 
### KAYBREE VERSUS THE ANGELS

### Harrison Paul

Published by Clockwork Cross Press at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Harrison Paul

Revised edition published 2014

This is a work of fiction. All persons or events portrayed herein are fictional or are used fictitiously.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter One: My First Real Vision

Chapter Two: A Sealed Tower

Chapter Three: A Voice from the Dust

Chapter Four: Searching for a Heretic

Chapter Five: Angel Attack

Chapter Six: Waking Up

Chapter Seven: Awkward Silence

Chapter Eight: Runes and Angels

Chapter Nine: Ordinary Swords

Chapter Ten: Stones, Bones, and Sulfur

Chapter Eleven: Sifting Through the Past

Chapter Twelve: Weaving the Mystery

Chapter Thirteen: Water and Wind

Chapter Fourteen: Without the Wings

Chapter Fifteen: Politicians and Crusaders

Chapter Sixteen: A Friend That Can Fly

Chapter Seventeen: Defending Humanity

Chapter Eighteen: Whispers from the Forest

Chapter Nineteen: Songs and Judgments

Chapter Twenty: Relics

Chapter Twenty-One: A Plan

Chapter Twenty-Two: Andreya's Secret

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Girl of Fire and Lightning

About the Author

Connect with Harrison Paul

Links to Other Books by Harrison Paul

Preview: My Very Own Witch Hunter

Acknowledgments

For John, who taught me who I am.

CHAPTER ONE

My First Real Vision

If the bards could be believed, Kant Vakt was a magical place, the site of my mother's battle with the Angels, where gallant warriors wielded ancient relics in mankind's defense. But bards' tales had a reputation of being slippery, told with a wink and a nod, stretching the truth to impress girls with a clever song.

When I first arrived at the city, I had the haunting feeling that this time, the bards were right.

I stood on the deck of the ship as the Sea Pilgrim approached the docks of Kant Vakt. Icy wind whipped at my cloak and dress, making my scarf to flap in the breeze. I leaned on the railing, gazing out at my mother's city. The Sydstrom Channel ran alongside the main road, and dozens of arched stone bridges connected the two sides. Oarsmen rowed their longships through the channel, carrying messages and cargo from one end of the city to the other.

The smells of sea brine and pine mingled in the air with the scents of chimney smoke and roasting meat. A carriage drawn by two rangir with long antlers rolled along the cobblestone street, but the crowd of people was sparse. Having come from the capital, I'd expected more of a welcoming party. I looked over at the far end of the city, toward the dense foliage of the forest. The thick cluster of Nordgren spruces was laden with snow, and blocked my view of the world beyond, where unseen horrors could be lurking.

The border wall came into view, or what was left of it. High stone watchtowers with crownlike tops dotted the borders by the forest. The ruins of the city walls remained where they stood, warped stone and eroded fragments that covered the expanse between towers. This was the Kant Vakt of the stories. Fifteen years ago, the walls had been burned away in a brilliant flash of white fire, pieces of stone exploding and raining down on the city. I shuddered thinking about it. The walls had never been rebuilt—probably because the Angels could just destroy them again if they wanted to.

I remembered my mother's letter. I clutched the parchment close, to keep the ink from smearing. Not that it would have mattered. I'd read the letter enough times to recite it in my sleep. My mother had never sent a letter directly to me, penned in her scribe's own hand, so I had to make sure I wasn't reading it wrong. It was a summons to Kant Vakt.

"In Nordgard, Kaybree, everyone works," my mother had told me each time she'd come to visit. "Peasants labor in the fields. Artisans craft in their workshops. Even kings and princes are expected to undergo rigorous schooling in their youth, followed by an approved apprenticeship. Idleness is not permitted, and all must learn their place. Mine is to defend our borders. Yours is to study at this sagekeep."

Yet after sending me from the longship ports of Arleon to the frigid tundra of Nordgren to the eastern border of Holmgarde, she had never allowed me to even set foot in her city. Sometimes her excuse was my health, since I had a rare disease and needed special blood treatments weekly. Other times she would say that it was too much of a risk to travel to Kant Vakt, because I might get caught in the next attack. So I hadn't asked for a few years, and had grown content to let her visit when she found the chance.

What had changed now?

I disembarked from the ship, stepping out onto wooden docks that seemed to shift as I walked. Maybe my sense of balance was still thrown off by the sea voyage. I looked around at the people, but didn't recognize anyone. My mother's letter had told me she'd send her assistant to find me, but no one came forward to introduce themselves.

Of course, I thought. The ship had arrived late, and she probably hadn't bothered to track its progress. I could have a message sent, but knowing her, something of vital importance to defending Nordgard would take precedence. I would have to go straight to her tower at the sagekeep, and let the porters bring my chests of clothes and other belongings up later.

I waved to an oarsman on the channel and stepped into his longship. Its wooden frame was peaked on the ends, and seemed to glide on the water like a swan. It only had six benches for rowing, and was likely bought from a fisherman to use on the channel.

"Where to?" he asked. He wore a heavy gray cloak and had arms of corded muscle. Another bench was occupied by a younger man, his hands tight on the oars.

"The sagekeep," I said, handing him a few coins. Without a word, he took the coins and began rowing. We passed along the main road, where rangir trotted along with nobles' carriages in tow. Other longships wove around us in the water, more agile and practical in the city than the newer ships with their towering masts and large cargo holds. The ride took less time than I'd expected, and before I knew it, I was stepping onto the steep slope and toward the sagekeep.

I reached the outer courtyard and gazed up at the soaring figure. The sagekeep of Kant Vakt was legendary. Since it had nearly been demolished by the attack of fifteen years ago, the sages had commanded that we build it up again, a fortress that the creatures of the forest would never overthrow. My mother said it was the Angels who destroyed the city, but the sages still said the dark denizens of the forest were responsible. Now that I was here, I could find out for myself.

Two towers flanked the vaulted keep. Arched black spires reached into the skies, their tops lost in the gray clouds, and the entire southern wall was covered in intricate designs. A great circular window was placed at the top of the keep, giving it the appearance of an eye watching over the city. A statue of Giles the Philosopher, the first of the sages, stood at the top, his granite face turned south toward the forest.

I passed a pair of armored guards through the double doors of the sagekeep, entering the high-ceilinged entrance chamber. It opened into a hall that stretched as far as I could see, and voices and footsteps echoed off of its ceiling like the inside of an underground cavern. This was my mother's fortress, where she'd earned the warrior's surname of Staalvoss, or "steel fox."

The other students passed me in the halls, displaying the rugged fashions of the border cities: breeches and collared shirts with sleeveless vests for the boys, and fitted overgowns with slender skirts for the girls. They were all children of nobility, so they kept to the most recent fashions. I preferred the style of Kant Vakt to other places I'd been, with its simplicity and practicality. It struck a nice balance between elegance and freedom of movement, so I could look great while riding or exploring. I smiled at the other girls, glad that my sky blue gown with its draped sleeves fit right in.

I could make it work this time. As long as they didn't find out who I was first.

I took the hall that led to the east tower, searching the walls for some clue as to where I needed to go. Torches lit the halls, their light flickering on the black stone. I'd seen similar layouts in other sagekeeps where I'd lived. Usually each noble house had a relationship with the sages in a certain city, but since my mother tended to offend everyone she met within five minutes, nobody exactly competed for the honor of teaching me. They would put up with me for a few months and send me on to the next city.

I came to an anteroom. A girl about my age stood there next to a sage with stark white hair and deep lines in his face. His robes, dyed wool of a deep blue, told me he must be a teacher; the teachers always wore the richest robes. I studied the girl's attire, noticing the familiar courtly style from the capital: a green v-necked gown with a black kirtle underneath, the gown's skirt flared and laced on the ends. Gold and mother-of-pearl lined her sleeves.

