Ren parted her lips to ask Loa to explain, but Munro walked over and announced, “Next order of business.” He pocketed his phone and pointed at Ren. “We need to make her undying.”
High-handed, arrogant immortal! She clenched her fists. “Whether I want to be or not.”
He told Loa, “I bit another version of Kereny, but she dinna resurrect. So what’s the best play here? Magic?”
“Be careful, Munro.” A shadow crossed Loa’s expression. “Once you start down this road, your only outcome is ruin.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Castle Pyrestone
Capital of the Pravus Rule
“Your only outcome is ruin,” Nïx the Ever-Knowing echoed from thousands of miles away.
When her companions frowned at her words, Nïx blinked to attention and said, “Apologies. I just saw a snippet of a vision, one wave in infinite oceans of them. Two players play their playful parts, their destinies becoming intertwined.” She shrugged, briefly waking Bertil, her pet bat, who was perched on her shoulder. “So, before that, what were we talking about?”
“Your impending execution,” Portia, the Sorceri Queen of Stone, answered from her throne, deep within the granite castle she shared with Emberine, the Queen of Flames.
For some reason, Nïx—the highest-value target in the Vertas—had waltzed right into this Pravus lair. Clad in a dented breastplate, a black miniskirt, and no shoes, she looked a fright; even her bat’s fur was frizzy.
“However shall we finish her off, Portia?” Emberine asked coquettishly. She sat sideways, legs propped up on the arm of her own throne. Yards of crimson silk from her plunging gown bunched around her thighs.
“Torture her first?” Portia answered. “Or get right to the decapitation? We’ll leave the Vertas alliance as headless as their leader.”
The capital’s courtiers—Horde vampires, demons, more Sorceri, and centaurs—clamored at that prospect.
Nïx merrily waved at some she’d met over the centuries, showing no fear, despite how infamous these foes were.
Portia and Emberine alone were two of the most powerful Sorceri alive. Gifted with the ability to manipulate fire, Emberine was as fast as flames and just as volatile. Whenever she experienced intense emotion, varying parts of her body would burn. Portia could control all stone, from gravel to a mountain. Grim Portia was more contemplative than Emberine, but no less feeling—the ground often rumbled from her emotions.
She’d constructed this grand edifice from slabs of granite. Emberine’s lava oozed down the walls inside and out.
“You don’t seem worried, Valkyrie,” Portia observed. Firelight illuminated her stony expression and lent a sheen to her spiky blond hair. “Give Ember and me one reason why we shouldn’t kill you.”
“I will give you exactly zero reasons not to kill me.” Nïx made finger pistols and fired them. Bang bang. Then she blew the imaginary smoke from the barrels. “Instead, I’ll pose a question: What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?”
Emberine cocked her head, sending her fire-red tresses cascading over one shoulder. “Keep it up, Valkyrie. You make even me look like a paragon of sanity.”
Portia added, “It doesn’t matter if you can see the future. What use is that information when you can’t stay focused enough to exploit it?” She sighed. “And you are the leader of our adversaries? I fear this will be a disappointingly short war.”
“Do you still think you’ll war with the Vertas?” Nïx asked. “Or with the Møriør? Because I’m about to offer you the chance to eliminate one of their primordials. In the scenario I mentioned, a giant is the unstoppable force, and one of your mountains is the immovable object. Add some flames, and it will be a popcorn-munching moment for those of you at home!”
Portia asked, “How do you know the Pravus doesn’t have a plan to wipe out the Møriør?”
“Because, little sorceress”—Nïx fluffed her knotted hair—“I’m the Ever-Knowing One.”
“Yet you didn’t foresee your own execution today?”
Instead of answering, Nïx said, “The trick about moneyball is to recruit players that they will never expect you to.”
Emberine frowned. “Who are they?”
“The man,” Nïx murmured meaningfully.
“You’re not fitting sport for an execution,” Emberine said with a pout. “We want the fight we were promised. Off with you. Come back when you’re worthy of our notice.”
Nïx’s gaze took on a faraway look. “Some in the Lore wonder how devoted you two could possibly be to each other, considering your history with the Pravus.”
Emberine rose, her gown rustling as she slinked closer to Portia’s throne. “I’ve changed my mind. No less than a smiting will do tonight.” Her red tresses burned at the ends.
Portia’s lips thinned. “You think that because we’re pure evil, we can’t love?”
“I think that because you love, you can’t be pure evil,” Nïx countered. “Which is why I’m giving you this opportunity. You two will be my giant killers.”
Emberine asked, “Why should we ever ally with you?”
“Because I’ll pay you.”
“Pay?” Interest sparked in the sorceress’s fiery eyes. “With what currency?”
“Death.”
Emberine laughed. Portia gazed on quizzically.
“I’ve foreseen your futures,” Nïx said, all playfulness abruptly gone. “Join forces with me, and both of you will probably die in battle.”
Emberine shared an amused look with Portia, then told Nïx, “Alas, we must decline your gracious invita—”
“Don’t join forces with me,” Nïx interrupted, “and only one of you certainly will.”
That would leave the other to live alone for eternity, a fate more terrible than death.
Portia’s grave gaze met Emberine’s. The ground rumbled beneath their feet; outside, grit fell from the sky like leaden rain. Visible under her pale skin, Emberine’s heart went aflame.
And Nïx knew she’d just recruited two more.
TWENTY-SIX
New Orleans, Louisiana
“Tell me,” Munro said.