A frigid breeze whipped overhead, laden with the soothing scents of dry cotton grass and smoke from wood burning fires. The sky was dark and overcast, but the cobblestone beneath Daana’s feet was bathed in the warm yellow glow from the street lamps that lined the outside of the gathering hall. While she could have blamed the shiver that crawled its way up her spine on the chill night air, Daana knew it was unrelated to the weather. A growing sense of unease churned within her stomach. It twisted her intestines into slippery knots, tugging tighter, tighter, tighter with each agonizing second that passed.

Larkspur Denari, the witch, the rebel, the idealistic revolutionist, possibly mother, stood only paces away wearing an expression of absolute indifference. Nay, it was worse than that. For a second, the sage superior’s mask slipped, and Daana saw utter revulsion burning within her dark, umber eyes. The elf straightened her stance as she inhaled sharply through her nose and said, “And here I thought I’d finally put this behind me.”

Fearful of sounding stupid, Daana said nothing. Alas, it came at the price of merely looking stupid.

“Go on then,” Larkspur said with an impatient flick of her wrist. “Spin your lies. Paint me a picture. Convince me how you’re my long lost daughter, just like all the other fakes that have cropped up over the years.”

All the hours spent rehearsing what she was going to say slipped through Daana’s grasp like loose sand between tightly clenched fingers. Her left shoulder lifted, as if possessing a will of its own. “How?”

“How? You travel all this way and that’s the most you can say? You dare waste my time with a measly how?” Larkspur peered down her nose at Daana, debating whether to use her heel or words to squash her into unrecognizable pulp. The latter won out, for the time being anyway. “You are not the first to turn up on my doorstep claiming to be my long lost child. If money is your intent, I have none. I am also regrettably short of patience. So if you wish to keep your head, remove it from my sight immediately.”

The tips of Daana’s ears burned against the crisp night air. “I don’t want your money!”

“Of course you don’t. No one ever admits that right out of the gate,” Larkspur said with an uncouth roll of her eyes. It looked entirely out of place on someone who was the visual epitome of elven grace and nobility. She shooed Daana away with a halfhearted wave of her hand. “Spare me the theatrics and go away.”

“Ah! Right there! Did you see that? You just rolled your eyes.”

“You are supposed to be roleplaying my child, child. Not the other way around. What of it?”

“It used to drive Uncle–” Daana nearly bit her tongue on the word. Even after months of hating his guts, it was still a hard habit to break. “It used to drive Geralt Lazuli mad. And now I think I know why. Every time I gave him disrespect, all he could see was you.”

“That does not prove anything.”

“Watch!” Daana mimicked the facial expression. “Do you see it? You probably got in just as much trouble for it at the division as I did.”

The disgust burning within Larkspur’s eyes shifted to confusion, laced with the tiniest trace of pity. It was the sort of look typically reserved for two legged dogs and particularly ugly babies. “...You are a very strange elfling.”

“Yeah, I grew up hearing that a lot too.” Daana’s shoulders slumped miserably. Meeting her mother wasn’t anything like she pictured it to be. Already, she could feel the weight of disappointment creeping up from within, threatening to drag her under. “Look, I just want answers, okay? I don’t know if I’m your daughter or not. But Ellisar seemed to think so and Geralt Lazuli told me the same. I’m not here to con you. I just want to know who I am.”

“And why would I be able to tell you that? How would I know who you are?”

“My gods, Ellisar was right. I never thought I’d see the day. You are a bitch.” Daana threw her hands into the air as she spun on her heel, suddenly intent on being anywhere else. A tavern, a hayloft, the bottom of a pig trough, all sounded better than being berated by some stuck-up snob. “Forget it. Obviously I’m just wasting both our time.”

“Wait.”

The sheer force of the command bore down on her like a sledgehammer. Daana hadn’t intended to obey, but her feet betrayed her. She froze mid-step, unable to do little more than set her raised boot onto the ground beside the other to keep from losing her balance and falling over. Clenching her jaw, Daana resolved to keep her back to the sage superior. It was a rather pitiful attempt as far as acts of defiance went, but at least it was something.

Larkspur’s boots scuffed softly against the cobblestone as she approached from behind. She appeared from the corner of Daana’s vision, walking with her hands clasped neatly behind her back. At last, having drawn out her steps in the most aggravating way possible, Larkspur came to a standstill directly in front of her. Her gaze traveled up and down Daana as if she was evaluating a prize heifer. “Did you just call me a bitch?”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Now was probably not the time to inquire whether or not the sage superior’s ears were working. Daana offered another shrug, trying not to draw attention to the sudden sheen of sweat dripping down her brow. “If the shoe fits.”

“Hm.” The start of a smile cut across Larkspur’s sharp mouth. “Now that does sound like me. What’s your age, elfling?”

“Seventy-six?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Considering I don’t even know my real name, let’s consider it an optimistic guess.” Daana’s gaze dropped to her hands, suddenly aware of the stirring sensation beneath her skin. The darkness in her veins could sense the raw magic pouring from Larkspur. It pulled at Daana, urging her to reach out and take it, to feed the hunger gnawing at her from the inside.