"Take care with these," the ancient sage said, opening the case. "You'll have to hand them out during class today. I'll be there shortly."

"My honor on it, Father Kraus," she said, pushing back a strand of yellow-blonde hair. How long had it taken her to get the crinkly waves just right? "See you in class." The sage left, and the girl pulled something out of the case, twirling it around. "I wonder what this does."

The object she held was a round sphere with carvings on it. It looked like it was made of bone. "Is that a relic?" I asked. I remembered seeing Kraus's name on the class schedule my mother had sent. The relics were ancient objects of power, and she had forbidden me to touch them.

The girl glanced over at me. "Of course it's a relic," she said. "We're using these in class today." She had a pretty face, pouty when frowning and bright when smiling, with full lips and high cheekbones. "Are you someone's servant?"

"No, I'm new here," I said quickly. Why did people always mistake me for a servant? I dressed exactly like a noble. "I just came in today. Mind if I take a look at these?"

She shut the case and gave me a patronizing smile. "Sorry, class only. Unless you have Father Kraus at nine too."

"Actually, I do," I said. "But I'm supposed to report to my—to the Vormund Order first." I decided to withhold my mother's name for now. First impressions were important. "This is my first time here, so I'm still getting used to the sagekeep. Are they in the east wing or the west?"

She looked like she'd swallowed a toad. "What brain disease would make you want to go there?"

"My mother, well, works there."

She peered at me and pursed her lips. "Oh, I see the resemblance. You must be the Witch's daughter." She smirked. "Big creepy eyes included."

I turned a wince into a smile. "Yeah, same eyes," I said. People usually commented on our similar noses, but my eyes betrayed my heritage as well. Depending on the light of the room, they seemed to oscillate between an intense lapis blue and a mild gray, which unnerved some people. I extended my hand. "I'm Kaybree Andresdatter."

She took my hand like it was a dead fish. "Danelle Ambros," she said. "You've probably heard of my parents. They're kind of a big deal back in the capital."

A daughter of House Ambros? My mouth went dry. She wasn't lying; her family owned the most opulent keep I'd ever seen, with towering domes and mirrored chandeliers. No wonder her dress looked like it could ransom a king. "What's an Ambros doing here? I thought all of you stayed in the capital."

"Well, each city deserves something nice to look at."

That seemed an appropriate time to change the subject. "Which tower?"

She waved a hand. "The east one. But don't blame me if you come back in pieces."

"I'll be fine, thank you," I said, feeling a twinge of annoyance. My mother had not saved the human race from the Angels just to be treated like a monster. "If my mother was a Witch, Miss Ambros, I doubt this city would still be standing. I'd think one of noble birth would be less prone to peasants' superstition."

Danelle's composure faltered for a moment, but she regained it with a flip of her hair. She gave my dress a sideways look. "From the way you dress, you must know a great deal about peasants," she said. "No, Miss Andresdatter, Witches do not destroy cities. They control them, and then send the people to their deaths. But I wouldn't expect the uninformed to know that. Perhaps taking classes here will be to your benefit." She stalked away, not looking back at me.

I chided myself for arguing with her. The first student I meet in Kant Vakt, and I decide to get into a fight. And why had I stood up for my mother, when she wouldn't even bother to send someone to meet me at the docks? Perhaps it was because no matter how awful of a mother she was, she still was humanity's only hope. If her work took her away from me, then other people had better appreciate it.

I headed for the black marble staircase at the end of the hall, wondering why my mother would live at the top of a tower. Like so many other things about her, this made no sense at all, unless there was secretly another entrance down below. The staircase ended abruptly at the top, with a door that opened to an outside bridge connecting tower to sagekeep. The bridge had a stone railing to either side, and the entire city was visible from over them. The tower itself was all black stone, glossy and intimidating, like a spike jutting into the sky.

The bridge led inside to a wide chamber with a set of thick metal doors that had no outside handles to pull. "Hello?" I called out, knocking on the door. The metallic ringing echoed in the chamber. I wondered if Danelle had given me the wrong directions.

I caught a glimpse of a placard by the door, emblazoned with the sigil of the Vormund Order, four crimson triangles that each held a bright golden eye. It read: FOR THE GLORY OF GOD, AND THE MIGHT OF THE ANGELS. The inscription sounded pious, but for a group that battled the beings it was praising, I had to wonder if it had a double meaning.

I heard footsteps and turned around. A sage in a brown robe appeared, his arms loaded with bags and his pockets stuffed with books. He couldn't have been older than forty, but his back hunched under the weight of his items. He wiped his spectacles on his robe and glanced around. "I'm sorry, Miss," he said. "Would you happen to know where I am?"

I pointed at the placard. "Are you looking for the Vormund Order?"

The sage pulled out a piece of notepaper. "Vormund? Heavens Above, no, I'm looking for the classrooms. I'm new here, and I'm not accustomed to such an extensive floor plan in a sagekeep. Could you perhaps point me in the right direction?"

"Just a moment." I tore a spare piece of parchment from my class notes and hastily scribed a message to my mother, telling her I had arrived and that I would report to her after classes. I had to meet as many of my classmates as possible before Danelle told them who I was.

We crossed the bridge together, but I glanced back as I saw something flash by. Had it been a raven, or a cloak? I looked around, but no one was there.

I led the sage inside and we took the stairs back down. "This way," I said. "I'm new here too, but I saw the classrooms on the way in. They're on the ground floor."

"Ah, excellent," he said, carrying his bags and clunking down the stairs behind me. "Is this your first day in Kant Vakt as well?"

"Kind of," I said, following him down the stairs. I was born here, but I didn't remember that far back. "I wasn't expecting so many buildings, especially this close to the forest." We reached the bottom of the stairs and he came up alongside me. "By the way, I'm Kaybree." It was customary to use one's given name with the sages. They were supposed to be just as strict with us regardless of which house we belonged to.

He stuffed some papers into a pocket and extended his hand. "Brother Jans Gudsson. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Kaybree."

I shook his hand, relieved he hadn't asked my surname. Because it literally meant "daughter of Andreya," there was no hiding once I said it. "So where did you move from, Brother?"

"Far to the north. You've likely never heard of the place." I'd traveled across all seven realms of Nordgard, so I probably had heard of it, but I didn't correct him. He pulled out a book written completely in runes. "I study the sagas. My superiors decided that allowing me to research in isolation was too antisocial for their taste, so they sent me here. I'll be teaching your history classes, I believe."

"Great," I said. We came to the classrooms, and I saw one with a wooden sign nailed to the open door: FATHER KRAUS, RELICS. "Well, here's my class. I'll see you soon, Brother Jans."

He waved dismissively. "No need for such formality. Jans will do fine."

I smiled as he bounded off. I hope he's still this friendly when he learns my last name.

I entered the classroom slowly, scanning the room for anyone I recognized. The only person I knew stood at the back with the relic box, handing them out to other students. Danelle Ambros. Our instructions were written in chalk on the board: take a relic and wait to be given a task.

I held my breath as I approached, wondering if her anger had subsided. I smiled at her. "Miss Ambros."

She frowned back. "Oh, you."

I cleared my throat. She couldn't be that bad; after all, she'd given me the right directions. "Look, I just wanted to say that—"

Danelle cut me off with a wide smile. "Don't worry about it," she said, picking through the box of relics and setting one on the table in front of her, a small white disc. "I admit I was somewhat rude as well, so why don't we just forget it ever happened?"

"Sure," I said, reaching for the disc. Several pairs of white goatskin gloves sat on the table. "Should I wear gloves? Are these dangerous?"

