Without a singular focus, the Searchers struggled to find a new purpose in the world. Anika was doing her best to hold things together, but she’d met with some resistance from those of her peers who had a different vision for their future.
The nature of the Searchers’ victory created part of the problem. Sabine had been inside Rowan Estate’s library along with Calla Tor and her father, Stephen—the Nightshade alpha—as well as Adne, Shay, Ethan, and Connor. Meanwhile, the other Searchers had remained outside on the estate grounds, battling both the Guardians who’d remained loyal to the Keepers as well as the menagerie of Nether creatures summoned to fight on behalf of their masters.
Until the moment that Shay banished Bosque Mar into the Nether, Searchers were fighting and dying on the other side of the mansion’s walls.
With so many casualties, it wasn’t surprising that new players would rise to fill the vacuum of authority. But from what Ethan had told Sabine, it sounded as though their perpetual politicking and jockeying for power had only made Anika’s role more difficult. Even now the sound of bickering filled Haldis Tactical.
“How did she get there?” A man whose face featured a long, pointed nose and whose salt-and-pepper hair was clipped severely close to his scalp held Anika with an accusing glare.
“I’ve already told you, Holt.” Anika kept her tone even, but her shoulders were tight with anger. “Ariadne is a Weaver. We don’t know why she went to Rowan Estate, but how is obvious.”
Sabine glanced at Ethan, who gave a brief nod to confirm her suspicions. She hadn’t encountered Holt before, but she’d heard plenty about him—and what she’d heard was usually laced with unflattering adjectives. Having taken the place of the Pyralis Guide, another casualty of the war, Holt had quickly earned a reputation for his ambition and his caustic attitude toward Anika’s leadership.
“It’s not obvious when Weavers are meant to be regulated,” Holt objected. “I don’t care what she did in the war. That’s the past and it’s time we all moved on. She shouldn’t be getting special treatment.”
“No one is getting special treatment,” Anika said. “And our primary concern at this moment is Ariadne’s welfare.”
“Her welfare wouldn’t be an issue if she followed the rules,” Holt shot back. “But I’m sure she believes herself above them. Monroe always coddled that girl. It’s no wonder she’s such a spoiled brat.”
Connor took the front of Holt’s shirt in his fists. “Watch yourself, friend.”
Holt shoved Connor away without missing a beat. Whiny as he might seem, Holt obviously had muscle to spare. “And here would be Lolita’s great champion, come to rescue her.”
Ethan grabbed Connor’s shoulder and hauled him back before he could throw a punch.
“That’s enough!” Despite her war-weariness, Anika’s voice was still cold and hard as steel, easily silencing the room.
“Holt, we can discuss your concerns when the Guides meet this evening,” Anika said. “Now isn’t the time.”
“Your will, Anika,” Holt replied stiffly. “Who am I to question the Arrow’s judgment?”
He cast a snide glance at Connor, who was still being firmly held in check by Ethan, before he left the room. Two other Searchers trailed after Holt, and Sabine could only assume they shared his opinions. She grimaced. Anyone who made a habit of gathering cronies had to be bad news.
Ethan let go of Connor. “Holt couldn’t be more of an ass. Don’t let him get to you. He’s not worth it.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Connor growled.
“It’s not,” Ethan said. “But we won’t do Adne any good by brawling.”
“It didn’t have to be a full-on brawl.” Connor cracked his knuckles. “I would have settled for getting one good punch in . . . at least for the time being. And I don’t see how it would hurt, since no one will tell me what the hell happened to Adne.”
He shot a bitter look at Anika.
“You’ll be with her soon enough,” Anika sighed. “Mikaela, please open a door to Rowan Estate.”
The fidgeting girl drew long silver skeins from her belt and began to weave. Though Mikaela had seemed skittish in the face of conflict, as she pulled threads of light through the air, she became utterly possessed by her spellcraft.
Though Sabine had witnessed it many times, the Weavers’ art nevertheless filled her with awe in a way no other magic did. Living among the Searchers had afforded Sabine the opportunity to observe many things about her former enemies, but the truth that struck her most deeply was this: Throughout her life as a Guardian, she’d witnessed Keeper magic time and time again. Their conjurations and summonings had been masterpieces of terror. But not once in all her years serving the Keepers had Sabine felt wonder.
And that was the essence of what separated the two sides of the Witches’ War. The Nether magics of the Keepers relied on fear and domination. The elemental magics of the Searchers manifested in creation and possibility. It was hardly surprising, then, that to draw upon one of these competing sources of power meant forsaking the other.
Watching as the multihued strands of light combined to reveal the hazy image of Rowan Estate’s interior, Sabine found it hard to understand what could compel someone to give up the beauty of the elemental for the grotesque of the Nether. Then again, Sabine couldn’t see the Keepers’ power as anything but repulsive. She knew too intimately its corruptive nature.
“You’ll be met on the other side of the portal,” Anika told them. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other business to attend to.”
“That’s it?” Connor blurted at the Arrow. “You raise the alarm, tell me nothing, and then don’t even bother to see this through—whatever the hell it is?”
“Connor.” Ethan’s voice had a warning note, but Anika lifted her hand to pacify him.
“Of course you’re upset,” Anika told Connor. “And I’m very worried about Adne. I’ll be kept informed about the situation and take any necessary steps as we learn more. But you have to understand, there are other things . . .”
“Sarah, wait!”
Sabine turned as a dark-haired woman with a tear-streaked face rushed into the room. Sarah Doran. The sight of Shay’s mother tied a knot in Sabine’s throat. The look of haunted grief that Sabine remembered from her meeting with Sarah in the Rowan Estate library was still there, but a new expression half covered her sorrow. There was a wild light in Sarah’s eyes and a feverish flush to her cheeks.