandmother found out." And ahe never would. These people did not know her, and no witch was stupid enough to come to the ball of the king of Adralan. 

A smile jerked the sides of Manon's mouth upwards. Her back was secured. "What makes you laugh?" Dorian asked in a low voice, putting down his half-full glass next to Manon's empty glass. Manon waved her white hair and watched as a few nearby guards freeze. Manon smiled sharply at them and they immediately averted their gaze. 

"I am reckless and stupid,” Manon said and crossed her arms to her chest. The wine must have risen to her head faster than Manon had realized, for she continued: “I'm just glad my grandmother will never find out about this." 

"Your grandmother?" Dorian asked, looking at Manon. Manon snorted and felt how, her smile faded. Lips clenched into a tight line. "The Matron of the Blackbeaks," Manon elaborated, reaching past Dorian for a new glass of wine, "she would skin me alive if she found out about this," Manon gestured with her sparkling glass facing the ballroom. “And I deserve it," she finished darkly, sipping wine. 

Dorian was silent for a long time. He watched the events in the hall for a good while before opening his mouth . “ And if she found out about your visits to me.. .” Manon gulped well over half of the glass down her throat. “Sh e would kill you. Or probably make me do it," she shrugged. “ Witches have no human lovers." Manon put her empty glass down next to another glass.  

Manon had never been a fan of alcohol. Sh e never drank so much that her mind became blurred. Unlike Vesta, demon twins and sometimes even Asterin . Especially when they was younger. Manon had had to punish the foursome several times for recklessness.  

And now Manon did something much worse. Far worse than any of the confusion of Asterin's youth. Even Asterin was not so reckless or disobedient. 

"But you make love to each other?” Doria's question awakened Manon from her thoughts. Manon turned towards the boy, sure that she had misheard. But no. Dorian waited for an answer with his wine glass raised. "We have our needs too, princeling," Manon groaned lowly, anger smouldering under her skin. Dorian smiled again. That damned smile. 

"Have you had a lover among witches?" The princeling asked casually, leaned against the table, and drank from her glass as if waiting for an interesting story. Manon shook her head and tried without slamming her nails into the boy's throat. "Will you tell your companions about your mistresses before her?" she struck back. 

Manon couldn't see Dorian's eyebrows from behind the black-and-red mask, but from the movement of his forehead, she knew the princeling had raised his eyebrows. “ All right, witchling," Dorian said in a low voice, stepping in front of Manon. H e set her glass down on the table so he could grab Manon's fingers and press a light kiss on the back of her hand. “ It was rude. But I'm curious, ” he went on and wrapped his fingers around Manon's. "Have you had lovers before me . And I'm not talking about the men you've slaughtered at the end of the evening. Real lovers?"  

Manon pursed her lips into a tight line, but did not pull away as Dorian bent down to speak in her ear: “I'll tell you how many I have, if you tell mine," the princeling offered. Mano's back arched slightly as Dorian's warm breath tickled his ear. 

Manon grabbed the boy's face to push him away. Just a little. They were still face to face. Manon lifted her chin. "You first,” she urged softly. Dorian grinned. That damned, overly flirty smile that made Manon's insides go round in circles. "Twelve." 

Manon raised her eyebrows. "Am I your thirteenth mistress?" she asked, brushing the hair curling under Dorian's crown. "Interesting." 

"Indeed, quite a coincidence," Dorian smiled. Manon replied with a smile. “ Do you have a mistress for every month? ” sh e inquired quietly, knowing that people nearby were trying to hear what they whispered. Dorian winked . “ No details, witch. Your turn."  

Manon sighed inward. She wish could have counted all the men who had left only a blood-drained body at the end of the evening.  

"One," she said.  

Manon had lived more than a hundred years, but before Dorian, if you can count Dorian, she had only had one lover or...mistress . Manon hadn't thought about Caroll for seventy-five years.  

Only Asterin and Vesta had known about Manon and Caroll's doomed relationship. And even after Caroll's disappearance, Sorrel hadn't found out that the leader of her coven had slept with her little sister. 

Caroll had been... Outcast witch. And Sorrel had been overprotective of her sister. Sorrel had always been stone—unlike her lively sister resembling a firecracker—but she had turned even more inward after the irresponsible Caroll had disappeared. Manon had searched, but had not found a young—then only twenty-year-old—witch. Manon had been twenty years older than Caroll. Sorrel would have had a seizure if she had found out about the relationship. By the time the relationship began, Caroll had only been nineteen. Manon had been closer to forty. Although it was not the same for witches as it was for humans. They didn't grow old and in appearance she and Caroll might have been mistaken for the same age. 

"Or a unit?" Dorian asked, stunned. “A witch-clan heir and or one lover?” Manon glanced around sharply, making sure the others were too far away to hear the conversation. Then Manon hissed in the princeling's ear. "I did not count the hundred men with whom I have slept and whom I have left to bleed dry." 

Dorian laughed softly. "Sorry," he said, while wrapping his arms around Manon's waist and pulling her close to him. "So I'm your second lover?"  

Manon snorted. "You are not my lover," she claimed, stepping a step away from Dorian's embrace . Dorian let her move, even though he wouldn't let go of her waist. "What am I then? ” The princeling's question was quiet and low as he pressed his face to Manon's level.  

His lips were turned upwards, but his blue eyes had a demanding look. "What am I then, witchling?" 

What was Dorian to her? Manon stared at the princeling. Search for an answer, but before she could say anything, someone patted Dorian on the shoulder. 

"Are you going to cause another scandal today? ” A brown-haired man who appeared behind Dorian asked.  

:::::: 

It was sweaty hot. There was a smell of approaching thunder in the air. Violet-black clouds had already begun to gather on the horizon, like bruises in the sky. 

Same tone as Manon's chin. 

Manon was sweating under her red cloak, the hood of which she had pulled on her head. She perched in her normal spy place under the wing of a gargoyle and observed the garden beneath her. During his numerous visits, Manon had learned that Rina liked spending time there. Vesta next to Manon moved nervously. She had taken off some of her witch skins, but the white shirt would still have been glued to her back. Sorrel hunched a step further and Imogen was curled up under her own gargoyle's feet, hiding. They had been sitting on this roof for three hours. Silently. Waiting. 

Everyone had so many bruises and cuts from yesterday that sitting still didn't really bother anyone. 

Manon and her three witches had run into Iskra Yellowleg and her coven west of the Rifhold. It was four against four. Iskra Yellowleg was the new heir to the Yellowlegs, and Manon had enjoyed defeating the arrogant witch in melee combat. The night before, she had woken up in the middle of the night to a nightmare in which Baba Yellowleg broke Rina's neck. 

Manon's bruising was nothing compared to the condition in which Iskra had left Rifthold. No one had died, which was good. Manon already had enough trouble without the Yellowlegs starting to breathe down her neck for killing they people... or at least killing several of their witches. 

Manon smiled to herself and changed positions. When they encountered the Yellowlegs within the walls of Riftholdi - they searched for Baba Yellowleg's wagon, just like Manon and her witches did – Manon had known that the encounter could end in nothing but carnage. Not just because Iskra Yellowleg was cocky and cowardly – but because they were too close to Rina. Manon knew—because of the brilliant intelligence her witches had made over the past twelve years—that Rina often slipped out of the castle. Even the slightest risk that Rina might run into the Yellowleg on her expeditions... Manon had happily broken off a few bones and broken teeth from Iskra. 

They would be healed, unlike Rina, if some Yellowleg got it into her head to hunt her. So now they were here. They kept an eye on the largest garden in the glass castle and waited for Rina to come outside. As Manon knew she would be. Rina had her routine. 

It had been two years since Manon had last seen her daughter. A year after any of the Thirteen had seen her, Manon didn't know how Rina had changed. How much she had grown. Grandmother had kept them busy. 

In addition to searching for Baba Yellowleg wagon - Asterin had suggested the theory that the Corchans had found Baba's wagon - they had to keep the Blueblood and Yellowlegs out of their territory. In addition, the Thirteen was responsible for eleven-year-old Theresa. She was the nicest of Manon's duties. 

For the first two months, Manon had focused her attention on feeding Theresa back into shape. When the girl no longer looked like a strong gust of wind could blow her over, Sorrel took her into handling. Sorrel was the best trainer Manon knew. Her third had even taught her sister to fight. And Caroll was even harder to get out of her books than Ghislaine. 

Sorrel had been a strict teacher, but it had paid off. Theresa was smaller in stature than other witches her age due to years of malnutrition, but she made up at her speed. With speed and agility, which Sorrel honed to the maximum. Theresa was not defeated easily, but she still often lost because she was afraid to cause other witches pain. Even Sorrel couldn't make Theresa forget that fear. Theresa had been beaten all her childhood. She was averse to inflicting pain on others. 

Theresa was a good fighter. She could be great if he wasn't so afraid of hurting others. Theresa preferred to spend her time in the library rather than in the battle ring. After Ghislaine taught Theresa to read, Theresa had devoured all the books she could get her hands on. And sometimes - when Theresa persuaded Ghislaine to agree - Theresa borrowed books and read them to her little sister, Azalea. 

Azalea... a problem that Manon had not yet solved. The witchling was now seven. She had started practicing with other witchlings and what Manon had heard... Azalea's body was devastated by the disease her child had suffered. She couldn't keep up with the others, tired quickly and was outnumbered in battles. Azalea was still too young to be anyone's protégé, but Manon assumed that her grandmother would not let her take Aza under the protection of the Thirteen. At least not officially. 

Her grandmother had resisted Manon's decision to take Theresa as her protégé. Small and weak, the grandmother had claimed to see Theresa for the first — and last — time. Manon had kept her head. And in the longer term, the decision had proved to be the right one. 

Azalea - who, unlike her sister was dark-haired and dark-skinned. Only the eyes they had were the same bright cobalt blue – it was a different matter. Manon had met her a few times and realized that the sisters differed as completely as night and day. Azalea was more outgoing. There was something sincere and courageous about her. Thresa was more reserved. Quieter and more introverted. While Azalea, despite all her problems, blended in, Theresa stayed alone. There were days when she didn't talk to anyone. 

Too much too young. Fortunately, Manon had persuaded her grandmother to agree that the girls did not have to see their aunt's execution. 

Thirteen had got they protégé well. And Theresa had slowly become accustomed to the dreaded Thirteen witches ruffle her hair or stopping to talk. Manon had kept her distance from the girl. She knew she had done the right thing by taking her as a protégé, but... Manon wasn't ready to become attached to Theresa. Not when she still remembered what it felt like to secession with Rina. She didn't want to make Theresa a substitute for the daughter he lost, although taking care of the girl... on some level helped Manon relax. She knew that the Thirteen wouldn't mind if Manon made Azalea the Thirteen Protégé. And maybe she would still figure out a way to justify it to her grandmother. 

The dog's loud barking woke Manon from her thoughts. Manon lifted himself from his crouch to the front keno to see where the sound was coming from. 

A dog rushed into the garden. At least Manon believed—hoped—that it was a dog, not a wolf. You see, the dog was huge. Its fur was dark grey, pitch black in some places. It had black eyes and sharp teeth that shone in the sunlight as the dog panted with its tongue hanging from its mouth. The tail was whipped back and forth as the dog jumped into the flower beds and frightened the rabbit hiding in the bush into motion. As the rabbit rushed for a run, the dog rushed after its, barking happily. 

“Atara!” A clear glass voice could even be heard over the barking of the dog. "Come back!” Rina rushed into the garden with her black hair fluttering behind her - since when had Rina's hair been straight? - like a cloak. The hems of the knee-high red dress fluttered behind her as she ran to catch her dog – Atara. “Nope!" Rina scolded and grabbed her dog by the collar. "Let's not kill the bunnies in the garden! Grandma will have a seizure if you hang one more inside." 

The dog was bigger than Rina, but crouched on the ground when she heard the scolding. It whimper miserably and pressed down against the ground. Rina raised her hands to her hips and shook her head. “No need to get dramatic. Grandma she screams more than I do." 

The dog's black eyes stood up and the creature looked like a paragon of innocence. Rina sighed and rubbed her forehead. “You're quite a drama queen," she gushed, sitting next to her dog. A smile came to Rina's lips as she dipped her fingers into the dog's long hair and scratched it by the neck. 

The dog's eyes closed in pleasure. 

“That's the height of madness!" the exclamation from the glass castle doors made Rina look up and Atara lift her head from the grass. “Princess talking to an animal!" the mocking girl's voice continued. Manon found herself growling even before the speaker appeared. 

A girl dressed in a long golden yellow dress walked towards Rina, her reddish-brown hair gathered over her head. She held a fan in her hand as she smeared her face as she approached Rina and her dog, who were sitting on the ground. The yellow-dressed girl was followed by two other girls. One wore a blue dress, the other wore a green dress. They, too, had fans to hide behind. 

Rina stood up and shook the hem of the red dress. Compared to the dresses of the other three girls, Rina's dress was scandalous. It had long sleeves that reached loosely up to the wrists. The dress was snug and left her shoulders and collarbones exposed. Rina's waist was tightened with a black corset-like leather belt. Under it, the hem spread out in front, shorter than behind. 

The outfit was crowned with long leather boots with low heels and a beautiful pearl necklace that... Manon recognized! Judging by Imogen's breath, she too had recognized the pearl. The pearl that Imogen had given Rina goodbye. There it was hanging around Rina's neck, on a new chain, but the pearl was undoubtedly the same. 

Rina tilted her head and gave the girl in the yellow dress a nice smile. “Anette," she greeted, folding her arms over her chest. The tone of voice had become soft and honey. But Manon seemed to hear a sharp undertone in the words. "What gives me this joy?" 

Atara by Rina's side had lifted her head from the grass and watched vigilantly as the girls approached them. The large dog clearly made the girls following Anette nervous, as they hesitated as the girl in the yellow dress leapt forward with determination. She stopped two metres away from Rina, cooling her face with a fan. Manon couldn't see Anette's face from her seat. 

"The Queen was looking for you," Anette said from behind her fan. “You didn't show up at the tea party. She was very disappointed." Anette's voice was unpleasantly false. Manon bent lowly, growling over the edge of the roof and bared her iron teeth. Sorrel yanked her back into hiding before any of the girls standing in the garden could see her. “Don't do anything rash, Manon," Sorrel warned in a low voice. "Rina knows how to take care of herself." 

Manon obeyed Sorrel, although she gritted her teeth as she settled back into place between her third and Vesta. Vesta had slipped beside her in case they had to hold Manon back. 

Imogen had sprung up in a low crouch beneath her gargoyle. Manon didn't know if she was preparing to rush into the garden or attack Manon. 

Rina raised her eyebrows and narrowed her red-painted lips. “I felt like I had forgotten something,” She said and waved her hair, shrugging her shoulders at the same time. "I've never liked vultures. And the human mind seeks to suppress disgusting memories,” Rina flashed Anette a smile. "I hope I didn't miss anything interesting. Is your father still sleeping with the hired man?" 

Manon saw Anette's neck flush. The girl took a breath, already angry. “My father doesn't like men," Anette denied. The fan snapped shut. Rina blinked and pretended to be shocked. “Then I've misunderstood everything," she clapped her hands together, "does he have an official lover now?" 

Anette took a sharp breath and surged forward, but Atara stopped her with her growl. Manon began to like the dog. 

"Tell your beast to be quiet," Anette said excitedly and took a step back. "Such things should not be allowed on the grounds of the castle," she continued, glare in disgust at the large dog. 

Rina scratched Atara's neck thoughtfully. The dog stopped growling, but stared just as sharply at Anette. "Why you are here?” Rina asked. Manon saw Rina grab Atara's collar as if preventing her from escaping from attacking Anette or her friends. 

"The Queen would have you choose one of us to be your companion," A blue-dressed, blonde girl intervened in the conversation. Her voice was much softer than Anette's, but she didn't sound friendly either. Anette snorted, and the girl in the green dress laughed. 

Rina just raised her eyebrows at the blonde girl's words. “Why should I need a companion, Cecil?" Rina purred softly. It was the quiet sound of a predator measuring its prey. As Rina tilted her head and the sun hit her face at the right angle, Manon thought for a moment she was looking at herself. The same beautiful, angular face. There was still a child's roundness on her cheeks, but otherwise Rina was like her copy. If anyone who knew Manon saw the Princess of Adralan... There would be no doubt who her mother was. 

"Besides," Rina continued, before any of the three girls could answer, “I already have a bitch who follows me everywhere." 

Cecilia took a sharp breath and the girl in the green dress clenched her fist so that the fan burst into her fist. Anette's neck reddened, as if burned by the sun. 

Rina smiled... Manon could only call the smile benevolent. Rina smiled politely at the three girls and waited for an answer. 

"Freak," the green-dress girl spat at Rina's feet. “A unclean mixed fetus." Sorrel would wrap her arms around Manon's waist in a flash so she wouldn't plunge into the garden. The growl in Manon's throat had caused even the strong men to shrink away. It was a sound of sheer rage. A voice that promised a death. "Calm down," Sorrel commanded, pulling Manon back. Manon fought back. She wanted to plunge into the garden and tear that girl apart. Unclean. Unclean.. 

Baba Yellowleg smiled at her, flashing rusty iron teeth. “Uncleaned halfblooded,” she had said. The girl in the green dress had used almost the same words. 

"Very sophisticated from you, Vanessa," Rina said, and hearing her voice brought Manon to her senses enough to stop fighting Sorrel's grip. She was breathing heavily, but Manon forced his heart rate to calm down. She could do this. She did not lose his temper and rushed into the garden and attacked the girls. 

"You reproach me for my manners, but there's nothing to brag about in your own either," Rina wiped the spit with her boot and spread it on the ground. “Not at all. Well aimed." Rina smiled broadly at the girl in the green dress - Vanessa. 

Vanessa took a step back. Her neck, which Manon saw from her seat, was also reddened. She glanced nervously at Cecilia and Anette, but they didn't pay attention to their friend. 

Anette stared at Rina, whose friendly smile remained glued to her face. It looked real. Very real. Only someone who knew how to look could see the expression in Rina's eyes. A sharp hawk's gaze with which she followed the every movement of Anette and the other two girls. 

"I know who you are," Anette burst out, suddenly sounding self-righteous. "Mother told me." 

Rina looked pleasantly surprised. “That's nice to hear. Tell me too.” The words exuded derision and sarcasm. "Who am I? No need to mention the most beautiful and genius of our time in all of Adralan. I already know those designations." Rina's smile was as sharp as a razor. 

Manon did not see Anette's face, but heard her honeyed tone. “My mother said your mother was a whore who abandoned you because she didn't want a freak like you as her daughter." 

Thunder roared.  

Rina stiffened. It's like she's petrified in place. It - complete immobility - said more than a thousand words about Rina's heredity. Rina's gaze was fixed on Anette, who was no doubt sneering smugly. Cecilia and Vanessa had ventured closer, despite the fact that Atara had started growling again. Three vultures who waited for the death of another to eat the remains. Manon's muscles were locked in place. She couldn't move. She could only watch and listen. 

Sorrel behind her, Vesta beside her and Imogen under her gorgo were also stiffened. There was a low growl in their throats when they heard the insults directed at the leader of their coven. Manon hardly noticed it, all her attention was on Rina. Rina and her reaction. 

"Your mother can gossip then," Rina said, relaxing her muscles as if she wasn't tense at all. She waved her head and conjured up a mocking little grin on her face. “Little did I know that the Queen's court was short on gossip. Usually they go back to that scandal when they don't talk about your father's preferences for hired man." 

Anette's neck began to turn red again, but she shook her head and responded to Rina's words with a laugh, which the other two girls quickly joined. Rina's smile didn't waver, but the gaze in her eyes hardened. She did not enjoy being ridiculed. Atara's growl grew louder. 

"But we're not talking about my father. At least I have both parents,” Anette approached Rina with slow steps, glancing only once at the large growling dog. She stopped a short distance away, smiling viciously. 

"Even your own mother didn't want you," she said in a low voice. It was like a blow to Manon's stomach. Not Anette's words. They were just the talk of an envious girl, but the pain and rage flashing on Rina's face. But it disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared. It was replaced by a smile that was taut at the edges. 

"How can you know? It's hard to sense a person's thoughts you've never met," Rina raised her chin slightly, smiling at Anette, even though her eyes were shining. It was as if thousands of needles had been struck into Manon's heart, punctured blood vessels and caused her to slowly drown in her own blood. 

Rina was on the verge of tears. What those girls said to her - they said about Manon - Rina seemed to be on the verge of total collapse. Anette chuckled softly: "No one wants you, Rina Havilliard. You may be a princess, but you have no one." 

Sorrel woke up. Atara barked. 

Now Manon was the one who prevented Sorrel, Vesta, and Imogen from plunging into the garden. Atara barked. Rina's smile had faded. She breathed slowly and then she raised her brow at Anette. "Do you say that to your mother when she finds out about your crush on Cecilia?" 

Anette took a step further away in shock. Vanessa gasped for breath and pressed a hand to her mouth. Cecilia didn't budge. She just stared at Anette. 

Rina smiled softly. "Come Atara," Rina's voice cracked at the last words. Atara barely managed to take her eyes off the three girls, but followed her mistress as she demandingly yanked her dog by the collar. 

"You're a freak as hell, Rina!" Anette shouted after Rina as she hurried across the courtyard to the doors of the glass castle. 

"Get into the same hell trap as whore your mother!" Rina didn't look back. Didn't say anything against. She just opened the door and disappeared inside the glass castle, Atara summed up at her heels. 

Manon didn't stay on the roof any longer. She couldn't, otherwise she might attack the three girls left in the garden. 

Or she would find Rina. 

Manon couldn't take any risks with her daughter. She assured herself of it as she flew away. She refused to admit to herself that he was afraid of Rina's wrath. The anger Manon had earned. 

::::: 

Dorian found Rina on the floor of her bathroom. 

Atara was lying next to Rina and Rina had buried her face in her fur. Her shoulders were shaking. A red dress, boots and jewelry had been thrown on the floor of the room. Rina was only wearing a long undershirt. 

Dorian quietly closed Rina's bedroom door behind him. Rina lifted her tear-stained face to Dorian as she entered the bathroom. 

Dorian said nothing and slid to sit on the threshold of the bathroom. Waiting for Rina to open up. She never spoke when prompted. 

"Who is my mother?" the question was quiet and stuffy as Rina finally raised her head and met her father's gaze. Dorian sighed inward. He had known this day was coming. He had dreaded this day. 

They had had variations of this conversation, but Rina had never asked it directly. Who is my mother? 

Dorian sighed aloud. "Rina," he began, but Rina interrupted when she recognized the tone of voice. "Dad," she said in a hoarse voice, struggling to stand up from the floor, "don't I have a right to know?" 

Dorian was silent for a long time. He just watched his daughter as the two of her sides clashed. One wanted to tell Rina everything – absolutely everything – the other half wanted to keep the promise made to Manon. Rina should not try to look for her mother. 

And now, looking at his daughter, Dorian knew that if he told Rina the identity of her mother, she would go looking. Not satisfied with Dorian's explanation, Rina wants to hear Manon's story. She wanted to hear her mother's explanation as to why she had abandoned her daughter. 

Dorian's throat choked with guilt as he slowly shook his head. Rina's mouth clenched into a tight line and she averted her gaze.Ice began to spread from under the palms pressed against the floor. Spitting, Rina yanked her hands into her lap and crossed her fingers. She glanced accusingly at Dorian. “You promised and keep that promise, right? Even if you haven't seen her in 12 years?" 

"Your mother made me promise I protect you," Dorian said. Rina snorted bitterly. “And am I protected by the fact that I don't know who my mother is?" 

Dorian didn't say anything. Rina sighed. She turned her head away. "Get out!" she said, wrapping her arms around her. "I want to be alone." 

Slowly, Dorian got up, but before leaving, he turned to say: “Rina, you need to understand that your mother loves you. She believed it would be better for you if you didn't know her." Dorian paused, then added, "Still, I was hoping she would come back and tell it you herself." 

Rina didn't answer. Dorian left the room, guilt piling up in his stomach. Rina did not leave her room the rest of the day. 

:::::: 

Dorian turned around and met Chaol's questioning gaze. The captain of the guard was in work duty, but he wore a golden mask. The dress code imposed by the king, which he himself did not follow. It was only then that Dorian noticed how his father's black eyes were fixed on him. No, Dorian realized. Not to him. Manon. 

Manon had pulled out of Dorian's grasp after Chaol provided a brilliant distraction. She had grabbed her third glass from the sparkling wine pyramid, from which she was now sipping. There were already two empty glasses next to her. If the witch continued like this, she would soon be drunk. Dorian didn't say it wasn't interesting, but he feared Manon would then start slaughtering the partygoers. It could be difficult to explain. 

"Interesting companion you have,” Chaol said and Dorian turned all his attention to him. The captain of the guard looked at Manon, who in turn stared at Chaol devastatingly. The expression was not warm and the red mouth behind the wine glass had sunk into a tight line. The lipstick was smeared and Dorian wiped his own lips in passing, just in case any color had sticked. 

"How so?" he asked, noting Manon's cold expression with which she stared at Chaol . "I can speak, if I may remind you, Your Highness, ” The witch's voice was sharp, like a knife cutting through flesh. Her gaze had shifted to Dorian . It's like Manon is considering slaughtering him and drinking his blood in front of everyone.  

"Of course," Dorian said, not saying "sweetheart," even though it almost came from his lips out of habit. Dorian had no real desire to end up on the Iron Tooth witch's menu in the middle of the Fall Ball. His mother could have a heart attack. 

He reached out and grabbed Manon's long fingers to bring her closer. "Chaol, may I introduce my companion, Lady Raven, ” Dorian winked at Manon, who rolled her eyes. "Lady Raven, this is Captain of the Guard and my longtime friend Chaol Westfall."  

"Anielle's former heir? ” Manon asked, tilting his head, measuring the man standing in front of her. Sh e was much smaller and slimmer than Chaol, but Dorian had no doubt that Manon could defeat the captain of the guard.  

Chaol sighed. "So rumours are ahead of me. ” Manon smiled slightly from behind her glass. Sh e laid it down on the table and crossed her arms cleanly in front of her. "I can't claim to have heard much about you."  

Dorian didn't know where Manon had heard about Chaol's past and former status. But she was a witch. Dorian believed that Manon could get the information if she wanted to, no matter what. 

Chaol's mouth raised, and he bowed. Dorian saw that behind the mask, Manon raised her eyebrows. "Unfortunately, I have not heard of you Lady Raven,” The captain said as he straightened up. Manon smiled. "Could you tell me where you are from and how...” he looked at Dorian for a long time, "you met Dorian," he finished his sentence and turned to smile at Manon nervously. 

Manon tilted her head, like a mountain cat stalking prey. “I'm from the north and that's all you need to know," Manon flashed a dazzling predator's smile. Dorian saw Chaol's throat move.

Manon's predator's smile widened. Sh e glanced around. People standing nearby listened attentively to the new rumors.  

"Where and how you met Dorian is not your business.” Dorian picked up the glass Manon had lowered earlier and drank it empty before realizing it wasn't his. Chaol's face under the mask had turned pale, and Dorian knew his friend had a hunch that the woman in front of him was not human. The expression on his face was entertaining, and Dorian couldn't help but grin. 

The witch looked at Chaol from an outsider's eyes, looking docile, but Dorian saw a predator and a ruthless killer lurking beneath Manon's skin. It made his heart beat, but not out of fear. There was something about Manon... something that appealed to Dorian. Something about the witch's gloom and power... 

Chaol glanced nervously towards Dorian, who realized he was staring at Manon intently. “Why don't you go continue the party, Chaol?" Dorian suggested, moving towards the witch. Manon allowed him to wrap his arms around her waist. 

Manon still smiled at Chaol, who glanced at her even more nervously than he had glanced at Dorian. The eyes of the witch and the captain of the guard met. They stayed staring at each other. Dorian tightened his grip on Manon's waist as the witch's lips pulled away from her teeth. Chaol was the first to turn his gaze. "Alright," he said, nodding at Dorian quickly. Then he made a small bow. "Good evening, Lady Raven." 

"Thank you, captain of the guard," Manon's words exuded honey, and her restrained predatory behavior.  

Chaol glanced nervously towards Dorian once more before disappearing among the party guests. Dorian's shoulders relaxed and Manon sighed. "It was unnecessary," he muttered, and Manon chuckled softly. 

"You don't offer me much fun, princeling. I had to take the opportunity to see what the captain of Adralan's guard is made of,” Manon coo, looking at Dorian from under her dark eyelashes. There was a glimmer of self-righteousness in her golden eyes. Dorian shook his head. "If you kill me tonight, Chaol will know to go after you." 

Manon's smile turned wolf-like. "He looked delicious."  

Dorian sighed. He knew witches didn't need blood to live, but Manon was a predator. A predator in a hall with her natural prey. Dorian felt that he shouldn't test Manon too much. 

"Would you like to see my favorite place in the castle? ” he asked, abruptly changing the subject. Manon tilted her head back so that her white hair swayed.  

"Are you taking me out of the party yet?" she asked. Dorian replied to Manon's smile. "Maybe I don't want to explain why my beautiful companion slaughters the party guests." 

Manon raised her eyebrows. Dorian winked. “ Sure, you can introduce you to a few, which you will undoubtedly shed dry."  

The witch's chuckle was soft. Iron teeth slid from the gums and snapped into place like armor. "Show them to me." 

Dorian paused for a moment of reflection before shaking his head. "I thought you just wanted my blood and my heart."  

Manon grinned so that all the sharp iron teeth were exposed. Dorian thanked the gods that it was dim in the hall and the witch stood with her back to the guests. "I'll eat them for dessert." 

Dorian chuckled, grabbed Manon's hand and wrapped it around his elbow. "Come. I'll show you the Queen's Garden."  

:::::: 

Dorian gritted his teeth as he looked at the ballroom. He squeezed his glass so hard that it nearly shattered in his hands. Rina looked as if she wanted to sink into the earth. 

The Queen dragged her around the hall to greet the guests, with a big smile on her face. Rina looked like she wanted to choke her grandma. 

"I told her to listen to Rina's wishes,” Dorian muttered to Chaol, who was sulking with him in the corner. “But she had to summon the half of nobles Adralan.” 

Dorian and Chaol glanced simultaneously towards the corner where lord of Anielle —and Chaol's father—held his court in a small entourage. It consisted of Dorian's father, a few council members, and Roland—Dorian's cousin. There was a dark-haired woman giggling on his arm – probably her newest mistress. 

Roland had tilted his head politely towards the older men, but Dorian noticed how his cousin's hands wandered. Roland had arrived in Riftholdi a month ago and seemed to be here to stay. Rina had told Dorian that the king intended to make Roland a member of the council. Dorian didn't understand why. Roland didn't have that much power. Rina had suggested the theory – which was undoubtedly a fact, since Rina's ability to read the opposing party's thoughts had been strengthened – that Roland was becoming a council member in retaliation against Dorian for Rina's ability to establish herself in the meetings. 

It was almost magical to see a group of old men silent listening to a twelve-year-old—or thirteen-year-old, for that matter—girl. All council members who opposed Rina's participation had resigned within the first two weeks. Except for Dorian's father, with whom Rina clashed the most in meetings. 

Dorian was the first year to accept the part of the spectator. Rina didn't stop when she got up to speed in meetings. The initial silence had turned into loud opinions that were taken seriously. Rina was an unnervingly good speaker when it came to politics. But even Rina hadn't convinced her grandma that she—Rina herself—wanted a small party to celebrate her thirteenth birthday. 

Rina didn't exactly hate parties – but she hated her own birthday because then she was the center of unwanted attention. 

Dorian watched gloomily as his mother dragged Rina forward to introduce her to the next family. The hem of Rina's dark purple dress came heavy after her. The sleeves were long and had large puff on the shoulders. Rina's posture was too straight – too tight – which Dorian knew Georgiane had forced her to put on a corset. 

The dress really didn't live up to Rina's standards. She hadn't chosen it for herself. It was made by the queen. She had chosen Rina's dress, as well as heavy diamond jewelry. 

A heavy drop-shaped dark purple diamond hung around Rina's neck. Similar ones were in the ears. Rina's black hair was curled - which was stupid to Dorian, as Rina's hair was naturally curly - and it had been lifted up with two diamond combs. 

Rina looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful. But somehow jewelry, makeup and dress were too lavish. Dorian knew his daughter and knew how she normally dressed. Red, black and leather. Simple dresses, trousers and shirts. Never anything that... much. Rina also rarely wore jewelry and often let her long, straight black hair hang free. 

Everything extra looked like chains meant to pull Rina's posture into a crouch. 

"There are many noble families here with young sons,” Chaol remarked, nodding toward the family the Queen was currently introducing Rina to. Dorian raised an eyebrow as he studied the trio. They were from the lower nobility, and Dorian did not recognize them. But he saw that Chaol was right. His mother—tall, graceful and blond—stood her sturdy son – three years older than Rina – who tried to smile charmingly as she kissed the knuckles of Adralan's princess, known for her beauty. 

The princess's expression was devastating, which caused the boy to suddenly back off. Dorian hid his smile behind the glass. “I'd say Rina gets along pretty well with suitor candidates." Rina would castrate any boy who got too close. And if Rina didn't, Dorian would gladly do it for her. No one would touch her little girl. 

Although Rina hated being called a "little girl.” Dorian knew that, which is why he never used the name when Rina was around. 

"I guess you realize what your mother is trying to do, and what your father desperately wants?" Chaol asked sharply as Georgiane dragged Rina to the next family. They Dorian recognized. Councillor Woodgrip and his family. The Woodgrips owned large silver and gold mines and traded closely in both Erlea and Dornelle. They ran one of Adralan's largest cities, Mianach, where they had a relatively good reputation. 

Yet Dorian disliked Councillor Woodgrip, or his arrogant heir, the seventeen-year-old Caspian Woodgrip. Caspian, like his father, had blond, golden brown hair, a tanned sturdy face, and broad shoulders. He had inherited from his mother - who had dark brown skin but startling green-brown eyes - only her smile. Which he now flashed to Rina as he grabbed her hand. The smile had undoubtedly caused many girls to fall right into Caspian's arms, but Rina only raised her eyebrows. 

"Oh, that this feast is a spectacle in which Rina is introduced to the nobility as free booty? That my father hopes some family will seize the opportunity and marry Rina to they son? Yes. I got it," Dorian watched as Caspian—a smile from ear to ear—said something to Rina. Whatever Rina replied, the smile slowly faded from the boy's face. Dorian smiled gloomily at the vision. "Do you think anyone is brave or stupid enough to try to tame Rina?" 

Chaol glanced at her with a side-eye. "You were brave or foolish enough to take into bed a beast like Lady Raven," Dorian would have choked on his wine. He turned slowly to look at the captain of the guard—who for once was off duty at a party and not on duty—as he continued, "The daughter has come to her mother." 

The glass almost slipped from Dorian's fingers as he stared at his longtime friend speechlessly. Chaol glanced at her quickly and smiled faintly. “Did you think I wouldn't get it? It took a while, but I'm starting to see... likeness." 