Danelle rolled her eyes. "The sages make us keep gloves nearby," she said. Nobody else in the room wore gloves. "But you might want to wear them anyway. You never know what might happen."

"Good idea." I slipped on a pair of the soft gloves and picked up the disc. Its weight belied its small size. I nearly breathed a sigh of relief that Danelle wasn't mad at me. The nobles in Kant Vakt might distrust my mother, but that didn't make them soulless monsters. Even I didn't completely trust her. "What are we supposed to do?"

She pointed to other groups of students, who were dripping water onto their relic or tapping it with a knife. The relic moistened by water lit up and started floating in the air. The other one turned the knife white-hot, like it was in the midst of a blazing fire. Incredible, I thought. This is the lost power of the Angels. I took my relic over to an empty table and stared at it. I studied the swirls in the white relic, wondering at its age and history. Specks of soil still clung to a part of the disc. Had it been retrieved from the forest?

I waited for a moment for instructions. What was I supposed to do with this ancient artifact? Father Kraus stood on the other side of the room, helping a pair of students with their relic, and the people around me were focused on their own projects. Some rubbed their fingers on the sides of the relics, which make them shake a bit. No wonder Danelle was asked to keep them safe. If left out in the open, they would be a major distraction to anyone trying to study.

I poked my disc, but nothing happened. I tried dripping water on it and tried blowing on it, but still nothing changed. I took off my right glove; after all, Danelle had said they were optional. I tapped the side of the disc with my fingertip. A spark shot out from it, and I leapt back, my heart pounding in wonder. I touched it again. Another spark. It was a tiny blue bolt of lightning that rose when I touched the disc and dissipated as it hit the air. Kant Vakt was becoming more amazing by the minute. I touched it for an instant longer, causing a higher bolt to shoot upward. The air smelled burnt around me.

"Hey, look at this," someone said. It was a boy in a gray vest and matching slacks, a wealthier style closer to Danelle's. I wondered for a moment if the stories I'd heard about Kant Vakt fashion were a few years out of date. He and two of his friends stopped to stare as I touched the disc with both hands. A tiny plume of flame shot up from the center, warming my face. This is perfect, I thought, planning my next trick with the disc. They'll become my friends before they even learn my name.

I drummed my fingers along the surface of the disc, making it shoot little spurts of flame. I'd never seen anything act like this before. I flipped the disc over, making it spin in flames. How was it doing that? Was it just a trick, or had someone built it to do this? I stopped, thinking of my next move.

My hand slipped. For a second, my entire palm fell onto the disc, but one second was enough. The relic became blazing hot and sparks flew across the room. I took my hand away, but it was no use; the disc kept shooting fire. I glanced over at Danelle for help, but she shrugged back with a nonchalant smile. I leapt away before the flames singed my hair. I clattered into the shelves behind me, knocking a couple of glass jars from their place. They shattered on the ground. Of course Danelle gave that disc to me—it was supposed to be dangerous!

The students around me gasped as the disc threw out another wave of sparks and flame. The flames hit the curtains, and fire began to creep up the fabric. I ran over and tried to beat the flame with my shoes, but to no avail. Why was that awful relic still going? I'd only touched it for a second! The disc kept spinning. Even Danelle looked frightened now. Students screamed and ran out of the room, and I stumbled out behind them. I was shoved aside when a team of servants came in with buckets of water and dirt, dousing and killing the fire.

The students looked at me as wisps of smoke filtered out of the room. Danelle turned toward me, a mix of shock and disgust in her eyes. "Like mother, like daughter," she said, smoothing her hair.

"It wasn't my fault!" I said, glaring at her. "If you hadn't given me that relic—"

"It would have been something else," Danelle said, cutting me off. She shook her head. "Wake up, Miss Andresdatter. You don't belong here."

I blinked, feeling my face burn from their stares. Before I could ruin my reputation any more, I backed away and rushed out of the sagekeep.

Wind bit at my face, but I ignored it. Why had I thought that I could make friends here? This city was no different from the others, and the students at the sagekeep would act the same. Their parents taught them that my mother was an upstart and an outsider, and that's all I'd ever be. I wandered the streets until I came to a lone dirt path, with untrimmed hedges lining it. The old path was overgrown with weeds; no one but the bordermen likely used it. I looked up and saw that it led to the forest, disappearing into the shadows of thick pines and firs. I passed a charred section of the old city wall, half buried in patches of grass and lichen, marking the border with the forest.

A sense of peace came over me. I walked forward, caught in the quiet serenity that blanketed the place, stepping as if were from the profane to the sacred. The forest smelled of moist earth and recent rainfall, and I could hear scattered bird chirps and the rustling of leaves in the wind. An expanse of violet wolfsbane covered one side of the path, with orchids in full bloom on the other. My mother had told me the forest was dangerous. But how could a place so beautiful, so transcendent, be dangerous?

A bright light appeared in front of me. The light blinded me for a moment, but once my eyes adjusted, I saw a figure standing there, arrayed in immortal glory. An Angel, a true Angel, with flowing platinum hair, sparkling skin, and eyes of molten gold. His presence radiated light and power, and his voice sang out like the sound of rushing waters.

"Kaybree Andresdatter, I am an Angel of the Almighty."

I stared at him, frozen in place. There were so many questions I wanted to ask him. I wanted to know whether he was a real Angel, the ones who had protected mankind for centuries. I wanted to know why the Angels betrayed us fifteen years ago. All I could stammer was, "Where are your wings?"

"Behold," he said, staring ahead as if he hadn't heard me. "The Ancient Ones shall return, and the land shall tremble in agony. But there shall be silence in the Heavens, and the sleeper shall awaken. Inasmuch as my people endeavor in sin, I shall send my servants to call them to repentance. Thus saith the philosopher of the Almighty."

I shielded my eyes from the shining figure before me. His words echoed the sages' Book of Visions in their formality and dignity, but they made no sense. "What are you talking about?" I asked. "Are the Angels going to return?"

"And the fallen shall rise against them," he continued, eyes blazing. "For insofar as there is righteousness, wickedness shall seek to destroy it. Insofar as there is light, darkness shall conspire to quench it. Insofar as there is power, it shall be corrupted to the will of the flesh. Thus the Judge of the Almighty shall bring death, until wickedness shall no more be found on the Earth." The Angel met my eyes. "For if she arises, the world shall burn in her wake." The air around him dimmed, until his whole luminescent form vanished, leaving me alone in the forest again.

I stared at the spot where he'd disappeared, blinking the bright spots from my eyes. I'd seen an Angel. And even through his archaic language and cryptic phrases, I knew something big was about to happen.

CHAPTER TWO

### A Sealed Tower

I returned to the sagekeep, still in a trance from the vision in the forest. As I entered the high-ceilinged entrance chamber, shivering even in my coat, I looked around for the staircase. Someone had to know about my vision, and my mother would be the one to tell. Maybe I could even let her know about it before news of the burnt classroom traveled back to her.

I followed the path I'd taken earlier today and climbed the same black marble staircase until I reached the corridor to Vormund tower. I walked across the bridge and came to the metal doors, illuminated by a shaft of light from the small window above. My note to my mother was still there where I'd wedged it into the doors. I took a deep breath and knocked on the doors. There was only a metallic ringing, but no response. I knocked harder, pounding my knuckles on the door until they hurt.

Still nothing. I sighed. She must be in a meeting or something. I didn't want to wait to give her my news, but I didn't have a choice. Instead, I crossed the bridge to go back to the sagekeep. As I walked, I couldn't help but feel that someone was watching me. I looked up at the black obelisk that was Vormund tower, but no windows were open.

