The Valley of Lies (Lightkeepers #1)

Chapter FIFTY: Ayer

Reflections of candle flames, like tiny trapped stars, flickered along the blade in Ayer's hand. How many times had she dreamed of driving a dagger through Edril's heart? But there would be no satisfaction tonight. His death wouldn't save her, now. Nothing would.

Dev stood across the stage from her, staring blankly out into the ballroom. Although they'd spent the day locked together in Domira's apartments, he hadn't spoken to her. He hadn't even looked at her without Domira telling him to, and she'd only done that while draped across his lap feeding him fruit and wine. The accursed witch was using Ayer's zizhi to manipulate the soulbond. The taste of tainted Yansu magic was unmistakable, tangy and sickly sweet. But Ayer was powerless to save Dev, too.

Edril might have stood a chance against his sister, if he'd actually known where Domira kept Ayer's dragon fire. Of course, none of that mattered anymore. The warlock was a dead man shuffling in slippers and a day old dressing gown.

"What is the meaning of this, Domira? Answer me!"

The witch turned an appraising eye on her disheveled brother, tapping her fingernails on the curve of her hip. "I should think it's obvious, Ed. I forgave your transgressions a century ago, when you thought to make yourself the Darkbanes' hero by putting runes in their hands. But I'll not be fooled twice." She swayed toward him, glaring at the heavy chains around his torso and wrists. "You want to free the elves who made our lives a living hell? You want to make them your subjects? Then you can go to hell with them!"

"What do you plan on doing when I'm gone? You can't purge Ayer's magic forever, and Blackwater is as good as dead without her. Despising the elves won't change the fact that their magic breathes life into the land. If we do nothing about the Darkbane's decline, eventually there will be no food, nothing to drink. The animals will starve faster than you can sacrifice them. Balance is necessary. It's the only viable solution."

"Silence!" Domira screamed. Her wine-soaked breath drifted past Edril, snaking up Ayer's nostrils. "I'll not hear your treasonous excuses. The elves deserve no mercy, and neither do you."

Edril laughed. Was he not afraid of death?

Domira's vivid gaze slid past him. "Ayer, bring my guests to the front. I promised the audience a spectacular view."

Ayer nudged Edril forward with her dagger's pommel, still a bit stunned an imp had placed it in her hand before shoving her into the ballroom. The three chained Darkbane elves moved willingly, their faces as blank as Dev's had been when Domira caught him in the forest. It was anyone's guess whether they knew what was happening, if they were afraid behind their expressionless veneers. Ayer didn't know when they'd been captured, but likely after her failed predawn escape.

Were these the allies Edril had spoken of—? Were they from the valley, too? Their close-fitting, dark clothes would have hidden them well in most forests, from most enemies.

The youngest looked nearly identical to Dev, except his hair was a shade lighter and brushed his shoulders. The female wore a cape, similar to Dev's and just as tattered. A section of the shredded fabric rippled with oddly reflected light when the woman's long braid bounced against it, but Ayer was too edgy to trust her own eyes.

"You missed my sister's little drama, Ayer'lora. The romantic in you would have enjoyed it." Domira raked her nails over Ayer's bare shoulders, leaning past the red gown's slouching, tulle sleeves. Her coarse waves scratched Ayer's skin. "See that angry girl watching us?" She pointed to the dance floor.