Dorian turned back towards the hall, not really seeing anything. Lady Raven. Manon Blackbeak. The features of the witchling could only be seen... see only if you knew what to look for. 

"How did you realize?" Dorian asked in a low voice, trying to focus his gaze unable to do so. Chaol chuckled. “I doubted it from the beginning. That woman..." The captain of the guard shook his head, and Dorian did not know whether the expression on his face was horror or admiration. "She was unique. But say: why did she give Rina to you?" 

Dorian turned to look at his friend. Met the gaze of his rational brown eyes. While Chaol's skin already showed signs of aging, Dorian looked barely twenty-five older. It was undoubtedly due to the magic flowing through his veins, which kept him looking youthful. Chaol, on the other hand... There were small laughter wrinkles in the corners of my eyes. There were signs of early graying of the hair. 

"It's..." Dorian hesitated. Chaol raised his other eyebrow. Dorian sighed and turned towards the hall. "It's complicated." 

Chaol chuckled incredulously. "Why is it complicated, Dorian? Who was that woman?" 

She was a witch who tried to kill me. The words tickled Dorian's tongue, but before he could decide whether to say them out loud or not, Rina's voice cut across the chatter of the hall like a knife: "You can't be serious!" 

Rina – whose face was twisted with rage – rolled over, letting her curls slap Caspian in the face. As a surprised silence descended, Rina rolled over and marched out of the garden doors, shaking off her shoes and tearing the comb out of her hair and throwing them to the ground. 

Dorian followed, Chaol just a few steps behind. "What happened to that girl?" the queen wondered as she also headed towards the garden doors. 

Rina was furious. And enraged... Rina could do anything! 

::::::: 

Manon sprang up from his guard post on the roof of the glass castle when the garden doors were thrown open and Rina rushed out, ripping an expensive-looking necklace from her neck. It flew to the ground, glistening in the last rays of the setting sun. 

"What is she doing?" Lin—who was alert when he noticed Manon's startle—peered past her into the garden. Asterin frowned, embarrassed, as Rina pulled her hair. A shimmering golden comb flew to the ground. 

Manon didn't know why she had bothered to come that night. It was Rina's thirteenth birthday, but often the party kept her daughter inside. Rarely did Rina rush out of the ballroom so furious. Usually, Rina quietly exited from the back to her own room. It was Manon's moment to see her little one—who wasn't that small anymore. They had been nearby - Manon, Li and Asterin. Grandmother had ordered them on reconnaissance missions to the villages of Adralan to keep an eye on the Yellowlegs and the Blueblood. Thirteen years and Baba Yellowleg the wagon of the was still missing. Manon wasn't even looking seriously anymore. She began to believe in Asterin's theory that the Corchans had found the wagon. Better that the wagon was with them than any iron tooth witch clan. 

Manon watched dumbfoundedly as her daughter marched through the garden. The comb to the ground had been followed by diamond earrings and now Rina's hands were behind her back, opening the purple dress. Long fingers tear open buttons. Whatever was going on, Manon could clearly see that Rina was furious. 

"Rina Solena Havilliard! What do you think you're doing!” An older woman dressed in a green dress rushed through the door. Queen Georgiane. At her heels rushed out with Doria's crown crooked, followed by Chaol. 

“Rina!” Dorian shouted, trying to catch Rina's attention, who continued to march forward behind her without glancing. "What's right... Oh!" one of the party guests—a woman, judging by the voice—had stepped on a comb thrown to the ground. A crackle had echoed in the air, gold spikes broke. It seemed to wake Rina up, for she glanced back. Her hands stopped raking the buttons on the back of the dress, under which the corset and underdress were already visible. 

Seeing the crowd of spectators gathered at the garden doors, a grin crossed Rina's face. She stopped in place right next to the carp pond and turned around. 

Rina's hair was a mess, her dress hung on one plush sleeve. The makeup was smeared. And she just smiled at the stares. “You wanted a performance," Rina's words were penetrating and sharp as a knife. She bob a curtsy. "That's what you'll get." 

And then Rina picked up speed with her bare feet — her shoes had disappeared somewhere — and jumped into the carp pond. 

“Oh...” The women gasped for breath with their hands on their mouths, and the men stared openly at the spot where Rina had sunk with her dress. “Oh, Rina," Dorian sighed as he headed towards the carp pond. Chaol immediately followed her in case additional strength was needed to get Rina out of the pond. 

But Rina didn't need help. Manon watched silently as the black-haired head pushed to the surface in the middle of the carp pond and Rina swam with rapid, powerful strokes to the edge of the artificial pond. With a strong movement, the Princess of Adralan lifted herself up from the pond – where the purple dress still floated. Rina stood up wearing only a white underdress and corset, which she removed with a few quick movements. She threw it into the pond to float next to her dress. 

Rina stood in front of half of Adralan's nobility, wearing only a thin, white underdress that left little imagination. It was difficult for people to see in the twilight, but Manon could see her daughter's young body unhindered from under the wet fabric. She might as well have stood by the pond naked. 

"I am not a prize!” Rina declared in a voice dripping with anger. Dorian had stopped two paces away from his daughter with his arms raised, as if to calm Rina, who was trembling with rage. "My body doesn't belong to you!" Rina continued and raised her chin with her eyes flashed. She was no longer a young bastard princess. In the garden stood the queen. 

Manon took a slow breath into her lungs, her gaze nailed to her daughter's face. It's like looking in a distorting mirror. “Dare to look lower," she muttered, not sure if the words were meant for the humans below, just her two witches. 

Rina turned towards her grandma, who recoiled when she saw her granddaughter's expression. "You won't sell me to the highest bidder!” She snorted and swung her wet—again, straight—hair over her shoulder. “Don't you force me into a corset just so men could dream of my narrow hips!How my body looks or feels is none of their business!" Rina's eyes of different colors flashed and she bared her teeth. 

"I want you all to know that you are in my home and home, I can do whatever I want!" Rina's grimace turned into a cruel smile. "The party is over! Get out of here!" 

And so good, Rina walked across the garden into the light flooding from the ballroom, allowing people to see everything under the white underdress. Dorian was instantly by his daughter's side, wrapping his red cloak around her shoulders, angrily glare around her, causing most of the guests to avert their gaze. 

Just a couple of boys - men? - was arrogant or stupid enough to continue staring. One of them—a boy with golden brown hair—stared at Rina's cloak-covered body, looking hungry. Manon pressed they face into her mind. If a boy ever got in her way... Iron nails flashed in the last rays of the sun. 

Rina disappeared inside the glass castle, Dorian by her side, and Chaol firmly on her heels. The captain of the guard clenched his sword, his face in a gloomy mask. 

It wasn't until they disappeared that the party guests in the garden began to move restlessly and talk about what had happened.  

"What just happened?" Asterin asked slowly. 

Manon shook her head. She didn't know. But she noted all the men at the party who had looked down while Rina stood in a wet underdress for all the people to see. 

:::::: 

They had wanted to see her. Measure and evaluate her. Would there be anything about her. 

Rina had given them exactly what they—the boys and men—had wanted. She pulled her father's red robe tighter around her shoulders. Rina had heard all of their thoughts. She should figure out a way to throw Lord Woodsgrip away council. The man was far too fond of minors. 

And Rina should remember to castrate Caspian at the first opportunity. Rina curled up under her father's arm as he led Rina towards her own room. She would be put under arrest for this. But it's better than having to be in the same space with your grandfather after this evening. The scars that split Rina's back – both old and slightly newer – be tender. 

:::::: 

Dorian's hand in Manon's was warm as the prince led her through the crowd towards the glass garden doors . Some of the humans they passed—both men and women—tried to get Dorian's attention, but the prince ignored them, pulling Manon resolutely forward.  

Manon didn't like wading through the crowd. There were far too many people here. They stood close together and Manon was accidentally hit by the backs of their hands or the hems of their dress. Everyone shirnk when they touched her. Collisions with people standing behind and caused minor accidents. Manon might have enjoyed it... It would have been, if the multitude had not pressed her lungs. The fear of crampedness, which worsened by the moment, caused her to penetrate the crowd faster. To squeeze the princeling's hand a little harder and then... The garden doors flew open, and a cool autumn wind slammed against Manon's face, like a familiar and safe embrace. 

Manon pulled her lungs full of fresh air. It's like she's been underwater for a long time and just surfaced. Her grip on Dorian's hand loosened and Manon rushed into the garden, gasping the scent of ripe apples, roses still blooming, and decaying leaves in her lungs. These scents were genuine. No sweetness of perfumes. No alcohol tartness. Manon breathed. In and out until her pounding pulse stabilized. 

She pressed her hands against her, feeling the tight compression of the corset around her waist. It was too tight. Manon still couldn't take a breath properly. Manon's hands - her shaking hands - reached for the strings of her back, intending to loosen the threads... 

Large and warm hands pushed her hand away. Manon hadn't noticed when Dorian had stepped behind her, but felt the princeling's hands as they gently loosened the lacing of the corset. 

Manon took another breath, her sides raised heavily . No longer did a tight corset – even if it gave in – stop her. “ I shouldn't have asked you for this," Dorian muttered from behind Manon . Big hands were placed on her hips . Went up and down. Manon drew oxygen into her lungs and let it come out with a gust. “ I shouldn't have agreed," Manon said, in a quieter voice than she had intended. Sh e grabbed her mask and pulled it off her face. The wind caressed the exposed skin. Manon sighed in pleasure.  

Doriani's grip on her waist changed and – before Manon could prepare – the princeling turned her towards to him . Their faces were close together. Lips just a whisper away. Blue eyes looked at Manon intensely from the eye openings of the mask. "I'm sorry, Manon."  

Manon stared at Dorian. Her lips parted as her mind repeated the words he had just said. I'm sorry, Manon.  

"Why are you apologizing?" Manon asked quietly. Dorian was very... near. Not only physically. He just was..."For pressuring you to this party. To the fact that I didn't realize it could... affects you somehow,” There was an anxious look in the prince's sapphire eyes. "I'm sorry I was so selfish." 

Manon was silent for a long time. She just stared. Stared into that partially covered face. No one had ever apologized to him... that way...  

"You didn't pressure me," Manon said, pressing her long white fingers to Dorian's face. "I'm a witch. I make my own decisions."  

Dorian smiled. Pressed against Manon's palm. That gesture... That gesture... somewhere deep inside Manon, in the dark core, something ignited. In the middle of the everlasting ice, something sprouted. "Yes, you do," Dorian said, stroking Manon's hips. "And that's why I admire you so much, witchling." 

That was enough. Manon grabbed the edge of Dorian's mask and yanked it off the princeling's face. And before Dorian could do anything. Opening his mouth or protesting, Manon grabbed his face and pulled his into the second kiss that night. 

Manon's back hit a tree as Dorian pushed her back. There was something almost desperate about the kiss. Unspeak things and secrets between them. Full of repressed emotions. At the same time, the most intense kiss there had ever been between them. And at the same time... it was the gentlest touch Manon had experienced. 

"You promised me your heart," Manon whispered breathlessly as they parted. Dorian breathed equally erratically, but somehow managed to grin. Manon slowly lowered her hand from Dorian's face to his chest. She felt her heart beat under her jacket. "I think I did," Dorian said quietly. 

The princeling leaned past Manon, plucked something from the bush next to them, and straightened hisself with a dark red rose in his hand. A certain grin had risen on his face that caused a strange flutter in Manon. "It's yours when you decide to demand it," Dorian whispered, pushing a red rose into Manon's hair. 

And then Dorian's mouth was again at Manon's mouth and Manon's back was against the bark of the tree.  

After that moment, Manon's memories were fuzzy. She didn't remember the trip to Dorian's room exactly, and everything that happened in the room was mixed into one. But Manon remembered vividly how she rested on Dorian's bed, with only heart of Adralan around her neck. She remembered how Dorian had bent over her, the crown skew on  his head.  

It was the first night Manon stayed until morning.  

A year later, around the same time, Manon had begun expecting her daughter.  

::::::: 

The sun had just set. Only the moon illuminated the streets and squares of Riftholdi, where humans gathered to smoke bonfires, dance and eat. It was Harvest Night and people were celebrating. 

Manon watched the townspeople dance with her thoughts lost at another time. This was the first Harvest Feast that Manon had witnessed in any way in fifteen years. Fifteen years ago, she had flown over this same city, despising humans preparing for a party. Witches never celebrated human's holidays. They had their own gloomy feasts, which usually ended with someone death, blood dirnking, and fucking. Uninvited, another feast came into Manon's mind, which had been ninety years ago. 

Manon had been forty-two, still young and not entirely her grandmother's creature. Even then, she was known as the leader of the most powerful coven in the Blackbeaks. It had been around harvest time, if Manon remembered correctly. That was a long time ago and the years merged. But that celebration Manon remembered. One of the newest coven had captured the witch of Corcha, who had been brought to the castle of the Blackbeaks for amusement. Manon had watched as the witch had been torment for hours on end and slowly began to get bored. 

Instead of looking at the witch being tortured, she had looked at the other Blackbeaks and the bloodthirsty grin on their faces. Manon had felt disgusted, but quickly rejected it. The Corchans deserved to feel the pain of cursing the Iron Toothed Witches. Manon's gaze had circled the hall, from one witch's face to the other. The same bloodlust on every face. And then she had noticed a young witch who had grabbed a bottle of wine from the serving table, hidden it under her black cloak, glanced around once, and slipped out of the hall. 

The witch's hair had been brown and curly. The skin was light brown. Eyes dark brown. Unlike her sister. Manon glanced surreptitiously at Sorrel, flying beside her, who looked before her, her black eyes expressionless. It was the first time Manon had seen Carollin. She wasn't pretty, not by witches' standards. But there was something about Caroll's face... eye-catching. In the attentive gaze of the eyes an insatiable thirst for knowledge. Manon knew even then who Caroll was. After their mother's death, Sorrel had cared for her sister with an almost obsessive sense of duty. Sorrel didn't have many close relatives and her sister was more important to her than Sorrel had wanted anyone—not even Caroll—to realize. 

Manon averted her gaze from her stone-faced third, towards the towers of the glass castle. Now—ninety years later—Manon still hadn't been able to tell Sorrel about their brief relationship. Her thoughts went back to the night he had first seen Caroll. And talked with her. 

"Are you trying to escape?"  

"I'm not interested in watching torture."  

"Don't the Corchans deserve all the pain we can give them?"  

Dark brown eyes had focused on Manon from under her thick brows. "What does it help in the end?" Caroll had asked. "We can try to kill all the corchans, but it just proves that we don't deserve the Wastes back."  

Manon thought about Caroll's words as she flew over Rifthold celebrating with her second and third. Only now could Manon even seriously consider Caroll's words. To reflect and give a chance that Caroll may have been right. Five hundred years after killing the Corchans, they were no closer to conquering the Wastes and regaining the witch empire than their ancestors. Caroll's defiant thoughts weren't the only reason she didn't have a coven. But they may have been the only reason she abandoned her clan and left. Caroll had been young, and she hadn't realized how her departure affected Sorrel. Or Manon. 

Sorrel had hardened herself against the outside world. Manon had no longer taken bed companions from among her clan. 

After her sister's disappearance, Sorrel was devoted to serving Manon, as Asterin was after losing her daughter. Sometimes – more often now, because Manon really knew her coven. Allowed herself to care about them - Manon felt guilty for Sorrel's loyalty. She had betrayed Sorrel's trust by taking her nineteen-year-old sister to her bed. And hiding it for this long. 

The memory of Caroll made Manon's thoughts return closer to the present. Fifteen years ago, when Dorian had asked Manon about her lovers. Manon certainly didn't count the men she'd slept with over the decades. At the time, Manon had said that Dorian was not her lover. But what was he then? 

Manon still couldn't say. Lover didn't seem like the right word to describe Manon's feelings and relationship with the princeling. 

They flew past the full moon, and Manon was awakened from her thoughts as the sounds of a string quartet heard from the ballroom of the glass castle reached her ears. 

"There's a real party going on," Asterin muttered, as they curved past the tower toward the ballroom ceiling. Manon didn't bother to answer. She knew what the party looked like. She knew how many human were crammed into the ballroom. 

She wasn't here to reminisce about the party from years ago, Manon reminded herself as tension began to pinch in the bottom of her stomach. She was here to see her now fourteen-year-old daughter. 

The garden, illuminated by small lanterns, became visible from behind the ridge of the roof. The light shining from the windows threw bright patches on the ground. And just beyond the reach of the patches of light, in the gentle light of the lanterns and the moon, a young girl sitting on the edge of the fountain could be seen. 

"Land!" Manon's command was a quick startle as she guided her broom into a rapid lunge. Her feet met the roof tiles, and in a swift, centuries-honed motion, Manon rolled into the shadow of the gargoil's wing. She sensed Sorrel and Asterin just behind her, hiding in the same shadow. 

And none too soon. 

Rina looked up with her black, free, curled black hair waving. A watchful, suspicious gaze looked at the ceiling and sky, as if sure that there must be something there. Manon crouched lower in her shadow as Rina's gaze swept over the gargoyles. The carefully plucked brows wrinkle, but finally Rina closed the different colors eyes and shook her head. 

She changed positions with white marble and picked up the glass she had placed next to her. Rina toyed with the half-empty glass – didn't drink until she put it back down next to her. A deep sigh escaped the girl's lips. She placed her hands beside her and leaned back, looking at the sky. The moon made her face look like a white mask with red lips looking black. 

There was a blank look in her carefully made-up eyes, as if Rina hadn't really seen the widening sky, moon and stars before her. Her dress—with black lace sleeves, a layered hem adorned with black lace, and a bodice that left her shoulders and collarbones bare—looked the color of dried blood in the twilight. Between her collarbones rested Heart of Adralan. Her mask—which Rina had undoubtedly worn earlier in the ballroom—had been casually tossed to the ground. It was the same shade as the dress – dired blood red at the dim. 

Manon looked at her daughter, unable to avert her gaze. Except for small details, Manon could have watched herself staring at the sky. Rina looked just like her. Only from a younger person. Only more innocent. 

"Do you think she looks like you now?” Asterin had slipped up next to Manon. “If her hair were white and her eyes golden, she would be like you." 

Manon nodded quietly. She flicked her own face and swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. Rina tilted her head, waving black hair behind her back. It's like he's sunbathing in the moonlight. 

"Not only has Manon never looked so carefree,” Sorrel commented. Manon glanced at her quickly and saw a small smile playing in the corners of her third's mouth. Manon sighed, and then she noticed the sound of the door opening. Someone had entered the garden. 

Manon's attention immediately shifted back to the garden as heavy footsteps walked across the garden toward Rina and the fountain. 

The boy was tall and older than Rina. Seventeen or eighteen? Manon couldn't see the boy's face from her seat. 

The boy had golden brown hair and a light blue, well-fitting coat. He had crossed his arms behind his back. 

“Caspian,” Rina said, not bothering to open her eyes, as the boy – Caspian – approached. "What do you want?" 

"I was hoping to get a dance from you, Lady Rina, but you disappeared,” The boy said formally, stopping at a respectful distance. Rina snorted and opened her golden eye to look at the boy. “I'm not going to dance. Just go back to the hall and make the girls laugh. I have more important things to do." 

Rina closed her eyes again and tilted her head far back, revealing her pale neck. Manon saw the boy nervously change his position. “What if I wanted to make you laugh?" he asked. 

"I don't like him," Asterin commented. Sorrel shook her head with a tight expression and Manon clenched her hands into fists to restrain her desire to kill. Stay away from my daughter! Manon wanted to scream. 

Rina chuckled softly. "I don't laugh at ridiculousness." 

"Good girl," Asterin murmured approvingly. The corners of Manon's mouth turned upwards, but her smile was strained. 

Caspian took a deep breath. Shoulders raised. And then fell. A hissed escaped between Manon's lips. Stay away! The boy's posture had changed. It was as if he had shaken the tension off his shoulders with a breath. 

"Do you know what my parents and grandparents are negotiating right now?” He asked, in a different tone from what he had said before. Rina's long eyelashes vibrated as she opened her eyes and slowly turned her attention to the boy. “I think so," she said lightly, standing up in one graceful motion. Rina had slimmed down since last time, but that may have been due to height growth. She was taller than the last time Manon had seen her. 

"Don't be afraid you'll have to marry me,” Rina said and crossed her arms over my chest. "Dad puts a stop to the whole thing before your parents get excited." 

Manon growled low, and her iron nails were exposed. The iron teeth fell into place, and without Asterin and Sorrel, Maonon would have rushed into the garden to tear the boy's throat open. He stood too close to Rina. Too confident in his own position...Sorrel and Asterin grabbed Manon by the arms before she could do anything. 

"That's why your father wasn't included in these negotiations,” Caspian said casually, thrusting his hands into his pockets. Rina's posture stiffened, but she almost immediately forced it to relax. "I see," she just said. "What do you want?" 

Rina's posture had changed. Seemingly relaxed, but she had taken a firm crotch position from the ground, as if preparing to fight. Hands hung casually next to her sides. Rina was trained for combat, but Manon knew that Rina was underpowered because of her height and dress. 

Caspian casually stepped forward and stopped right in front of Rina. She was taller than Manon's fourteen-year-old daughter and looked down on her. His broad-shouldered figure almost completely obscured Rina from Manon's gaze. 

"One dance," Caspian said. Rina raised her other eyebrow. “Is that pretending to be a sly euphemism for actually wanting to fuck me? I'm fourteen." 

Rina's outspokenness clearly surprised Caspian, as he stepped back. A quick shadow of a smile crossed Rina's face. She had won this round. 

With a soft chuckle, Rina bent down to pick up her tumbler from the edge of the fountain. "I'm going to find out the situation inside,” she said in a conversational tone. "My dad will undoubtedly have something to say about they trying to get me married. Again," the last word came out of Rina's mouth with a deep sigh. “But if that comforts you, you were the most handsome of all ten candidates.” Rina gave Caspian a hearty smile and drank her glass empty. Still smiling, Rina stepped past the nobleman's son, clearly intending to return inside when...Caspian's hand sprang forward and clenched around Rina's forearm. 

"I didn't let me finish speaking," Caspian said and yanked Rina backwards. A growl escaping Manon's throat promised a painful death, and her iron nails hands stretched out toward the impudent boy. Asterin and Sorrel's grip was ironclad around her arms. 

"Let go," Rina said quietly—dangerously quietly—and yanked her arm, trying to release it from the boy's grasp. Caspian's grip only tightened. A shadow of pain and alarm flashed across Rina's face. "Let your grandma and grandfather take care of this. We would be a powerful ally." 

Rina chuckled tightly and yank her arm again. "Without a doubt. But my life is not a commodity." 

"You're a princess," Caspia's words sounded almost sympathetic. "Of course you're traded." 

Manon stiffened. It felt like air had been knocked out of her lungs. Of course you are traded...  

"Let go!" Rina commanded and threw her hand, trying to free it from the grip of the Caspian. "Why are you so difficult?" Caspian sighed in frustration and pulled Rina closer to him. "You act like your grandparents and my parents are negotiating the death penalty and not marriage." 

"Same thing," Rina hissed, trying to kick Caspian in the leg. The hem of the dress prevented it. Caspian didn't seem to notice. “I'm fourteen," Rina continued. "I can't get married until I'm of age." There was panic in the words. 

Caspian chuckled softly and laid his face right in front of Rina's. “Of course, one should wait a few years. But that doesn't stop us from getting engaged." 

Rina hissed. The sound was so animalistic that it made Caspian step away. Rina took advantage of the situation and yanked her arms out of the boy's grasp. “I won't agree to that," she hissed. "I refuse to be bound by any man! I refuse to be a prisoner! I refuse to be tied to the ground! Maybe I'll grow wings and fly to the ends of the world!” Rina grumbled, taking a step back. First one. Then another... 

Caspian shook his head in frustration. “You act like a child," he blurted out, reaching out to grab Rina again. "I can offer you a good life." 

"I don't need a breadwinner!" Rina snorted and dodged Caspian's outstretched hand. "Not if I become Queen of Adralan!" 

Caspian laughed. He actually laughed. "You?" he asked, shaking his head. "Queen? In Adralan, women don't have that much power." 

"I'm going to kill him," Asterin growled low. "Don't think so," Manon grunted. "I'll tear him to pieces!" 

Rina bared her teeth. "Someone has to be the first." 

Caspian sighed. "Wake up to real life Rina. Even if you sit in a council meeting as a mascot, it doesn't give you power." He reached out again. 

Then many things happened at once. 

Caspian's hand clenched around Rina's arm. There was the sound of tearing fabric as the nobleman's son trampled on Rina's hem as Rina tried to dodge the touch. Rina screamed. "It was my mother!” she groaned and tried to knock Caspian away from her. That was the dress, Manon realized. The same dress she wore herself at the Harvest ball years ago... 

Rina kicked towards Caspian, but got tangled in a torn hem. Caspian tried to dodge the kick and pushed Rina backwards while Rina released herself from his grasp... Time slowed down. Manon saw what was happening, but couldn't stop it. Rina fell backwards, with a surprised expression on her face. The glass fell from his fingers and hit the cobblestones surrounding the fountain, shattering into small fragments. And then... The back of Rina's head hit the edge of the fountain. Manon wasn't sure if he really heard it... whether she really heard a crunch when Rina's head hit the marble. Manon smelled fresh blood in the air as Rina fell to the ground.  

And no longer rose. 

Manon rushed down from the roof of the ballroom. Asterin and Sorrel no longer held her back. They had smelled the same thing too. Blood spreading on the ground. Manon's field of vision had turned red. And she saw only a boy. A boy whose face Manon now saw unhindered. No remorse. Just amazement and uncertainty about what to do... the boy withdrew from Rina, his hand still ditched, as if dumbfounded at the damage he had done. 

Rina lay on the ground on her side. Still. Manon wasn't even sure... wasn't even sure if Rina was even breathing. If that boy had killed his daughter - Manon would know that no amount of suffering would be enough to make amends for her little one's death. 

Manon was just steps away. Just a couple of steps and she could attack the boy...Invisible hands, cold but familiar, clung to her arms. Yanked back and forced back into the shadows. Manon's back hit a tree when Dorian's magic forced her to back away. Manon grunted at the invisible force and attack back with the fury of the wild beast. Dorian's magic didn't give up one bit. 

Manon didn't know when the princeling had entered the garden, or how Dorian had noticed her. But there the man was. Curly black hair messed up under the crown, bent over Rina's motionless form. Behind him stood the captain of the guard, beside him two heavily built men waiting for orders. Manon hadn't noticed any of them as he blindly attacked the boy, who was responsible for the smell of blood in the air. 

"It was her fault," Caspian explained, his face pale in the moonlight. “She stumbled and I..." Dorian looked up from his daughter to boy, who fell silent and swallowed. Manon couldn't see the princeling's face from her seat, but his expression made her pause. 

"Chaol," Dorian turned his gaze to the captain of the guard, whose countenance was cold and unyielding as a rock. “Would you take the boy where he belongs. Then let my father know about the situation. I don't think the alliance with the Woodgrips will pay off after this." 

"But... But..." Caspian began when two Chaol soldiers grabbed him arms. With a smooth motion, Dorian straightened himself up and stepped in front of the boy. He was much taller than Caspian. "Be happy I got to you first," Dorian said in a chilly voice. He then struck the boy in the face with his fist. 

A satisfied hum escaped Manon's throat when she heard a broken bone. "Pray to the gods that I will also be the one who will come to see you later," Dorian continued as the two soldiers went to drag the boy out of the garden. A broken nose bleed down Caspian's face. He looked too stunned to resist as he was dragged through the castle doors. 

"What are you going to do with the Woodgrip family?" Chaol asked when the boy and his guard had disappeared inside the castle. Dorian's expression tightened. "I'll make sure the boy gets what he deserves," he replied sharply. “What I can do is not the worst thing that could have happened to him." 

Dorian leaned back to Rina. Manon couldn't see what the princeling was doing, but the wrinkle between his brows was smoothed. Chaol cleared his throat, catching Dorian's attention again. "Shall I pick up a healer?" he asked. Dorian shook his head. "Don't. The wound has already begun to close. I won't move Rina until she's even partially conscious. I need to know if there is anything else I would... take care." 

Chaol nodded, once glancing anxiously at Rina, before heading towards the garden doors. "One more thing, Chaol." 

The captain of the guard glanced over his shoulder. “Take care that no one comes to the garden for a while. I need to talk to someone,” Dorian said, without looking at his friend. Chaol looked as if he had many questions, but he swallowed them all, bowed, and hurried inside the ballroom. 

Dorian sighed, turned Rina on her side, and then stood up. He turned towards the shadows. Towards Manon. "It's been a while, witchling." 

The phantom hands loosened their grip on Manon and allowed him to move again. She lifted her chin and in a few leaps she reached the boundary between light and shadow. Dorian stood on the other side of the fountain, the shadows cast by the moon on his face. 

Fourteen years had passed, but Dorian still could have been twenty. His face was sharpened, his hair shortened, but otherwise she looked the same as in the alley where Manon first met him. “Time means nothing to me, Princeling." Manon said. 

Silence descended on the garden. They just looked at each other. Look for signs of aging or time. “You don't seem to have aged a day," Dorian said quietly. There was a smile playing in the corners of her mouth. The familiar flirty grin. Manon snorted and stepped into the light. Dorian took a sharp breath. "I'm a witch," Manon said quietly, circling the fountain with unhurried steps. "We age slowly." Manon ran his hand along the cold, moonlit marble and stopped right in front of Dorian. And next to Rina, who is still lying on the ground. 

Her breath clung to Manon's throat when she saw her daughter. She sprang forward and partially lifted her daughter into her arms. Her legs failed beneath Manon and she knelt in the shards of glass. Rina's eyes were closed, but her chest rose to the rhythm of steady breathing... 

Manon gently touched the pale face, running her fingers along the dark hair. Gently brush the wound in the back of the head. Blood remained on Manon's fingers. 

"She'll be fine," Dorian had knelt in front of Manon, on one knee. "Rina heals quickly and she has a hard head." 

Manon said nothing. She felt tingling in her knees, but no pain. Shards of glass did not penetrate her leather pants. “How did you know to come here when you were needed?" Manon asked, her eyes still on her unconscious daughter's face. Her lips were slightly slit. 

"Rina's telepathy abilities are... developed," Dorian said, smiling slightly. Manon glanced up quickly. "Inherited from you?" 

Dorian shook his head. "I don't know. I can't do it." 

Manon nodded her head and then lowered her gaze back to Rina's face. "Did I make the right decision?" the question came out of Manon's mouth before she could stop it. Dorian was silent for so long that Manon looked up at her to see the princeling's expression. It was unexplored. 

"Maybe we can think..." Dorian hesitated and met Manon's gaze: "That it was safer of the two bad options." 

"Was it?" 

"Say you." 

Manon was silent. Rina moved in her arms, causing Manon's attention to turn to her. Rina's frowned, and a silent moan came out of her mouth. "You're warm," Rina muttered, still partially unconscious, pressing against Manon's body. “I have to tell my father to take Caspian to Ferian gap’s next time. I can introduce him to Arianrhod. She would definitely appreciate a snack." 

Dorian sighed and Rina turned her head in the direction of the sound. “Don't make so much noise. My head hurts," Rina asked—or perhaps more commanded—with her eyes still closed. "Stop sneaking around on the grass." 

Manon and Dorian looked at each other first and then at the other side of the fountain. Two figures had stepped into the light of the lantern. Asterin and Sorrel. Sorrel stood uncertainly, on the border between shadow and light. Asterin stopped on the other side of the fountain, grinned at Dorian, baring her iron teeth, before turning to say to Manon, "More humans will be coming here soon," her expression darkened. We should leave." 

Manon's grip on Rina tightened, causing the girl to whimper. “Sorry," Manon muttered quickly, loosening her grip. Rina's frowning between her brows deepened. Her hand moved, but then stopped when moving her limbs would have been too much to ask. "You're quiet," Rina muttered in confusion, her eyelashes quivering. “The other two I sensed, but you..." the sentence was cut off, as if Rina had forgotten what to say next. The forehead smoothed. “That's relaxing," she muttered. A small smile rose on her red lips. 

Dorian's expression was soft as he looked at Rina. "Where you hurt?” Rina frowned, as if her father's question bothered her greatly. “Head," Rina muttered. "Do you think Arianrhod would eat Caspian? Or should I offer him to Leah? Leah would make a little shred of him." 

"Does she have a concussion?" Asterin asked, leaning her hand on the fountain, a worried expression on her face. Dorian snorted. "Believe it or not, Rina usually speaks even more confusingly." 

Rina sighed. She still hadn't bothered to open his eyes. "It's not my fault that your brain works slower.” Dorian smiled tiredly. "How about letting Raini eat Caspian." 

Rina's frowned. "He's too polite. Besides, I think Raini is mainly a vegetarian." Dorian raised his eyebrows. “I would offer Caspian to Ivara by the way, but she's picky again," Rina continued her reflections, which didn't seem to make sense. 

"Where does she..." Manon began. "Her pets," Dorian said. "You'll sleep better if you don't know." 

Manon opened her mouth to say something when Sorrel's quiet voice came from the shadows. "We have to go. That friend of yours can't hold back your father and other nobles any longer." 

Dorian's expression tightened, and Manon felt like her heart had missed a few beats. “I'll take her," Dorian said quietly, stretching out his hand towards Manon. Manon's throat choked, but cautiously she lifted Rina from her arms and laid Dorian in her arms. Rina muttered, unclear but silent, as Dorian stood up and held her. 

Manon also stood up, and for a moment they stood face to face, looking at each other. Dorian gave her one frustrating flirty smile. "For another time, the witchling,” Prince said. Manon felt a smile pull at the corners of her mouth. "Don't hold your breath, princeling." 

"Now, Manon," Sorrel said quietly. Asterin glanced nervously towards the doors of the ballroom, her hand on the hilt of her sword. Manon backed away from Dorian, gave him one quick smile, and pulled her red cloak on the hood. With two subordinates behind her, Manon disappeared into the shadows, leaving Dorian and Rina behind.  

Again. 

:::::: 

Dorian stared at his father. "Can't you be serious?" he growled. 

The king of Ardralan sat at his desk, his face stoned, with a stack of papers in front of him. "Your daughter's idea was worth considering," the king said, flipping through the papers in front of him. 

"It was sarcasm, father," Dorian said, doing his best to keep despair away from his voice. "Rina didn't seriously suggest..." 

"If I wanted to hear your opinion, prince, I would have asked," father interrupted, glancing up at Dorian. "The invitations have been sent." 

Dorian felt the magic seething inside him. "Do you think it's wise?” He asked, gritting his teeth and resisting the desire to unleash his magic. The king did not even bother to look up this time. "The alliance benefits both parties." 

Benefits both parties... Dorian's rage was extinguished, like a candle submerged in water, replaced by worry. 

This could jeopardise everything. 

Had Manon's plan really given them only fifteen years time of grace? Unable to meet his father's gaze, Dorian turned on his heels and leapt out of his office. 

It wasn't until the hallway that Dorian's legs failed and he had to take support from the wall. If it had only been him - fuck even if there was a sword hanging over Manon's head - Dorian believed he could have secured his back. But now it was all about Rina... Rina... 