I decided to come back later. I went back downstairs and dug through my purse for the letter. At the bottom, next to the flowing signature of her scribe, the letter mentioned a room where I was to stay in the sagekeep.

It was in the students' wing, a series of identical stone rooms where the students slept and studied. According to the sages who had tutored me, the purpose of having students stay in the coldest, most uncomfortable rooms in the sagekeep was to teach us humility and reliance on the Almighty, separating us from the privileges of our parents' keeps. Our parents could bring in extra pillows and other amenities, but the rooms, beds, washstands, and chamber pots were exactly the same. Because my mother's keep was Vormund tower, and I'd never been allowed inside, the students' wing was the only home I'd known.

I arrived at the hall of wooden doors and unlit torches, passing the mead hall where we would eat our meals. It looked much the same as others I'd seen, with long rows of wooden benches and tables, and a large table at the front where the servants would distribute our meals. The rooms were farther down, each door marked with a painted number and a picture of one of the sages or philosophers of times past. My room was number twelve, and had a carving of Baldr the Peacemaker, his long hair and beard fluttering in the wind and his eyes raised heavenward.

The key that had come with the letter fit into the door and it unlocked with a loud click. The room had a small bed with woolen sheets, a wooden washstand and basin, a chest of drawers next to the bed, and a chamber pot in the corner of the room. I set my purse on the bed and opened the curtains, flooding the room with light. The window looked out over the cobblestone streets alongside the sagekeep, where soldiers in green and brown cloaks marched in patrol of the grounds.

The bordermen. I recognized their distinctive cloaks and the patch each one wore on the breast of the cloak, the Wings of Vigilance. It was strange to see the bordermen patrolling the city, though. Didn't my mother's Vormund soldiers act as guards for the sagekeep? The bordermen were supposed to be observing the forest from their watchtowers.

Now that I thought of it, I hadn't seen any Vormund soldiers yet. Where were all of them at?

My chest of clothes arrived from the docks, and I spent the rest of the day unpacking and setting up my new room. I'd become used to the process by now, so I folded dresses and shirts with rhythmic precision and put my other items in their usual places. The seal pup and nordbjorn dolls I'd had since I was a child went on the top of the desk, while my copies of The Book of Vision and The Journey of Siegfried the Wanderer went behind them.

I carried the Book of Vision mostly for reference, in case the one of the sages wanted us to read something for a class. The other book had legendary tales of warriors and heroes, though I mainly read it for its accounts of the forest and descriptions of different animals. I would spend hours reading and imagining myself out among the wild rangir or the direwolf packs that were said to roam the darkest corners of the forest.

I browsed the familiar pages of the book, looking through the drawings of boars with jutting tusks and their ancient cousins, the mammoths of the frigid tundra. A close-up drawing of a wolf's head was next to one of a pale raven with red eyes and a withered black oak. There were no pictures of Angels, though, only beasts and villages and men. It was strange to think that I might have seen something that Siegfried never had.

I put the book back and laid down on the bed, staring at the patterns in the stone ceiling. Had I imagined the Angel? If not, then why appear to me? The only reason I could think is that he wanted to deliver a message to my mother. But in that case, I wasn't sure what the message was supposed to be. A general warning of disaster?

I tried to contact my mother again three more times, but with no luck. The doors were shut each time. After a late meal in the mead hall, where I was able to miss all of the other students, I crept back to my room and fell asleep.

The next morning, I washed and dressed and got ready for the day, telling myself this one would go better than the last. I wore a purple dress with a white fox fur coat and white boots. Adjusting my hair one last time in my looking glass, I put it away and walked outside, locking my door behind me. The mead hall awaited, and with it my classmates.

The breakfast today consisted of scrambled eggs, buttered bread, and apple slices. I took my plate and walked through the crowds to find a seat at one of the tables. I'd woken up late, so most of the tables were full of students chatting as they ate.

As I walked, a murmur of gossip followed me. People glanced at me and whispered to their friends, or headed the other direction. My heart froze in my chest. Did they know I'd seen an Angel? If the students knew about it, then everyone would know about it. A girl frowned at me and whispered to her friend. I stopped for a moment, pretending to look at a sparkling chandelier overhead, and listened.

" . . . shot sparks out?"

"Yeah, I heard the room almost burned down."

"Was it that disc relic?"

"I've never seen it spit fire that like before."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd been so worried about the vision that I'd forgotten I'd set the relic classroom on fire. Just another thing to worry about, but a more normal thing.

I found an empty spot at a table and sat down. The only other student nearby was a dark-eyed girl with long black hair. Her eyes darted over at my arrival, but returned to her breakfast plate a moment later. She opened a massive tome entitled A Brief History of Nordgard and traced the page with her finger, reading as she ate.

I took a bite of my bread. "I'd hate to see the not-brief version," I said.

She smiled at me, but remained silent. Her sky blue dress was tailored, a sign of nobility, but she wore no jewelry or accessories, which were usually a hallmark of bordertown fashion. The dark eyes and hair looked familiar, though. I'd met a few students from the eastern tribes when I'd lived in Holmgarde, and those who migrated to Kantmarck sometimes entered the lower nobility. I wanted to ask the girl about herself, but she seemed intent on her book, so I didn't bother her.

"My, my," said a voice I wished I'd forgotten. Danelle. "Freaks of a feather do indeed flock together. Did you cook that breakfast yourself, Kaybree? It looks a little burnt."

I glanced up. Danelle and three of her friends strode toward us, all dressed in fashionable V-neck dresses. The blazing fire in the hearth allowed them to strut around in those clothes, but I still kept my coat with me, grateful for its warmth. Why can't I avoid her for just one morning? "Have you nothing better to do, Danelle, than fraternize with a low-class student like me? I thought your loving mother taught you better than that."

She glanced out the window at the knights patrolling the streets. "Speaking of mothers, I've heard that Valir is on a witch hunt. I have no idea who they'd be after. Kant Vakt is full of none but the most pious of citizens." She waved to her friends. "But I don't want to keep you. The two of you probably have important things to discuss."

I almost just gritted my teeth and let her leave. Instead, I edged in another barb before she could go. "Actually, we were just discussing how tasteless some of our classmates' clothing is." I eyed her low-cut dress. "You know that it's a sign of desperation for a woman to show her body? Especially when the only marriage-age men in sight are balding, seventy-year-old sages."

Danelle's lips tightened. "Perhaps discussing fashion will do you some good," she said. She walked away, with her entourage following. I let out a slow breath as I watched them go in the corner of my eye. I hoped that needling her wouldn't burn my bridges with the rest of the students here.

The dark-haired girl at my table let out a laugh. "I can't say I've seen that before," she said, smiling shyly.

"Seen what?"

"Someone standing up to Danelle," she said. "Don't you know she's an Ambros?"

I shrugged. "I guess I'm not your typical student."

"Right," she said, pushing aside a strand of hair from her face. "You play by different rules, I guess. It's still bold, though." She extended her hand. "I'm Mira."

I winced inwardly at her recognition. So much for coming in as the anonymous new student. I took her hand. "I don't think I have to introduce myself. Seems like everyone knows who I am already." I frowned. "Does everyone think my mother is a Witch?"

"I wouldn't worry about it," she said with a smile. "People call my family Witches all the time too, but nothing ever happens." Easterners were accused of cursing people with their mystical rituals, or blamed for random thefts in the cities. Perhaps this explained her willingness to understand me; both of us didn't quite mesh with the nobles' social fabric. "So what's your first class today?"

I dug out the parchment with my schedule written on it. "I think it's history."

Mira's smile widened. "So's mine! Come on, I'll take you there." She pointed to the clock on the wall, its gears clanking as it ticked. "Class starts in five minutes."

