The Valley of Lies (Lightkeepers #1)

Chapter TWENTY-FOUR: Ayer

Ayer studied her reflection in the mirror's filmy glass. It was an ancient mirror, and like everything else in the Coven it must have once been beautiful. The frame was ornate but tarnished, made of scrolled metal covered in a speckled green patina. It seemed fitting that she should gaze upon herself through such a time-worn, hazy surface. Like the mirror, Ayer had been neglected and forgotten by the world, by everyone who mattered except her brother.

Once again, she prayed she had not sent Zan to his death. The ends of Blackwater were dangerous, as all border territories were, but perhaps not so volatile as the Coven would be in just a few days. The Revelry was coming, the most gruesome one the triumvirate had thrown since her capture, and the witches would not let her forget it.

After Foswida's little puppet show, Edril had played the hero, escorting her back to her room in the cellar. He had even left her alone for a few hours, as if to prove how magnanimous he was. But Ayer wasn't fooled. Edril would have returned to her eventually, even if she hadn't been inspired to try a different approach with her most dedicated captor. A desperate approach which saw her heading toward his study after another of Domira's tactless suppers.

Ayer frowned at the face staring back at her. Dark stains from the day's taxing work smudged her cheeks, and her hair was a tangled mess. It was hardly an attractive look, especially with the tattered dresses they forced her to wear, but Edril never seemed to care. He looked past these things, if he noticed them at all. His fascination with her went beyond physical appearance. The warlock was captivated by her magic; he wanted it for his own and would do anything to get it. She'd always known this. By now, he had tried a lot of things; his 'experiments,' as his sisters called them. Ayer loathed that word. And yet, here she was, standing paces away from his closed study door, wondering if she had the courage to go through with her plan. A plan she hadn't thought of until Foswida's offhand comments put the kernel of an idea in her head... The idea that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Edril's preoccupation with her than she'd known.

There was no way Zan would return before the Revelry. Even if he found the free Darkbane, it was at least a week's journey to Loradyn from the borderlands, and then he'd need additional time to convince the Yansu to lend the support of their dragons, if they would even agree to it. Dragons and their knight riders could be in Blackwater within a day, but the captive Lightkeepers would be long dead by then, whether by Ayer's own hand or the witches' if she refused their command. The only way Ayer might spare the Lightkeepers and guarantee the safety of her mother's new heir was if she somehow escaped the Coven with her zizhi before the Revelry. She could think of only one dark and twisted path which might lead her to that end, and only one person whose ambitions may have blinded him enough to lead her down it.

"Ayer'lora," a silky voice crooned. Domira's unruly auburn waves appeared in the mirror behind Ayer a moment later. A gleaming smile reflected on the witch's red lips. "Are you admiring yourself again?"

Again? Ayer ignored the esoteric comment, which was one of the Coven leader's favorite pastimes, and stepped away from the mirror. Sometimes it seemed Domira confused her for someone else, or that she regarded all elves as one detestable entity, as though they were a hive mind.

"You're not visiting my batty brother, are you?"

Ayer wasn't sure if she should deny it. If she admitted it, Domira might become suspicious. Both sisters knew Ayer detested Edril immensely, probably because they hated him as well. What they didn't know was that Edril was up to something and had chosen her as his confidante over them.

"Edril told me to meet him in his study." The lie slipped off her tongue with surprising ease. Maybe Ayer was a better actress than she'd realized. She'd certainly had her share of practice over the years.