Rina's own careless words had put everything in danger. 

::::::: 

Manon looked at the report in front of her before looking up at the Edda sitting on the other side of the meeting table. “Are you sure?" she asked. Shadow nodded. Manon felt her expression tighten. 

Asterin leaned on the back of her chair and frowned. "The Yellowlegs and the Blueblood call their witches off the field," she said thoughtfully. “They get together, as if preparing for something," Briar confirmed, leaning her chin on her hands. "We haven't been able to figure out what's going on." 

Manon clenched her hands into fists, lowering her gaze back to the report written by the Edda. The shadows had delivered it to her today first thing in the morning. After reading the report, Manon had invited the Thirteen to the library for an urgent meeting. They sat around a large round table, Sorrel and Asterin on either side of Manon. Next to Asterin was Vesta, next to Sorrel was Lin. Next to Lin was Faline, then Fallon. Edda and Briar sat across from Manon. Next to them was Imgen, on the other side of which were Ghislaine, Thea and Kaya. 

Theresa—now thirteen, almost fourteen—the witchling was curled up in an armchair to listen to the conversation. Manon saw no reason why the girl should not listen. She was faithful to the Thirteen and would never tell anyone what she heard. 

"Why do they pull their people off the field?" Ghislaine thought aloud. "What do they know that we don't?" 

"They've done it very quickly," Theresa muttered half-aloud, as if to herself. Manon looked over her shoulder at the young girl, whose face flushed when she realized she had said her thoughts out loud. 

"What do you mean?" Manon asked, turning all his attention to the witchling. This was one of the reasons Manon allowed Theresa to listen to the meetings of the Thirteen. She made careful observations. 

Theresa swallowed and got up from her chair, on her long legs. Theresa had grown a lot over the past five years. She was tall, almost as tall as Lin—who was one of the tallest members of the Thirteen. Her face was soft and dominated by high cheekbones and bright, cobalt blue eyes. The milky white skin was smooth. There was still a hint of a child's roundness in her face that made Theresa look like a paragon of innocence. Her white hair, tied in a ponytail, reached her sacrum. The hairstyle adorned Theresa's long neck. 

Although Theresa's face was still clearly that of a child, her body was almost that of a full-grown woman. Despite her height, the girl had mellow breasts and wide hips. Her arms and legs were still graceful, and seemed barely strong enough to support the girl's own weight. Manon knew it was an illusion. Theresa had muscle strength. 

Sorrel had been endlessly patient in practicing Theresa, first alone and finally with others. She was still hesitant to use force, but now beat almost anyone her age in melee combat. Still, Manon was reluctant to let her protégé leave Blackbeak keep alone, or in a small group of younger witches. It may have been overprotective, but Manon had already had to give up one witchling. 

Theresa stepped cautiously closer, nervously fingering the sleeve of her shirt. The white blouse was far too big for the girl's narrow shoulders and Manon suspected the shirt was Lin's old. It slump all the time, revealing Theresa's slender shoulder and graceful collarbone. Theresa only dressed like that when she knew she could sit and read all day. 

"The Blueblood and Yellowlegs have gathered their people off the field very quickly," Theresa said again, stopping right next to Manon. She tapped her finger on one of the points in the report. "The witches started to be pulled away only a couple of days ago. I think the reason for that just hasn't reached us yet." 

Theresa was sharp.  

Manon nodded approvingly, which made a smile pop up on Theresa's face. At Asterin's urging, the girl sat down on the armrest of her second chair. 

"There may be truth in that," Sorrel said thoughtfully, pulling out the report written by the Edda in front of her. "Maybe we haven't really heard something." 

Just then, Manon's ears noticed the light footsteps coming from the hallway. Very familiar footsteps that Manon had heard in this tower only twice before. 

The whole of Thirteen was on they feet when the Blackbeaks Matron entered the library with the hems of her black robe flare. 

Manon bowed. Thirteen repeated the gesture seamlessly. "What gives us this honor, grandmother?” Manon asked after straightening her back. Grandmother had never come to see Manon at the Tower of the Thirteen. No. Grandmother had always invited her to join her. 

"Granddaughter," Grandmother said in greeting and walked into the room, looking around with her black eyes. It had been seventy years since Grandmother had last bothered to come here. 

Manon noticed with a side-eye how Asterin moved as if in passing in front of Theresa, hiding the girl from the cold gaze of the Matron. Theresa looked even paler than usual. With one exception—when the girl had become the Protégé of the Thirteen—Theresa and the Matron had not been in the same room. Manon had deliberately kept her protégé away from her grandmother. 

"I need to talk to you. And to your coven," Grandmother's gaze nailed Manon to her place with full force. "So order your protégé out." 

Manon glanced at Theresa, who was standing behind Asterin, trying to improve the position of his shirt on her shoulder. It didn't work out and the shirt kept slump down her shoulder. "Get out," Manon said, trying to sound as calm as possible. Still, the girl startled. Quickly glancing at Manon—as if begging her not to walk past Manon's grandmother—the girl straightened her back, bowed quickly to Manon. Then she stepped away behind Asterin and started walking beside the table, past the other Thirteen. And... The matron's expression changed. 

Just for a moment... For only one moment, Manon looked into her grandmother's face and saw a glimpse of something resembling surprise, pensiveness, and... a shadow of something gloomy and hungry. 

The High Witch's gaze was fixed on the girl. Looked the girl, who looking down, her long legs, her shirt to expose her collarbone and pale shoulder. Grandmother's head tilted - like a wild beast that had sensed prey. 

A gasp came from somewhere to Manon's right. Manon looked in the direction of the voice and saw Thea's parted lips, as if she were saying, "Don't." Kaya did her best to keep her face in basic readings, but Manon saw a hint of horror and... Was it despair? 

Theresa was almost at Matron, just about to slip past her when..."Stop." 

“No.”  

Kaya's voice, quiet, barely a breathy. But Manon separated the words. She did not turn her gaze towards the witch, but kept it in her grandmother and protégé, who stood front the high witch. 

"Look at me," that was the order Theresa was to obey. The girl did her best to keep her tremors in check as she looked up at grandmother's cruel face. Grandmother's mouth twitched, as if about to turn into a smile. "Good girl," she muttered. “I see that my granddaughter has educated you well." 

Long iron nails pressed behind Theresa's ears as the Matron grabbed her face and turned it violently, as if to see it from all sides. A panicked gasp escaped Theresa's throat. Somehow she managed to stay still as her grandmother turned her face with a pensive expression in her eyes. 

"How old are you?" Grandmother asked, putting her free hand on Theresa's bare shoulder. Manon stared at the vision, unknowing... not knowing how to stop grandmoter... “Thirteen, the high witch," Theresa somehow managed to say in a firm voice. 

“Hmm," The Matron muttered. " It's a shame." She released her grip on Theresa. "Go for it, my girl." 

Theresa did not wait for the second command. He slipped past Grandmother into the hallway and closed the door behind her, leaving Manon, Grandmother, and Thirteen in the library. 

Manon sensed Asterin's gaze. Sense the questions in the tongue of her second. " Why didn't you say anything? Why did you let her touch Theresa?"  

Manon didn't look to the side. Refused to meet Asterin's gaze. "If I had intervened, it could have been Theresa's death.” That was an explanation. But it still didn't calm the confusion, guilt, and rage inside Manon. Grandmother had acted as if it was right for her to touch Theresa like that. As if she were not a witchling. As if he could demand something from Theresa... Manon subdued the shudder. 

She noticed with a side-eye the expression on Thea and Kaya's faces. And grandmother's quick glance at them. It may have gone unnoticed by others. The exchange of glances was so fast. Thea and Kaya shook their heads at the same time. Just a little bit – facial expressions tight. A shadow of amusement flashed across the Matron's face. 

"What brings you here grandmother?" Manon asked, to attract the high witch's attention. She should talk to Thea and Kaya later. Find out the reason for their behavior. 

Grandmother's gaze shifted to Manon and nailed her in place. “We have been invited," the grandmother said. “All three clans have been invited. We are so deep in the mountains that it was difficult for the messenger to get here," smiled Grandmother. It was the smile of a snake. 

Manon wondered if the messenger was still alive and, if so, if she had all the body parts? Judging by her grandmother's gloomy smile, she had bitten off a piece. 

"Who invited us?" Manon asked, hands behind her back. She had started plucking her cuticles again. 

Grandmother's gloomy smile widened, revealing rusted iron teeth. "The King of Adralan has invited us to Riftholdi to negotiate an alliance against Terrasen." 

Manon's world swayed. Her mind went blank. "To Rifthold?” Manon couldn't completely hide her reaction. Asterin beside her moved restlessly. Grandma tilted her head and her piercing gaze gazed at Manon, trying to decipher her expression. “Yes," said the High Witch. "Do you have a problem with it?" 

Manon forced her face to basic readings. She did it as quickly and unnoticed as she could. There was suspicion in the grandmother's expression. The suspicion that Manon was supposed to make her forget. "Of course not," Manon said, her voice again coldly emotionless. "When are we leaving?" 

Grandmother still had furrow of doubt on her face, but she nevertheless replied, "In two days. We meet the Matrons, their heir and their coven the day before. We will fly together the rest of the way." 

Manon nodded. Grandmother's face hardened into a familiar cold mask. They no longer showed suspicion, but no other emotions either. “Send two coven to fetch our witch to the Blackbeak keep. We must be prepared to move the entire clan to the Ferian gap if an alliance is formed." 

"I'll take care of it," Manon said, while her grandmother turned and walked out of the library. Everything that needed to be said had been said. The library door swung shut after her. In the silence created in the room, the closing of the door sounded like thunder in broad daylight. 

Manonin felt the sting of pain in her finger and as he brought the hand from behind her back to her face, he saw and smelled blood from the torn cuticle. Slowly—slowly, Manon looked up from her bleeding hand to her witch. Allowed her gaze to wander from face to face. 

Manon's sure plan—a plan to keep Rina safe—had just failed. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 3  

“Do you ever get a little bit tired of life 
Like you're not really happy but you don't wanna die 
Like you're hanging by a thread but you gotta survive 
'Cause you gotta survive 
Like your body's in the room but you're not really there 
Like you have empathy inside but you don't really care 
Like you're fresh outta love but it's been in the air 
Am I past repair.” 

Numb little bug 
Em Beihold 

Dorian Havilliard entered his daughter's bedroom and almost stumble into Rina's large dog Atara, who was lying in front of the door like a peculiar and biting doormat.  

The gray-black dog raised his big head and blinked his blue eyes as the Prince of Adralan leaped over it. "Sorry, girl," Dorian said, bending over to scratch the creature's big head. Atara let out satisfied growls from her throat and took a relaxed position on the floor of the room.  

Despite her large size, sharp teeth and wildness, Atara was one of the sweetest dogs Dorian had met and bred. And he had raised many.  

Atara's mother had abandoned the puppy immediately after birth. The shelter attendants would have liked to euthanize the puppy. After all, it was undoubtedly half a wolf, abandoned by her mother and probably impossible to tame. Dorian had just arrived and prevented the dog from killing the hound wolf. He had known—at a glance at the blind, helpless puppy—that he couldn't let her die. Dorian had personally taken care of feeding and training it until three months later he had given it as a gift to his daughter.  

Atara almost never bited. Didn't attack people—unless something threatened her owner.Atara was loyal to Rina - the center of her life. Atara was like a big, hairy bodyguard. And that's what Dorian had hoped the dog would be. Protecting Rina. But from this, even a big dog could not protect Rina.  

Dorian didn't think even his daughter's bigest...pets could have done it. Dorian hadn't been sure how Rina had ruled the four dragons cubs, let alone the four full-grown dragons.  

In Rina's hands, the deadly beasts were like attention-seeking kittens – attacking anyone who threatened their rescuer and mistress. Three females and one male.  

Arianrhod and Raini were the biggest of the bunch. And siblings. Leah was small, wild, and seemed to be closest to Rina. Then there was Ivera. A small female, chronically grumpy and fiercely protected by Arianrhod.  

Dorian had met Rina's beasts a few times. Or well... didn't really meet. Watched from a distance as Rina had sat in the middle of her dragons, stroked them and chatted nicely.  

Rina was good with beasts. Dorian wondered if it had anything to do with Rina's witch inheritace. Well, he suppose it would soon be found out if his father succeeded in persuading the witches to side with him in the coming war.  

Negotiations were scheduled to begin the next day, and Dorian tried one last time to get Rina to change her mind.  

Rina – Dorian's fifteen-year-old daughter – lay on her stomach on the floor, fishing for something under her four-poster bed.  

She didn't even glance at Dorian when she said, "I know why you're here. We do not need to have that debate again. The answer is no. I'm not going to miss out."  

No greeting. No idle talk before getting down to business. Rina had always been outspoken. Yet every word was carefully thought out. Many didn't realize that Rina's actions were rarely spontaneous.  

It was part of the charm of the Princess of Adralan. She was able to convincingly present a spontaneous genius. Even that quip at the Council meeting three weeks ago had been carefully considered. The quip that caused the witches to now arrive at Rifthold.  

"So you're going to fly soldiers on wyverns to Terrasen?" Rina had scoffed in the middle of the hook – which had returned to the same conversation that had been going on for the past sixteen years. War against Terrasen. 

It still didn't make sense to Dorian. Yes, his father and his courtier were cowards. But did that justify starting a war? Dorian was disappointed to find that yes. Fear and prejudice were often reason enough to destroy entire nations.  

"Those beasts will never let humans on their backs," Rina had continued, effectively putting a spanner in the works. "What were you thinking of doing?" Rina had continued, smiling kindly. "Are you teach men to fly? Or are you asking witch clans to participate in a human war?"  

It had been ridicule and sarcasm. Not a suggestion Dorian's father should have taken seriously.  

A week later, the king of Adralan had announced at a meeting that he had summoned the witches to negotiate a possible alliance. A rare surprise had flashed in Rina's eyes. Rina was almost never surprised, and she clearly didn't enjoy the feeling.  

Dorian had struggled to contain his terror. And the excitement smouldering beneath it, which he couldn't help doing. If witches – Matrons of all three iron-toothed clans and their heirs – were coming to Riftholdi, it would mean... it would mean Dorian would see Manon again.  

It had been almost six months since they met in the garden. Manon on her knees in shards of glass, Rina partially in her arms, looking like she did fifteen years ago. Not exactly twenty years older.  

White hair plaited back, red cloak in moonlight black. Manon hadn't been alone that night. She had had her two witches with her. Based on the scant knowledge Dorian had of Manon's coven, she assumed that the blond witch who approached them was Asterin. The small, dark-skinned witch left in the shadows was Sorrel. Manon's second and third.  

Dorian had been tempted to let the three witches attack Caspian, who had been thrown into the dungeon, but had restrained himself. He had taken care of the boy himself. And then his parents. Marriage plans between Caspian and Rina had fallen through. At least Rina's concussion had done some good.  

Dorian sighed and sat down on Rina's dressing table. "It's not a place for a young girl," Dorian tried halfheartedly, disgusting at having to sink to his mother's level as he persuaded Rina to reverse her decision. "Witches can get it into their heads to eat you."  

That could have been true had Rina not had the face of the heir to the Blackbeaks.  

Rina crawled out from under her bed so she could glare at her father irritably. She was wearing a long white shirt, which was no doubt steal out of Dorian's wardrobe. At the age of fourteen, Rina had decided that she no longer intended to sleep in the silk nightgowns the Queen had purchased for her. Instead, Rina had started sleeping naked or wearing one of Dorian and Chaol's old undershirts. Dorian was firmly in the belief that Rina was only doing it to tease her grandma.  

"Then I have to make it clear that I am tough and cause stomach upset," Rina snorted and stood up. There was dust on the front of the shirt. Her hair was curled at the ends, as if it too was ready for rest.  

In Rina's hand hung an old raven stuffed toy, which she was now waving towards Dorian. “There are witches coming to Adralan, and you want to shut me up in my room so that none of them can bite me off?"  

I want to shut you up in your room so that your mom grandmother doesn't realize that you exist.  

Sometimes Dorian thought that telling the truth would have saved him from many arguments with Rina. But at the same time... In the worst case, it could have caused the premature death of his daughter. Witches were a violent and cruel people. It was just one of the reasons Manon had given her daughter to Dorian. That and the color of Rina's blood. The blood did not bleed blue, like the witches. Rina's blood was red. Red as in humans. Rina also had no iron nails or iron teeth. Maybe they hadn't broken out because Rina had grown up among humans, or maybe Rina didn't have iron. Maybe it was either or. Magic or iron. Rina had inherited Dorian's magical powers, which Dorian was secretly pleased with. If Rina had grown iron nails, Rina would have found out who - what - her mother was.  

Yes, perhaps telling the truth would have saved Rina and Dorian from many arguments. But at least that kept Rina from going searching. And it wouldn't help if Dorian told the truth now. That would only increase Rina's desire to participate in the negotiations.  

"That meeting is not for children," Dorian said. He knew his reasoning was bad. They wouldn't give Rina enough reason to stay away.  

And indeed so. Rina squinted her eyes beneath the enchantment. On it, the eyes looked sapphire blue. “I will be sixteen in a month. I'm not a kid anymore," Rina pointed accusingly at him with her raven stuffed toy. "And you can't say anything to me that would keep me out of this meeting."  

True. Sadly true.  

“Rina,” Dorian said, but Rina snapped her fingers impatiently when she heard his tone. “Don't start," she hissed and threw Hugo onto her bed. "Not in that tone of voice. What could be the worst thing that's going on?"  

That the witches to realize who you are, Dorian thought. He didn't know how the enchantment he imposed on Rina years ago would affect the witches. Manon saw unhindered through it, Dorian believed. She had never asked Dorian why Rina's face looked different. Less from the supernal. Manon didn't expect to see anything but Rina's real face.  

The enchantment affected everyone differently. They saw what they expected to see. A beautiful blue-eyed human girl. The part of Rina—that radiated the splendor of immortality—remained hidden. Everyone saw what they expected to see. Dorian hadn't realized it could affect Rina as well.  

He should just hope that none of the witches look at his daughter too closely.  

"Could you at least consider making less noise in negotiations than usual?" Dorian asked. If the witches didn't pay any attention to Rina, maybe... Rina glanced at him with raised eyebrows, looking disturbing a lot from her mother. "Are you seriously asking that?"  

And Dorian knew he had lost the argument. It was no big surprise. They had had this debate several times over the past week. Each time, the result was the same. Rina wouldn't stay away. Dorian had almost wished his father had tried to stop Rina from coming to the negotiations, but what? Father must have hoped that the witches would scare the stubborn-headed princess into silence.  

Or the king hoped that if he allowed Rina to attend the meeting without objection, he would not begin to undermine the king's credibility in the face of potential allies. Vain hoped. Dorian knew it.  

Rina had a plan. Something very wicked that would undoubtedly make the witches pay attention to her. Rina would do everything she could, knowing no bounds in her quest to prevent the Terrasen War. She didn't seem to do it out of compassion. Rina just wanted to argue back and cause the king as much trouble as possible.  

Dorian often had to admit that he did not know or understand his daughter's motives. After the Ferian gap - and that was five years ago – Rina had changed significantly. Shut and started hiding things from her father. Rina had always been honest. And she still wasn't exactly lying. She just skillfully dodged questions or rejected them outright if she couldn't.  

"So you're not going to miss the meeting?" Dorian asked, folding his arms over his chest. Rina shook her head and grinned. “No," she reply, and soared across the room to the door of his walk-in closet. "And now that you're at it..." She went on and reached for the closet to pull out two outfits..."You can have your say."  

Rina pulled two hangers in her hands. One wore a short red dress that was shorter at the front than at the back. The other wore a red shirt and straight black pants. "Which one gives you less of a 'no snack' feeling?"  

"Since when have you needed me to choose your clothes?" Dorian asked, raising his eyebrows. Rina shrugged one shoulder. “Ever since I realized that the wrong outfit would make me look like lunch."  

Rina researched two outfit options with her brows furrowed. “Do you think I should still put on shoes that are good to run?"  

Dorian didn't realize until two heartbeats later that Rina was making fun of him. For a moment, he had been completely convinced that Rina was asking about the shoes seriously. This is why she irritated so many members of the council and court. Rina made them feel stupid.  

Dorian had been the target of Rina's cruel pranks several times. Normally, though, he would separate the joke from the right question. "You don't take this seriously enough," Dorian said, standing up properly. Rina rolled her eyes and took both of them to the bed. "You're starting to sound like grandma," she said thoughtfully, tilting her head to the clothes she had chosen. "Witches are not allowed to hunt in Adralan."  

Dorian gritted his teeth. He knew that Rina was not so naïve. She just didn't want to discuss it anymore. "Put pants," Dorian said, causing Rina to glance over her shoulder in surprise. "I thought you weren't going to help."  

Dorian sighed and headed towards the door. "So you're going to take part in the negotiations, no matter what I say. Put on pants and really shoes where you can run."  

Rina snorted, but Dorian didn't stay to continue the conversation. That would be pointless. Rina wouldn't listen, and would only make the magic and fear inside Dorian burst onto the walls.  

Dorian leapt out of his daughter's room, up the stairs towards his own rooms. He pushed open the door leading to the lounge area and entered. Everything was on the run. The newly risen moon illuminated the forgotten sword on the sofa, the papers and books on the coffee table.  

Still, something bothered Dorian. Some instinct in told him to flee. With new, more cautious steps, he walked across the room. When he lowered his hand on the handle of the door, he already knew who was waiting for him inside.  

:::::::  

Manon Blackbeak had folded her arms behind her back and was doing her best to keep the sizzling restlessness under her skin away from her face.  

The meeting had dragged on, and each moment took Manon time to try to sort out the situation her grandmother had unknowingly driven her into. Manon should be able to visit the Rifthold. Tonight. She had no choice if she... Manon interrupted her thoughts before it could properly take shape. She did her best to focus on the conversation of the three matrons, although it did not interest her in the slightest.  

However, Manon had to pretend to listen because of two extra pairs of eyes.  

The Matrons of the three clans, their heirs, and the coven of heirs had met each other in the morning, on the hill above the Rifthold. It was the same hill from which Manon had gazed over the capital of Adralan, holding her baby in her arms. The same hill on which the Thirteen had said goodbye.  

Manon had had trouble restraining her reaction after they landed here and set up camp for the night. Tomorrow at noon, they would fly over the city in unison to the glass castle to begin negotiations.  

The performance would be theatrical. The intention is to scare the townspeople, even if witches are not allowed to hunt within the walls. Manon knew she wouldn't have to tell her witches to abstain from human blood. Thirteen had hardly hunted humans for fifteen years. It just didn't feel like... It no longer offered the same pleasure as before. At least not for Manon.  

She was worried about other clans, especially the Yellowlegs. In general, letting the witches of the Yellowlegs within ten miles of her daughter went against every instinct she had.  

Manon didn't let his body move and signal the nervousness smouldering beneath her skin as she let her gaze circle the tent set up solely for the meeting of the Matrons. As heir, Manon was supposed to be there to protect her grandmother. And Manon was, for he could not let grandmothe doubt her loyalty.  

Manon's golden gaze swept past her grandmother to the Blueblood Matron – Cresseda—standing beside her. The witch was tall and slender. More of a priestess than a warrior. She, like the other two Matron, wore a robe. Deep blue, unlike Manon's grandmother. On the pale forehead of the moon, over the blue eyes, rested a crown of iron stars. Like a caricature of the crown of the Corchanes.  

Cresseda, like all Bluebloods, looked young, but Manon knew she was born shortly after the Iron-Toothed Witches had been driven from their home. Cressedan's blonde golden hair rested free on the witch's slender shoulders and swayed as she moved her head as she watched the conversation unfold.  

The Bluebloods were fortune tellers. They claimed to have the most magical powers of all iron toothed witches, which is why their leader wore an iron crown. She needed it to tie herself to the ground so as not to get carried away by magic. Manon rolled her eyes at such claims. Iron was iron. It bound them all.  

Blue bloods were no exception. But if they wanted to feel special, it wouldn't be Manon's problem. The Bluebloods were crazy for the most part, but Manon couldn't deny the fact that once upon a time they had become the most powerful soothsayers and healers. Admittedly, there had been no healers for iron toothwitches for over six hundred years.  

Manon's gaze shifted forward, to the new Yellowlegs Matron. It was said that she was the half-sister of Baba Yellowleg. And that's what she looked like. Like her sister, the crouched figure was dressed in a brown robe and, like all Yellowlegs, her iron nails and iron teeth were bare.  

Gray hair was plaited back so that the cruel, wrinkled face could be seen properly. The sight of the witch had caused Manon to reveal her iron teeth. That crone's half-sister had tried to kill Manon's daughter fifteen years ago. Even though no one in the Yellowleg knew it. If it were, then Manon would no longer have been alive. After all, she was also behind the murder of the former Yellowlegs Matron and her coven.  

Yellowlegs hadn't always been the trash of iron tooth witches. Before, the clan was a sense of a rare ability to speak to the dead. They had been respected sages whose wisdom was sought after around the world. The ability was extinct, as were irontooth healers and reportedly Baba Yellowleg had been the last bearer of that gift.  

So... Baba had been the last if didn't believe the rumors. Like many, Manon had heard the stories, but was still not sure if she believed them. It was said that two hundred years ago Baba Yellowleg would have had a daughter of her own. Kairi Yellowleg, who would have died at the age of sixteen. That's how the witches thought the story went, unless they wanted to listen to rumors that Kairi Yellowleg had run her mother and clan to Wendelyn, married and started a family.  

Manon did not believe that any Yellowleg - especially none of Baba Yellowleg's descendants - could do such a thing. The Yellowlegs were the most immoral and merciless of the witches. Their self-control or desire wouldn't be enough for them to sit still and stop killing.  

Manon's gaze quickly shifted to her grandmother, who stood at the table with an expressionless face. The Blackbeaks had always been fighters, leaders... queens. And that's what Grandmother wanted. Queen of all witches. Undoubtedly, she saw in this union an opportunity to have everything she had ever wanted. Manon kept her expression closed.  

Two other heirs watched her. Petrah – the heir to the Blueblood – stood closest to the tent door, behind her mother. Her expression was serene, although the gaze of the blue eyes was sharp. Her hair was as golden as Asterin's—who was standing with the other deuces outside the tent—and her skin pale as Manon's. On her forehead rested a worn leather headband, instead of an iron star crown. The Blueblood heir's skin was freckled, as if she had spent long periods in the sun.  

Manon's gaze glided past the witch and stopped in Isrka's disgruntled eyes. The heir to the Yellowlegs flashed Manon an angry smile from the other side of the tent, and Manon found herself wondering what a pleasure it would be to rip the witch's face off. Iskra still remembered the confrontation in which she and her witches had been defeated. She hadn't forgiven it and would probably do everything in her power to avenge what happened. Manon should have cared more about it.  

"It's a shame they won't let us hunt in Adralan," Yellowlegs Matron muttered half-aloud, catching Manon's attention, “I've heard that their princess is a real treat."  

Manon had to seriously fight with herself in order not to throw herself down the old witch's throat. The Blueblood Matron smiled as a sign of unanimity. Manon's grandmother smiled. "Maybe we'll get her as collateral for the alliance," the Blackbeaks Matron hummed. "A little snack before flying into battle."  

Control yourself, Manon commanded herself. Somehow she managed to keep her expression blank. They considered Rina to be human. And that's exactly how she wanted the situation to stay. Right? Anything to keep the daughter safe.  

Manon saw with a side-eye how Iskra licked her lips as if thinking about biting off a piece of Adralan's princess. Manon wanted to rip the tongue of the heir to the Yellowlegs out of her mouth. Iskra – or any of the other witches in the tent – wouldn't fold a hair out of Rina's head.  

"Haven't we gone through everything we need to know," the Blueblood Matron announced, straightening her back. "Tomorrow we will fly together to Riftholdi and start negotiations with the king."  

The other two Matrons nodded.  

Cresseda was the first to leave the tent, with Petrah following her. Manon and her grandmother stepped outside shortly after.  

Manon filled her lungs with the scent of twilight and immediately felt calmer. She heard the wind and when Asterin took her place behind Manon, it relaxed every muscle in her body. One more moment, she assured herself. She would have to present one more moment to Grandmother and then he could fly to the glass castle... to sort things out.  

Grandmother trudged across the camp to where Thirteen had pitched her tent. The tents were arranged in a wide circle around Manon and the Matron's tents. Manon would have preferred to pitch a tent on the outer edge of the ring, among thirteen witches, but that would have attracted attention. As heir, her life was precious, although Manon's duty was primarily to keep her grandmother alive. Even if it means sacrificing her own life.  

"You've been restless for the past few days, granddaughter," the grandmother's sharp voice, caused the coldness to spread inside Manon. The old witch had stopped and looked at Manon with her black eyes, as if trying to drill down into her thoughts. Manon stood two steps away, hands behind her back, keeping her expression on the ground.  

She sensed Asterin's nervousness a few steps away. Thea and Edda had stopped at their tents on the way to check on the situation just in case.  

"I don't understand what you mean, grandmother," Manon forced herself to say in a calm voice. The Matron snorted. “OAre you really so stupid when you think I haven't noticed how your gaze is looking at the horizon. How your thoughts wander," Grandmother squinted her eyes and bared her iron teeth. “I have no use for an heir who can't concentrate."  

Fuck.  

Manon had done her best to hide the fact that her mind was elsewhere. She had naively hoped that her grandmother would not notice her distant gaze.  

"Is there anything I should know, Manon Blackbeak?"Grandmother's black eyes nailed her in place. Manon refrained from swallowing. She kept her face as an expressionless mask.  

"I'm just unsure about this alliance," she said of the first thing that came to her mind. Manon couldn't have cared less about the king's wars or her grandmother's cruel lust for power. As long as none of them threatened Rina directly, it didn't matter.  

"We hunt and mate with humans," Manon continued, "but we don't ally with them."  

It sounded plausible. Manon's stomach tingled unpleasantly as her grandmother stared at her. “Hmm,” She finally said contemptuously. "Do you doubt my judgment, granddaughter?"  

Manon felt her expression tighten. "No grandmother," she hastened to say. Evenly. Calmly. "I doubt these people and their motives."  

Manon childishly hoped to convince her grandmother that allying herself with people was not worthwhile. Of course, nothing was so easy.  

Grandmother raised her chin. "I want to hear the king's offer. I want to know if she can really offer us something.” A hint of a smile crossed Grandmother's mouth. And then she abruptly changed the subject. “It's a shame we didn't take your little protégé with us. She might have been useful in running the camp," said the grandmother, waving the hem of her black robe.  

"Arrange guard shifts and then go to bed. I want you by my side tomorrow fully rested." So to speak, Grandmother leapt into her tent, leaving Manon and Asterin alone under the stars.  

"It was close," Asterin finally muttered, certain that Grandmother wouldn't hear. Manon nodded and turned to look at her cousin. There was a worry wrinkle on Asterin's forehead. "Gather Thirteen together," Manon ordered. "Meeting outside camp after five minutes."  

Manon would arrange watch shifts, but would not sleep as her grandmother had ordered.   

She should fly to Riftholdi to meet Dorian!  

::::::  

Dorian pushed the door open and entered his bedroom, illuminated only by the moon shining behind the open balcony doors.  

Dorian knew he hadn't left the balcony doors open. The cool spring air blew in, cluttering the papers on her desk and the moon-pale hair of a witch dressed in a red robe.  

Manon sat on the Dorian's desk, examining the tossed papers on top of the table. Her long fingers ran along lines of text. The pale face was expressionless. Golden eyes fuzzy. Unallocated. The hair was open and hung below the elbows.  

The door behind Dorian slammed shut, cutting the death silence of the room like a knife. Manon didn't flinch. She had probably heard Dorian's footsteps from the hallway. "You made me wait for yourself," Manon's voice was a quiet, emotionless shell. Worry and fear had carved out all emotions from her voice.  

"I tried to persuade Rina not to attend the meeting," Dorian said quietly, leaning against the door while looking at the witch. Manon raised her head and turned to look at her. "Did you succeed?"  

Dorian heard the ferocious hope behind the words. Hope that what was happening wouldn't happen. Dorian slowly shook his head. Golden eyes closed. Her hands clenched into fists as the witch took a deep breath.  

Then my eyes fluttered open. Their gaze was bright, filled with pure despair and terror. "Rina must not be in the same room as my grandmother!" golden eyes shone with either rage or tearless tears. The witch jumped down from the table and was in front of Dorian in an instant. The iron teeth were bare when the witches' claws pressed into Dorian's coat. "Is there nothing, absolutely nothing, how can you keep her out?" the question was desperate. Manon's fingers wrapped around Dorian's collar and she grimaced. "Absolutely nothing?"  

"Do you think I didn't try everything?" Dorian's hands clenched around Manon's wrists. “Did you think I wasn't trying to bribe, intimidate and coax? She won't stay away, Manon!"  

It had been a long time since Dorian had last said the witch's name. The name felt like a spell—a spell that broke Manon's self-control. The first tears of despair flowed down Manon's face as she hissed, "There must be something. What about the truth..." Manon finished her own sentence before she could finish. She shook her head and averted her gaze. "That wouldn't keep her away?"  

It was the question. Dorian shook his head.  

A sound escaped Manon's throat, something between a cry of pain and a sobbing.  

"What have I done?" Manon's hands came off Dorian's jacket as she stepped away. Dorian's grip on her wrists loosened. Manon pulled her fingers through her white hair and walked back and forth with her face distorted. “I did everything – absolutely everything – I gave her away so that my grandmother would never - and now..!" Manon gasped for breath and turn towards Dorian, her golden eyes burning. “I gave up the chance to know my own daughter because I believed it would keep her safe! Really get to know her! I gave up on her first steps! From her first words! And it wasn't enough! Isn't anything I did for her enough for the gods... should they..." Manon shook her head and grated her hair. "What should I do? What am I being punished for?" Last words, Manon shouted, staring at her hands. "What should I do to keep my child safe?"  

Dorian stepped up to Manon and grabbed her by the upper arms before the witch could start breaking things up. “First of all," Dorian said, trying to keep his voice calm. He couldn't afford to show his own fear when Manon was so upset, "Witches don't - uh - you are not allowed to hunt in town. And Rina knows how to stand her ground..."  

Manon ripped herself out of Dorian's grasp. The iron nails were exposed with a hiss. The witch's hand trembled as she pointed at Dorian with her iron claw. "Witches honor the commitment, as long as it benefits us! They will kill Rina if they see her face. They..."  

"They can't see her face," Dorian interrupted, and Manon paused. Froze completely motionless. “What do you mean?" Manon asked slowly, her eyes locked on Dorian. Dorian took a deep breath and took a cautious step forward until he was right in front of the witch. He was ten inches taller than Manon, yet Dorian felt small standing before the witch. He had his magic, yes. But Manon was a hundred years older than him and deadly effective.  

"They can't see Rina's face," Dorian said quietly, flicking the white strands of hair off Manon's cheek. "Not in the same way as you and me."  