When we came to the history classroom, it was clear that our history teacher had just moved in. Leather-bound tomes were stacked against the walls in piles taller than I was, and archaic swords in jeweled hilts hung from hooks in the wall, with a few still resting on the books. A painting dominated the back wall, showing one of the philosophers of the past—Giles, maybe, or Baldr—kneeling by a stream and gazing up at the sky. Above him, the focus of the painting, an Angel stood in the air. It glowed a brilliant white, and wore a pure white robe. It hung in the air with two feathered wings sprouting from its back. Its face was as beautiful as that of the Angel I'd seen in my own vision, though he hadn't had wings.

I took a seat near the front, next to Mira, and noticed our teacher. He smiled and waved to me as he adjusted the collar of his coat. It was Jans, the new sage. I smiled back and pulled out my pen and inkwell, preparing to take notes. Danelle and her group walked in as well, but thankfully sat on the other side of the room. Jans waited for the clock tower to strike the hour, and then cleared his throat as the last bell tolled.

"Thank you for arriving in a timely manner," he said, pacing about the front of the room. "I am Brother Jans Gudsson, sent from Valir to instruct you in the history of Nordgard, starting from the time of the collapse of the Empire. In particular, I am instructed to bring you to an understanding of the pivotal role that the sages and the Angels have played in recorded history."

Jans pointed to a painting on the wall. It showed Angels flying through the sky, along with people who hurled fireballs from their hands. The streaks of fire made reddish blurs against the deep blue canvas. "Today we will cover the War of the Angels and the collapse of the Nordgard Empire, which happened roughly eight hundred years ago."

I'd heard most of this before, though I appreciated the excitement that Brother Jans brought to it. He spoke intimately of the people of the past, as if they were personal acquaintances. According to the sages, the Angels led mankind out of our primitive beginnings as roving tribes in the icy northern islands to civilized city life. They gave us visions, guidance, and even their own power. Nordgard was not a fragmented collection of kingdoms, but a great empire, ruled by the Angels and the High Emperor.

The War of the Angels ended that golden age. Those with the Angels' powers split the empire apart with civil war, and most of the great cities were destroyed over the years that the war raged on. Afterward, the Angels vowed never to grant mankind their powers again. The sages guided us since the collapse of the Empire, occasionally receiving visions from the Angels. None of this story explained the relics, though. Were they remnants of the forbidden power that the Angels had granted us, the power we used to ruin our own civilization?

Even more important to me, why had the Angels returned to attack? And why would one appear to me?

"The Angels continued to visit select sages throughout history," Jans said, writing a few names and dates on the chalkboard. Chalk dust floated to the ground as he wrote. "Though none have used their divine powers for centuries, the visions have continued. Or rather, the claims of visions. For example, Ulrich Olafsson received the vision about expanding the construction of sagekeeps into the Eastern lands in the year 341. And Bjorn Svenson claimed in 405 that an Angel directed him to our present understanding of the afterlife."

I raised my hand. Jans paused and cleared his throat. "Yes, Kaybree?"

"Well, these visions happened hundreds of years ago. Does anybody see Angels . . . today? I mean, besides the ones who attacked the city."

The class broke into murmurs, and Jans held his hand out to quiet them. "That's a good question," he said. "A decree from Valir three centuries ago states that the sages should not make public Angelic visions. So if they have been happening, then none would know. " He smiled. "Thankfully for me, this is a history course, and our material covers only up to the seventh century. Hopefully by the time I'm required to teach about the attacks on Kant Vakt, we will have a clearer understanding."

"Thank you," I said, intrigued by his words. If sages or others saw visions now, perhaps they were too afraid to speak of them. But why keep back knowledge that might prevent another attack like the one fifteen years ago?

"Due to the disintegration of the Nordgard Empire," Jans continued, "the individual governors began to exert more power over their local populace. The kings rose to power again, thus forming the world we know today, a fragmented land only united in our faith of the Almighty and His holy sages. This is why your allegiance to Valir, regardless of station, is of paramount importance to the unity of the human race."

Once class ended, I put my things away and stood to leave. "Where are you going?" Mira asked. "We have half an hour until our next class starts."

"There's something I want to check first," I said. "It won't take long."

I strode out of the classroom and into the hallway, heading in the direction of Vormund tower. I once again ascended the staircase and walked across the bridge, only to find the doors shut again. My note was still there. I raised my hand to knock on the door, but instead pressed my ear against the cool metal. Muffled sounds came from inside. I pounded against the doors again and waited for another few minutes before turning back.

Something wasn't right here. Not picking me up at the docks was a sign that my mother was too busy; not even opening the doors to her tower in two days seemed completely bizarre, even for her. I walked back across the bridge. The stones were covered with a light film of white frost, and wispy flakes of snow drifted through the air. It wasn't even winter yet, but the air was frigid, and my breaths turned to puffs of mist in front of me.

"So the tower is sealed to Lady Andreya's own daughter," said a man's voice. "I guess the rest of us shouldn't feel left out."

I whirled around, searching for the source of the voice. A hooded figure stood behind me on the bridge where there had been no one a moment before. His cloak was dark green and covered in water spots where snow had melted. He wore heavy boots, and a long brown coat and suit of leather armor was visible as his cloak fluttered in the breeze. A borderman.

I sighed. "Do they have my face painted on the walls here?" I asked. "Usually coming to a new city means a fresh start."

"Some of us know who you are. We've been waiting for you. Judgment is coming, and you need to be ready."

My thoughts flashed back to the Angelic vision. "What do you mean?" Did he know about the vision? "And how do you know the tower is sealed?"

The mysterious borderman walked forward, boots crunching through the snow. "No Vormund soldiers have been sighted for nearly a week. There's been an unusual silence from the animals in the forest. And the daughter of Andreya Staalvoss shows up and burns down a classroom as a relic goes out of control."

I clenched a fist. Even the bordermen knew about that? "That was an accident," I said. "There's nothing connecting my coming here to judgments or anything else. My mother summoned me here, and I came. That's all."

The borderman looked out over the city, adjusting his hood. I glimpsed his face underneath the cowl. He was younger than I'd thought, maybe five or six years older than me, with a light shadow of stubble on his face and a firm jawline. "Looks like I'm not the only one who sees the signs," he said.

I followed his gaze down to the street. A carriage gilded with gold and draped with purple curtains rolled down the road, drawn by a pair of thick bull rangir. Workers put down their tools to kneel as the carriage passed. The team of rangir continued onward, heading for the sagekeep. Knights in plate armor and riding rangir dressed for combat flanked the carriage. Each knight had a black cloak on with a golden eye embroidered on the back, the symbol of Angelic vision.

"The Knights of Valir?" I asked. "Why are they here?" To my knowledge, their purpose was to protect the sages when they journeyed across the lands of Nordgard. The Grand Sage and other church leaders lived in Valir, and prospective Knights would train there, learning the scriptures and the histories the sages kept. People called them Knights of the Eye, after their cloaks.

"Father Traum is in that carriage," he said. "He's come from Valir to investigate rumors of heresy among the Order."

Heresy? Aside from Danelle, I could hardly imagine any noble accusing the Order of heresy. They protected mankind from the Angels. "My mother locks herself in her tower for a few days, and she gets inquisitors from Valir. What is wrong with this city?"

"Your mother is preparing for something to happen. She knows it's coming, and you should prepare yourself as well."

"How do I do that?" I asked. "She won't even let me into her tower."

"You don't need to go inside the tower," he said, taking a small box from his coat. He tossed it to me, and I caught it. "Just inside the archives."

I turned the box around in my hands. "Who are you anyway?"