Daana took a breath to steady her nerves instead and said, “You were just telling me to leave. Are we doing that or not?”

She didn’t like the way Larkspur’s intense stare bored right through her, rooting out her darkest secrets without having to lift a finger. Finally, with her mouth pinched to the side, the sage superior uttered a single word. “Ren.”

“Blen. Look at that, I can say nonsensical words too. Is that what we’re doing now?” Daana winced the moment the words fled her mouth. That might have been a step too far. Regrettably, the more time you spent around the dredges of society, the more your own propriety tended to slip.

“Ren is what I named my daughter,” Larkspur said. “I will admit, there is some resemblance. Although that nose and those hips did not come from me.”

Un-be-lievable. They had known each other an entire five minutes and her mother was making unwanted comments about her appearance already.

Larkspur stepped closer, cupping Daana’s chin in her hand as she lifted her face, allowing her to peer deep into her eyes. “What sort of witch are you?”

“The terrible kind?” Daana offered. The joke landed as remarkably as she expected it to, prompting her to provide a more substantial answer. “I’m magic-sensitive.”

“Interesting. Then why am I sensing magic?”

Damn. Apparently it was time to move on to that nasty bit of business already. Daana had hoped they could actually talk a little more before explaining why she had sought out her mother’s help. Jerking her head free, Daana drew back the corner of her sleeve and exposed the marred skin underneath. “Because of this I think. It’s the other reason I’m here, actually.”

Larkspur withdrew her hand as if she’d touched a leper. To her credit, at least she didn’t scream or run away. Curiosity piqued, taking care to clasp her hands safely behind her back, the sage superior leaned closer and examined the dark veins writhing beneath Daana’s skin. Her tight-lipped expression was a mix of unease and morbid fascination. “What is it?”

“The remnants of a dark entity. A small piece, anyway.” Daana paused, recalling the name Whisper had used. “Referred to as an old one, I think?”

Larkspur’s gaze lifted from Daana’s wrist to her face. The older elf’s eyes were wide and rimmed in white. “You encountered an old one? And survived? How did it mark you in this way without its power consuming you?”

The intensity of her mother’s stare made Daana want to shy away. Unfortunately, her traitorous feet were still fixed in place. “I didn’t do it by myself. It was a joint effort. Another witch trapped the entity while I channeled its power into a powerstone.”

“Dear gods, child. I have heard rumors of an incident on the Iron Ridge. I even sent my best people into the territories to investigate the wild claims circulating around the Stoneclaw witch, but I have yet to learn anything useful. You were there when it happened? You helped?”

The slight hint of admiration in Larkspur’s voice was enough to pick Daana’s spirits back up off the floor. “You heard about the battle on the mountain?”

“Anyone who is anyone has heard. Every world power is in a mad scramble to find those responsible.” Larkspur lowered her voice, glancing around them as if to check for unexpected eavesdroppers. It seemed like overkill considering it was the middle of the night and the only other people within earshot were the guards, who were keeping a respectable distance. “Do you have it with you, child? The powerstone? I would very much like to see it.”

Daana gripped her wrist, feeling her queasiness start to return. “Uh, no. I don’t have it.”

Larkspur’s dark eyebrows rose high on her head. “It is with the Stoneclaw witch then?”

Those left on the mountain after the battle had agreed it would be best for someone of the unmagical persuasion to keep the powerstone. It was fine by Daana, as she wanted to be nowhere near the damned thing. “I have no idea.” Daana adopted her best look of innocence. “I went into shock shortly after the ordeal. When I awoke the other witch was already gone.”

Carried off by a dragon. Gone. Po-tay-toe. Po-tah-toe. Same difference, as Snag was fond of saying.

“You didn’t inquire about the stone’s whereabouts?”

“Of course I did. But nobody tells me anything.” As she had learned from Ellisar, the best lies were the ones that encompassed a partial truth.

Larkspur’s expression grew unreadable as she drew back, her brown skin illuminated by the flickering lantern light. “Who else was on the mountain with you?”

Crap.

A knowing smile hovered over her mother’s lips. “The stone is with Oralia, of course.”

How? How had she gotten the answer without being told? Quickly, Daana tried to recover some of the ground she had unknowingly lost. “Actually, I’m not sure where the stone is. You would be better off asking–”

“Say no more, child. I understand the need to keep it secret. It would be devastating for something of that magnitude to fall into enemy hands. I have no doubt that my most trusted general is keeping it safe.” Larkspur tilted her head skyward, muttering, “Provided Oralia remembers her place and returns to my side before I am forced to retrieve her myself.”

There wasn’t any way to backpedal now. Daana chose silence instead. After a moment of deep thought, Larkspur offered Daana a soft pat on the shoulder. It felt like the pity touch one gave to a spurned suitor. “I think it would be best to revisit this in the morning, after everyone has had a chance to sleep. Tomorrow you and I can get to know each other better. And you then can tell me all about your adventures on the mountain.”