Manon was silent for a very long time. Slowly, her hand fell. Pressed to Dorian's chest, to his beating heart. “Enchantment?" she asked. Golden eyes met blue ones.  

Dorian smiled halfway. "People see what they expect to see when they look at Rina. I made an enchantment the same day you gave her to me."  

Manon was silent. Her breathing calmed down. Golden eyes blinked. Once. Another. "I haven't noticed any change in her," Manon said more to herself than to Dorian. Dorian chuckled softly and pressed both hands to Manon's cheeks. “Because you expect to see Rina just as she is."  

Manon nodded her head slowly. And then her frowned. "What does Rina see?" Dorian felt his stomach twist. “I don't know," he said quietly, and Manon's gaze fixed on his face, "but hardly the same as we."  

Manon's face had expressionless as she weighed Dorian's words. And then her eyes flashed. "You mean she's never seen her real face?"  

Dorian felt his expression darken. His hands landed on Manon's face, on the witch's shoulders. "No," He quietly admitted, "I don't think so."  

Manon took a step back and Dorian let her go. For a moment, the witch stared into the void before breaking out to speak again. "So she doesn't recognize me?"  

Dorian shrugged. "I don't know how he sees herself. It's probably some kind of echo of what she's seen in the minds of others."  

Manon's expression changed again. "Can Rina read other people's minds?" she asked. There was a voice of surprise. "Yes," Dorian replied, and sat down in his office chair. "But nowadays Rina knows how to close her mind to the thoughts of others."  

Manon sighed and ran her hand through her hair again. Dorian couldn't interpret the emotions on the witch's face. Finally, Manon shook her head and sat down on Dorian's headboard.  

"If Rina doesn't know what she looks like," Manon said slowly, staring at the wall, "she doesn't recognize me?" the witch glanced at Dorian, who sighed and shrugged. "I don't think she recognize. But years ago I lost control of the enchantment. Rina has taken my magic for herself and regulates it as she sees fit."  

Manon's golden eyes squinted. "What does that mean?" Dorian leaned on the back of his chair. “This means that it may be easier to see through the enchantment if you look straight at Rina and don't know what to expect. Or that the illusion stabilizes and we see Rina as she imagines herself."  

Dorian looked at Manon's beautiful face as the witch again pondered what she had said. For a long time there was complete silence as Manon ran her fingers, lost in thought, over the blanket of the day. "So Rina doesn't know about the enchantment," Manon said aloud about the outcome she had come to. Dorian nodded without saying a word. "And she would sense if you tried to enchant her again?" That was a guess. Dorian nodded again.  

Manon's face darkened and her expression tightened. "Do I have to trust that an unstable enchantment will keep Rina hidden from my grandmother?"  

Dorian met Manon's gaze as steadily as he could. She took a deep breath. "If you don't want to tell her the truth, I think that's the only option."  

It was a pure challenge. Dorian focused all the power of his gaze on Manon, and for a moment of madness, Dorian hoped that Manon would grasp the idea. That, they would now go down and... would tell Rina the whole story.  

Uncertainty crossed Manon's face as she considered - she really considered it! - before the shadow fell again on the witch's face. She slowly shook her head and stood up. "It's better that she doesn't know.” Manon said quietly and stepped towards the balcony doors. Dorian was on his feet and grabbed Manon's arm. “Are you leaving again?" Dorian already realized when he asked it that it was stupid. Manon glanced at him irritably and yanked her arms out of his grasp.  

"I'll be back to-morrow, Princeling," Manon said irritably, leaping onto the balcony. Dorian followed. "It's not the same," Dorian said, leaning against the door. "We have to pretend that we don't know each other."  

Manon glanced over her shoulder at him, and a smile crossed her face. It was just a shadow and looked painful. “That's the hardest part," Manon said, and Dorian wasn't sure if the words contained sarcasm or not. “But because of our daughter," Manon's face became completely serious. "We have to be convincing."  

Dorian smiled faintly as Manon got on her broom. "Until to-morrow, witch," he said, raising his hand to goodbye. Manon didn't look back as she took to the sky.  

Dorian watched Manon's flight. Watched as the red cloak—black in the dark night—fluttered after the witch as she speeded toward the witches' camp.  

For the first time, Dorian was sure that he would see the witch tomorrow. Sighing, he turned his back on the night sky and entered his room. And after a moment's hesitation, pulled the balcony doors shut behind him.  

::::::  

The sun had risen hours ago and now it shone high on the sky. The camp had been dismantled and all forty-two witches stood in tight formation on the top of the hill.  

Manon stood close to her grandmother, just one step back. Her hand squeezed the wooden stem of the broom convulsively. Exhaustion was felt on her shoulders, like a heavy cloak.  

Asterin had been waiting for Manon to return. She hadn't said anything, but wrapped her arms soothing around her shoulders, seeing Manon's desperation expression. Manon hadn't told Asterin about her conversation with Dorian, and Asterin hadn't asked.  

The cousin had simply escorted Manon into the tent and tenderly helped her take off her weapons, witch leathers, and boots. “ She'll kill her," Manon had whispered, putting her hands on her belly, hoping her daughter was still there. In her body safe.  

Asterin had pressed her palm on the Manon's hand.  "And it won't kill," the promise on his cousin's face had made Manon's heart pump faster.  "We swore to protect her when she was born."  Asterin's black eyes flashed. "We have not forgotten our oath."  

Manon swallowed and nodded. Asterin sighed, then wrapped Manon in her strong embrace.  " We'll get through this," Asterin whispered in Manon's ear. "We are there. And Rina isn't helpless either."  

Manon chuckled and pressed her forehead against her cousin's shoulder. "She's my daughter. Of course, she's not helpless."  

Asterin had let go of her shoulders and looked Manon straight in the eye. "Exactly." she confirmed.  

Yet, after Asterin had left Manon alone stroking her belly, Manon hadn't been able to sleep all night. She had only rolled over in pad until dawn had slipped out of her tent to the river to wash. It had been so early that she had been left alone, though Asterin grumbled about it to her later. Manon hadn't cared. She had had to wash away the traces of a sleepless night before facing her grandmother.  

And now she stood here. Waiting for the matrons' order to soar into the sky.  

Cresseda raised her face towards the sun so that her blonde hair shone golden. Petrah behind her followed her mother's movements as vigilantly as Manon and Iskra watched their own Matrons.  

"It's time," the Matron of the Blueblood announced. “Let us rise to the sky, witches," Manon's grandmother declared, rising on her broom, waving a black cloak.  

The boots rose from the ground and settled back as the witches climbed on their brooms. Manon stared in front of her, silent and serious. The thirteen witches behind her were equally expressionless. Only they knew that expressionlessness was not discipline, obedience and brutality. They were worried, scared and uncertain. This day - this moment - could expose their betrayal from years ago.  

The witches soared into the sky, the three Matrons first. No hiding. No flying in the shadows. The witches flew in unison over the city of Rifthold. The people beneath them—people Manon had watched before at night—shouted and ran to their homes for safety. With a side eye, Manon saw Iskra's grin and a subtle smile on Petrah's face. They enjoy this.  

Manon kept her face expressionless. Otherwise, she might have started screaming, like people far beneath them.  

The flight was not long. The arrival was supposed to be spectacular. Prove their power. Manon wasn't even able to enjoy the flight. From the gentle breeze that fluffed her braided hair.  

And—eternity later and far too soon—they began to descend. Manon followed her grandmother flawlessly. She reached the ground seconds later, after the shoes of the High Witch of Blackbeaks had touched the grass.  

Manon rose from her broom and looked up at the front doors of the glass castle. She had never—never—stepped through these doors. It felt wrong. So... Wrong.  

Manon heard the witches of the Thirteen descend to the ground and take their places behind her. Manon sighed internally and lifted her chin, looking at the men facing them. At least Rina wasn't there to welcome them. Deferral... But was it enough?  

The king of Adralan stood at the top of the stairs with a tanned face expressionless. He did not move restlessly, like the soldiers and two members of the council who stood beside the king. She didn't move—and neither did her son, who was leaning arrogantly against the door.  

Dorian grinned at Manon cheekly. Manon had trouble restraining her expression so she didn't get irritated or... would have flashed the princeling an iron-toothed smile. Dorian's blue gaze moved forward to look at the other two heirs.  

Petrah remained expressionless, although Manon saw with a side-eye the Blueblood heir tilting her head appraisingly. Iskra responded to Dorian's grin with a narrow smile, examining the prince thoughtfully.  

Manon's hands clenched into fists as she saw Petrah and Iskra looking at Dorian. Her princeling! A light touch on the back of her hand woke Manon up.  

Asterin stood beside her, keeping her gaze directed forward. "If the intention is to pretend that you don't know the Prince of Adralan," Asterin said, barely moving her mouth, and so quietly that no one else could hardly hear, “you can't glere Iskra and Petrah looking like you're going to rip their heads off if they even look at your prince."  

Manonin clenched her teeth together and stared ahead, trying to ignore the other two heirs and Doriania—whose gaze had returned to her. Manon did not know Dorian, she reminded herself as she turned her attention to her grandmother and the King of Adralan, who approached the Matron followed by three guards. They would be of no use if witches decided to attack.  

"Welcome high witches," said the king, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. He did not bow, but tilted his head appreciatively. None of the three matrons bowed. “Thank you for the invitation," Mano's grandmother said, smiling slightly at the king, whose gaze swept over the witches gathered behind the Matrons. Manon became tense as the king's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than on the others. A small furrow appeared between the corners.  

Manon had forgotten - she had forgotten! - that once, once damned, she had met the king. She had stared into those cold eyes—smiling from behind the mask—and the king's gaze had followed her all evening. Would the man recognize her despite the fact that Manon had been wearing a mask and was wearing that ridiculous dress.  

Would everything go wrong on the stairs? Maybe if Manon were caught now, it would save Rina... Manon felt a strange tingling sensation on her skin. A feeling of coldness that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The king's forehead was smoothed and her gaze returned to the Matrons.  

Manon could breathe again. Her gaze went to Dorian, who glanced at her quickly. The touch of a cold phantom hand in her hair.  

Enchantment! Dorian had enchanted her so that the king would not recognize her. So the princeling had figured out... had realized what Manon had realized. Manon slowly let the air out of her lungs and corrected her rigid posture as the king addressed the three Matrons again.  

"If only you would accompany me into the negotiating room, and if I may ask..." His gaze wandered to the swords, bows, and knives of witches...”You would leave your extra weapons to the servants who will take them to your rooms.” They would stay in the castle. Manon had known this, but still knowing—confirming that these witches would be under the same roof as Rina... Manon kept her emotions inside. She didn't show anything outwardly.  

Yellowlegs Matron bared her teeth, and Manon's grandmother raised her eyebrows. It was Cresseda who spoke. "We agree to the terms," she said. There were protest grunts from some group of witches, but no one said anything out loud. Manon remained silent. So does the Thirteen.  

"We demand that our heirs and heirs' seconds enter the negotiating room,” Yellowlegs Matron said stiffly. "The rest of their coven remain outside the doors on guard."  

The king's expression tightened, but he nodded. "Then come, witches.” She turned her back foolishly, trusting that the Guardians could do anything about the powers of the Three Matron.  

The High Witches quickly looked at each other—as if consulting with each other—and then followed the king up the stairs. The witches followed them. Manon kept her eyes on his grandmother as they entered through the large double doors into the dimly lit lobby, where more than a dozen nervous servants stood.  

So they had to hand over their weapons to these humans. Manon snorted. She reluctantly began to remove the Wind-claver from her belt and handed it to the trembling servant. The young boy took it in his inept hands and whined in fear when Manon dropped a long knife into his hand.  

Manon watched as the boy backed away, bowing trembling, as it became apparent that Manon was not going to hand over any more sharp objects to him. If Manon wasn't currently marching toward his destruction, she would have smiled. The king was foolish to think that disarming witches would be enough to render them harmless.  

The iron nails and teeth of the Matron and the exposed teeth of each Yellowleg were a clear sign that witches did not need a sword to kill or wreak havoc.  

Waiting for the others to hand over their weapons to the humans, Manon let her gaze wander to Dorian. While Manon's duty as heir was to keep her grandmother safe, the Prince of Adralan stood as far away from his father as possible, leaning casually on the railing of the stairs. Several of the witches gathered in the hall looked at the prince curiously. Manon gritted her teeth when he saw Dorian grine at a few of them.  

They had to pretend they didn't know each other, Manon reminded herself as she observed Doriani. So she shouldn't pay any attention to the prince. Manon took a breath from the slit of her teeth and was already turning her attention back to her grandmother when Dorian's gaze fell on her. And his smile changed. It became that damned flirtatious grin Dorian had bestowed on her sixteen years ago in a filthy alley.   

Manon got her own expression restrained at the last minute. Her lips twitched. Dorian's grin only deepened and he averted his gaze. The guard standing behind him—Chaol Westfall, who had a few gray hairs—looked nervous. He looked especially nervous when the witches—after glancing at Dorian—looked at him. The captain of the guard was there to protect Dorian, but did not seem to know how to deal properly with the witches watching him or the prince.  

"Your prince is well preserved as a human," Vesta had slipped up from somewhere next to Manon, and now bent down to say quietly in her ear, glancing towards Dorian at the same time, "would it hurt you if..."  

Manon grumbled at Vesta. The red-haired witch raised her eyebrows and grinned as she retreated back into the Thirteen Witches. A few of the bravest guards and servants followed Vesta's cat-like supple movements, as she positioned herself behind Sorrel. For some of them, Vesta gave out her most charming grin. With her milky blonde skin, red hair and black eyes, Vesta was a real revelation. Even the nervous guard captain stared after Vesta for a moment before remembering his duty.  

Manon would have to tell Vesta to keep herself in check, or soon half of the men in the castle would be staggering around, up to their ears, in love and covered in bites. Vesta was notoriously not picky about whit her companion. Manon put her hands behind her back and straightened her back, looking at her grandmother, as the king said, "This way, good witches."  

And so they began to ascend the great main stairs. Manon always stayed only one step behind her grandmother, each cell ready to attack or defend itself if any threat arose. Even if the greatest threat in these halls and corridors would be Manon's grandmother herself.  

With her red cloak waving behind her, Manon walked past the guards, becoming more restless by the moment. Step by step, they approached the assembly hall and possible destruction.  

Each step taken felt heavier than the last. Every breath harder. And then... the guards opened the wooden doors in front of them, and Manon entered a tall room with a long, dark wood table in the center. The six humans sitting at it stood up when the king and the witches arrived.  

Manon barely noticed how most of the Thirteen and two other coven stopped and remained in the corridor. She barely noticed how Asterin moved away from behind her. She could hardly keep the rhythm of her steps as she followed her grandmother further into the hall.  

For there, another chair to the king's right, stood a dark-haired, pale-faced girl. The red shirt made her skin look even lighter than usual. A slender hand rested on the surface of the table. Bright eyes of different colors followed the witches curiously.  

There was no fear on Rina's face. Afraid of interest and fierce determination of silicon.  

Chapter Text

Chapter 4  

“Bitch, I said what I said 
I'd rather be famous instead  
I let all that get to my head 
I don't care, I paint the town red  

Mm, she the devil 
She a bad lil' bitch, she a rebel  
She put her foot to the pedal 
It'll take a whole lot for me to settle.” 

Pain town red 
Doja Cat 

Dorian followed his father into the negotiation hall, keeping an eye on the positions of the witches at all times . Nine of them had entered the hall. Nine deadly, beautiful creatures whose eyes did not wander.  

Chaol constantly stayed on Dorian's heels, as if intending to protect him if the witches became hostile. It was noble, but stupid and unnecessary. If the witches decided to attack, everyone in the hall would die. Dorian knew it well. The only reason he had survived Manon's attack years ago was because of his magic, which the witch had not expected. And speaking of Manon... 

Dorian gave himself one glance of the white-haired witch who was following her grandmother, like a shadow. The red cloak fluttered behind the heir of Blackbeak, and there was no hint on her face of the panic the witch had been in the night before. No. The face was a pale, expressionless mask. Manon didn't look at Dorian. All her attention was on the Blackbeak Matron. 

High witch was a magnificent sight, Dorian had to admit it. The body, clad in a black robe, seemed sinewy and strong. A few gray streaks ran between the black, open hair. The face wasn't young, but it wasn't old either. Her face was ageless. A hint of wrinkles made her look like royalty. Manon's grandmother's expression was haughty. The black golden-spotted eyes shone with sheer cold cruelty. 

Dorian did his best to hide his shiver and was about to divert his attention when his gaze met the eyes of Manon's blond-haired second. Asterin's Blackbeak didn't smile. The gaze of her black eyes was intense and demanded Dorian's full attention. The eye contact lasted maybe a second, during which the second one glanced quickly at Rina and then returned her gaze to Dorian.  

The message was clear. Prevent her from paying attention to herself. Dorian lowered her chin slightly. He would try. That would not be enough. Rinan wasn't going to be silent. But Dorian could try to hide her from the sharp, immortal eyes of the Matrons. One could try to fool the heirs of the Yellowlegs and the Bluebloods who looked at him judgingly. 

Dorian did not know their names. Manon had never told him, and the witches haden’t introduced themselves. The blonde heir of the Bluebloods was almost as beautiful as Manon – but Dorian was biased. He had noticed how the blue-eyed and graceful-faced witch had attracted attention as they walked through the castle into the meeting hall. The guards and servants had dared to stare at her longer than the other two heirs. Or any other witches. The face of Blueblood's heir was serious, but it did not exude the same threat of death as Manon's beautiful face, which the bravest guards and servants had dared to glance at before turning their eyes away. 

The heir to the Yellowlegs was not beautiful in the same way as the other two. Her face was narrow and tanned. The promise of violence shone in her brown eyes. She had smiled at Dorian with her iron teeth flashing, as if wondering what his blood would taste like. Dorian had returned a smile and noticed out of the corner of his eye how Manon had been glaring at the heir of the Yellowlegs. It was almost endearing to see the witch jealous. The expression had lingered on Manon's face for only a moment before it had disappeared. 

After that, Dorian had kept the grinning at the other witches to a minimum . Although he was partly tempted to see how far Manon's self-control would take . But he couldn't afford to teasing his witchling.  

After all, they didn't even know each other.And their daughter didn't stand in the same room within reach of her great-grandmother's long, rusty iron nails. Dorian slowly blew air out of his lungs, nodded quickly to Chaoli who took his place behind his chair alongside the other soldiers. The hand of the captain of the guard squeezed the hilt of the sword. Useless, Dorian thought and glanced quickly at the three heirs and three matrons. They were all decades – centuries – older than any of the nobles or advisers in the hall. They had much more combat experience than any of the guards standing on the walls of the hall. Three seconds alone could wreak havoc, not to mention three matrons. 

Dorian pulled his lungs into the air, kept his face expressionless, and took his place as his father sat down in his chair at the end of the table. “ Sit down," the king urged. Black eyes constantly watched the witches' movements. He didn't trust his guests.  

There was a scratching of chairs against the floor as the king's four councillors, who had been elected to represent Adralan alongside Dorian and the king, sat down. Rina's chair didn't screech as she slid smoothly to sit next to Dorian. The red fabric of the shirt shone in the light coming from the large windows. Her long hair was loose and flowed like a black waterfall down her back, emphasizing her long, graceful neck. 

Rina sat with her back straight and looked serenely at the witches sitting across from them. The heir to the Yellowlegs sat directly across from Dorian. The witch flashed her iron teeth at him – either as a warning or as an invitation. Dorian decided not to care. 

The hunched Yellowleg, wrinkled and cruel-looking matron had taken her place right across from Rina. The old witch's brown eyes were fixed on Rina. Her eyes shone with unholy hunger as her gaze descended lower to Rina's neck and collarbones. 

Dorian's magic surged inside him and he had to restrain himself so as not to kill the old matron in that place. He remembered a conversation with Manon years ago. 

They had been lying in each other's arms in Dorian's bed. The witch's white hair had been spread out behind her. Her golden eyes are half closed. Dorian didn't remember what they had been talking about, but he remembered what Manon had said. 

"Yellowlegs look like the oldest to us. They represent the crone and even though they live as long as the rest of us, the Yellowlegs age the fastest of us witches . When children's bedtime stories talk about and warn about witches, the stories usually focus on an old witch."  

Dorian had remembered how he had laughed and moved his hands along Manon's ever-young body. "Are you talking about the stories where hag lure children to the forest and eat them?" 

Manon had responded to Dorian's smile. “ That's how the Yellowlegs hunt. Children are their greatest delicacy."  

"What about virgins and beautiful girls?" Dorian had asked, recalling fairy tales he had heard as a child. “Bluebloods.” Manon had said and snorted. "They're picky." 

Dorian had been silent for a long time, pondered Manon's words, and then asked: "Have you ever been like that... eaten children?" 

Dorian could have sworn that Manon had an offended look on her face, but it disappeared almost immediately behind the expressionless mask. "Neither I nor my coven shed the blood of little children."  

A silence had descended in the room, broken only by the howling wind behind the balcony doors. "But some Blackbeak know how to do that." Dorian had said rather than asked. Manon shrugged her shoulders against Dorian's chest. "We have our fun. You eat veal meat, don't you?" 

Dorian had been silent and Manon had laughed. "That's what most witches see human children. Veal. Although “ Manon had said after a short pause, “Yellowlegs may think that slaughtering children prevents them from getting old so quickly. At least the Bluebloods think that drinking the blood of young girls will keep them beautiful for longer. Vanity fools." 

Dorian hadn't remembered the conversation for years. H e had been thinking about it for a few week, waiting for Manon's return, but the memory had sunk into the back of her mind over the years.  

However, the hungry look on the Yellowleg matron's face reminded Dorian of it. And when he turned his head, he also noticed that the matron of the Blueblood was watching Rina. The iron star crown flashed in the sun's rays as the Blueblood metron moved her head, looking at Dorian's daughter. 

Rina, with her naturally beautiful face, long neck and the body of a young girl, appeared to the witches as a treat. A prey that witches might even compete for. They were not allowed to hunt in the city area, Dorian reminded himself, observing the two matrons. But as Manon had said, witches honored contracts as long as they benefited from them. Shedding Rina's blood might be too big a temptation for witches to ignore. 

Manon sat between the Yellowlegs matron and her own grandmother. Her gaze wandered from King Adralan to the heir of the Yellowlegs watching Dorian, and then to the Yellowlegs matron, who kept her eyes on Rina, who... met the matron's gaze directly. There was no hint of fear on Rina's face. Just a cold assessment. 

Manon's golden eyes flashed and were hit to Dorian for a split second. For a moment—barely half a heartbeat—Manon and Dorian stared at each other. Emotions flowed between them as if by an invisible thread. Force her to stop! The petition could be read in Manon's burning eyes. 

The situation was over, in one heartbeat . Manon's gaze had moved forward and hit the Blueblood Matron, who was curiously observing the staring competition between the Yellowlegs Matron and the Princess of Adralan . The heir to the Bluebloods – who sat between her Matron and Manon's grandmother – kept his attention on the guards on the wall of the room . It was impossible to read what she was thinking on her expressionless face.  

The Blackbeak matron didn't even glance at Rina, but kept her eyes on the king. The heir to the Yellowlegs glanced at her matron Rina and from there to Dorian, as if to see how he reacted to the situation. To the silent threat of bloodshed. 

Dorian stretched out his hand under the table and squeezed Rina's knee to capture her attention. Rina, who hadn't blinked an eye as she engaged in a silent battle of wills with the Yellowlegs matron, glanced at her father and raised her other shaped eyebrow. 

Five minutes, Rina, Dorian thought, knowing that Rina would hear. Control your tongue and attitude for even a five minutes! 

Rina didn't answer anything. The tightening of the corners of her mouth was the only sign of irritability under the skin. Rina hated giving up. She accepted losing, but she never wanted to give up if she had even the slightest chance of winning. 

Please, Dorian said quietly. Don't incite them to kill you.  

Rina snorted, shrugged her shoulders and turned her gaze away from the Yellowlegs matron. Her long black hair fell over one shoulder as Rina turned all her attention to her grandfather. The Yellowleg matron's face flashed with rage as Rina ignored her. 

Nothing good would come of this. Dorian should tell someone to follow Rina every time she leaves her room. The cruel, old witch had a promise of death in her eyes. 

Manon also sensed danger. She didn't look at Dorian, not the Yellowlegs matron... absoluty not Rina, but Dorian recognized the tension in the witch's shoulders. Immobility of the face. Manon was scared and furious. The golden eyes were on the King of Adralan, whose gaze wandered around the table, searching, stopping for a moment at Rina – who flashed half a smile at her grandfather. 

The king's expression tightened, but – after casting one warning glance at Dorian ( keep that girl quiet , the gaze commanded) – all his attention shifted to the witches.  

"I'm glad to see that you answered my call," Dad began, and Dorian steeled as he listened to his father's deep voice echoing in the hall . "The offer was convincing," Blueblood matron of said softly. "It piqued our curiosity."  

The king did not smile. Like none of the witches. Rina had crossed her fingers on the table. Her face had a politely interested expression. Dorian's hand was still squeezing Rina's knee, which for now seemed to be enough to keep her quiet. 

"I'm going to get straight to the point," Dorian's father said seriously. "Adralan has been on the brink of war for the past fifteen years. And we need powerful allies to wipe Terrasen off the map." 

Rina next to him moved. If Dorian hadn't squeezed his daughter's knee, he might have missed the restless change of position. “I believe that an alliance could be beneficial... both of us," the king continued. The knee under Dorian's hand tensed as Rina's body stiffened. 

"Yes," the Blackbeak matron purred. “ It could really benefit us all." Three heirs sat next to their matrons, stone-faced . They seemed to have no idea what the offer of the King of Adralan entailed.  

"I need riders," Dorian's father said in a low voice. "Riders for wyrms."  

Dorian saw Manon blink her eyes. The only fracture in an otherwise unbreakable mask. The heir to the Yellowlegs tilted her head curiously. The heir to the Bluebloods glanced at her matron, as if to make sure that the king was telling the truth. They had not known about wyrms before this moment. Not from the destructive power that Dorian's father offered them. 

"Go on," Yellowleg matron's attention was drawn to the King of Adralan. "You offer us your mounts that you have created... Why?"  

The king of Adralan smiled slightly. "When Adralan was threatened, I only did what was necessary to protect my kingdom."  

That wasn't really the answer. Yellowlegs matron raised her eyebrow. Her old face showed irritation, but before she could repeat her question...”Have I missed a detail? Since when has Adralan been threatened?" 

Rina's glass-clear voice cut through the room, like a sharpened sword. She pulled her knee out of Dorian's grip and leaned towards the king, placed one elbow on the table and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. "The last time we checked, we threatened Terrasen's peace." 

The witches' eyes were fixed on Rina. The eyes of the three matrons shone with contempt as they measured the cheeky princess with their eyes. The faces of the Yellowlegs matron and Bluebloods matron were irritated by the interruption. Dorian didn't even dare to glance at Manon. 

The nostrils of the King of Adralan widened, but somehow he managed to keep his voice steady when he said: “ Terranen has been a threat ever since the half-fea ascended to the throne."  

"I don't think I quite understand now," Rina blinking her eyelashes . She was unaware of any witches, nobles, or guards staring at her. “ Are you attacking Terrasen because it is ruled by a half-fea?"  

Dorian saw the flames of rage flashing in his father's eyes when he replied: “We cannot trust an fea." The three council members sitting to Rina's right nodded in unison as a sign of unanimity. 

Rina raised her other eyebrow. “ But can you trust witches who, on average, have killed 67 Adralans for food in the past year? ” Rina didn't smile at the witches directly, she didn't even look at them when she said, “ while Terrasen has not killed a single Adralan in the past fifteen years."  

Rina clicked her tongue and smiled sweetly at her grandfather . “ You have killed 98 people for you, including Terrasen merchants, their relatives, and people believed to be Terrasen's spies."  

The corner of the Adralan king's eye twitched, while Rina grinned benevolently. "Pretty funny to me, actually,” Rina hummed as she drew invisible patterns on the surface of the table. “You've killed more of your own people than Terrasen's combined." 

One of the nobles sitting at the table coughed as if he had inhaled something bitter and looked away. The other three looked embarrassed . Rina smiled sunny, leaned on the back of her chair and crossed her fingers in front of her stomach. She had made her move and was now waiting for the King of Adralan to strike.  

Dorian sent silent prayers to any god who would listen. She felt the pride and fear that emanated from Manon as she listened to her daughter's words. 

The three matrons stared at Rina intensely, with contempt and eyes shining with the lust for murder . She didn't care about their stares. She looked at the king, waiting for an answer.  

"Where did you get this information?" The king finally groaned through his clenched teeth. Rina shrugged her shoulders. "They were on your desk. I was curious." 

"Will you let your granddaughter read your papers?” The Blackbeak matron turned to stare at the King of Adralan with black eyes dotted with gold as hard, like iron. The king glanced quickly at the matrin before turning his gaze back to his grand-daughter. “No!" he growled. "How do you..." 

"You ordered me there, remember?" Rina interrupted with a slight smile. "You wanted me to be for once – how did you say that?” Rina paused for a moment and stared at the ceiling, as if trying to reminisce, “I could be useful for once. You wanted me to retrieve the store report you forgot from your office. The reports are not titled, so I read a few before I found the right one." Rina shrugged her shoulders. 

Dorian's father looked furious, and if the situation hadn't been so flammable—if Dorian hadn't been balancing on the edge of a knife—he would have laughed.Rina had driven Adralan into the king's corner and everyone—including the king—knew it.  

Dorian remembered the order - his father's attempt to show Rina her place. Rina had turned it into her own weapon and defense. The king of Adralan had no one but himself to blame for the fact that Rina had seen and read the reports. He had left them visible. 

The witches were silent and watched the situation develop. What would the king do next? What would Rina say next? 

The king of Adralan was silent for a long moment and just stared at Rina. Rina responded to the gaze steadily, playfully with a smile on the corners of her mouth. Dorian could almost hear his father's thoughts running. 

If he threw Rina out, he would admit in front of his guards, council, son, and witches how much the princess's words made a difference. But if he didn't throw his granddaughter out... That would also be a sign of weakness. 

Rina had already succeeded in undermining the king's position in the eyes of witches. How powerful an ally was the King of Adralan if he failed to keep even his granddaughter in check? 

The king chose the latter and turned towards the witches. "I've been breeding dragons at the Ferian Gap for the past fifteen years. They are trained to fight and destroy.” Dorian's father said, trying his best to pretend that Rina was not in the room. 

The witches' attention slowly returned to his, but when Rina didn't say anything, the eyes of the three matrons and three heirs returned to the king.  

"You would be able to choose the mounts you like," the king continued. “ You will fly with my troops to Terrasen when I call."  

"We are not your dogs to be called," the Blackbeak Matron said sharply, nailing her black eyes at the King of Adralan. The king's expression tightened, but his voice was calm as he said, "No, high witch. But I need your allies in this war." 

Blackbeak matron smiled. It wasn't a friendly voice, but it wasn't hostile either. "So we would fly in your troops and attack Terrasen with your army. Would we sacrifice witch lives in a war of men?" 

Dorian saw how the wrinkles in the corners of his father's eyes deepened when he heard the words of the Blackbeak High Witch. Manon was silent next to his grandmother. Her gaze wandered across the hall, from one guard to another, but she did not accidentally wander into Rina or Dorian. 

"You would be compensated for it," said the King of Adralan. "As I promised, you would keep the dragons after you had helped my army conquer Terrasen." 

Rinan blinked her eyes. A wrinkle appeared between the eyebrows. A small crack in her mask. Rina had not expected this. Not even Dorian. Manon's shoulders were stiff. Her golden eyes stared at Dorian's father. Her head was slightly tilted, as if the king's offer had aroused her interest. 

Dorian clenched his back teeth together and kept his face at a basic level. What would witches do with dragons after the war? Other than sowing terror among the huma. Dorian didn't understand why his father had given witches such a chance. And why had the witches agreed? After all, they had brooms. 

Rinan seemed to realize the situation behind the king's offer faster than Dorian. “Wastes,” she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else.  

Manon's gaze flashed towards Rina, as if mentioning the old witchkingdom was a magnet that attracted her. And for a hundredth of a second – Dorian noticed it because he was looking – Rina and Manon's eyes met across the table. 

The eyes – three gold and one blue – locked together. Just for a moment. Hardly even for a single heartbeat before both of them turned their eyes. 

Rina's skin flickered, like a ray of sunshine hitting the waters, and Dorian realized it was an enchantment. The enchantment that was supposed to hide Rina from the witches now rippled, as if a stone had been thrown into a pond. The reflection shattered, as if some part of Rina had subconsciously recognized Manon – her own mother, her own face – and they were now trying to conform to their natural form. Rina didn't seem to notice anything herself, and before Dorian could do anything to fix the situation, Rina opened her mouth: “If you want to kill your people, it will be done faster if you let them," she waved her hand towards the witches, “slaughter all the people of Adralan. It is just as useful as going to war for nothing." 

Anger flashed in the king's eyes. He didn't look at Rina directly as he growled. “ Don't interfere with something you don't understand, Rina!"  

Rina raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes. "I may still be technically a child, but I'm not stupid." The council member sitting next to Rina snorted. Dorian think he disagreed. 

Rina didn't care about him, but opened her mouth to continue talking. It was then that Dorian's attention was drawn to the heir of the Bluebloods. The witch's gaze was fixed on Rina, but there was no hunger, lust for murder or irritation in her gaze. Instead, the witch's blue eyes had open in shock. Her mouth was slightly ajar, as if she was seeing something... Something she didn't expect. No... 

The heir of the bluebloods stared at Rina. And then, slowly—Dorian's heart pounded in her chest—her gaze shifted to Manon . Dorian saw the moment when the truth dawned on the heir of the Bluebloods.  

::::::::  

"War benefits no one," Rina's voice was sharp. The smile was gone and it had been replaced by a deep wrinkle between the eyebrows. "That would just be unnecessary bloodshed."  

Unnecessary bloodshed... Manon kept her gaze on her grandmother, whose eyes were fixed on the King of Adralan. The old cruel witch's face shone with irritation. Rina's words clearly did not impress the Blackbeak Matron. The grandmother tried her best to ignore the words of the Adralan princess, instead of giving her angry glare like Iskra or staring intensely like Petrah. Two other matron seemed to have adopted the same behavior. After all, Rina was only a human being in their eyes. 

Manon sensed Asterin's eyes on her back . The cousin silently asked for instructions on what to do. What to do when Rina had managed to annoy all three High witches sitting at the table.  

Rina either didn't notice or care about the witches' wrath. She stared at her grandfather, whose face shone with cold rage and contempt made Manon's protective instinct woke. It was obvious how much the king of Adralan hated his granddaughter.  

"War is our only option," the king growled and glared at Rina, "Terrasen's people are our enemy!"  

"What you're planning is not war," Rina snapped. "It's genocide!"  

Silence descended on the table. Only the breathing of Adralan's old men broke the silence created by Rina's words. Dorian stared in front of him, frozen. His face had turned pale. 

Manon's hands clenched into fists under the table as the atmosphere in the room became tense. Manon could have cut that oppressive silence with her sword.  