"A messenger."

"And what message are you trying to send me?"

He smirked. "Who says the message is for you?" He strode away, walking back inside the sagekeep, his cloak flapping around his ankles.

I opened the box. It contained an ornately wrought key with a serpent's head, fastened onto a necklace. I put the necklace on, concealing the key under my coat, and followed the borderman back inside and out of the cold. If he thought I needed to open up the archives and learn something, maybe I did.

But why was Valir here? What was my mother preparing for?

CHAPTER THREE

### A Voice from the Dust

I ran my hand along the serpent key as I returned to find Mira. I found her just leaving Jans's history classroom. "Where did you go?" she asked. "You're soaked."

Melted snow dripped from my coat, and I brushed off some of the slush. I hadn't noticed the snow coming down on me when I was talking with the borderman messenger. "Outside. I tried to go visit my mother, but she's locked herself in her tower. And it's got the Knights of Valir coming here to check up on her."

"Really?" Mira asked. "They must be worried. The sages usually let Lady Staalvoss do what she wants, as long as she keeps to herself."

We started walking to class, passing through the vaulted great hall. Our footfalls and the voices of the other students echoed from its rafters. "What do the sages say about my mother?" I asked. "I mean, they still teach that the Angels are agents of the Almighty, and she still heads the group that fights them."

Mira shrugged. "They don't say much. There are rumors of course, about how your mother does it, but none of the sages will condemn her for it. I guess it's because the Angels haven't attacked. I don't think I was old enough to remember the last time one happened. It's pretty scary when one of the beasts from the forest comes into the city. That's when Vormund comes in and stops them."

When we arrived at the relic classroom, the one that they'd reassigned after the recent debacle, a sage was waiting for me.

"Miss Andresdatter," he said, motioning me off to the side. It was Father Kraus, the relics teacher. He had gray hair and stubby fingers, with a large nose turned ruddy in the cold. Mira gave me an encouraging smile and walked inside as I headed down the hallway with Father Kraus.

"Yes, Father?" I asked, trying to sound innocent.

He frowned. "I thought you knew. You've been banned from the relic classroom."

"Banned?" I asked, my heart sinking. "But that—it was an accident! And Danelle—"

He waved a hand. "I know all about that," he said. "She's been reprimanded for her role in this. We weren't aware that you had never used relics before."

I swallowed. "Then . . . I can come back?" I relished the thought of getting a chance to practice with the relics.

He sighed and motioned me closer. "Child, you nearly burned down a classroom. We cannot afford to have those kinds of accidents happen with such fragile materials. The secret to forging the relics has been lost for centuries."

"But I'll be more careful next time," I said. "I'll keep whatever rules you want me to. I can—"

Father Kraus waved a hand. "Enough. You seem to have considerable talent, and I'd hate for that to be wasted because of one careless beginning. But until I can be certain that you have learned proper handling of the relics, I cannot let you back in. Come back in a few weeks, and perhaps we can draw up some terms."

I broke into a smile. "Of course, Father." My spirits lifted. Knowing the politics of the sagekeep, I realized this was the most generous offer I could have hoped for: a few weeks' banishment to serve as a firm reprimand, but an ultimate allowance back into the class. "I won't let you down."

"Until then, spend this portion of your day studying," he said, turning back. "Perhaps you can research the relics to better prepare yourself."

"Research?" I asked. "Where would I go?"

"Ask one of the sages," he said, turning back to his classroom. "They can show you the way."

He shut the door, leaving me alone in the hallway. I walked back the way I had come, watching for the next sage to ask him where I could find the sagekeep's library. The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed that my mother would forbid me from taking relics classes and then throw me into this one completely unprepared. How could I have known that Danelle would set me up for trouble? Maybe this was one of my mother's life lessons, meant to teach me by bitter experience the perils of rushing in without properly planning.

Servants passed me in the hallway, but no sages. I reached the entrance chamber without seeing any of the robed figures. Only the liveried servants in the blue and gray of the Baron of Kant Vakt, the official vassal lord to the king. They weren't instructors like the sages, but they should also know the sagekeep. I waved to a young woman in a blue and gray dress. "I'm sorry, but do you know where the library is?"

She gave me a quizzical look. "Library?"

"Somewhere to find a book on relics. I've been looking for a sage, but I can't seem to find one."

She smiled. "Oh, you must mean the keep archives. If the sages wanted you to find something, it would be there." She pointed down the hall where I had just come. "Go past the classrooms and into the west tower, and it's the first door on your right. Normally, you might find more books on relics in your mother's archives. She has one at the base of Vormund tower."

I sighed. "Does everyone hear when someone new comes into town? I just got here yesterday."

The servant blushed. "Forgive me. We heard Lady Staalvoss's daughter had come, and you look just like her."

"You've seen more of her than I have," I said. "Does she come out of her tower very often?"

"All the time. She holds council with the baron and the other stewards almost every day. That's why it's so strange that no one has seen her in three weeks."

"Three weeks?" That had been around the time she'd sent me the letter calling me here. What would keep her locked away for three weeks? Was she even still alive?

"The baron is worried. The Knights of Valir are here to investigate too. I think that's why you can't find any sages; they're all out greeting Father Traum. You can come see his carriage too, young Lady Staalvoss. It's quite impressive."

I'd already seen the carriage, and from what I'd heard of Father Traum, he didn't seem like the sort who I'd want to see. "I'd better to get to my reading. I wouldn't want to bother them welcoming Father Traum into the sagekeep."

I headed down the hallway toward the keep archives, hoping that Traum would be too busy on the day of his arrival to bother looking for a book. I entered the west tower beneath the arched doorway leading into its main chamber. A stained-glass window looked out on the world outside, where figures on rangir rode at the head of a carriage. They passed by without looking through the window, which I was glad for. The window showed a simple design of double sunbursts shining on a cottage, creating a shaft of light against the dense forest around.

The first door opened into the vaulted keep archives. Bookshelves covered the walls, filled with more books than I'd seen in my life. I walked across the stone floor, looking from one shelf to another and trying to make sense of it. With thousands of books, how would I ever find a book on relics? The lamps were out, and no sages seemed to be around. Right, they must have all gone to greet Traum.

The only light came through another stained-glass window that took up most of the far wall. This window showed a white-robed man with a shining face and a pair of huge eagle's wings, his hands outstretched as if to embrace us. The light reflected on a shelf beside the wall, highlighting a strange carving in the wood. It was a serpent's head. Exactly like the one in the key I'd been given.

I took out the key and searched the side of the bookshelf, but found no keyhole. When the key touched the stone, it began to glow. A grinding sound came from the stone, and I jumped back in alarm. The serpent's head on the bookshelf was glowing as well. Are these . . . relics? The grinding stopped, and an alcove had opened up in the wall. It contained a small pile of books on a stone platform. A sheaf of papers covered them, parchment with scribbled notations and diagrams.

In contrast to the deliberate, regal script of my mother's scribe, these notes had doodles and drawings all over them, with random marks and folds in the paper. A small, leather-bound journal among the sheaves of paper also bore the snake mark that I'd seen on the keyhole. I opened it and started reading.

"First day in Kant Vakt. It's a beautiful city, with beautiful people. That must come from living so close to the Angels. Rumor has it that a hundred years ago, one in ten people in the city had seen a vision. It's a city of visionaries, no doubt, from the magnificent architecture to the masterful construction of the ships in the harbor to the talk of investments and inventors. The sagekeep towers are like majestic spires in the night. Who knows what wonders await us here? With the forest close by, I'm certain we'll find out soon enough."

I flipped back to the inside cover to find a name, its ink faded with time, but still distinct, in the same rugged style as the journal: Maxwell Jonsson. My father. I turned the journal over in my hands in sheer awe. I could barely breathe as I ran my fingers down the leather cover. Excitement quickened my heartbeat as I thought of learning about my father, the mysterious figure my mother rarely spoke of.

From the dates indicated, this journal must have chronicled his first coming to Kant Vakt. I had never known what drew him to the city in the first place, and how he'd become involved in that fateful first battle with the Angels. It had been the fight that took his life.

I tucked the journal into my bag and stepped away from the alcove. The grinding sound started again, returning the space to a wall. The key stopped glowing. How had the mysterious messenger found this key? It must have belonged to my mother. I had come looking for books on relics, but a feeling that I would learn more from this one. I couldn't take it out unless I was sure no one was around, though. I didn't want to risk someone like Traum finding me with it. It would have to wait until I was safely back in my room after classes.

I decided to spend the rest of relics class at the healers' wing. I hadn't had a proper blood draw in weeks, and was starting to feel nervous about it. I had a blood condition that required them to take two cups of blood every week, to keep it from thickening too much. I owed the treatments to my mother, who had discovered the exact amount to draw and even designed a small tube to catch it.

The healers wore black robes, and were a different group from the teachers, so they were all in the chamber when I arrived. The chamber had the distinct smell of burning herbs, a pungent scent that didn't quite cover the odors of dead flesh that pervaded the place. Not only were they healers, but also the ones who disposed of dead beasts and buried the bodies of men and women.

"What are you here for, child?" a black-robed man asked. He had a large forehead, thinning hair, and a long nose, and held a knife in one hand and a sack in the other. I didn't want to know what kind of dead thing was in it.

"My blood draw. I'm Lady Staalvoss's daughter. Has she told you?"

"Of course," the healer said, beckoning another one over. "See to her."

"Does Andreya even know she's here?" the younger healer said.

"She could emerge at any time. We have our orders, directly from the Steel Fox, and I would not wish her ire turned on us."

The younger healer shrugged. "There will be plenty of places to spread ire, if the sages really open an investigation." He glanced over at me, seeming to realize I was still here, and cleared his throat. "This way, young Lady Staalvoss."

He had me lie down on a couch while he made a neat little incision on my inner arm. The spike of pain was unpleasant, but it kept me healthy, so I didn't complain. I'd followed my mother's advice on what to eat, when to sleep, and when to have blood taken, and I'd never caught the flensu or been sick at all my entire life. So I kept taking her advice. One of the tubes caught the blood as it oozed out, while I stared at the ceiling and wrinkled my nose against the rotting carrion smell.

The healer wrapped my arm in a bandage, even though I knew it would heal fast, and sent me on my way. The bandage made my movements awkward, but I was able to cover it with the sleeves of my coat.

I joined Mira again for class, and we ate together in the mead hall. I hardly focused on our conversation, watching the doors whenever someone new walked in and trying to keep my bag with the journal as far under the table as possible. I bid Mira good night and returned early to my room, where I locked the door, lit the lamp on my nightstand, and sat cross-legged on my bed.

I took out the journal and turned to the next page. The pages were filled with writing, some lines crammed so close together that I couldn't even read them. I flipped until I found a page that was less crowded, one that had a diagram of a longsword and shield with numerous lines drawn to notations on the side. The title of the page was "Relics." Some of the notes on the shield read, "resists fire" and "steel does not scratch its surface," while the notes on the sword read, "glows when near a point of Resonance" and "conducts the essence of its wielder."

Was my father researching the relics when he came to Kant Vakt? Had that been his and my mother's key discovery, the one that had defeated the Angels? I turned to the next page and looked at the drawing he'd created. Candlelight flickered over a sketch of a faceless creature rising out of the sea, its body covered with eyes and arms sprouting clawed tentacles.

I shut the journal and dropped it to the ground. What was that drawing? I thought of accounts of the first Angel attack. Monsters had risen from the sea and the depths of the forest to strike at us. Could this be one of them?

I put the journal on my bookshelf and settled in for an uneasy sleep. Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw two images: the Angel that had appeared to me in the forest, and the monster my father had drawn in his journal. If the Angels were returning, were there monsters returning as well?

CHAPTER FOUR

### Searching for a Heretic

"Didn't sleep well?" Mira asked over our plates of breakfast.

"You can tell?"

"Well, you did just take a bite from an empty spoon. Twice."

I looked down at the hot porridge and slab of grainy bread I'd picked up from the serving table. I scooped a spoonful of the porridge and forced myself to eat a bite. It didn't taste bad, but I wasn't in the mood for eating right now. "I guess it was hard to sleep. New place and all. I know I should be used to sleeping in a new room, what with moving sagekeeps every few months, but it still takes me a few weeks to really get comfortable somewhere. The air is never right, or the smell."

Mira chewed on her bread and looked up from one of her massive books. Its title was written entirely in runes, so I had no idea what it said. "What does your room smell like? I thought all sagekeeps were pretty dank and musty."

"We're right next to the sea, so there's that fresh, salty smell in the air. I usually like it when I'm outside walking on the beach, but it's weird when I'm trying to sleep. And the air is thicker here; it sticks to you more, and cuts through your clothes. I have to wear twice as much just to keep warm." I didn't tell her the real reason I couldn't sleep: nightmares of Angels rising from the ocean haunted my dreams, faceless giants with tentacles outstretched, stepping slowly toward the shore.

Mira took a bite of her porridge. "You'll get used to it. And with your mother here, you'll probably stay longer, won't you?"

I shrugged. "I'm never really sure what she's thinking. But I hope I'll stay." Even with a mysteriously absent mother, I still had one friend in this city.

Mira rose to leave, and I glanced at the clock on the wall. "We still have an hour until class," I said.

She packed her book into her bag. "Sorry, I have cartography duty. The bordermen are coming back from last week's patrol, and one of the catrography students has to collect their drawings and make them into workable maps. You wouldn't believe how little of the forest we've actually mapped, so it's a lot of work. And we sometimes get four or five different maps of the same place."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Some of the bordermen can't draw very well."

I thought of my mysterious messenger. "Does anyone there know who I am?"

Mira twirled a strand of hair on one finger. "Kaybree, I think everyone knows who you are. At least, that you're the daughter of Lady Staalvoss."

I gave her a weary smile. "Believe me, fame isn't as glamorous as it sounds. All right, I'll see you in class." She waved and left the mead hall.

I was glad that she took off early, since I'd wanted to go visit Jans—and even though Mira was a friend, I didn't want anyone knowing I was asking questions about the Angels. I put away my tray and slid on my gloves, heading toward Jans's classroom. Even with the sagekeep's stone walls blocking the wind, it was freezing inside.

Jans was writing notes when I entered the classroom. "Kaybree," he said, putting his pen back into the inkwell, "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow. Did you need something?"

"No, not really," I said. "I just had a free hour and thought you might be lonely, being the new sage here and all."

He smiled. "That's quite considerate of you. Please, have a seat."

I sat at an overstuffed chair in front of his desk. A statue of a hairy, white nordbjorn with jaws open loomed over me on the right. "I noticed in our class yesterday that you talked a lot about the Angels," I said. Not the subtlest segue in the world, but my mind was still a little foggy.

Jans chuckled. "Did I? I never really notice." He had a refined accent, the kind that came naturally to nobles and their servants. I wondered if he was from a noble house. "The Angels are a particular fascination of mine, so you will, I hope, forgive me if I ramble."

"It's all right," I said, sifting through his fancy words. "I'm actually kind of interested in the Angels myself. My mother fights them, after all."

Jans stroked his chin. "You think so?"