The three matron watched the King of Adralan, waiting for his answer. Iskra and Petrha stared at Rina. Manon looked at neither of them and avoided the blue eyes of Dorian's sapphire, which tried to catch her eye. 

Manon stared at her grandmother and the wrinkles of irritation deepening in the corners of her mouth.  

"Genocide?" The king of Adralan finally burst into speech. “ Do you call defending your country genocide? ” The king slowly turned to stare at Rina, who did not look away.  

"You're not fighting for your country, you're fighting for your fear," Rina growled. One of the members of Adralan's council whined. Rina crossed her arms on her chest and lifted her chin. “You are afraid of Aelin Galathynius. That is what this is all about. Adralan is not in danger because of Terrasen. Adralan is in danger because of you!" The council members gasped, one of the men snapped, "shut it!” Rina didn't even seem to hear me. The face of the king of Adralan turned red. The princess smiled. “Shameless girl!" the king grunted. "Stupid, shameless..." 

"Absolutely," Rina interrupted the king, her eyes hard as cooled metal. "I'm shameless, but I don't think it's fair to kill an entire species just because you're afraid. And," Rina turned her gaze to the witches with a smile. Manon sensed what was coming before Rina opened her mouth, “If you don't believe me that this war is pointless, you can ask them," she nodded to the matron of the three witch clans and their heirs, "how much the killing of the Corchans has benefited them over the past five hundred years." 

The blood in Manon's veins turned to ice. She heard Asterin take a sharp breath behind her. Dorian jerked as if to bang his palm over his daughter's mouth, to silence her, even if it was too late. 

Stupid girl! Stupid, thoughtless...  

Iskra grunted and bared her iron teeth to Rina. Cresseda's eyes flashed dangerously as she turned her gaze towards Manon's daughter. The iron-nails hands of the Yellowlegs matron convulsed, as if she had imagined squeezing her hands around Rina's neck. 

Manon's grandmother slowly turned her gaze from the king to Rina, her eyes shining with rage. "How dare you, stupid girl?" The Blackbeak matron growled. Her eyes burned with barely held back rage. “How dare you insult the kingdom of irontoothed witches?" 

Rina tilted her head, meeting Mother Blackbeak's gaze. “Have I missed any news?" she asked. Her face was twisted into Manon's characteristic bloodthirsty smile. "Have you possibly already won Wastes back?" 

Grandmother stared at Rina with her iron teeth exposed. Just one thoughtless word and the grandmother would attack on the Princess of Adralan. Manon had trouble controlling her reaction. Her every instinct—every honed killer instinct—told her to dash across the room and hide Rina from her grandmother's furious stare. Manon stayed still. Her iron nails burst out and bit through the leather into her thighs. Manon didn't feel any pain. She didn't feel anything. Her heart was beating in her chest like a butterfly trying to escape, desperately. Breathing felt difficult. 

Grandmother was still staring at Rina. Furious, murderous. Rina returned the look steadily, with a cheeky grin on her face. The Blackbeak matron blinked her eyes. 

Dorian closed his eyes. Petrah, somewhere to Manon's right, took a deep breath.  

Blackbeak matron stared at Rina with a changed expression. The rage was still there, somewhere deep behind the black eyes, but it had given way to another emotion. Rina started to look confused as her grandmother just kept staring without saying anything. 

The king glanced at Rina with a frown, as if he didn't understand what the Blackbeaks matron was looking at. His eyes flashed open, as if he were seeing his granddaughter for the first time. His gaze flashed to Manon for a split second, but almost immediately returned to his granddaughter. 

Rina seemed to get more and more confused by the moment. She broke her eye contact with Manon's grandmother, to glance at her father, who was staring at the wooden surface of the oak table, his mouth pressed into a tight line.  

Rina's forehead wrinkled in embarrassment as she looked at her grandfather, then Manon's grandmother, and back toward her father.  

"Through the darkness," Cresseda whispered, her eyes fixed on Rina . Grandmother didn't say anything. Her expression tightened. And then she glanced at Manon, as if to check something.  

"I don't think I understand something now," Rina said, smiling cautiously.  

No!  

Grandmother's hand squeezed around Manon's wrist, so quickly that Manon didn't have time to react. “ What does this mean?" the old witch hissed in Manon's ear. "What. This. Means."  

Manon couldn't find the words. No voice.   

No...  

Silence. Deep, charged silence. Like a moment before a thunderstorm.  

The atmosphere of the meeting had changed in an instant from a heated debate to the silent shock of the grave.  

Manon stared at the surface of the dark oak table, refusing to look up. She felt the stare of the king of Adralan. She sensed a slowly growing rage inside her grandmother, who was sitting next to her. 

Nonono.... Manon had done everything – given up so much – so that this would never happen. Manon sensed Asterini – who was standing by the windows with the other two runners-up – getting ready for battle.  

They weren't allowed to bring their swords into this negotiation with anyone, but if a fight broke out – the iron-toothed witches wouldn't need swords to do damage.  

Apparently, the other witches in the hall had also realized the situation. Manon had heard a sharp breath from Cresseda's mouth when she had realized what had made the Blackbeak matron fall silent. 

The expression Yellowlegs matron had not flinched, but there was a dangerous gleam in her eyes when she also understood what – who – was sitting in the hall.  

Iskra stared at Manon hungrily, as if waiting for Blackbeak matron to rip her throat open in front of everyone. At times, her gaze quickly flashed to Dorian, who stared at the surface of the table, as if a secret message had been written on it. 

Manon could see Iskra's thoughts on her face. If the situation hadn't been so charged, she might have attacked the heir of the Yellowlegs.  

Petrah, the heir to the Bluebloods, did not look at Manon. And not Dorian. All her attention was on the girl sitting next to Dorian. There was an intense look in her blue eyes, as if she was trying to get an explanation for the situation with willpower. 

That is what they all wanted.  

The King of Adralan broke the silence. “Dorian,” he thundered from the end of the table and stood up, while Blackbeak matron grunted in a low voice: “Manon!”  

"What does this mean?" The king asked, staring at his heir with his eyes burning with rage. Dorian didn't look up. Manon felt her grandmother's squeeze around her wrist tighten. How the iron nails pressed into the skin. 

"How do you explain this, Manon?" the grandmother hissed in Manon's ear. "What have you done?"  

Manon made the only mistake she could make in that situation. She looked up. At the same time as Dorian.  

Their eyes met. Golden eyes met sapphire blues. It could just as well have been a confession.  

Grandmother took a breath, as if preparing to shout at Manon. The eyes of the King of Adralan lit up with rage. The Yellowlegs matron and Iskra had a bloodthirsty look on their faces as they watched the situation unfold. 

The Bluebloods' expressions were neutral, but Manon sensed the curiosity emanated from them.  

The seconds near the windows had started to move restlessly. The situation was an explosion at the point. One move and everything would slide into chaos...  

Hoarfrost laughter pierced the silence like the edge of a sword. Everything stopped. As if time had stopped passing.  

Manon's gaze slowly turned to the girl sitting next to Dorian – her own daughter - who laughed and stood up. “ Now I understand," Rina purred the glass in her sharp voice and grabbed a red apple from the basket in the middle of the table . She threw it in the air with a wide grin and snatched it on the fly . “ And I was afraid this would be boring." Rina let out another laugh.  

She had now got the attention of everyone in the room.  

Rina walked around the table in an unhurried manner. Black, wide-legged trousers hissed as she walked. The blood-red blouse shone in the sunlight entering the meeting room. 

When she reached the end of the table, Rina stopped to look at the situation. She met their stares, her red lips turned into a small smug smile.  

Rina ran her tongue over her perfect white teeth thoughtfully, polishing an apple on the shoulder of her red shirt at the same time.   As she tilted her head, her long, loose hair swayed.  

Apart from minor details, Rina's face was a replica of Manon's. From red lips to eyes of different colors.  

Manon took a quick breath and Rina's eyes snapped at her. Their eyes met.   Just for a moment. Then Rina looked away.   But in that moment, Manon had time to see behind a mocking smile.  She had time to catch a glimpse of the confusion under her daughter's skin and... and slowly igniting rage. It almost struck the oxygen out of Manon's lungs.  

"This is much more interesting than I expected," Rina said lightly and smiled broadly, baring her teeth.   With her black hair swinging, she turned her back - turned her back! - to the king, her father, the three matron and their heirs.  

Manon heard her daughter's teeth sink into an apple.  

"This is going to be fun," Rina muttered more to herself than to the others as she swept out of the hall.  

:::::::  

Every muscle in Rina's body required her to run.   To rush away from the witches whose eyes were fixed on her like a thousand daggers.  

Her instinct screamed for danger. Run. Run. Run...  

Rina didn't run. She walked. One step. Step two.  

She felt the stare, but didn't look to her side. No guards. No three witches standing next to the windows.  She didn't seem to notice the black eyes of the blond-haired witch, whose gaze followed her as atively as Atara.  

Step three. She pushed the doors of the hall open and stepped into the corridor. In the middle of a sea of witches.  

The witches stood next to the walls. They mumbled quietly to each other and glanced suspiciously at the human guards.   Rina's appearance made them silent.  

Rina didn't stop. Not even if the apple in her hand trembled . She prevented the movement. She locked every muscle in place.  

Step four. Step five.  

The witches' eyes followed her every move with the precision of predators . A few tilted their heads, or leaned forward, baring their iron teeth. Rina didn't care about them.  

Step six.  

Some witch next to the wall grunted  

Seven steps.  

Rina glanced to the right, and saw eleven pairs of eyes with their eyes fixed on her.   Except that the gaze of these witches was different from the others. Serious. More knowledgeable. They didn't see Rina as prey. They... observed.  

Step Eight.  

Rina met the gaze of a dark-skinned, short, broad-shouldered witch.   The witch didn't smile, but something in her black eyes – the eyes were the same black as those of the Blackbeak matron – softened.  

The witch nodded lightly to her. Rina looked away.  She didn't run. She didn't scream, though... even though the witch seemed... to know her... they  - all eleven witches at her right... knew her.  

Nine steps.  

Rina lifted her chin higher.   She was the princess of Adralan. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to hide. This was her home.   Her home field...  

Step ten. Eleventh step.  

Rina didn't know what her grandfather had seen.   What the other witches had seen, on her face.   How did they know how to connect her to the heir of the Blackbeak? To the Blackneak heir... Rina didn't even know the witch's name!  

Twelfth step.  

They saw something that Rina didn't see.   And Rina had always kept herself alert. Still, the others in the hall had seen the resemblance on her face and that of the Blackbeaks heir.  

Thirteenth step.  

Rina turned around the corner and stopped.  

She trembled, she could no longer control it.  

Rina hadn't seen what the witches, her grandfather, the guards, the council members and... everyone else saw, but Rina now knew what it was all about . She had heard their thoughts.   Invaded the minds of the council members as they had turned their eyes to Rina, confused by the witches' behavior . And Rina had known instinctively that what they were seeing – what they guessed – was true . Why had dad never said anything?  

Every molecule in Rina's body was screaming for it. She shouted the truth that had dawned on everyone in the meeting room. She knew it was the truth, because something – some very primal instinct... An old subconscious memory... Rina had recognized the scent.  

A scent that was as familiar as her own from somewhere far away from her early childhood. When she had been little and that smell had meant safety and home... the only safety and home she knew.  

The scent of mother.  

The apple slipped from Rina's fingers and rolled to the ground. Her instincts took over.  

Rina kicked off her low-heeled shoes and rushed to a run.  

Chapter Text

Chapter 5  

“When I run through the deep dark forest long 
After this begun 
Where the sun would set 
The trees were dead 
And the rivers were none 
And I hope for a trace 
To lead me back home from this place 
But there was no sound there was only me, and my disgrace.” 
Wolf 
First aid Kit 

Rina was nine again and was standing in front of a large ornate mirror in Queen Georgiane's rooms . Behind her stood a young servant who was trying on a white corset around Rina's slender waist.  

"I don't like it," Rina said, staring at her grandma through the mirror. The Queen sat in a large armchair in an emerald green dress. Her reddish-brown hair, with several gray streaks running along it, was gathered in a bun on the top of her head. "You should have started wearing a corset a year ago," the Queen said. “You are a princess, Rina. Every lady-in-waiting wears the same." She nodded dignified towards the white corset she was wearing over Rina. Its fabric did not stretch and the exoskeleton felt hard as bones. Rina really didn't like it. 

"I don't care what others think if I don't wear a corset," Rina snapped and crossed her arms on her chest. "I don't like it and I look ridiculous."  

The queen sighed and stood up. She walked softly across the room and leaned down in front of Rina, her face an attempt of gentle understanding. "I know it might be uncomfortable at first, but you'll get used to it quickly," Grandma promised, swiping one of Rina's black strands of hair off her face. "I don't want to get used to it," Rina snorted. 

Queen Georgiane said nothing, but nodded to the servant who was kneeling behind Rina. The corset suddenly squeezed against Rina's sides.  

Rina gasped in panic and pressed her hand to her sides. The exoskeleton of the corset crushed the ribs. “ Stop!" Rina squealed and tried to move away from the servant. "Stop right now!"  

The servant did not listen. She pulled the cords of the corset again. The fabric squeezed tighter around Rina's waist, pushing her stomach in, squeezing her lungs. "Stop!" Rina screamed and tried to retreat again. “Don't act like a child," Queen Georgiane snapped, grabbing her by the arms, preventing her from escaping. "Go on, please," Grandma said to the servant who was pulling. 

Rina couldn't breathe. The corset blocked all oxygen intake. Crushed lungs, pressed on ribs, distressed the heart. “Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!" Rina screamed and struggled in her grandma's grip while the servant just kept pulling the strings. The corset just got tighter and tighter... 

Rina didn't get any oxygen. Her head was spinning. "I can't breathe!" Rina screamed. Screamed, as if in distress for her life. .. something struck her in the face. Rina gasped, dumbfounded by shock, swallowing tears. A moment later, the pain came burning, like a red-hot iron.  

Rina slowly raised her eyes to her grandma, who was standing above her, squeezing her arm, and had raised her hand for another slap . "Don't behave childishly!" the queen snapped and squeezed Rina's hand a little too tightly . “ You are the princess of Adralan and certain things are expected of you. Don't throw yourself into trouble in a situation where your opinion doesn't matter at all."  

It doesn't matter... tears rolled down Rina's cheeks. She couldn't breathe. And the servant continued to tighten the corset, even though Rina's ribs would surely break if the skeleton pressed against her sides any harder... The queen had beaten her. Slapped like a disobedient child, even though Rina just wanted to get rid of the garment that strangled her... The cords were tightened. The oxygen did not move. Heart was pounding in panic in her chest, as if trying to escape from her slowly shrinking living space. Her lungs were crushed against her sternum. Black dots burst into Rina's field of vision. They contracted and expanded... 

Take it off. Taket it off! TAKE IT OFF!  

The mirror split in half in the middle. The servant screamed as shrapnel flew around the room, sinking into the young girl's flesh. The Queen straightened her back. "What..." she had time to say. The servant released her grip on the cords of the corset to examine her injuries. The corset loosened and Rina took a breath. 

The first bird slammed against the window and the queen screamed in terror as the glass shattered and the raven rushed in...  

:::::::  

Oxygen was not flowing properly. Rina rushed through the corridors of the castle and felt the same as she did seven years ago, when she had been nine and the Queen had forced her to try on a corset. The feeling was the same. Anxiety crushed her ribs and lungs. Her heart was beating as if trying to beat all its last beats, before certain destruction. 

Rina's thoughts didn't flow properly. It was stuck in that one moment, in the second, when she had met the look of the golden-eyed heir and just knew ... knew that the woman – the witch – was her mother! The creature that had given birth to her.  

It had shattered Rina's whole world. Destroyed it to its foundations, leaving a void in which she fumbled and desperately tried to keep her head above water. Rina had never been upset like this before. She always had a plan. Always an ace up her sleeve. Except now. Except now that she had encountered the witches, her mother and her maternal grandmother, who had been staring at Rina like... as if Rina was something... something... Rina couldn't describe the look with which the Blackbeak Matron had looked at her. No longer a prey, but... no. Rina couldn't name the expression of the old witch in the black robe. 

At that moment, when the shock had slowly settled on her bones, Rina knew she couldn't stay in the conference hall any longer. She could not face the situation without a plan. Without time to think about how she should react to the new situation. So Rina had fled. Of course, in the most dignified way, but it still didn't change the fact that she was running along the corridors of the glass castle like a madman, not really even knowing where she was actually going. 

The guards walking in the corridor and the servants hurrying to their own work stared after Rina as she rushed past . It was not uncommon to see Rina running down the aisles. In fact, she ran quite often just to annoy her grandparents, because - in the Queen's words - princesses didn't run . Well, usually the mothers of the princesses of the kingdoms did not turn out to be witches, so Rina felt that she could ignore the rule.  

Perhaps the biggest reason why everyone turned to look after her was the panic that clearly emanated from Rina, which had been caused by pure shock and not knowing what to do next.  

Rina leaped up the stairs, barefoot and three steps at a time, rushed into the corridor and scared some poor servant to hang from the ceiling with a ceiling tag. She ran to the end of the corridor – subconsciously realising that she was at the door of her own room – pulled the door open and rushed into the room behind it. Her own room.  

The door slammed shut behind Rina, leaving behind a ringing silence.  

Rina leaned her back against the door and breathed. Just breathed . She closed her eyes and breathed. She breathed until her heart stopped beating against her ribs, and her lungs no longer felt like they were crushing against her ribs . Only then did she open her eyes and stare at the ceiling of her room, her mind completely empty.  

Her mother was a witch. Rina swallowed nothing and closed her eyes again. Went through the situation in the meeting hall in her head. She repeated everything she had said in her mind. She remembered the rage emanating from her grandfather. It had been fun to break the credibility of the King of Adralan in front of witches. It would be worth all the effort if the witches pulled out of the agreement. 

Rina had become brazen. She had known that she was playing with death when she moved on to poke at the witches Wastes. Rina had known that she would later be reprimanded by her father if she survived the meeting hall. Judging by the witches' expressions, they would have gladly ripped Rina's throat open and drunk her blood like wine. Rina had known to expect it. Many of the king's advisors often stared at her with the same expression. 

But then the eyes had changed. The Blackbeak growling on the verge of rage, had stared at her, a consternation in her eyes for which Rina could find no explanation. The way the eyes turned to him - fixed on her - first confused, and finally exuding shock. Rina hadn't understood. She hadn't understood what the changed atmosphere was due to. 

She tried to look for an explanation in the black eyes of the Blackbeak Matron, but the witch's expression and mind were closed like a shell . Rina had never had a problem invading someone else's mind, but the witches' minds seemed to have a built-in protection system that prevented Rina from seeing their thoughts. She only caught up with emotions. Consternation. Rage . Even though they were only glimpses and escaped from her fingers like slippery water snakes in a pond.  

In all her confusion, Rina had turned her gaze towards her father, trying to make sense of the situation – but her father's mind was a jumble of emotions and images that she couldn't make sense of. And then Rina had extended her senses to the minds of the council members and saw... herself. Probably. Rina believed that the image in the men's minds was... her’s. Nor the strange image of the heir of the Blackbeak, staring at the surface of the table, as if trying to burn a hole in it with her gaze. 

Rina blinked her eyes open and looked at the messy living room. Atara's fur bed was empty. Rina had taken her to the dog shelter in the morning to play with the other dogs. If Atara became attached to a handsome male dog, for example, they could have a whole litter of half-wolves in the summer. 

On the couches lay a lot of papers, semi-official reports and patterns for dresses. In one armchair, Rina had piled up five fabric packs. Blue, purple and green shone in the sunlight that shone in through the curtainless windows. The shreds of Indigo's blue curtain were hanging on one of the wooden mannequins at the moment. The dress was going to be beautiful, had to say that. But Rina didn't think she would ever wear anything as gentle as indigo blue. The blue made her look sick and pale. 

On the coffee table were a few dirty teacups, chalks, pencils, books and Rina's homework. At the top of the list was the chemistry and physics assignment paper given by Professor Caroll Crawford. Many choice questions and one essay, nothing very difficult. Still, Rina had not yet found the time, let alone the motivation to do the tasks. The homework was supposed to be returned next week, and there was no excuse for delaying it other than dying prematurely. 

Unfortunately, it started to look like a very serious fate for Rina. Sighing, she rocked away from the door and stepped into the room. The cold stone felt soothing under the hot soles of my feet.  

Rina wandered through the messy living area and slipped into her bedroom. The balcony doors were open, the bed was meticulously laid out and the bookshelf was in order. Everything was just like when she left the room in the morning. On the bedspread lay even her long knives - Light and Shadow - which Rina had considered hanging on her belt. However, she had come to the conclusion that it could provoke the witches in the wrong way and too early in the meeting. 

Rina sighed and then laughed, rubbing her face, ignoring her spreading makeup. She hadn't wanted to provoke witches so much. She was just... enthusiastic. Rina seriously tried to weaken her grandfather's position in the eyes of witches and the entire kingdom of hell, but she had no real desire to die young. 

The intention was to annoy the witches out of the castle, not to attack her. Rina's hands fell next to her sides and she was left staring at her reflection in the mirror of the dressing table. Long black hair, pale, graceful face – like an fea – blue eyes, long eyelashes and naturally reddish lips. Rina didn't understand how the whole hall full of witches, guards, and council members could so easily connect her to the heir of the Blackbeak - good gods, Rina didn't even know her name! - because Rina didn't see a clear look. 

Maybe this was all a dream and Rina would soon wake up from under her blanket and the whole meeting wouldn't even have started yet . Rina abandoned this dream even before it became a whole idea. She wasn't so desperate that she would start dreaming of such a thing! Not quite yet...  

What now? The question came to Rina's mind uninvited, challenging. The truth was that Rina had no idea what to do next.  

But she knew what he wanted at that moment. Away from the castle. Far... far away from absolutely everything. About the court, her grandfather, the witches, her dad... dad! Fuck!  

Dad hadn't said anything. Never in the fifteen years that Rina had lived. How many times had she asked her dad about her mother? How many evenings had she spent in her dad's rooms, laughing at her dad's stupid things? She had trusted her dad. For Rina, her father had been a safe haven. Something that would stay even if the whole world crumbled around it. 

But now... Dad hadn't told her. Didn't say anything . He didn't warn her! Tears choked Rina's throat, but she swallowed the tears... - and focused on the essentials.  

She had to get away. Away from the castle. She needed someone she knew. Whom she knew would listen without judgment or shock. The only person she could trust at that moment. 

Rina started moving and with a few light steps, she was at the balcony doors.  

::::::  

There was a complete, tense silence in the meeting room. Rina's departure was still echoing on the hall.  

Manon stared blankly at the chair on the other side of the table where Rina had been sitting a moment ago. Grandmother's iron-nailed fingers squeezed her wrist. The nails bit into Manon's skin through her sleeve. There was a smell of blood in the air as Grandmoter's iron nails pierced the skin and flesh. 

Dorian's expression was petrified. He stared at the surface of the table, refusing to meet the gaze of any of the men or witches in the hall. The guard standing behind the prince – Chaol Westfall – Manon remembered the captain of the guard, stared at him with pale faces of shock. In any other situation, that shock mixed with terror would have caused Manon to expose her iron teeth as a signal for the prey to run. 

Now she felt like she was the prey herself. Cornered one who had no place to escape. The King of Adralan stared at his son, his black eyes aglow, clearly expecting him to say something. The Blackbeak matron had also fixed her eyes on the prince, as if waiting for him to explain the situation before attacking Manon. 

The silence dragged on. Blood soaked Manon's sleeve, while her grandmother still squeezed her wrist in her iron grip. Manon didn't move.  

None of the witches moved.  

They were all like statues. They were waiting for an explanation.  

Manon could see the surprise and mischief gleaming in Iskra's brown eyes with her side eye. The heir to the Yellowlegs was waiting for a massacre. The look of the Yellowlegs matron was more difficult to interpret. Her old face did not show the same bloodlust as her heir, but in the deep veins of her cheeks there was a promise of a violent death. 

The blue bloods were serene as always. Cresseda had tilted her head thoughtfully. Petrah stared at Manon with her forehead frowing under the leather headband. 

Manon sensed the uncertainty emanating from the seconds and the conflicting emotions swirling inside Asterin . She knew that her cousin was considering plunging at the Matron, with Manon's blood dripping on the floor.  

Manon wanted to tell her second to stay in check, but she didn't dare to move. Too many pairs of eyes stared at her. And if Manon moved, nothing but her grandmother's fingers would stop her from running after her daughter. 

Rina was unprotected! Alone and unprotected. Manon's basic instinct was to run after her daughter and protect her from the pain of the whole world, but... that look. The silent rage that smoldered under Rina's skin... Rina hated her. She hated her, her own mother. 

A deep breath caught everyone's attention and Manon turned her attention to one of the old men on the council, whose gray beard shivered as she said, Manoni staring, "I'm honestly not surprised. I always knew that Rina was not normal."  

It brought the room to life.   

The king's fist slammed on the table and he roared:"I should have thrown the girl out on the street years ago! Are you crazy, Dorian?" He stared at his son, who stubbornly kept his eyes on the table. The Princeling's mouth was squeezed into a tight line. 

"I'm glad you didn't throw her," the poison oozing from her grandmother's voice made Manon's blood turn to ice. The Blackbeak Matron had fixed her eyes on the King of Adralan and tightened her grip on Manon's wrist as she spoke, "Otherwise, our heirs..." The grandmother paused, as if looking for the right word to describe the situation, "the act," she finally said, "would have gone undetected." 

Dorian's throat moved as he swallowed. Manon didn't let her expression flinch. Her grandmother had not yet killed her, which may have been partly due to Adralan's men. The Matron's rage was evident and it was completely directed at Manon. To the "act" she had done. Not just slept with the Prince of Adralan and had his daughter. 

No. She had done something worse. Something that was unforgivable among witches. Manon had given the witchling away. Iron-toothed witches did not abandon their descendants. It was an act punishable by death, and Manon had no doubt that her grandmother would tear her throat open with her own hands as soon as they were alone. Then Manon would only have to trust the Thirteen and that they would protect Rina from the matron's fury. 

"Witches don't normally abandon their desendants," the king remarked, staring at Manon with black eyes. "What made you give yours to my son?" Asterin snarled at the disrespectful words of the King Adralan. The matron gave Asterin a fierce look, which made the blonde witch fall silent and retreat. The other seconds runners-up kept their distance from Asterin as if she had a contagious disease. 

Manon didn't react. Everyone stared at her. Other witches, guardians, council members, the king... only Dorian did not look at her. As if afraid of what he would see on her face. Or what he wouldn't see. 

Manon took a deep breath and the atmosphere in the room thickened as everyone leaned closer, thirsty for her resistance. Explanation. “Rina was..." Manon fell silent when she heard her own voice, hollow and toneless. It didn't reflect at all the emotions raging inside her, which were slowly tearing her apart, "she was," Manon tried again, forcing the words in a direction, "she was... different." 

Dorian looked up quickly from the table, his sapphire blue eyes flashing, and for a moment Manon felt the gentle touch of the ghost hands on her face . In her hair. It was an unspoken encouragement. A silent show of support.  

"Different?" The Blackbeak Matron spat out the question, staring at Manon with the golden spots burning in her eyes. And Manon... she met the gaze just like Rina before. When she spoke, her voice was more steady. Stronger. “Her cheeks are red with human blood, grandma," she deliberately used an informal designation, which seemed to infuriate the matron even more. Manon knew he would have to pay for each word later, but she didn't care. "I wasn't sure if she was a witch." 

"You weren't sure if your own daughter was a witch?" Iskra's voice interrupted. There was an incredulous sneer in the words. The heir to the yellowlegs bent forward and bared his iron teeth to Manon, "Do you admit that you gave birth to a human being?" The Yellowlegs Matron studied Manon with her gaze, a new kind of curiosity and contempt on her face. 

Manon paid no attention to them. Didn't look at Blueblood behind her. No seconds next to the window. Definitely not Dorian, whose ghostly hand gently stroked her hair. Part of Manon would have liked to lean against the touch, while another part wanted to shake off her hand. Manon focused all her attention on her grandmother, who had nothing but black ice behind her burning eyes. 

"Are you claiming that your daughter's blood is... red?" Grandmother bared her teeth . "Don't lie to my face, Manon! No reason so trivial can make a witch abandon her child!"  

It was true, but Grandmother didn't need to know it. "I only did what I thought was best for my clan and my witchling.” Manon snapped back. Her own iron teeth snapped down. Grandmother's eyes flashed. "Do you dare to call a girl - whose blood you say is red, like that of humans - a witchling? Even if you said you didn't think she was a witch?" Grandmother's voice rose to a scream. Her nails dug deep into Manon's flesh. The pain ran down her arm, but Manon didn't react. She didn't give his grandmother the satisfaction of her pain. 

She defiantly met the old witch's gaze and did not give way. Not in this case. Never. The staring competition could have gone on forever if Dorian's calm voice hadn't broken the silence. “If you will allow me, Blackbeak matron," the grandmother's gaze turned towards the princeling. She let her gaze glide along the prince's face and body, as if trying to understand what Manon saw in him. "Rina's blood may be red," Manon was impressed by the calmness of Dorian's voice. He didn't shy away from Manon's grandmother's fury. The boy spoke like a king, more authoritatively than his father, "But she is her mother's daughter. She has the same instincts and instincts as you," Dorian continued. The grandmother tilted her head. Two other matrons and heirs looked at Dorian with renewed interest. 

"Is that so?" the grandmother finally asked, tilting her head in the other direction, like a predator who sensed the blood of its prey. "And how do you prove it?"  

Dorian's expression remained calm. "I have raised Rina. It was easy to notice the anomalies. Ability to hear speech from two rooms away. To see further than any other. Attack when she sense weakness. Didn't you notice that?" Dorian would have a smile on the corner of his mouth. "She may not have iron nails, but she can still cause a carnage." 

One of the council members and some of the guards growled in unison as a sign of unanimity. The witches remained silent. Manon noticed how the three Matrons glanced at each other, as if to negotiate. Finally, Cresseda said, "I guess we could test her," the strange excitement in her voice made Manon's hairs on her neck stand on end. “To see if Manon's words are true," The Blueblood matron glanced at her, her brows furrowed under the iron star crown. "We can then decide what to do." 

The matriarch of the yellow legs didn't say anything. Grandmother growled, which must have been a sign of agreement, as she released her grip on Manon's wrist. Blueblood gushed on the floor as Manon pulled her hand to her chest, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. It would leave a scar, Manon was sure of that. With her sideways eye, she saw Iskra grinning maliciously. She couldn't interpret Petrah's expression. She didn't look directly at Manon, but the gaze created into the void was... was it worried. 

"Captain Westfall," the king's voice awakened Manon's in her thoughts, and she turned her gaze to the broad-shouldered, brown-haired man standing behind Dorian. The hair on the temples had turned gray, but somehow it only emphasized the dignity of the face. Chaol straightened his back and bowed his head as a gesture of respect to the king. 

"Get Rina back," Dorian's father ordered. The captain of the guard glanced quickly at Dorian, who shrugged his shoulders slightly.  

Chaol nodded slightly in agreement and stepped out of his place, leaping to and from the doors . The man was good at pretending that he was not afraid of witches inside or outside the hall . An admirable skill. After Chaoli left, the king muttered in a half-voice: "Let's see how big a problem the girl's existence is."  

Dorian's face flushed with rage, and Manon felt a growl coming from her own throat just moments before it burst out, promising a painful and long death. She was pleased to see the King of Adralan startled.  

Manon's growl was followed by silence, during which the guards nervously changed positions and the council members shrank in their chairs. The witches carefully examined Manon and Dorian, who avoided looking at each other. The silence stretched to the point that it could easily have been cut with a sword. It was oppressive, heavy and suffocating. 

Finally, the King of Adralan opened his mouth. "How is this even possible?" he growled, examining his son with his gaze, as if the answer had been written on his skin. 

Dorian said nothing. Neither does Manon.  

"I'll have that conversation with my heir later," the Blackbeak matron said in a low voice. The look of the black eyes nailed Manon down. "I want to hear that story." 

Silence descended on the hall again. No one said anything. No one dared. The situation was so tense that one wrong word could trigger a devastating massacre. 

They were all waiting for Chaol's return with Rina. A moment and an eternity later, the double doors of the hall opened. Manon looked up with the others. Chaol entered the hall, his face – if possible – paler than before, and... alone. The man stopped at the other end of the table and took a deep breath, as if preparing for battle. 

"Where is she?" The king of Adralan asked and clenched her fist around the armrests of the chair . Captain Westfall swallowed, blew the air out, and then said, "Gone, Your Highness, ” He said it quickly, as if trying to get rid of the news as quickly as possible.  

Dorian closed his eyes. There was a hint of a smile on his face.  

"Gone!" The king of Adralan roared and stood up so quickly that his chair fell. "How so “gone”?"  

A faint blush rose on Chaoli's cheeks and he stepped a step further away, as if trying to dodge his king's raging gaze. "Rina is not in her room," he said. "She was seen going in but not coming out. Still she is gone."  

"And still she is gone?" the king would say, raising the sentence to a question at the end. The captain of the guard nodded . "Yes." Then, after a moment's hesitation, Chaol added, "the balcony doors were open."  

A mocking little chuckle escaped from the throat of the King of Adralan. "It helps a lot! What do you think she did? Jumped over the railing and flew away?" 

"Don't witches know how to fly?" asked one of the councillors quietly. Iskra snorted and even Petrah raised one of her eyebrows. Manon pressed her bleeding hand against her chest and gave the councilor such an overwhelming look that her face turned pale with fear. 

The matrons watched, either the captain of the guard, the king, or Dorian, who had pressed his fingers together and leaned his chin against them.  

"Find her," the King of Adralan growled, sinking her fist against the table. "She couldn't have gotten far!"  

A soft chuckle in the hall turned everyone's attention to Dorian, who had opened his sapphire blue eyes and stared at his father with eyes shining with amusement. “ Father, you know as well as I do," Dorian's lips turned upwards into an almost triumphant smile, "that if Rina decides to disappear, we will not find her unless she wants to be found."  

:::::::  

Rina pounded on the red-painted door in front of her, bouncing from one bare foot to the other on the cold stone stairs. Spring was well underway, but the last few months had been rainier and colder than ever before in Adralan's history. Today was the first really sunny and even remotely warm day, which probably wouldn't last much longer because storm clouds had started to gather in the calm spring sky. 

“Glennis!” Rina shouted, trying to get the attention of her old nanny who lived in a terraced house, "Open this damn door, or do I have to come in by force?"  

The door swung open in the middle of the shouting and Rina was about to fall directly into the arms of her fencing teacher. “ Hey, Bronwen," Rina said and slipped past the dark-haired woman in before she could even answer.  

Glennis looked up from her weaving work when Rina bumped in the house her black hair curled at the ends . The moisture made Rina's hair baled into a curly cloud, which would be hell to brush later in the evening.  

Glenn glanced at her once, saw the spilled makeup, bare legs, paler than normal face, messy hair - and she didn't need more to know that Rina was upset. And when Glennis reached out to her, Rina didn't hesitate to just plunge straight into the old woman's arms. 

Rina clung to Glentenss as she did when she was younger – when the Queen had tried to dress her in a corset – and pressed her head against her former nanny's shoulder. Glennis was a grandmother to her in many ways. More than Queen Georgiane ever did. 

The beginning had been rocky. Rina hadn't trusted Glennis, but little by little the old woman had won her trust and appreciation.  

Glenns cared for Rina. Not just because she was a princess. She had really cared about the girl behind the crown. Glennis was the one Rina sought out if she had an argument with her dad or didn't think she could talk about something with her dad.  

Glennis had cared for Rina since she was seven years old.   

Guided her firmly but gently on the path to studying. Helped with homework when dad didn't have time. Hold her hand when Rina had squirmed in pain when her first period started. Brought her tea while she was recovering from her migraines. Calming panic attacks that might otherwise have caused harm to the people around Rina. 

Glennis was one of the few people in Adralan who really knew Rina. Behind the girl's beautiful face and sharp words. A person that Rina trusted with all her heart. And which she sincerely loved. 

But so she had trusted and loved her dad, who had concealed her inheritance all these years . How did she know, even if Glennis hid something as big from her?  

Rina didn't realize she was crying until Glennis partly lifted her up, partly gently but firmly guided her to sit down on the couch next to her. Rina sobbed hysterically, her shoulders shaking, and pressed herself against Glennis' chest. Listened to her calmly beating heart. Rina took a deep breath, curled up closer to the warmth of the old woman. 

Glennis didn't say anything. She just held Rina. She stroked her hair, waiting for her to calm down.  

"She didn't say anything. Never anything." Rina whispered when the tears had dried up and the sobs no longer shook her body. Glennis gently pushed her into a sitting position and stroked the hair that had fallen on her face – now curly – behind her ear. 

"What happened?" Glennis asked, gently squeezing Rina's shoulders. Rina's toes curled against the red rag rug spread out on the wooden floor. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace, even though the air was warm. It created its gentle glow on the reddish-brown wooden walls, reflected in the mirror hanging on the wall and created dancing shadows throughout the room. 

Rina sniffled. "My mother is a witch." Saying it out loud felt somehow comical. Yes, her mother was a witch. And was she surprised by that...  

"To be honest, I'm not even surprised," Rina continued, turning her gaze towards her bare toes . She was not surprised. Rina felt like she should be, but... Rina had always known that she was different from the others.  

As a child, she had been confused by the poor hearing and poor eyesight of others . Couldn't everyone hear the conversation going on three rooms away? Or see a mouse run in the grass from a third-floor window?  

No. She wasn't surprised that her mother wasn't human. And she wasn't really surprised that her mother was a witch. In fact, now that Rina thought about it, it felt... Logical. Rina had a kind of predatory instinct, which others called a competitive instinct. 

She was faster and more powerful than others around her. Rina remembered moments when the speed of her reflexes had attracted attention . When the cup of tea had fallen off the table and Rina had snatched it from the air without spilling a single drop over.  

So no. Rina wasn't surprised.   

But she was shocked.  

Shocked because the dad hadn't said anything. Shocked by the way the truth had come out . Shocked by the situation he had unknowingly driven herself into. Shocked... shocked by the hard-fought rage she had felt when she met the gaze of her mother—a white-haired, golden-eyed witch . Shocked by the behavior of the golden-eyed witch's coven. About the sea of silent observers who kept an eye on her . They knew who she was. Whose daughter was she? Shocked... shocked because she knew that others would see a resemblance between her and the witch that she herself did not notice.  

"Are you okay?" Bronwen's voice woke Rina back to the real world . She looked up at her dark-haired fencing instructor, who had sat down in a large orange – and rather ugly – armchair next to the couch . Bronwen had leaned forward and examined Rina with her brown eyes, as if looking for injuries.  

Rihannon – Glenns' granddaughter – had emerged from the kitchen and was now leaning against the doorframe, as if feeling the atmosphere of the room.  

Bronwen had become Rina's fencing instructor two years ago, after Rina had demanded combat training . None of the soldiers agreed to teach her due to the Queen's opposition - "What would it look like if the princess fought with rough men," the queen had snorted - she had said that she would only accept combat training if Rina was taught by a woman. She guess she had thought she would keep Rina inside organizing parties and wearing beautiful dresses. But things turned out differently, because her dad found Bronwen.  

And Bronwen... shee was a strict teacher. Bronwen forced her to practice fencing, no matter what the weather . In rain, snow, thunderstorms, sun or wind. Scorching hot or freezing cold. Rina had been chronically bruised for two years.  

She had become a relatively skilled fencer in two years, but compared to Bronwen, she was still a lousy rookie . According to Bronwen, she would be for many years to come. Rina was more adept at fighting with her two knives - which she had received as a gift from Bronwen after defeating her for the first and last time in melee - with Light and Shadow she managed to break Bronwen's defense on good days.  

Rina had met Rihannon a year ago, when Glennis had been fired from her position. Rina reportedly didn't need a nanny anymore.  

Rina had been afraid that Glennis would leave—and Rina knew she wouldn't be able to do without Glennis. She had been relieved to hear that the woman would only move to the other side of town, to a relative girl.  

Rina had helped Glennis's move – despite the nanny's protests – and met Rihannon. And Rihannon had said that the door of her house would always be open to Rina. That she would have a place outside the castle to escape to when the atmosphere at home would become too difficult to bear. 

It had been dawned to Rina two months ago that Bronwen was Rihannon's cousin and therefore lived with her and Glennis. When Rina heard this, she had begun to suspect a conspiracy deep in the leather armchair of her mind. How could it be possible that two women who were very close to her were related to each other? 

Rina hadn't been able to bother her head with it for a long time. Did it really even matter if they did? It just meant that as long as Rina knew Bronwen, she could always find Glennis. Rina didn't have a proper image of Rihannon yet. She was nice, but kept a clear distance from Rina. 

"On what scale?" Rina asked and threw herself against the sofa cushions. The crying fit had taken a toll on her strength. She was tired and her eyelashes were heavy with tears. "If you ask me if I'm physically fit, the answer is yes.” Rina waved her hand in a weeping voice. "I didn't have to fight my way out of the hall." She blinked her eyes and smiled tiredly at Bronwen. "Mentally..." Rina thought for a moment, "no. I don't think I am." 

Glennis squeezed her knee, as if in silent support. "What happened?" she repeated the question. Rina rolled her eyes. "In short: the witches came in. Dad asked me to be quiet for five minutes. I managed two," Rina smiled a little at Glennis. "Look now, I am evolved." 

Glennis raised her other eyebrow and Rina hurried to continue. “ Grandfather grinded it old shit – Terranen is a threat and war is our only option, ” Rina made a bad imitation of the King of Adralan and then said : “ When would the war honestly have helped anything? The spiral of violence only causes more violence, grief and unnecessary deaths."  

Rihannon nods thoughtfully, as if she had said something profound. Rina continued her story:   "I started systematically eroding my beloved grandfather's credibility and then I started annoying witches."  

Bronwen closed her eyes and seemed to be praying the gods. Glennis sighed and looked up at the ceiling, as if wondering what she had done wrong with Rina . Rihannon's face had become expressionless.  

"Grandfather was angry and his credibility was going down the drain at a good pace," Rina explained, going through the stages of the meeting in her mind. "And then I started making fun of the iron-toothed witches."  

"What did you say?" Glennis asked in a tone of voice as if she was already thinking about suitable flowers for Rina's grave.   "I asked how much killing the Corchans has helped them in their goal of reclaiming the Wastes.   Because I think killing an entire nation is already downright exaggerated." Rina shrugged. "They didn't really like it."  

"Of course not," Bronwen mumbled, and Rihannon repeated, "Exaggeration."  

Glennis had a shadow on her face that disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared.  Sh e smiled sadly at Rina, as if she knew what would happen next. "And you're still alive. What happened then?"  

Rina looked up at the ceiling and saw in her mind's eye again the moment Blackbeaks Matron had looked at her directly . And stared as if she had never seen anything like it before.  

"I'm not quite sure," Rina admitted after a moment's hesitation. "Blackbeaks Matron – a charming personality by the way -"   the phrase made Rihannon laugh and Bronwen smiled too ,  "She stopped staring at me," Rina said and tilted her head so that her hair, curled from moisture and shock, swayed.  “ And soon everyone else was staring too. I don't know what they saw," Rina hesitated again and looked at Glennis,  “ I looked into the minds of the council members," she told as if it were a shameful secret.   Glennis had reprimanded Rina over and over again that it was not appropriate for her to invade people's minds without a good reason.  

For this reason, Rina had never glanced at Glennis' thoughts. She did it out of trust and appreciation.   But now Rina wondered if she should have taken a peek after all.  

"And what did you see?" Glennis gently wiped Rina's cheek, encouraging her to continue talking. Rina swallowed.   "They saw a girl who looked like Blackbeaks's heir. Everyone seemed to see my face differently than... as I see myself."  

Rina pulled her knees against her chest and rested her chin on them. The following words were hardly anything more than mumbling.  “ I didn't know what to do in that situation. I knew that their guess - that witch was my mother - was true, but... I don't know. I left before anything dramatic happened."  

Rina looked at Glennis. "Was it done right?"  

Glennis didn't say anything for a moment. She looked at Rina and then glanced quickly over her shoulder at Bronwen and Rihannon . Rina felt as if a quick, silent conversation had taken place over her . It lasted only a second, barely a blink of an eye, and then Glennis' blue gaze fell on Rina again.  

"Will you stay overnight?" she asked. Rina blinked her eyes, thought for a second, and then nodded. "I don't want to go home,"  She muttered and sobbed. She turned her gaze toward the flames and addressed her words more to them than to the other three in the room. "I need to talk to dad, but I'll leave it for later."  

Rihannon smiled and stood up straight. "Come. I think you could appreciate a bath."  

Rina didn't know what she looked like, and she didn't really want to know. She went after Rihannon without a without resistace, so she didn't see Bronwin's angry look at Glennis.  

"We should have told her," Bronwen whispered when Rina and Rihannon had disappeared into the stairs leading upstairs.   Glennis got up from the sofa and walked softly across the room to the kitchen to make tea . “ Not today, Bronwen," she said quietly as she lifted the teapot to the stove. "Our princess has already experienced enough shocks for one day."  

The clouds had darkened the sky and the last people who had wandered on the street hurried home, with their first raindrops hitting the street.  

::::::  

Manon stepped out of the meeting room after her grandmother, like a shadow. Asterin walked straight behind her, almost clinging to her back . The anxiety that emanated from the cousin was about to snatch oxygen from Manon's own lungs as they walked silently past the guards.  

The first to step was Manon's grandmother, a harbinger of cold rage, who made people dodge, run away .  Manon walked directly behind her, with the other two Matrons on either side, like the prison guards.   Their heirs walked behind their Matrons, silent, expressionless.   Not even Iskra grinned with glee. Manon's grandmother's rage had made her serious too.  

They had been sitting in the hall for an hour in deep silence as the guards tried to find Rina in the castle.   It was of no use and finally Chaol had come back to the hall and announced that Rina had most likely left.   Dorian had an almost amused expression on his face when he heard it.   The king, on the other hand, had not laughed. He had stared at Dorian with the same rage in his eyes as in Manon's grandmother's gaze.  

He had sent the members of the council on away and announced that the "negotiations" would continue tomorrow.   As the witches left the hall, the king and Dorian had been staring at each other across the table. Could sense an upcoming argument in the air.  

Manon would have been worried if she hadn't had to be afraid of the upcoming conversation with her grandmother.   If Grandmother killed her... If she broke thirteen... if she attacked Rina...  

Manon kept her face expressionless as she walked through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle after her grandmother.   The other witches came after them. The coven of Iskra and Petrah walked close to their leaders, but Manon's thirteen were forced to keep their distance.   They were the last to walk in the whole group. Asterin was her only protector.  

This wouldn't be just a conversation, Manon realized as Grandmother pushed open the balcony doors in front, this would be a trial.   Terror settled in Manon's stomach as she stepped onto the large balcony, under the darkening sky of storm clouds.  

The witches behind her dispersed. The covens of the Blueblood and Yellowleg heirs forced the Thirteen forward, in the middle of a loose semicircle formed by the other 26 witches.   Petrah and Iskra stood closest to the three matrons, who stood before Manon like the three faces of the three-faced goddess. A maiden, a mother and a crone. The Court of Witches.  

"Daughter!" The grandmother screamed with rage the second the large glass doors behind the witches closed . She rushed towards Manon, her iron nails gleaming. Manon prepared for the punch, but her grandmother's first punch didn't hit her.  

Asterin screamed in pain behind Manon as her grandmother's nails struck her face .  The punch struck her cousin directly into the arms of Thirteen, who had gathered behind Manon.   Manon had time to see how Sorrel and Vesta rushed to meet Asterin who was dazed by the force of the blow, before Grandmother's hand squeezed around her throat.  

The Blackbeaks matron ones pulled their faces against each other and the old witch growled:  “ Is that what you were up to when you disappeared for eleven months fifteen years ago?   When you claimed that the hunt was delayed? You hid somewhere and gave birth to a daughter?"  

Manon's lungs didn't have enough air to talk or think. Grandmother squeezed her trachea, blocking the passage of air. If she squeezed even a millimeter more, Manon would suffocate...  

"Let us explain!" Asterin yelled and rushed forward, even though Sorrel tried to stop her.   Blue blood ran down her face as she stopped panting in front of the Matron. "Please let us explain!" Asterin repeated.  

Grandmoter's eyes burned with rage. "Us!" she shouted. "Us! Did you all know about this?"  

Manon's throat let out a vague hiss when she tried to speak. Tell Asterin to back down.  She couldn't let Asterin, none of the thirteen, take the punishment for her crime.  

Asterin was silent. She just met the gaze of the Blackbeak matron, her eyes burning with emotions that Manon couldn't name.   And then... A small smile rose on Asterin's face. She pressed her hands to her stomach and tilted her head.   Manon's mind began to blur from the lack of air, but she saw her grandmother look at Asterin’s hand, blink her eyes, and meet Manon's second gaze again.  “ Isn't that reason enough?" Asterin asked so quietly that only Grandmother and Manon could hear.  

Within a fraction of a second, the face of the Blackbeak matron was filled with many different emotions that were impossible to identify.  She glanced at Manon, who moved her lips, baring her iron teeth. And grandmother... tremble.   Just a little. So small that Manon only noticed it because her grandmother squeezed her trachea.  

The Matron took a deep breath with a look on her face... and then released her grip on Manon's throat. Manon collapsed on the balcony pavement, gasping for breath and coughing .  Asterin crouched down next to her and helped her stand up.   Manon rubbed her throat, staring at her grandmother, who had taken a step back and looked at the scene ahead of her with a look of contempt... and, oh yes... and with confused expressions of fear.  

Grandmother knew that Manon knew. She knew that Manon had known all this time.   And despite that, she kept Asterin as her second. The grandmother had reason to be afraid.   For when she looked at the thirteen standing behind Manon, she realized that they knew too. To know everything.  

"Explain," Grandmother commanded—did her voice tremble—focusing her black eyes on Manon.  

Manon took a deep breath - restrained the smug smile - and wove the lie in a few words.   "I didn't know I was pregnant," Manon said in a hoarse voice and straightened her posture, shaking Aterin's hands from her shoulders.  “ We only realised the state of affairs when the snowfall began, when it would have been too dangerous to return."  

Some of the lies were meant for the grandmother, some for the other two matrons. Manon swallowed, moistened her lips with her tongue . “ I couldn't eat meat during my pregnancy," a little bit of truth .  From the exchange of glances between the Yellowlegs Matron and the Bluebloods matron, Manon knew that she had guessed correctly years ago.   It wasn't normal. "And I couldn't eat it while breastfeeding either," Manon continued. "Rina's body rejected our normal diet."  

Saying her daughter's name out loud sent warm shivers through Manon's body. When had she said the name out loud?   When had she been able to use it to refer to her daughter?  

"I knew she wasn't a normal witchling." Manon continued, sensing Asterin's nodding, confirming her words.  

"But that doesn't explain why you gave your daughter away," the Blueblood Matron spoke and stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Manon.  “ Why did you return to the Blackbeak castle without her? Why did you give her to her father. ” The last word Cresseda spat out of her mouth, as if the word were foreign to her.  

Manon took a deep breath.  She would have liked to glance at Asterin standing next to her, silent but steady, but refrained from doing so. Because she couldn't. She couldn't show any hesitation.  

She had given Rina away because of Baba Yellowleg. Because of what the old witch had said.   Tried to do. And what Manon had done to the former Yellowlegs Matron.  

"Rina's blood was red," Manon said. "I didn't think she had a future among our people."  

Truth and Lie.  

Manon's words were followed by a ringing silence. The first raindrops fell from the sky and fell on the rocks.  

Grandmother stared at her, her nostrils widening as if trying to sense the lies. Two other heirs stared at her.   The Matrons stepped closer to Mother Blackbeak, closer to Manon than trying to read the emotions on her face .  Thoughts behind the words.  

"So you brought her to her father,"   Grandmother said slowly, "You came back to me and acted like nothing had happened."   That was not the question. Just a statement. Manon nodded her head slightly . Cold drops of rain fell on her shoulders, on her face, darkened the red fabric of her cloak.  

The matrons looked at each other. They were silent for a long time, letting their heirs and their covens wait. Finally, Cresseda spoke: "I don't think we can decide what to do about it until we have established the truth of your heir's words," she addressed her words to the Blackbeaks matron.   "We need to examine the girl. To find out if she is so... human-like as Manon's words suggest."  

Manon's grandmother nodded, her expression serious. The Yellowlegs matron snorted, but then nodded.  

The gaze of the three Matrons returned to Manon. "The matter will continue to be discussed when we have more information on the subject," the grandmother declared .  Her gaze froze Manon. The drizzle was quickly turning into heavy rain.  “ For your sake, granddaughter, I hope you haven't hidden anything else from me. Because your situation doesn't look good."  

Manon lowered her gaze and raised two fingers to her forehead.  “ No, Grandmother," she said, her voice steady. The Blackbeaks Matron smirk.  

She leaned closer and breathed against Manon's face, "Don't give me any reason to doubt loyalty, Manon."  

The last words were just a low hiss meant only for her,   "Otherwise, I will tear open the throats of all the thirteen witches and drain their blood, ”  Manon looked up and saw the violence shining in her grandmother's eyes.   A cruel smile playing on her lips, "and then I'll force you to watch as I break your big-mouthed daughter's neck."  

:::::::  

The rain was pouring on the window panes. The holy flame blazing in the fireplace cast dancing shadows on Rina's face, who had fallen asleep on the couch.  

The girl had fallen asleep half an hour ago, listening to the quiet conversation between Glennis and Bronwen.   Rihannon had spread the blanket over the girl's narrow shoulders when it turned out that she was no longer aware of her surroundings.  

While sleeping, without makeup and with her hair in natural curls, she looked like the child she should have had the right to be . Innocent, young. Long eyelashes cast shadows on the reddish cheeks.  

Glennis stood at the door of the small kitchen and looked at her youngest relative, heir to the Corchan crown .  Rihannon stood next to her with a deep shadow of worry on her face. Bronwen, leaning on a wooden countertop, was the one who spoke:  “ I don't think we should wait any longer," she said in a low voice, careful not to wake Rina.  “ We should take her to the camp. To tell her the truth."  

Rihannon and Glennis glanced at each other. They had discussed – argued – about this matter often, ever since they had traced Manon's daughter to Adralan.   Bronwen – like many others – believed that the best solution to make sure Rina was on their side was to raise her herself.   Many years ago, the Council of Corchans had demanded that Olga – the goddess bless her – leave the castle with little Rina.   Glennis had denied the plan. She denied any action that sounded even remotely like the kidnapping of Adralan's princess against her will.  

"That would be a kidnapping, Bronwen," Rihannon said quietly, glancing at Rina. "We can't do that to Rina. And not to Dorian."  

Dorian. Prince of Adralan and Lover of Manon. The reason why the corchans hadn't worked – no matter what Glennis had ordered.  

The Corchans believed that Rina was their hope for a better future. The power of change that could lead their to disappear people to a new dawn.  

But that still didn't rule out the fact that Rina was also the princess of Adralan.  

Dorian was a good man. Glennis had met the prince, talked to him, and realized that perhaps Manon had done the right thing by giving her daughter to her father's upbringing.  

Perhaps the fact that Rina grew up detached from the blood feud between corchans and iron-toothed witches would be the key to resolving the age-old grudges.   Rina would have an outsider's perspective on the events. And sometimes you could see details from the outside to whom, those at the heart of the matter, were blind.  

Bronwen groaned. "So should we just wait and see how long it takes for the three matrons to find a good enough reason to kill her?"  

"They won't kill her," Glennis said quietly, stopping the argument before it could even begin.  She turned to great-grandchild, meet the gaze steadfastly: "They won't kill if they believe they can benefit from her in some way . And if I know the matrons, Rina will be interested them," Glennis glanced at the girl sleeping on the couch, and a shiver ran down her spine.  

"Rina has force and power that they can try to take advantage of."  

Rihannon looked away and Bronwen bared her teeth. "I have lost a child and a cousin to the curiosity of iron-toothed witches."  

Glenns just sighed.  

"Sona was odd – even for Blueblood, ”  Rihannon muttered. Bronwen snorted. "So their matron is probably a thousand times worse!   Should I stand by and wait a same happend to Rina do as little Ashley?"  

Ashley – Glennis would never forgive herself for that error of judgment.   Ten years ago—when Ashley was only seven—the cabin of Bronwen's cousin Aron Varona, where she had lived with Sona Blueblood, had been attacked . The attackers had been Sona's former coven, who had been abandoned by the iron-toothed witch because of Aron .  

The cottage had burned down and later two bodies had been found at the scene. Glennis knew that Bronwen was blaming herself . She - they - should have demanded that Aron and Sona move into one of the Corchans' permanent bases. Especially when the witchling was born.  

But Sona had not wanted to live with the Corchans or raise her daughter among them.   As a result, she was dead, as was Aron. And Ashley - she was gone. Either the Bluebloods took her whit them or the witchling escaped and got lost.   Either way, no one believed she had survived the night.  

"It's not going to be the same here," Rihannon said, spinning towards her cousin. "Don't forget that we are not the only protectors of Rina.   We know what Manon and her coven did to protect her! What are they doing to protect her!"  

They would even kill the matron of other clans to protect the girl.  

Glenns sighed. She let her gaze wander from Bronwin to Rihannon. They both looked at her. They were waiting for her a decision.  

Some part of the Glennis wanted to agree to the demands of the Council of Corchan. Wanted to take Rina out of this city.   Far from matrons and their long iron nails.   Sometimes she really wished that Manon would have taken up their offer and given Rina to them.   Rina would have been loved – who could not love her – she would have been educated, told who she was.  

But if the Cocrhans had raised Rina, she wouldn't be this young woman whose words had more power than the sword.  

"We'll wait and see," Glennis said.  

Bronwen's eyes flashed and she opened her mouth as if to argue against it, but Glennis raised her hands to silence her .  "We'll wait and see," she repeated, staring straight at Bronwen.   "But if there's any danger, I'll personally take Rina out of town. I will tell her the truth and escort her to the camp."  

Bronwen's mouth snapped shut. Rihannon moved and glanced at Glennis worriedly. "It's not fair to Dorian," she pointed out.  

Glennis looked over her shoulder at the girl curled up on the couch - a witchling - who would soon come of age.   And only the three-faced goddess knew what would happen then. "If we get into that situation,"   Glennis said quietly, looking at Rina's reddish cheeks, a small scar, in perfect skin,  “ We all know that all other plans have failed."  

Rina changed position in her sleep and sighed. The rain outside the windows increased. In the distance, lightning flashed and a moment later thunder thundered.  

Chapter Text

Chapter 6  

“I'm on a path of destruction 
This is gonna be fun 
Set it off, go berserk 
Tonight, I light it up like fireworks 
Tear it down, then paint this town 
Red, Red, Red, Red 
I don't want my life ruled by some Queen (King;)) 
Look into my eyes, see the fire in me 
Burn it down, 'til all they're seeing now is 
Red, Red, Red, Red, Red.”  
Red 
Descendants. Rise of Red 

Dorian followed his father into the meeting hall with a gloomy mind. Chaol was right on his heels, his appearance exuding seriousness. The previous day's meeting had been a disaster. Dorian couldn't think of a better word to describe the events.  

The moment when his and Manon's betrayal had been exposed... Dorian had seriously considered killing his father, three matrons, and two heirs in that place. He had sensed danger in the air. One thoughtless word and the whole hall would have slipped into a bloodbath. And then Rina took and disappeared, which tended to make the situation worse and make the King of Adralan look like a weak fool. 

What kind of king was unable to control the whims of his 15-year-old granddaughter? Dorian knew of only one person who could restrain Rina. And it wasn't him. 

The only one who Dorian knew could do it was Glennis, Rina's old nanny. Somehow, the old woman was able to do where everyone else had failed. She was able to anticipate Rina's reactions and be one step ahead. Dorian didn't know how Glennis could do it. But like years ago in the tavern where he had met Manon, Dorian instinctively knew that Glennis was not human. 

They both knew that Dorian knew what Glennis and Olga before her might have been. Dorian had never asked. She had instinctively trusted Glenns and sincerely believed that she would never do anything that could harm Rina.  

And that was all that mattered to Dorian at the time. Now that he was older, Dorian wondered if he should have been more suspicious of Glennis. He had only been twenty-one when he got Rina in his charge. Back then, the only thing that mattered was making sure that Rina had everything she could ever want. He had blindly trusted Olga and then Glennis. Dorian couldn't explain it to himself. Not even, even though he was able to consider himself a responsible adult today. 

As a responsible adult who had felt like a teenager again when he argued with his father. The king of Adralan had been furious. He had breath out with anger, his face red. And the second the doors of the meeting hall had closed behind the witches' backs the king had risen to his feet and roared: "Witch! Are you a fool! Witch! And you even agreed to take her daughter to be raised!” The guards retreated against the walls, fleeing from the fury of their king. Such a cowards, Dorian thought. Chaol had stayed still behind Dorian but had not dared to intervene. 

"She is also my daughter, father, ” Dorian had grunted and had somehow managed to keep his voice steady . “ We both knew what we were doing!"  

"How can you be sure that the girl was yours?" The king had growled and clenched his hands to fists. "Witches are not faithful!" 

Dorian had raised his eyebrow. “ Are you seriously trying to claim that Rina is not my daughter?"  

The king was dumbfounded for a moment, but then he snapped: "It's a shame that your attractive partner didn't slit your throat years ago!" Dorian had bared his teeth, when his father referring to Manon. "In that case, I wouldn't have had to put up with you and that bastard in my corners for so long!" 

Dorian sprang to his feet and stepped in front of his father before he could leave. When Dorian spoke, his voice was so quiet that the guards standing in the hall could not hear: "You have no other heirs. Or are you trying to say that you would make Hollin king?" 

The king's black eyes had flashed. His hands convulsed, as if he imagined them clenching around Dorian's throat. "That girl will never inherit my throne!" He growled, his face flushed with rage.  Dorian smiled coldly. "Of course not," he said low. His smile didn't reach his eyes. "He will inherit my throne." 

The king's previously red face now turned pale. “How dare you... stupid boy..." Dorian silenced his father with a wave of his hand, which surprised him when his father fell silent. “We both know that you won't be king for much longer,” Dorian said in a quiet voice, watching, enjoying how his father's face turned paler by the moment. "And when I ascend to power, Rina will be heir to the throne." 

The king of Adralan roared: "Adralan will never accept a witch as their princess!" 

"You're right," Dorian said casually and stepped away from his father, "but half witch their could accept." 

And after saying this, Dorian stepped out of the meeting hall with Chaol behind him, leaving his father to puff in a rage.  

"This is not over,"   Chaol had muttered the moment they had turned the corner and could no longer see the doors of the meeting hall.   Dorian shook his head. It was definitely not over. If Dorian had to guess, the situation would only get worse from here.  

"Could I ask you to deliver a few sets of Rina's clothes to Glennis?"   Chaol raised his other eyebrow . “ Won't you ask me to get her home?"  

Dorian shook his head. "I think it's better for Rina to spend a few days with Glennis and keep a low profile.   And I think Glennis would rather kill me than let you bring Rina back if she thinks it's too dangerous for her."  

Chaol was silent for many steps until:   "Why didn't you tell me? About the witch – Manon – Rina's background?"  

The men stopped in the middle of an empty corridor, facing each other.   Dorian looked at his friend and saw the hurt in his dark eyes.   Dorian put his hand in the pocket of his black suit jacket and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.   "I promised to keep it a secret," he finally said.  

Chaol squinted his eyes.   “ I can understand why you kept it a secret from me, but what about Rina? Why didn't you say anything to her?"  

Guilt flared up in Dorian's chest, and he didn't even try to suppress it. Chaol was right.   Hiding everything had not been fair to Rina. But what would have happened if Rina had known her family background?  

Despite everything, Dorian still firmly believed that silence had kept Rina safe.   As Manon had hoped for years ago. Secrecy and silence had given Rina protection from witches. The witches didn't know about her. And she doesn't know about witches.  

"I believed then and I still believe that it was the right course of action. So we kept her safe,"   Dorian said, steadily meeting Chaol's gaze.   The captain of the guard was unyielding.   "It wasn't fair to Rina," he remarked coolly.  

Dorian shook her head and looked away.   "Maybe not,"   He admitted and looked at the empty corridor of the glass castle.   All the guards had been ordered to search for the missing princess.   To turn over every stone to find the girl.  “ You saw the witches," Dorian continued. "They would have killed Rina."  

Chaol raised his other eyebrow.   "Would they? If she is one of them."  

Dorian glared at Chaol, who hurriedly tried to retract some of his words.   "I mean, she is the daughter of one heir. Would they have killed someone in such a high position... I guess witchlin is the right name?"  

Dorian lowered his gaze to his shoes . “ You know Rina, Chaol. Damn it, ou're her godfather. Are you saying that she is like them?"  

Chaol was silent for a moment. Then:   “ Yes, it is. In certain things."   Pause. "But you're right. I know Rina.   I've known her since I was a child. And I'm not trying to say that she wasn't dear to me and that my life wasn't a hell of a lot better when she was around, but Dorian..."  

Dorian met the gaze of his old friend when Chaol said his name,   "Rina deserved to know the truth. You remember what it was like for her when she was little. What it's like for her. Doctors say that she only has auditory hypersensitivity. But that's what she's supposed to hear. Because her mother is a witch."  

Dorian was forced to turn his eyes away as Chaol continued in a quieter voice:   "Rina's migraines, pains... She experienced everything more intensely than others. Everything, Dorian. And he was afraid of her own senses because she didn't understand why she was feeling it all."  

Dorian closed his eyes. He breathed in and then out. Chaol said:   "I'm not surprised that Rina is partly something other than human. And Rina isn't that surprised either, as long as she gets over the shock."  

"Then why are we having this discussion?"   Dorian snapped. His fingers were clenched into fists in his pockets. Chaoli's face remained calm.   "Because Rina's life would have been easier if she had known that what she was feeling – what she sensed was not wrong but just part of her natural heritage."  

Dorian said nothing. Chaol sighed.   "I'll deliver your message to Glennis."   Dorian had nodded in thanks, and then hurried to his room, their conversation spinning in his head. And opened the balcony doors.  

He had waited most of the night for Manon to arrive, but in the wee hours of the morning he had to say that the witch would not come .  Frustrated and exhausted, Dorian had crawled into his bed and turned off his reading light.   He had fallen asleep quickly, even though Chaol's words echoed in his head.  

"Because Rina's life would have been easier if she had known that what she was feeling – what she sensed – wasn't wrong but just part of her natural heritage."  

Would it really have been easier?  

Dorian felt a sleepless night in his bones as he walked behind his father towards the meeting hall. Chaol followed him like a shadow .  In the evening, the captain of the guard had brought Dorian a message from Glennis, who had announced that he would keep Rina in his house for as long as he could so that the situation in the castle could calm down.   Dorian doubted that even Glennis would be able to keep Rina out of the eye of the storm long enough. Rina was far too curious for that.  

The king's entourage reached the meeting hall at the same time as the witches.  

Dorian did his best not to stare at Manon, whose neck bruises Dorian noticed under the red fabric of the cloak.  

Manon stood expressionless behind her grandmother, not focusing her eyes on anything in particular.   Dorian was relieved to see Manon alive and mostly unharmed.   He did not know the laws of witches, so he did not know whether Manon's act of giving his daughter to Dorian was a crime among them.  

The other two matrons seemed indifferent, although Dorian seemed to notice with a side eye how Blueblood's blonde highwitch was looking at him. The heirs of the Yellowlegs and Bluebloods remained silent in the background, and their coven took their places among the guards next to the walls.   For a moment, Dorian's gaze fell on Manon's pale second, who had crossed her arms on her chest and was leaning against the wall behind her clan heir.   A worn black leather headband gleamed on her forehead.  

Asterin – Dorian thought – when the blonde witch's gaze was fixed on his for a moment and then moved forward, examining the king's retinue. Seeking...  

As usual, Blackbeak matron, with his black robe and gold-dotted eyes, looked gorgeous, but deadly.  She looked at the King of Adralan and then let her gaze sweep over the rest of the entourage, looking for the person who was not there . She ignored Dorian, like a bug on the sole of her shoe, insignificant. Dorian wasn't sure if that was a good thing.  

"Where is the girl?" Manon's grandmother asked, fixing her eyes on the king. The King of Adralan lifted his chin.  

"My guards couldn't find her despite numerous attempts. ” The king grunted in response and was the first to enter the meeting hall, as the guards opened the doors. "The guards continue to search..."  

"It took you a while."  

Dorian was about to jump out of his shoes, hearing a clear glass-like sound from the meeting room, in front of him .  And he wasn't the only one. The king of Adralan was visibly startled, and even the witches' faces flashed a hint of surprise.   Judging by the rattle from behind, the guards and council members who had followed the king had jumped on each other's toes, startled by the sound coming from the hall.  

Rina sat quietly at the negotiation table.  She had an open book in front of her and in her crossed fingers she squeezed a cup of tea.   The long black hair was combed into a high ponytail today.   She was wearing one of her red dresses. It was shorter in the front than in the back.   The slender waist was tightened by a leather corset belt. Rina was wearing knee-length black leather boots that made her look ready for battle.  

Rina smiled benevolently over her teacup and fluttered her long eyelashes. "I thought I had already entered the wrong room."  

Dorian glanced at his father, only to see how the king's face slowly began to turn red.  

He didn't even dare to glance at the witches.  

"Where the hell have you been? ” The king quipped and marched into the hall, with Dorian on his heels. Apparently, Glennis hadn't been able to explain to Rina why it would be good for her to keep a low profile for a few days.  

Rina drank her tea, clicked her tongue disapprovingly and placed the cup on the table in front of her. "In the nine ring." The king stopped in the middle of the step, and Dorian might have laughed at his father's expression on another occasion.  

"What are you talking about?"   The king finally groaned when he found his voice again. The king's guards spread out around the hall.   The members of the council slid into their seats, their heads bowed, as if trying to avoid the enraged gaze of their king.  

The witches watched the situation in silence from the sidelines.   Nervously quiet. As if they were just waiting for Rina and the king to tire each other out before their attack.   Dorian stayed a step behind his father, deliberately between the witches and the king.   Chaol also stayed still, by his side. As always... nonetheless.  

Rina closed the book in front of her and pushed it onto the bench next to her before replying: "In the Ninth ring of Hell," she said cheerfully, with a big smile on her face. "You know: a divine comady."  

Dorian began to feel more and more like laughing.   The whole situation was absurd. The castle was teeming with deadly witches, and Rina was playing a game, making anyone feel like an idiot.  

Apparently, the king had come to the same conclusion, for he hissed: "Stop telling stories. Where were you?"  

Rina shrugged. Dorian sighed and chuckled inwardly . “ Here and there, you know," Rina waved her hand vaguely, "I wasn't anywhere in particular. ” Rina also emphasized, particular.  

The king's eye twitched.   "This is not a joke, Rina," the king said in a low voice. "You can't just disappear."  

Rina raised her eyebrows. "I think it's the first time of its kind . Since when have you been interested in where I am? ” She drank tea, "Normally, you're just trying to get rid of me."  

Through the gods!    

Dorian stepped between his father and Rina before the situation got out of hand for good. "Enough is enough, Rina," Dorian said quietly, trapping his daughter's eyes of different colors under the enchantment.   It was more volatile today. Dorian saw through it with little effort. Was the enchantment he had woven years ago finally disappearing?  

Rina tilted her head, looking like her mother for a moment.   There was an evaluative look in her eyes for the enemy. Dorian didn't look away. Neither did Rina . The moment dragged on. Rina's long fingers squeezed the teacup .  Dorian did not give up in the face of his daughter's unyielding stare.   "That's enough," he said calmly.  

He didn't tell to. He didn't ask for it.   He told how things were. And Rina... She turned her eyes away.   Dorian blinked his eyes, but quickly hid his surprise. He didn't look at his father, no witches, when he stepped into his seat and sat down next to his daughter.  

Rina still didn't look at him.   The girl's fingers squeezed the teacup, her knuckles white.   Dorian wanted to lay his hand soothingly on Rina's knee, but he sensed the resistance that emanated from his daughter.  

They hadn't even tried to sort out this mess yet.   And Rina would not accept any physical contact until she had received what she thought was a comprehensive explanation of her questions. Oh well. Dorian owed an explanation.  

The king sat down at the end of the table, glaring at his granddaughter.   Rina didn't care.   She looked at her teacup and didn't seem to notice the witches, all of whom had their eyes fixed on her.  

Evaluating, hungry, furious, curious and reflective looks. The only witch who didn't look at Rina was Manon . The witch stared at her crossed fingers on the table. With the leather sleeve, there was still a stain of blue blood that had not been cleaned.  

Dorian's father stared at Rina with and sensing his gaze, Rina glanced up. The king's wrinkled face tightened:   "I'll manage of you later," he growled, turning his attention to the witches.   Rina rolled her eyes - and Dorian felt like laughing again .  Gestures like that – rolling her eyes, shrugging her shoulders – reminded her that Rina was only a 15-year-old teenager.   Even though she sometimes – often – seemed older than her age. "Whatever," Rina muttered and emptied her teacup.  

Manon glanced up, but Rina avoided eye contact.   And Manon had time to lower her attention back to her fingers before Dorian could catch the golden eyes.  

"Now that we are all gathered together again," the king opened the meeting,   "We could pick up where we left off yesterday... because of the interruption."  

Rina snorted, but otherwise did not express her contempt for underestimating the king. Dorian kept his face to the basics.  

The Bluebloods and Yellowlegs matron turned their attention to the king, as did their heirs.   Manon still kept her eyes in her hands and her grandmother... the gaze of cruel eyes remained on Rina, even though the king had begun to speak and explain his plans.  

Rina carefully lowered her teacup in front of her and raised her gaze, meeting her great-grandmother's gaze.   Both had a nerve-wrackingly similar expression on their faces. Cold, commanding - both of their faces shone with an order to submit to the other's position of power.   It was war. A silent debate between two powerful personalities.  

Dorian tried to keep up with the conversation, but at the same time kept an eye on the silent fight between Rina and Blackbeaks matron.   Manon glanced at the situation out of the corner of her eye.   Her face was stoned, but Dorian knew the witch so well that she recognized the panic smoldering in her golden eyes .  Asterin moved restlessly next to the windows.   There was a nasty, swollen wound on her face. Dorian didn't want to know what the consequence it was.   Or what kind of injuries Manon might have had on his body that Dorian didn't see.  

Almost half an hour had passed in the meeting – no one had died and no real fight had ensued – Rina and the Blackbeak matron were still fighting each other when the king mentioned something about the wyverns' qualities.  

This made Rina laugh sneeringly and interrupted one of the king's advisors in the middle of the report.   Rina didn't take her eyes off Manon's grandmother when she said: "Stupid creatures. They only know how to kill and destroy,"   She smiled at the matron. Dorian heard the veiled insult.   The heir of the Yellowlegs grunted, while the other three witches – the two matrons and the heir of Blueblood – ignored Rina's words.   Manon didn't even seem to have heard. The eyes of the Blackbeak highwitch witch flashed. Rina's smile widened.  

The king grumbled, "They don't need to know anything else."   Three council members nodded, and one said, "They're no smarter than dogs."  

Rina snorted. "Wyverns could be intelligent if they were given the opportunity to be intelligent."  

One of the council members snorted. Rina tilted her head and her smile faded .  When she spoke again, there was a new blade in the words, a new blow that was aimed directly at the king:   "So you want brainless air force that obey without question and destroy everything in their path?"  

Manon lifted his eyes from his hands and glanced sharply at the King of Adralan, hearing Rina's comment.   And she wasn't the only one. The second openly glared at the king.   The other two heirs looked indignant. Only the faces of the matrons remained expressionless.  

"You may find at some point that this war is not won by murderous tendencies. That's not enough,"   Rina said quietly, addressing the king, but still staring straight into the Blackbeaks matron eyes.  

A hint of a smile crossed the old witch's face.   The corners of Rina's mouth tightened slightly. The king growled:   "People die in war," he said, glaring at Rina. "It's a risk that is worth taking for the sake of our country."  

Rina lifted her chin. "They die for nothing."  

The king's fist slammed on the table. "Enough of this nonsense! ” Dorian's father groaned. "That's the only way to protect Adralan!"  

One of the councillors cleared his throat. "I don't know, my king," said the old nobleman cautiously.  “ Maybe we should think about this again..."   The king's gaze silenced him. Dorian leaned back in his chair and smiled a little at his father's flushed face.   "Rina's words make sense," she remarked casually and crossed her arms to her chest . "A real threat has still not been detected at the border."  

That was the last straw. The chair creaked against the floor as the king sprang to his feet and spat words out of his mouth:  “ Dorian and the three of you, in my office. Now!" he commanded and then his eyes fell on Rina.   There was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "And you stay there."  

Rina's exterior was cracked. She broke her eye contact with the Blackbeaks matron to look at the king.   It was a single movement, small and in many situations insignificant - but in that moment it revealed something essential.  

Rina didn't want to stay alone with witches.  

"I..." Rina opened her mouth, but then fell silent and turned her attention to her teacup, her cheeks pale.   A smile had risen on the lips of the Blackbeak matron. It was a cruel snake's smile.   A predator who had just sensed the blood of her prey.  

Chills ran down Dorian's spine. The King of Adralan smiled. "Do you have a problem?"  

Rina grimaced. "I guess not," she glanced up, "you're the one destroying your own kingdom."  

One of the guards snorted, but suppressed the sound when she saw the king's burning gaze as she turned towards the hall in search of the culprit .  When there was no more laughter, she turned back towards Rina.   "No matter what you try, it won't work, Rina," the old king growled.  

Rina smiled slightly. "It's funny," she met the king's gaze, "it seems to me that I have already succeeded."  

The king grunted something vague and then marched out of the hall, beckoning half of the guards with him. "What does he imagine?"   Rina snorted, watching her grandfather leave dramatically . “ Does he think the birds will attack him in the hallway? Or the roof tiles?" she tilted his head, "They're dangerous."  

Dorian sighed and stood up.   Chaol behind him moved restlessly. Dorian glanced over his shoulder at his friend and their eyes met.   Chaol nodded slightly. Some of Dorian's worries lifted from his shoulders with that nod.   Chaol would stay in the hall and protect Rina as best he could. But would that be enough?  

Dorian glanced at the witches, whose eyes were fixed on Rina. The matrons smiled. It was a horrible sight.   The heirs watched the situation vigilantly, but curiosity was clearly visible in the eyes of both of them.   And Manon... Manon stared at her grandmother. She didn't look at Dorian. Definitely not Rina.  She kept an eye on her grandmother. The face was expressionless, but the eyes... but in her golden eyes burned with a barely restrained anger and panic.  

Dorian swallowed with difficulty and stood up.  He knew he couldn't stay in the hall. He should follow his father and find out if Rina had really made the nobles hesitate to go to war in earnest.   And at the same time, he should make sure that the king of Adralan does not punish Rina because of her words .   

The creaking of the chair against the floor made Manon's gaze turn to Dorian in a flash.   Are you serious about leaving,  the golden gaze seemed to be asking as it hit to him. Dorian couldn't face it head-on . She would now have to trust Chaoli and that the witches would respect the agreement with the king enough not to kill Rina right away.  

Dorian took a deep breath and put one of his hands on the back of Rina's chair.   "Are you okay?" he asked, which made the girl glance up. Rina crossed her arms to her chest and shrugged her shoulders.   "If “okay” means, will I survive to tell about my experiences to future generations,"   Rina bit her lower lip, "yes. I think I'll be okay."  

The heir to the Yellowlegs laughed softly. "You can always hope for that, little one," the witch purred.  

Manon glanced sharply at Yellowleg, but said nothing .  Rina also looked at the witch. She looked at her, smiled sarcastically, and turned her gaze away, causing a flash of rage in the eyes of the heir of the Yellowlegs.  “ Good gods, this is going to be fun," she muttered half-aloud to her teacup.  

"Go now, prince," Bluebloods matron hissed in a nervously bright but dangerous voice.  “ Your father starts to wonder where you left off. ” Dorian's hand from the back of Rina's chair fell to his side.  

The Blackbeaks matron said, without even glancing at Dorian:  “ We'll keep an eye on your daughter. "   The old witch emphasized the word your daughter.  

Dorian was left with little choice.  

Casting one more glance at Rina, who was glaring at her cup of tea, and Chaoli, who was standing steadfastly behind her as a shelter, Dorian headed towards the doors of the hall.  He sensed Manon's gaze on her back asshe stepped into the hallway, leaving Rina alone - for the first time - with witches.  

:::::::  

This was a nightmare.  

Rina sat in her chair and looked at her cup of tea with great interest, avoiding the gaze of the witches staring at her.  

The guards moved uselessly in their places, unsure if they should somehow protect their princess from the monsters staring at her. After all, she was one of them.  

Manon could not judge them. Not entirely.  She herself struggled with her own instincts and the duties she obeyed.   Protect the matron, her mind demand. Protect the descendant, she instinctively shouted.   Manon was unable to make a decision. She could only sit still and watch the situation.   Iron nails bit into the wooden armrests of the chair.  

The captain of the guard remained a silent shadow behind Rina.   Manon didn't know if she would really protect her daughter - Manon's witchling! - grandmother's rage, if the situation called for it.  

Rina glanced towards the doors, sucking on her lower lip at the same time.   The girl's posture was in a slump and she looked somewhat bored with the situation .  For anyone else, a glance at the doors would have only signaled boredom.   To Manon... Rina mapped out the escape routes.   And it seemed that she wasn't the only one who had noticed the same.  

Manon's grandmother chuckled softly and leaned back in her chair. "Are you considering running away, little one?"  

Rina glanced up and met the matron's gaze quickly, before looking at her teacup again.   "I'll keep my options open," she said and adjusted her position until she sat up straight again.  “ I have to finish few essays before next Tuesday, and Professor Crawford can't excuse any explanation lighter than death."  

Manon blinked her eyes and then glanced at her grandmother.   Had Rina just complained to them her... homework ? She spoke to the witches in a casual way, as if their presence was completely normal to her.  Manon didn't know if it was practiced indifference or an attempt to confuse.  

Either way, the choice of topic made the witches glance at each other quickly. As if they doubted the mental health of the girl sitting in front of them. Rina smiled. "That is, if," she emphasized the word "if," "You're not going to kill me - which would be unfortunate -" Rina stood up, "I have better things to do than sit here with my mouth shut for the rest of the day."  

The grandmother tilted her head gracefully, like a lioness preparing to pounce on the prey.   "Are you leaving already?" Blackbeaks matron purred and stood up, like a snake preparing for an attack. Gracefully. Flexibly.  

The guards moved. The captain of guard took a step forward .  

The witches react to the threat with lightning speed.  

The seconds next to the windows bared their iron teeth.   In an instant, Iskra and Petrah were behind their matrons for protection, their iron nails bare, ready for battle.  

Manon found herself on her feet, reaching for the Wind Cleaver from her belt, only to remember that it was in her room in the other wing of the castle.  She had pushed it under the mattress of her bed to safety, having first cleansed it of the stench of human fear the night before.  

Rina's hands squeezed the back of the chair as she looked at the hall and the witches and soldiers preparing for battle . "Impressive," she finally said to the Blackbeaks matron . “ I rarely get a room ready for battle in half a second." Rina flashed a smile to grandmother that didn't reach her eyes.  Blackbeaks matron responded to Rina's grin with his own cold smile.  

"Witches protect each other against imminent threat," Grandmother's smile widened.   "We protect the backs of our sisters. But who's watching your back, little one?"  

Manon was startled when she heard the nickname – remembering that she herself used the same name for Rina before she was born.  

Rina glanced around, made a quick conclusion and shrugged her shoulders. "I have to admit that I have nothing to brag about in that area."  

Grandmother laughed. Rina replied with a look on her face, which wasn't really a smile but more of a grimace.   "You know, I've been thinking about a few things in the last few days," Blackbeaks high witch said.   Rina raised one of her eyebrows. "Should I care what has been on your mind?"  

Manon's grandmother's face showed a hint of irritation. Rina smiled . “ Maybe you should," Grandmother breathed and made a long groove in the wooden table with her iron nail.   "I've been wondering how a girl who looks just like my heir can not know she's a witch?"  

Rina sucked her lower lip between her teeth and looked exaggeratedly thoughtful. The grandmother's expression darkened. Manon sensed the rage smoldering inside her matron.  

"I don't know," Rina finally say after a long pause for thought .   "It came as much of a surprise to me as it did to you. ” Grandma's smile tightened, but before she could say anything, Rina continued:"You know, I've been thinking about something too," she grinned and Manon anticipated the worst.   Her hands trembled against her sides. Iron nails glistened in the sunlight filtering into the hall.   If there was a battle, who would she defend?   Her grandmother – so that she wouldn't avenge Manon's treachery on thirteen – or Rina – her own daughter, her own witchling – who wouldn't necessarily want her protection?  

"How Blackbeak clan matron can’t no know that her heir has a daughter? I mean," Rina half-carelessly pointed at Manon, "Aren't you as disciplined and obedient as you want everyone to imagine?"  

Manon's grandmother grunted and crouched, as if preparing to leap.  “ It has nothing to do with this," she growled lowly.   Iron nails sank into the wood. Manon took a supportive posture from the ground . She sensed the look of Asterin on her back, who was asking the same question she was thinking. Which one are we protecting?  

"I feel like it's related," Rina said casually and stepped away from behind her chair. "Essentially."  

Blackbeaks matron followed Rina's movements, walking at the same pace the table. Bluebloods matron and heir wisely swerved out of the way, while the grandmother stalked her prey.  

"Do you have problems with your clan's administration?" Rina asked lightly, smiling softly. "Is power starting to spiral out of your hands?" Manon couldn't move. It was as if her feet were nailed to the floor.  

This would not end well! This was not good...  

"You don't know anything about anything, stupid girl!"   Grandmother snapped. The iron nails scratched long scratches on the surface of the table as they went.   Rina's smile turned vicious. It was Manon's smile.   The smile of a predator who had just managed to wound her prey.   And the sight of it — Manon's smile on Rina's face — seemed to make the matron completely furious.  

"Maybe not," Rina hummed. "Maybe not. But you seem to know. Which one would your clan follow if you and your heirs ended up fighting for power?"  

Matron bared her teeth. Manon couldn't move.  She sensed the gazes of the two heirs and the matrons – judgmental and hostile – in herself.  

"Little princess," Grandmother finally snorted contemptuously.   "Didn't your father once mention that your mother was a witch? ”  The grandmother didn't even try to cover up her interrogation with cunning words anymore. Rina laughed.  “ No," she said. "The only times my father said anything about my mother were the times she told me I resembled her."  

Rina stopped at the end of the table at the same moment as the Blackbeaks matron.   They stood facing each other—a maiden and a crone—with no wooden table between them, now only air. Rina's smile faded slightly and she glanced – almost glanced – at Manon.  She didn't quite look. Rather, she just moved her head towards to her.   "I don't know if it was a compliment or not." Rina turned to smile at the Blackbeak high witch.  

Grandmother didn't look at Manon. She kept her eyes on Rina when a new smile appeared on her lips . The next question struck Manon out of her lungs of the air. "Do you hate your mother because of what she did? Because she abandoned you?"  

Rina moved slightly. Hardly apparently.  She jerked back as if she had been hit.   It was just a small movement, and Manon wasn't sure if anyone else had noticed.  

Rina's cheeks, which had been pale before, now turned red . “ Why should I hate a person whose name I don't even know," Rina breathed . Manon's stomach twisted. But the next words were to make her fall to her  almost knees: "She doesn't mean so much to me that I hate her."  

The air between Blackbeaks matron and Rina seemed to be electrifying. They were standing barely an arm's length apart.   "You, on the other hand..." Rina said thoughtfully, looking at the matron, "don't give me a reason to hate you."  

A smile flashed in the corner of Grandmother's mouth.   "Is that supposed to scare me?" Rina was not overwhelmed. She didn't look away. She didn't smile anymore . There was a piercing gaze in her eyes – Manon didn't know if her grandmother could see their true colours under the enchantment - as if she was trying to see something that was invisible to others.  

"I don't know if you should ," she hummed softly.   Rina didn't fully focus her gaze on the matriarch's eyes. No.  She looked more at his forehead than trying... as if trying to see her thoughts . And suddenly Manon remembered what Dorian had said. Said about Rina's telepathic abilities... was Rina currently trying to read her grandmother's mind?  

"But," Rina said slowly. A smile rose on the corners of her mouth, "you're already afraid of me."  

It happened in a fraction of a second. Manon jerked forward when she saw the rage distort her grandmother's face.  She heard Asterin grunted as the Blackbeaks matron's hand rose to punch and... it didn't have time to hit Rina, because - almost as quickly - Rina's own hand rushed forward and closed around the wrist of the Blackbeak matron.  

Everyone in the hall stopped. Witches, guards... Rina and Grandmother.  

They were now facing each other .  Faces only inches apart. Rina was only a few centimeters shorter than the matron.   Manon had stiffened in place. She stared at the events with horror and... and with mixed feelings of pride.   Her brave - stupid - but brave daughter. How could Manon protect her from this?  

"How dare you?" the grandmother growled against Rina's face. "How you..."  

"We both know how my existence affects the balance of power between you and your heir,"   Rina hissed back. "I'm not stupid. I've been playing in politics since I was eight years old.   And I'm good at that game." Rina grinned. "Are you, great-grandmother?"  

The sound that escaped Manon's grandmother's throat was something between a growl and a scream of rage.   Faster than the snake strikes, Grandmother's hand had squeezed around Rina's free wrist and pulled her closer.  

A panicked breath escaped Rina's throat, but she quickly hid her fear. Grandmother snarled at Rina's face.  “ Cheeky, stupid girl!" she growled, "Maybe your grandfather should have thrown you out into the street as a child. Maybe then we would all have been spared your existence."  

Rina smiled sarcastically and tried to pull her wrist out of the matron's grip without success.  “ If you want to kill me, take a queue number. Before you seems to be his majesty himself, a few nobles, and a fence full of wyverns."  

Manon wasn't entirely sure if she had heard correctly .  The answer also seemed to confuse the grandmother so much that Rina managed to twist her wrist out of her grip and let go of the hand she was holding.   Grandmother's confusion barely lasted two seconds, but by the time she resigned herself to the absurdity of Rina's words, Rina herself had already jumped out of reach grandmother's iron nails.  

"I've always thought that family is the worst," Rina nodded to the witches . She didn't even glance at Manon, "that just reinforced the impression."   The Princess of Adralan made an impeccable bow, spun on her heels and strided out of the hall.  

The captain of the guard waited for a moment and then went after her, waving his hand the useless soldiers leaving out the hall with him. Soon only the witches were inside.  

Manon couldn't help the sigh of relief that erupted from his lungs as the hall emptied.   It caught the her grandmother's attention.   Or maybe she was just waiting for this moment for the witches to stay alone in the hall, because she was in a split second attacking Manon.  

With two steps, the grandmother was in front of Manon and, without warning, the matron's fist sank into her stomach.   Air burst from Manon's lungs from the force of the blow. The next blow hit her ribs, sending sharp pain into Manon's body . The final blow hit her in the face, knocking Manon to her knees on the ground for gasps.  

Manon didn't have much time to breathe. Sharp nails sank into her scalp - tearing her hair - as Grandmother pulled Manon's head backwards.   Baring her throat. The grandmother literally spat out the words as she growled:  “ You're disappointing me Manon! You didn't even manage to give birth to a proper witchling!"  

Manon took a sharp breath into her lungs and prepared to give a sharp answer, but a cough shook her body.   Grandmother's face was filled with rage and disgust as she let go of her hair and let Manon's head fall.   The old witch turned on her heels and marched out of the hall. Bluebloods and the Yellowlegs went after her.  

Only Manon remained in the hall. And Asterin.   The beautiful, cheeky, loyal Asterin, who knelt next to Manon and gently raised her head to examine the damage done by her grandmother.  “ It could have been worse," Asterin said, after examining her injury. "She could have killed you."  

"She hates me," Manon whispered. They both knew that Manon didn't mean her grandmother.   Asterin sighed and squeezed Manon's shoulder. "She dosen’t hate you," Asterin said softly.   Manon made a bitter sound - the voice was something between a sob and a chuckle.  

"Don't care. She doesn't care about me,"   Manon stood up, taking support from a table that had been ruined by her grandmother.   Asterin supported her on the other side. "After all, it's better than hate. She will give you a chance."  

Manon glanced at his cousin suspiciously. "How did you conclude that? ” Asterin smiled sadly. "She keeps her options open . Don't you notice? She tests you. See what you do?"  

Manon raised one of her eyebrows and then shook Asterin off, but .. .” Do you think she'll give me a chance?"   the question was hesitant, the part of Manon that she tried to hide as best she could.  

Asterin grinned. "She already did. Now you just have to prove yourself to her." Manon shook her head and sighed . "May the three-faces godess help me," she muttered, but then pulled herself together.  

A confrontation between Rina and her grandmother would have consequences.   Manon did not doubt for a moment that her grandmother would take revenge on Rina for today's humiliation at the opportunity.  

"I have new commandments for thirteen, ”  Manon said and turned towards Asterin. The cousin raised her eyebrows questioningly.   "I want Rina to be guarded. Around the clock. One of the thirteen must always be on her heels, no matter where she goes. And they have to be discreet."  

Asterin smiled and bowed slightly.  “ As you command, m’lady," she said. Manon smiled, even though the movement hurt her face . Blue blood ran down her chin.  

The grandmother would be foolish if she imagined Manon leaving her daughter to her fate. And Rina... Rina wouldn't necessarily want any of the thirteen near her. But Manon wasn't going to let her foolish, brave daughter die because of her stubbornness.  

After all, that trait was inherited from Manon.  

:::::::  

The office of the King of Adralan smelled of blood and tears.  

The king sat behind his desk. Opposite him was the Blackbeaks matron.  

High witch looked around the large study, looking for the source of the smell of blood. The smell was so fresh that one could have imagined there was a corpse behind the door. But there were no bodies in the room .  Through the large windows behind the king, the setting sun could be seen, which stained the horizon the color of human blood. If Manonia was to believe – and the matron was inclined to doubt her heir's words – that girl's blood would also be of the same hue.  

The walls were lined with bookshelves and glass display cases.   One display case seemed to have a selection of different weapons and the other armor. None of them had been used for a while.  

"I'm glad you agreed to meet me, high witch," the King of Adralan said. The Blackbeak matron turned her gaze to him.   The man was old, but in good shape for his age. The hair was gray in places and in the corners of the eyes, and there were numerous wrinkles around the mouth. The king would not rule for much longer.  

Which meant that Manon's pet would soon take the crown from him.   And it could destroy all the plans carefully prepared by the Matron.   But Manon alone seemed to cause definite destruction regarding her schemes. As if Asterini wasn't already bad enough.  

Not to mention... Child. The girl was a problem. A big problem.  

"We have a common problem," Blackbeaks matron replied. The king growled in unanimity and then struck the table with her fist.  “ Rina has been wreaking havoc in my kingdom for the past seven years! The people are on the verge of rebellion, and my own advisers are beginning to suspect that it is time for the prince to take my place! ” The king's black eyes burned with rage – a rage that the matron could exploit if she wanted to.  

She glanced around, again looking for the source of the smell of blood. "Will beating her help her keep her mouth shut?"  

The king shook his head and sighed in frustration. "Not significantly. On the contrary, it feeds her will to fight!"  

To her chagrin, the matron had to find out that the girl had really come to her mother. She not only bore the golden eyes of the Valgi kings and the beauty of Manon.   Both were weapons when used correctly. No.   The girl had also inherited her granddaughter's will to fight, which she had spent the last hundred years defeating and controlling.  

There had been moments when Manon had slipped out of her grip, but she had always regained control of her . With such a powerful witch, with such a legacy as Manon, it was important to keep under control.  

But girl... she carried the same bloodline as Manon.  She was not only the heir of the kingdom of human. The girl was Manon's heir.  Heir to the kingdom of Corcha. The girl's existence destroyed everything she had worked for for centuries.  

"She has stirred up your own people against you,"   Matron said now, and crossed her iron-clawed fingers in her lap. "And you can't control her. ” They were not questions. They were statements, a summary of what the man had said.  

The king grunted in agreement. The Blackbeaks matron ones were smiling. Then she leaned closer and hissed . “ Give the girl to me," the king met her gaze. Blackbeak matron ones bared her iron teeth. "I'm going to break the girl."  

For a long time it was completely silent. The king stared at her .  He considered it. Blackbeak matron's nails curled at the mere thought of having the girl in her hands again.   To break that stubborn and fearless gaze.  

"I wish it were that easy," the king finally sighed in frustration and leaned back in his large office chair.   "But Rina has too much influence in Adralan. Her disappearance would wake up... attention."  

The king seemed to be thinking about something.  

Matron squinted her eyes.   "Your Majesty seems to be considering something."  

The King of Adralan nodded. He was silent for a moment and then said:  “ When you witches leave to the White Fang Mountain at the end of the negotiations, you take Rina with you."  

The Blackbeaks matron felt a smile rise on the corners of her mouth. "So are we still going to form an alliance?"  

The king answered her smile. Perhaps he had been as handsome as his son when he was younger.   "As long as I am king, Adralan will go to war. Most of the nobles are still on my side, and that's enough to get the others to join in."  

Matron chuckled softly. "And when your war is won..."  

"I'll help you defeat the other two matrons," the king nodded.  “ And you can do whatever you want with Rina. Kill, torture – anything, as long as she breaks. My rule depends on it."  

Blackbeaks high witch tilted her head. She kept her face expressionless, but inside she rejoiced. "Then I guess we have an agreement."  

A pitch-black raven sitting on the window board flapped its wings and rose into the darkening sky. It wobbled slightly as it flew, as if every flap of its wings had caused pain.  

Chapter Text

Chapter 7  

“One track mind, one track heart 
If I fail, I'll fall apart 
Maybe it is all a test 
'Cause, I feel like I'm the worst 
So I always act like I'm the best.” 

Oh no! 
Marina and Diamonds 

Dorian's day had started badly. And it only seemed to get worse as the sun made its slow journey across the sky. 

It was not enough that he had argued with his father and the council members for half a day.  

And even that wasn't enough what he had heard that had happened in the meeting hall between Rina and the witches after they had left. The king had looked furious – probably because Rina had managed to escape the situation before anyone was hurt. He was hardly bothered by the thought that the cruel Blackbeaks matron had assaulted the Princess of Adralan. 

Dorian had felt as if he had swallowed hot nails as he listened to Chaol's account of what had happened. Chaol had personally escorted Rina to his rooms after the events and left five of his soldiers behind the door on guard. The gods knew that it was of no use. 

It shouldn't be witches outside or Rina inside.  

So yes. Dorian's day had been horrible.  

But not something bad, if not something good. Dorian didn't know what Rina had done right, but the elders of the council had begun to hesitate to go to war. For fifteen years, the king had been planning an attack on Terrasen. And in fifteen years, someone had always started to hesitate. Never so many that it would have stopped the plans, but always someone who was relevant to the attack. 

After leaving his father's office - the king had thrown him and the council members out and claimed that he wanted to think in peace - Dorian had first headed to the ring with Chaol . He needed something to do with his hands so that he wouldn't accidentally kill someone. And above all, he longed for a distraction.  

So that he would stop thinking about Manon and Rina, at least for a moment.  

Chaol had made sure that Dorian couldn't think of anything for an hour.  

Dorian had just left the ring when a messenger brought an urgent message from his mother. The Queen asked her son to see her immediately. Dorian had changed his clothes with a gloomy mind, tied his sword to Damaris's belt - as if it would be helpful against his mother – and wandered across the corridors of the palace to his mother's rooms. 

"Witch, Dorian! Are you a fool?" Queen Georgiane had shouted as soon as Dorian had entered the door. 

Dorian had sighed inwardly and prepared for a quarrel similar to the one he had had with his father. But the Queen's approach had been different. "Do you realize how difficult it is to get Rina to marry well when the news spreads?" Sometimes Dorian forgot how narrow-minded and limited his mother was. In the morning, he had wanted to kill his father. Now he wanted to grant the Queen the same fate. And as if the first comment hadn't yet put Dorian in a killing mood, the next one from the queen did. 

"And more importantly, can she have male descendants?"  

So. Those were the most important questions in this situation . How would Rina's revealed family background affect the possibilities of marriage and Havilliard's heirs.  

"Don't you think it's convenient that the future queen of Adralan is immortal?" Dorian had asked coolly, and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. The Queen had snorted and smoothed the hem of her silk dress with her other hand. "Don’t be silly, Dorian," The queen spoke to him like a little child, "That girl will never be queen." 

Queen Georgiane had not noticed how the frost had spread to the window panes and covered the surfaces of the mirrors. Dorian had bitten his teeth and forced his magic powers to retreat. The conversation that followed had been one of the most difficult for Dorian, and after that he wasn't even sure if his mother was blind or simply didn't understand what Rina's family background meant. 

The difficulty of marriages and heirs was just the tip of the iceberg.  

Dorian's temples were throbbing with an incipient headache. It was his mother's fault. For the past ten years, talking to the Queen had always caused his headaches. 

Dorian pushed open the door to his rooms and stepped in. He rubbed his forehead and shuffled through his living room to the door of his bedroom. He had just laid his hand on the doorknob when some instinct warned him. 

There was already someone in the room! Dorian immediately became alert.  

The magic inside him rose to its hind legs, ready to defend itself against the invisible enemy. Dorian took a deep breath and forced the power inside him to calm down. 

The only person who could be in his room was the only person Dorian wanted to meet at that moment.  

So he pushed the handle down and stepped into his bedroom. The air was fresh and the night was cooled by the winds. The balcony doors were wide open, even though Dorian knew he had closed them before leaving. He stepped into his room and closed the door softly behind him. 

The pungent smell of lilacs and night dew wafted from outside. Dorian walked softly across the cold floor and stopped at the threshold of the balcony. The blue curtains moved in the gentle breeze. Dorian took a deep breath and stepped through the curtains. 

There was no white-haired, golden-eyed, red-caped witch standing on the balcony. No. Rina sat on the railing and wiggled her bare toes above on nothing. At some point, she had changed her clothes. The dress was gone and had been replaced by a soft purple sweater and black velvet pants. Her long hair flowed free and curly in the night wind. 

The air gushed from Dorian's lungs in a sigh—he had hoped to be able to speak to Manon before this conversation—and stepped onto the balcony. He didn't ask how Rina had gotten to the balcony. The ravens sitting on the roof of the castle already answered that question. They always sought out Rina's vicinity. Instead, Dorian asked, "Are you okay?” He leaned his elbow on the stone railing and breathed in the scent of spring. 

Rina didn't answer. She looked at the horizon and squeezed the stone railing so that the bones of her knuckles were clearly visible under the skin . Dorian wasn't sure, but he could have sworn that the stone would give way under Rina's hands.  

“I asked," Rina said to the horizon and the setting sun. "I fucking asked. Not once. Not twice. I fucking asked dozens of times and you didn't say anything!" The last sentence was almost a scream. Rina turned to look at Dorian. Eyes of different colors shone with tears that had not yet been able to flow freely. 

Dorian didn't try to touch Rina. He knew that it would only have made the girl furious. Instead, he straightened his back, steeled himself and met his daughter's gaze. "I promised your mother that I wouldn't tell you anything," Dorian said, lowering his chin a little. "She demanded that I never tell you who she was." 

Rina's eyes flashed. Like a cat, she sat crouched down on the balcony railing. “ She's not my mother!" Rina snapped. "She lost that right when she abandoned me!"  

It was a slap in the face to Dorian. He took a step back, staring at Rina, who pressed her pale fingers against the stone railing. Dorian had a picture in his mind of Manon—in his final moments on the balcony before she turned her back on Rina—pressing a gentle kiss on her daughter's forehead to say goodbye. First shock and then it was replaced by incredulous rage. 

"Is that what you believe?" Dorian asked quietly. "Do you believe that she abandoned you?" Rina bared her teeth and looked more like a wild animal than a princess at that moment. "What gives a mother a reason to abandon her child and give him away like a pet?" Rina hissed. “She gave me away when I was a baby. She didn't want me!" Rina's voice rose. She shouted, and before Dorian could think about it, he found himself shouting back. 

"He didn't abandon you! Never!" His voice scared the ravens from the edge of the roof. They rose in the night sky, like a sign of death. 

Rina's eyes burned with rage. She jumped down from the balcony railing and stepped in front of her father, her hands at her sides in fists. "Where was she then?" Rina screamed in response. "She gave me away! Or are you saying that she had a good reason to get rid of me?" 

"She protected you!" Dorian replied, with raising his voice, drowning out Rina's protests. "How do you feel?" Rina shouted louder than Dorian. 

The floor beneath them began to freeze. The stone cracked as the temperature dropped. Frost flowers were drawn on the window panes. The petals of the plants in the garden turned brown. They died of frost bites. 

Rina's fingertips glowed with a pale light. The ravens that had flown away earlier had come back and were now ruffling their feathers on the roof of Dorian's tower. Their eyes were fixed on him. 

Dorian couldn't really concentrate on all this. At that moment, all she could see was Rina. Her own daughter. Manon's daughter. What they had created together. And Rina had the nerve to accuse her mother of disregard. Dorian had seen the pain on Manon's face as she had given her daughter away. Left, even though little Rina cried for her for hours. 

"How would you imagine?" Dorian snapped back . "Your mother wanted to keep you away from her grandmother!"  

Rina jerked away. She flinched – as if in pain – and changed her position. The reddened cheeks turned pale. She blinked her eyes and then wrapped her arms around her. "Why?” This question didn't sound so offensive anymore. Dorian sighed and relaxed his shoulders, although at any moment he was ready to continue arguing. “She believed you wouldn't be safe in her world." 

Rina blinked her eyes again and then turned her head away. Sh e swallowed. She wiped the tear that had fallen on her cheek.  

The ice under their feet melts. The flowers that were still alive revived. The ravens were relaxing on the ridge of the roof. 

Dorian waited for a moment, but when Rina didn't say anything, she stepped forward and put his hand on his daughter's shoulders. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer: "She believed you would have a better life with me." 

Rinan pulled her shoulders free from Dorian's grip and marched past him through the curtains into his room . Dorian followed after a deep sigh.  

Rina had sat down on his bed and crossed her arms and ankles. There were new tears on her cheeks, which Rina tried to wipe away in a hurry. Dorian walked across the room and stayed leaning on his desk. He removed the sword from his belt and opened his coat, trying to shake off the day's burdens. 

"I don't understand," Rina finally burst into conversation. "Why was it so important that I didn't know about her? In a way, I understand why she thought it was better for me to grow up here - but why was she so particular that I wouldn't find out who she was?" 

Dorian took off his overcoat and threw it on the back of his chair. “For the whole story, you have to ask Manon. I don't know. But she told me that you shouldn't start looking for her. And she knew that you would seek her out if you knew who she was." 

Rina snorted, but did not deny it. Dorian watched as he thought about what he had just heard, frowned, and parted his lips. "Manon," she said quietly, as if tasting the name. 

"Is that her name? Manon?"  

Dorian was astonished. For a moment he couldn't get a word out of his mouth. Rina glanced at her with raised eyebrows. "Didn't you know Manon's name?" Dorian had assumed that Rina would know, but... 

Rina snorted. "It's not in the genes, ” she muttered. There was a blade in the words, but Dorian couldn't help but smile a little. "I didn't realize you didn't know."  

Rina shook her head, looking mocking. "I didn't know anything about her just two days ago," she noted. Dorian felt his smile fade. “Rina," she began, but Rina interrupted her in the bud. "Dad," she snapped and stood up, wringing her arms, “Manon is unknown to me. She is neither my mother than a random passer-by." 

Dorian put one hand in his pocket and rested the other on the back of his chair. "But she gave birth to you.” As if it meant anything in the end, Dorian realized the moment the words left his mouth. “It doesn't matter a shit. She's never been a part of my life!" Rina snapped. "How old was I when she gave me away? Six months? Eight?" 

Dorian shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He had never told exactly how old Rina had been when she arrived at the castle. No. Dorian realized, he had never even mentioned that Rina had been somewhere else before she arrived in Adralan. Oh fuck... "You were two months old," he sighed and turned his head in the other direction. 

Rina was silent. She stared at Dorian. Dorian saw it, they venture to glance at their daughter's expression. There was a blank stare in her eyes. "All the more reason," Rina finally said vehemently. "Manon," she grimaced as she said the name, "hasn't been in my life since..." 

"She came to see you!" Dorian interrupted. Rina met his gaze. The big eyes blinked once. Twice. She didn't say anything. Dorian continued. "When you were eight months old, she visited you," she said quietly. "You were so little that you probably don't remember it, but I know Manon visited you." 

Rina didn't look convinced. "How do you know that?" she asked sarcastically. “Did she visit you too?" Dorian ignored Rina's tone of voice. He smiled slightly. "You told me." Rina hadn't expected that. "What?" 

Dorian laughed softly, leaped across the room and crouched down in front of his daughter. Their eyes were at the same height. "You transferred your memories and feelings to the minds of others when you were little. It became less frequent as you learned to speak better." 

Rina never transferred her things directly to the recipient's mind anymore. It was both reassuring and sad. As Rina moved her thoughts directly to Dorian's head, Dorian had felt that they had been connected. But Rina had become more and more withdrawn the older she grew. 

"I had forgotten about it," Rina muttered quietly. "I haven't done that in a while." She pulled one knee against her chest and rested her chin on it. Dorian smiled sadly. "You didn't say a word until you turned two. The Queen thought I was imperfect." 

It had the desired effect. Rina laughed. "Don't say that she doesn't still think so."  

Dorian responded to Rina's smile. "True. But nowadays, fewer people believe your grandma's claims."  

Rina's smile faded and she bit her lower lip. She glanced towards the balcony before turning her gaze back to Dorian. "Manon's grandmother hates me." She finally said. Tintlessly. It didn't come as a real surprise, but Dorian still felt a surge of rage again. "Did she hurt you?" he asked, instead of letting his anger show at the events of the morning. 

Rina shrugged her shoulders. “No. But Gods forbid, she would have wanted to." She grinned a little. "I got out of the situation with a few bruises." She shook the sleeve of her purple sweater down and revealed a impressively mark on her left wrist. Dorian distinguished the outline of the fingers. A new outburst of rage. His magic was answered with a roar. Thirsty for revenge. 

"Calm down, Dad," Rina snorted and shook her sleeve over the bruise. “It disappears before morning." Dorian placed his hand on Rina's arm before she could hide her injury. He gently squeezed his hand around Rina's bruised wrist and gave his magic a different command than destroying the Blackbeaks matron. The bruise began to heal. Faded until it disappeared completely. 

Rina looked grumpy. "I could have done that myself," she said as she pulled her wrist out of her dad's grip. "But thank you anyway. I guess." Rina added, as if only then had she remembered manners.  

Dorian laughed softly and stood up. He sat down next to Rina on the bed. "Why didn't you do it yourself?" he asked and started to take off his shoes. 

Rina rolled her eyes and looked away. "I've had a few other things to think about," she said evasively. It was nothing new. Rina had always been bad at accepting help. 

Dorian kicked off his shoes. “Do you have a plan for the future?" he asked in a conversational tone and crossed his legs. Rina hummed something vague and moved her shoulders. "I'll avoid all witches as best I can until they disappear?" 

Dorian sighed. "You should talk to Manon," he said. Rina's expression darkened. "I'm not supposed to talk to her," she pointed out sharply, glancing at Dorian out of the corner of her eye. "You want me to talk to her." 

"Don't you think she deserves a chance to explain," Dorian caught his daughter's eye. Rina snorted and pressed her forehead against her knee so that her black hair fell between them to obstruct their vision. "What if I don't want to talk to her?" 

Dorian raised his eyebrows to his daughter, even though she couldn't see it. "I don't believe that. ” Rina didn't say anything. Dorian smiled. "Give her a chance. And don't be too cruel."  

Rina raised her head. "I'm never too cruel." Dorian smiled cynically. "And the sky is green." Rina rolled her eyes before hiding her face behind her hair curtain again. Dorian looked at Rina for a moment, until it became clear that she had nothing left to say. 

Dorian filled his lungs with air and stood up. "Do you want me to read to you? We could both need something else to think about."  

Rina looked up, surprised by the question. After looking at her dad for a moment and concluding that he wasn't joking, Rina nodded her head. She threw herself on her back on Dorian's bed, whined – as if in pain – and turned on her stomach. "As long as they are not school reports," she announced, glancing at Dorian over his shoulder. 

Dorian couldn't help but smile.Rina hated all the reports she had to read about Adralan's financial and political situation. Not that they were popular with Dorian either. 

"No reports," he assured.  

This time, Rina responded to his smile.  

::::::  

Manon didn't want anyone to know where she was going.  

The sun had just set behind the hills behind the Rifthold when Manon grabbed her ironwood broom, which was leaning against the wall.   The movement put a strain on her bruised side, but she didn't care about the pain.   Manon should do this. She had postponed the forthcoming debate long enough.  

Leaving the meeting room with Asterin, Manon had noticed that her grandmother had taken most of her coven with her.   Only Sorrel and Vesta were waiting in the corridor, they apparently demanding permission to stay.   Adralan's soldiers watched them as Manon took the lead—Asterin right behind her—and led her witches out of the corridor out of human hearing reach.  

As soon as they turned the corner, Sorrel grabbed Manon by the sleeve.   "What happened?"  s he asked quietly, picking up her pace to walk alongside Manon.   "We saw Rina running by, but we didn't understand why..."   Asterin grunted low and caught the attention of the third.   "The Matron attacked our little one."  

Sorrel's eyes flashed and Vesta muttered a curse.   Manon didn't say anything. Just moved forward, rewinding the events in the hall.  She couldn't do anything. Just to watch from the sidelines as Grandmother tried to hit Rina... to hit her witchling!   No matter how Manon tried to think about the situation from any angle, she realized that there was nothing she could have done. By doing so, she would have betrayed her grandmother and sentenced her coven and possibly herself to death.  

Manon's position was already at stake anyway and only as an heir did she have real power to influence at least something.   Even if her grandmother would hardly trust her judgments anymore. The goddess knew if she had ever trusted.  

“Vesta,”   Manon quietly called the red-haired witch who was walking behind the them to walk beside her.   Sorrel saw it as a hint to move from her to guard her back.   Asterin stayed on Manon's heels like a shadow.  

"I want one of the thirteen to be on Rina's heels around the clock as long as we stay. And you must remain invisible, unless the situation requires otherwise, ”   Manon announced in a low voice as they passed a new group of soldiers.   The men glanced at them nervously, and Vesta flashed them an iron-toothed smile before asking in a whisper:   "Do I tell one of the Shadows to watch her?"   Manon nodded.   “ Three-hour shifts. Tell others about the commandment."   Vesta bowed her head and hurried ahead of Manon, Asterin, and Sorrel.   After the red-haired witch disappeared around the corner of the corridor, Asterin and Sorrelin positioned themselves on either side of Manon and adjusted their steps to the beat of her feet.  

"What are you going to do now?"   Asterin muttered quietly. Sorrel remained silent, but listened carefully. Manon just sighed. “ I have to speak to whit Dorian tonight. We need to figure out what to do in this situation."  

Mano didn't need to say more. Sorrel and Asterin understood what she meant by a few words. They nodded in understanding.    

So here Manon was. She crouched on her windowsill and waited for the sun to disappear completely beyond the horizon.  She had pulled her red cloak over the end of her hood and clutched her broom, ready to leap into the wind.  

Manon had told Asterin and Sorrel to keep an eye on her room so that no one would try to enter during the next hour.   Manon didn't think anyone would try.   The grandmother met with two other Matrons and if she wanted to talk to Manon, she would just invite him to her place . A few minutes ago, Edda had come to report on Rina's situation after she had switched shifts with Ghislaine.  

The girl was in her own room. Or at least Edda hadn't seen her come out.   Edda had emphasized the point that she hadn't even stepped foot into Adralan's princess's room. When Manon asked why, Edda had raised her eyebrows:   "It's her territory, Manon. I don't think she would miss an intruder."  

And Manon had told them to remain undetected.   Rina was a witch after all – no matter how humane she behaved in public.   So Manon had nodded and sent the Edda to bed.  

The last rays of the sun disappeared behind the hills.   The moon had risen in the sky before, but only now its light silvered the earth. In a few nights, it would be full.  

Manon got up on her broom and jumped out of her window.  She flew with a gentle breeze past the castle, chasing the shadows to stay hidden.  She was already familiar with the route. From shadow to shadow, higher and higher Manon circled into the castle, heading towards the tower of Dorian.  

The first stars had lit up in the dark blue sky, when Manon reached the balcony.   Supple like a cat, she descended from her broom and jumped off the railing.  She lowered her iron broom to lean on the railing. It felt familiar .  All of this felt familiar. The balcony, the falling night - even the curtains in the color of the dark night sky, fluttering in the gentle and lilac-scented wind.   The balcony doors were open.  

Had Dorian been waiting for her?  

Manon quickly shook off the thought. What if there were? What difference would it make... it would matter far too much!  

Manon filled her lungs with the night air, held her breath - did not allow herself to hesitate - and stepped through the curtains into the prince's bedroom.  

The room behind the curtains was dark. Not a single candle burned.   The only light in the room came from behind Manon, through the open curtains.  She had two scents in the air. The smell of Dorian's familiar and the smell of another... another equally familiar scent.  

A scent that evoked so many emotions in Manon at once that they alone were about to blow the oxygen out of her lungs. Frost and sun-warmed leaves.  

Rina.  

So Edda had been wrong. Rina was not in her room. Instead... instead... She was... here...  

In Dorian's room. In his bed .  Suddenly extinguished candles made sense. The silver beam of the moon illuminated the figure curled up on a large four-poster bed.   Rina wasn't wearing her red dress, but a purple sweater and black pants.   She slept on her stomach in her father's bed, snuffle and hugged the pillow.   The sight was... it was... Manon's heart pounded against her aching ribs as she searched for the right word.  

The sight was sweet.  

Rina—her little Rina—whom she barely always recognized in the meeting room, looked like just that little witchling who had agreed to sleep only in Manon's arms.  She got annoyed if she didn't get enough attention from her mother.  She only cried when the others were so stupid that they didn't realize what she wanted.  

For the first time in many years, Manon really recognized his daughter. For a moment, she was overcome by the happiness of seeing Rina so calm. And then reality hit her.  She had not been able to protect Rina. Not from her grandmother, as she had promised herself years ago.  

Grandmother tried to hit Rina today. And she would have done something much worse if she had been given the opportunity . And Manon hadn't intervened. She had not defended her descendant as her instincts dictated.  

She had left Rina to her fate . She had left her one to face the fury of the Matrons.   What could she do?   As a result of her grandmother's betrayal, everyone important to Manon would die, including Rina.   Was that the only way to really protect Rina? To stay on the sidelines and watch the grandmother become more and more violent in her anger. In the end, she would hurt Rina.  

Manon hadn't realized she was stepping closer until the moonlight disappeared, the curtains swaying into place . The lack of light did not bother Manon. She could see as well in the dark as people could in the sunlight.  

She approached the bed with light steps, and stopped behind the end of the bed.   Manon had noticed that Dorian was not there.  She had left a moment ago. Judging by the smell, it was only minutes ago.   And she had left Rina to sleep soundly in her bed.  

Rina didn't sleep like witches.   Not lightly, one eye open .  The girl could have been thought dead without the snorting and the slow lifting of her back.   Manon clasped her arms around the headboard, unable to take her eyes off her daughter.  

Her hair was no longer straight like in a meeting. They were naturally curly.   Manon had forgotten that Rina had inherited Dorian's curly hair.   A cloud of black curls made Rina look younger.   More vulnerable.   And every instinct of Manon demanded that she stay there. To protect Rina from all dangers.  

She moved her leg, took a firmer position on the ground as her body responded to the demands of her instincts.   Manon should protect her descendant.   Her other shoe creaked.   Manon took a shaky breath into her lungs, trying to calm herself and her instincts.  She hadn't come here because of Rina.  She was here to talk to Dorian.   Maybe she should leave or go to the lounge to wait for the princeling to return... anything, but she should let Rina continue to sleep.  

Manon sighed deeply and took one more look at her daughter's sleeping face.   Only to notice that her eyes of different colors were open and her gaze, clouded by sleep, tried to focus on her.  

"I hope you have something to do, and don't just stare at me sleeping, because otherwise this is pretty horrible." Rina yawned and sat up, stretching.  

She rubbed her eyes and tried to refocus her gaze on Manon. Rina blinked her eyes. Once. Twice. One eyebrow rose.   "Oh," Rina said, and could hear the dissatisfaction in her voice. "It's you."  

Who she had been waiting for was Manon's first unspoken question.   But before she could decide whether to ask it or not, Rina moved . She got out of bed, rubbing her neck, and leapt past Maoni as if she were a piece of furniture.  

Confused, Manon turned around to watch her daughter as she made her stride to her father's desk.  

Rina pulled one of the candles closer and then started rummaging through the boxes, clearly looking for something.  

Manon raised her eyebrows when Rina moments later triumphantly picked up a matchbox from the desk drawer. "Can't you see easily in the dark?"  

Rina was about to drop her match.  

She glanced over her shoulder – as if surprised that Manon was still there – and then looked at the box she was holding.  “ I..." She began, hesitated, and then moved her shoulders slightly, shrugging her shoulders.   "So what?" Rina pulled herself together and snorted.  She grabbed a match and scraped a flame on the wick. "I do this out of habit."  

Out of habit... Manon leaned against the pillar of Dorian's bed, keeping a close eye on Rina's every move.   The girl moved smoothly. She did her job quickly, her shoulders stiff. Was she nervous?  

Rina blew out the match.   Then she picked up the candle in her hand and turned towards Manon with a suspicious look on her face.  

"What do you want?" the question wasn't exactly rude, but Rina's tone of voice immediately made Manon defensive.   "It's probably none of your business," she said, directing the full force of her golden eyes at Rina.   Manon wasn't used to the fact that her actions... questioned.   The look didn't make the girl back away. Not even startled.  

Rina raised her eyebrows. "You're at my home," she pointed out sharply.   "That's my business. I don't appreciate sneaking around."  

Manon smiled. "So you say." Rina's cheeks flushed endearingly, and Manon couldn't help but grin.  “ It's a different matter," the girl defended herself and stroked a strand of black hair behind her ear. "I live here!"  

Manon sighed. That's how it lived. In that sense, it was a different matter.    

"I'm here to meet Dorian," Manon said, observing Rina's reaction.   The girl rested her feet on the ground, as if ready for battle . Manon held back a small snort. The girl had not been properly trained.  

Rina leaned too much on her right leg, Manon noticed.   At best, the combat training of humans was mediocre compared to the combat training of witches . Rina would not survive a melee against the witch.  

Rina smiled and raised her candle as a shield between herself and Manon.  “ You could guess that," she said rudely.   "That would be a logical explanation for why you sneak in here in the middle of the night. But as you can see," Rina waved her hand, "he's not there."  

Manon nodded her head lightly. "I did notice it," she said . “ Can you tell me where he has gone?" Manon and Rina's eyes met .  A golden, unyielding gaze met another, equally unyielding one.   Rina shrugged her shoulders again. "Chaol went to pick him up a while ago.   The king reportedly called." Rina smiled tiredly. "No doubt the soldiers noticed that I had once again escaped from my own room."  

Manon tilted her head and looked at her daughter as curiosity took over caution.   "How do you do that?" she asked, catching Rina's eye.  “ How can you move so discreetly."  

Rina hadn't been trained for that, Manon was sure about that.   No matter how Rina slipped from one place to another without anyone noticing, she had come up with a way to do it herself.  

Rina's smile sharpened and for a moment Manon felt as if she was looking in the mirror.   A distorting mirror that reflected her as she had been when she was fifteen.   On the other hand, she would never have dared to smile at her grandmother like that. Threateningly. Mockingly. Mischievously.  

Rina patted her lips and winked. "A profession secret," she said calmly.  “ I'm happy to keep such things to myself."  

Manon laughed forcefully and straightened her back.  She crossed her arms at her chest and took a sturdy crotch position from the ground. “ But Dorian knows,” it wasn't a question. That was a statement .  Rina's mouth position was enough of an answer. "He know," she admitted, smiling painfully.  “ He knows many things about me. Including that."  

They stared at each other. Golden eyes for two different pairs.   Rina's eyes wandered. At times, it slipped between Manon's eyebrows, and Rina's expression became focused.  

Manon knew what she was trying. And let her try.  

"I don't understand," she finally blurted out, staring at Manon with a confused look.   Rina didn't seem to realize how openly she expressed her feeling.   Manon raised her other corner. "What do you see in my mind ?”  Once again, she was curious. Not really angry.   If Rina really could just slip into another person's mind and read minds... it would save Manon from having to explain.   Rina could simply see all of her thoughts and motives.  

Rina's gaze landed on her eyes. Her expression had closed almost as quickly as it had opened. "Nothing," she said tonelessly, raising her candle higher, illuminating a larger area of darkness. "I can't see into your mind."  

Manon blinked her eyes. Was that a good thing? Or bad?   Rina couldn't see into her mind. What could be the reason for that? "Can't you see into my mind?"  she repeated. It was the question.  Rina shook her head, her expression petrified. "No," she confirmed. "Do you think I'd bother talking to you if I knew what you're thinking?"  

Manon left the statement at its own value.   Rina continued, staring at Manon, looking more irritated by the moment.   It's like she's trying to get into her head. And failed every time . "Dad has told you about my abilities," it sounded almost like an accusation. "How much do you know?" That was a demand.  

Manon sighed, keeping her eyes fixed on his daughter. Rinan looked ready for battle.   "Some of them I already knew. Dorian told me about the rest." Rina looked angry.    

"She had no right..." she muttered, broke eye contact and lowered her gaze to her bare feet. "No justice..."  

Manon dared to take a step closer. To gently stretch out her hand... Rina acted lightning fast . She backed away so that a leather office chair was left between the two of them.   Manon stopped and stayed to observe Rina, while she did the same. "You don't want me near you," Manon finally said.  

Rina squeezed the back of the leather seat. "Why would I want to?" It hurt .  It hit so deep that for a moment Manon felt as if Rina had stabbed her.   Manon took a hissing breath and straightened her back, as if from the blow of a whip.  

"Understand that you're probably angry," Manon began, gritting her teeth so as not to start shouting.   Pain or anger, she wasn't sure. "But let me..."  

"Explain, huh?" Rina interrupted and bared her teeth.   "I'm sorry now, but it's too late. I won't do anything with your explanation."  

Manon stiffened. She swallowed hard and clenched her fists. Her nails sank into her palms.  “ So you hate me?" Manon asked. She felt her iron teeth fall into place.   Their flash in the candlelight didn't make much of an impression on Rina.  

Rina laughed bitterly. "You don't mean so much to me that I'd hate .  And what does it matter anyway?"  she continued, and this time the smile on her face was not Manon's anymore.   It was her grandmother's. "You were gone for fifteen – almost sixteen years. What do you care about, what do I think of you?"  

Pain spilled inside Manon. And then rage.   Rina smiled at her. She knew she had hit the target. Manon bared her teeth . “ I stayed away to protect you!" she snapped before he could restrain herself.  She was trembling, both in pain and in rage. "I stayed away so that you stayed safe! And you say..."  

"Will keep me safe?" Rina interrupted with a shrill voice. She was trembling too.   Was it rage? Or something else. "From your grandmother, huh? Well, in that case, you failed!   You just sat by and watched as she tried to hit me! If you're trying to protect me, you've got a weird way of showing it!"  

Mano's iron claws flashed into view.   Her fingers bent into the grip of the beast. "Do you think I don't know that! ” She hissed in response. "Do you think I don't know I've failed! ”  Manon shook her head and took a step back. "I did everything—absolutely everything, to keep you safe!"   Manon felt treacherous tears behind her eyes, but she forced herself to swallow her tears . She wouldn't let Rina see how much she affected her feelings.   "Everything," she emphasized the word, "was meant to keep you safe!   I stayed away! I gave you to Dorian! Enchantment – it was all meant to keep you safe and hidden from my grandmother!"  

But the rest of the sentence seemed to have been left unheard by Rina. The girl had stiffened motionless, like a statue when Manon had mentioned the enchantment.  

"Enchantment?" she asked. The tone of voice was different. No more angry - confused. "What a enchantment?"  

Manon stared at Rina and then glanced around the room. "Didn't Dorian tell you?"  

"Told me what?" Rina asked.  She seemed to have completely forgotten about the previous conversation. She was still trembling. She was upset. "What a charm? What are you talking about?"   Rina asked fiercely and stepped forward, eyes wide open. Dorian hadn't told her.  

Manon shook her head and stepped closer in turn.   "He really didn't tell you," she said quietly, realizing the situation .  Dorian had hidden something essential from Rina. And now Rina wanted to know everything.  “ What is it about?" The girl asked. Not angrily – not even confused anymore. Rina was terrified.  

Manon swallowed. She wondered what she could explain and opened her mouth to say something when the door swung open and Dorian rushed in.   The black hair was messed up. The pants had been pulled on hastily.  

"What's going on here?" Dorian asked, stopping in the middle of the room, clearly surprised by the situation he had found himself in.  

Manon didn't have time to say anything—just look at the princeling staring at her—before Rina's voice demanded their attention.  

"What enchantment is Manon talking about, Dad?"  

Dorian stiffened on the threshold.  

::::::  

Dorian had heard the raised voices all the way to the corridor and rushed in twice without consideration . Fortunately, he had been alone. Chaol had wanted to escort Dorian to his room after an argument with his father, but Dorian had told his friend to go to bed.  

He managed to get to his room without help.  

Dorian's father had invited Dorian to his study shortly after Rina had fallen asleep.   Dorian had just been about to wash himself and after that read a few chapters of his book before going to bed, when Chaol knocked lightly on his door and announced that the king had demanded that Dorian come to his rooms immediately.  

Dorian had been swearing quietly to himself as he pulled his pants back on and shuffled alongside Chaoli to his father's rooms.  

The ensuing conversation with the king had caused Dorian to grit his teeth.  

"Did you really invite me here just because you don't know where Rina is?"   Dorian had been tired, far too tired to pretend to be polite.   The king had looked murderous.  “ The girl has slipped away again! Aren't you afraid that the witches have taken her?"  

Dorian believed that there were thirteen witches in this castle who would tear the entrepreneurs into many small pieces.   And enjoy every second. He said:   "Rina is in my room. She's sleeping."  

This made the king quiet. Dorian had grinned tiredly.   "If you don't have anything else," he said, turning his back on his father, "I'll go to bed myself. ” He should be rested the next day.  

"Wait, prince!"   Dorian was already at the door when the king's voice stopped him. He glanced over his shoulder irritably and met his father's dark gaze.  Father looked serious. "I've seen that witch before, haven't I? ” Dorian's stomach dropped. The king continued, "He was your companion fifteen years ago, at the Harvest Dances."  

Dorian kept his expression in check. His hand squeezed around the door handle so tightly that it was a miracle that the metal didn't twist in his grip .  "I don't know what you're talking about,"   Dorian groaned with gritted teeth. The king did not smile, but his eyes flashed.   As if Dorian's reaction had confirmed his guess. Dorian wanted to strangle him.   "Of course not," father said. There was a shadow on his face. "Go."  

And Dorian had obeyed. He had marched into the hallway and had almost bumped into Chaol, who had been waiting outside the apartment, visibly worried.   Dorian had seen a question on his face, but had silenced the captain of the guard before he could open his mouth.   "Go to bed, Chaol,"   He had asked - commanded. He had to think about this. To think about what his father's words meant. Him. To Manon. To Rina...  

Chaol had resisted, and Dorian's head had begun to ache as the headache intensified. It took a while—too long—to get Chaol to go to his rooms and leave Doria alone.  

And now this.  

Rina and Manon in his room.  

Rina stood in front of his office chair, a candle in her shaking hand. Manon stood a meter away from her, a slightly accusing look in her golden eyes.  

"What enchantmen?" Rina asked, her voice raised to falsetto, her eyes fixed on Dorian.   Oh fuck! Oh fuck, fuck... He had been supposed to tell her a long time ago ! But too much had happened, too fast, and he... he had forgotten.  

And because of that forgetfulness, Rina stared at him with a look of pure disbelief and a betrayed person.   "What enchantment?" Rina repeated, her voice breaking. The flame of the candle in her hand flickered. React to her feelings.  

"Rina," Dorian began, raising an invisible shield around him. If Rina's strength got out of control...  

"I was supposed to tell you a long time ago, but..."  

"What enchantmen?" Rina trembled. "What have you done?"  

Dorian glanced at Manon, who was standing behind Rina with an unexamined expression. Her mouth was squeezed into a tight line.   The message from the eyes was clear. This is your fight, the witch seemed to say.   Dorian took a deep breath and met his daughter's gaze.  

"It was the same day I got you. You were small and... You could see that you weren't human. Not entirely, ”  Dorian took a step closer to Rina, his hands raised. Rina's lower lip trembled.   There was a desperate look in her eyes. "You could see from me that I wasn't... human?" Rina's voice was nerve-wrackingly steady.   But she was shaking. She was shaking and the shaking was getting worse..."I enchanted you," Dorian said quietly.   "I enchanted your face. Everyone saw only what they expected."  

Rina's whole body stiffened. In an instant, she became ice.   His eyes stared at Dorian openly. Expressionless.   Even the candle flame seemed to have stopped. Outside, the voice of ravens could be heard.  

"So I don't show..." she referred to herself, "Like this.   I can't see myself... right?" The words were faltering.   Rina stuttered and fell silent, her voice cracking. Dorian shook his head slowly.   "Back then, in the meeting room, the matrons saw your face. Or at least some version of them,"   he took another step closer and but Manon's expression stopped him.  

There was a warning in the golden eyes. Don't step closer, the witch said silently. Dorian didn't know if it was a precaution or Manon's overprotection.  

Rina breathed shallowly. With quick breaths. "Undo it," the words were scarcely more than a whisper. "Undo the enchantment."  

Dorian's blood turned to ice. There was something in Rina's face that he didn't understand. Something more than horror and frenzy.   Her nostrils widened and contracted as she gasped like a wild animal sensing danger. "Undo the enchantment!" Rina commanded – asked, prayed – again.  

Dorian didn't look at Manon—he was staring only at Rina—as he slowly shook his head.  

The candle slipped from Rina's fingers, hit the floor and went out. Darkness fell on the room.  

A sound escaped Rina's throat that was something between screaming in terror and sobbing. And faster than Dorian's eye could discern, Rina rushed towards him.   With his teeth bare, her fingers bent, as if she were going to rip open Dorian's throat with her bare hands. Her eyes shone with sheer animalistic rage.  

Dorian didn't have time to back down or strengthen his protege spell when Manon moved.   Like the wind. Like an attacking snake. Just as fast as her daughter, Manon lunged and squeezed her arms around Rina's forearms.  

"Calm down!" Manon grumbled with her iron teeth bare, pulling Rina away from her father. "He can't!   Dorian can't uncast the enchantment because you control it now!" Rina didn't seem to hear.  She struggled in Manon's ironclad grip. Her eyes were fixed on Dorian. Her... to her prey. Dorian had never seen Rina like this. Completely lost her self-control.  

Manon really had to use force to restrain Rina so that she wouldn't kill her father.  

A hiss erupted from Manon's lips as she pulled Rina back.   Rina threw her head back and responded to the hiss with a low growl.   The voice was cold and purring, like that of a big feline beast.  

And it seemed to finally wake Rina back to reality.  

Her mouth opened. She gasped. Her eyes blinked. Once. Twice. Rina stared at Dorian, her mouth open, frozen.   Her body was stiff and Manon was still clenching her arms against her body.  She didn't let go of her grip. Before there was certainty – the certainty that Rina had mastered herself again.  

"Oh," Rina whispered. Her legs gave way and she collapsed against Manon. Manon prevented her daughter from collapsing on the floor .  Supported her entire weight in her arms.   Pressed her tightly against her chest, her gaze closed in her golden eyes. She knew - she knew that when Rina woke up from the stupor of her rage, she would push Manon away. Without hesitation.  

"I... I..." Rina stammered.   There was terror in her eyes—terror directed inward. She clung to Manon like a drowning.   As if she were the only fixed thing in the stormy sea.  

Dorian let his shield fall and carefully took a step forward. Manon didn't stop him.   All his attention was on his daughter. Dorian crouched down and met her gaze.   He wiped the black hair from her face pale with terror.  “ I didn't realize it was affecting you," Dorian said in a soft, quiet voice. Manon glanced at him quickly, but said nothing.  

Dorian continued: "I would have undone the enchantemn long ago if I could have .  But I haven't controlled it for years."   Rina's wandering and blurred gaze finally turned to Dorian. And sharpened.   Dorian took a deep breath. "You control it, little one. You've ruled for the last five years. ” Rina stared at him. Her eyes filled with tears.  

"No!" Rina pushed Manon further away and the witch let go.  She stepped away. Rina stumbled backwards a few steps towards the door, keeping her eyes on Dorian and Manon.   Her hands trembled as she grabbed the door handle. "I can't..." she stammered. The voice was shaking .  Dorian straightened, "Rina," she tride, but the girl shook her head.  “ I don't want to..." She pushed the handle down. "I don't want to see either of you!"  

And then she was gone. She pulled the door open and rushed out.   Dorian heard her footsteps.   And how the door to his room was pulled open. Rina was gone. Left him and Manon in silence.  

Dorian's chest was tight, and his legs felt as if they could fail at any moment.  

"Oh, Rina," Dorian whispered. His knees had begun to shake.  

Dorian took a few trembling steps towards his bed. He really couldn't stand anymore. He would collapse to the ground at any moment ... Small but powerful hands grabbed his by the forearms and partly led and partly dragged his to the bed.  

Dorian sat down and stared empty in front of him. Manon had stayed standing next to him . Witchling squeezed the end post of the four-poster bed with her white fingers. Witchling stared at the door that Rina had left open when she was fleeing.  

"She's strong," Manon finally muttered - perhaps more to herself than to Dorian. There was pride in the words.   Dorian glanced up and met the witch's golden eyes. "I think she's her mother's daughter," he said gracefully.  

A shadow of a smile crossed Manon's face. Dorian replied with a faint smile. Their eyes locked.  

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Manon was as beautiful as she was fifteen years ago.   The fae Queen's face, white hair, and golden, blazing eyes. How Dorian had missed the witchling in recent years.  

"I've never seen Rina like that," he said quietly, "she's never tried to attack anyone."   At least not seriously. A new hint of a smile crossed the witch's lips.  

Manon tilted her head. Her golden eyes gleamed in the moonlight that came in through the gap between the curtains. Oh Gods, she was beautiful!  

"Rina is a witch," Manon said quietly, gently brushing Dorian's black curly hair.   Dorian leaned against the touch. "Sometimes we lose our temper, ”  Manon said quietly. "We lose control of our own actions," a short pause.  “ Her patience is better than the normal of a witch of her age."  

Dorian smiled faintly. "Rina also has a lot of human qualities." A genuine smile rose on Manon's face now.   Her hand fell lightly from Dorian's hair, onto his cheek.   Manon took a deep breath, staring into Dorian's sapphire blue eyes.   Before the witch could pull her hand away, Dorian pressed it against his cheek. Held her still.  

For a moment, they just stared at each other and let the memories pass between them. So many nights. Dorian remembered every moment.