"That's what people say. She defeated the Angels that attacked fifteen years ago." I looked over at the painting of the War of the Angels. "What does one look like anyway?"

He took off his spectacles and polished them with a white cloth. "That's a very interesting question. No accounts survive of the Angel's physical appearance, though its path of destruction was clearly laid out. According to the sagas, the Angels can assume a variety of forms: sometimes as animals, sometimes as men. Those who bring visions always appear to us as people, albeit incredibly beautiful ones."

"Visions?"

"Yes, this is where we have the descriptions of Angels most often." He patted the tome on his desk beside him. "Silas of Kant is quoted as saying that the Angel's hair, skin, and even eyes appeared like a brilliant flash of light, and emanating an unearthly glow." He cleared his throat. "At least, paraphrasing and translating his archaic language into modern standard. That was the basic idea."

A pinprick chill began to rise on the back of my neck. The more he told me about these historical appearances, the more convinced I became that this Angel was real. "And why do Angels appear to people? I mean, how do they pick who to appear to?"

I heard a crash behind me. Wood splintered and chairs fell as something ran headlong into the shelves. Books shook in their places. My heart raced—was this one of the Angels hunting me? I looked at what had collided with the shelves. It was a boy about my age, with neatly trimmed hair and wide brown eyes. He wore a wine red jacket that buttoned up the side, its hem reaching the knees of his black breeches. I didn't recognize the silver beehives of his house emblazoned on his jacket, but I did know that the fashion was two decades too late. He brushed himself off, grabbing the sled he'd ridden into the room. The icy slush on the wood indicated he'd just come from outside.

Jans stood up. "Is there something the matter?"

The boy blinked. "Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt. Just thought you might like to know that you're next in line."

Jans frowned. "For what?"

"Some creepy inquisition guy is making rounds in the halls." He pointed to the painting of the War of the Angels. "Might want to put a curtain over that or something. I'm just saying."

Jans sighed. "Willard," he said, shaking his head, "I've known your family too long to trust a word that you say. Would you mind telling us the real reason you're here?"

He glanced at me. I noticed a nervous smirk twitching up through his lips. "No, I'm serious. Dead serious. So serious that I'd rather be dead than how serious I am." He pointed outside, and then we heard it: heavy boots clopping down the hallways, along with the swish-clank of swinging weapon belts. An uneasy silence hung in the rooms around us.

Jans motioned to me. "Get behind the shelves," he said. His urgent tone encouraged me not to argue. I'd known there was an inquisitor coming, but I was innocent; I wasn't an Angel. No, wait a minute. The borderman had mentioned Valir coming to investigate heresy among the Order. Did that mean me too?

I slid behind the bookshelf right as the hem of a dark blue robe swished into the room. The sage had coal-black eyes, a pale face, and a bald spot that took up most of his head, with tufts of dark hair on the sides. His robe had a huge golden eye embroidered on the breast, but otherwise his clothes were plain. He strode up to Jans, glancing about the room with a curl in his lip. Nobody needed to tell me this was Father Traum.

"Brother Jans," he said, giving him a stiff, formal bow. "A rare pleasure it is to see you take your research to inhabited lands." His voice was nasally and disdainful, like everything surrounding him was an annoyance. "I trust you've been well?"

Jans smiled, though his anxiety seeped through the expression. "Quite, thank you, Father." He frowned as a pair of armored guards entered alongside Father Traum. "Last I heard you were heading the Doctrinal Council in Valir. What brings you this far south?"

Traum swept his beady eyes around the room. "I think you know, Brother," he said. "Of all people, you should be most attuned to what I am seeking." He stopped and looked straight at Jans. "Andreya Staalvoss has locked her tower, and the bordermen have reported a disturbing silence in the forest. At the same time, unprecedented snowstorms have buffeted the northern realms. She sees some sign in all of this, or is planning to save us from another of her Angel attacks."

"I find it most suspect," Jans said. "In none of the sagas was an Angel seen of thousands of people at once—especially one whose appearance was not remembered afterward. But what could she stand to gain from deceiving us?"

Traum studied him for a moment. "You will keep watch for me," he said, waving to his guards. "Inform me when the Witch moves. She's up to something, I know it. That's why I'm here in this filthy city, reeking of the forest each time I step outside. We're going to uncover the truth, Jans, and we're going to do it soon."

"The truth cannot be hidden from He who sees all things," Jans said. "The Almighty will reveal the truth in due time."

Traum's lip curled again. "Unless you count on seeing an Angel, Brother, I suggest you use your own eyes as well. The Witch is crafty." He turned to leave. "Now tell me, where is her daughter? I hear she attends your class."

I recognized that as my cue to say nothing. My breaths came faster, though, and I felt my nose itch from the dusty shelves. I reached up and plugged my nose. I couldn't sneeze, not right now, not with the inquisitor asking about me. Jans shrugged. "We don't have class until later this afternoon. Shall I have her find you?"

I covered my nose with both hands, trying desperately not to sneeze. But standing here like this, not breathing, was taking its toll on my lungs. I had to take a breath soon. So I slowly, carefully took in some air—just with my mouth, not my nose—but the dusty air betrayed me, and I let loose a loud sneeze. The sound rang in the air. I held my breath, waiting for Traum's people to descend.

"Ah-choo!" said a voice. "Sheesh, sorry about that. I always sneeze when I'm around dusty old books." It was Willard, the boy from earlier. What was he still doing here? I couldn't see him, but his voice sounded close to Traum. "So, anyway, Father, can I interest you in a tour of the sagekeep? I mean, it's your maiden visit, so maybe you'd prefer to wander the halls and get lost a few times like the rest of us, but otherwise, I'd be happy to show it to you. You will put in a good word with my father, right?"

Traum snorted. "Ah, I see. A Matthias. I should have known." He walked back into my line of vision, his back to me, heading for the door. "That won't be necessary. The Sages of Valir do not trade favors with merchants."

"Now, Father, you're getting the wrong impression altogether," Willard said, following him as he walked out. "We adhere to a time-honored tradition of service and satisfaction. Our reputation is everything. In fact, letting me show you around the sagekeep would actually be doing me a favor. It wouldn't even take . . ." His voice trailed off as Traum's footfalls became farther distant.

"You can come out now," Jans said. I poked my head out to check before I emerged to join him. "You're probably wondering what that whole exchange was about."

"No, just sounds like ordinary sage talk. Does everybody really think my mother is a witch?"

Jans sighed. "The term has become so diluted now as to mean nothing," he said. "Naming someone a Witch before the sages is a serious accusation. It's . . . oh, I won't bore you with the details. I should let you get to class. Your riding class starts in ten minutes, unless I'm mistaken."

"Right," I said. I'd become so engrossed in talking about the Angels and avoiding Traum that the time had slipped by me. "Then I'd better go. Thanks for letting me talk to you."

"One more thing." I stopped, and Jans came over and whispered in my ear. "Father Traum and I both suspect that something not quite right is going on in this city, and I think your mother may be at the heart of it."

"What do you mean?" I asked, nervous.

"These Angel attacks. Does it not seem odd that there have been no sightings of the Angels in fifteen years? And that Lady Andreya happened to stop it with a power that we are not allowed to inspect?"

"That's what Vormund does."

"But not the Angels. They don't attack people at random, or cause destruction without reason. Kaybree, everything the Angels do is for the good of mankind. It is man's evil intentions that twist the gifts of the Angels into darkness. That is what I believe is going on in this city. Someone is performing forbidden actions and using these fabricated 'Angel attacks' to draw our attention away from them."

I swallowed. "You think it's my mother."

He set a hand on my shoulder. "I cannot say unless I have evidence. But you may be able to help exonerate your mother of suspicion. I need you to search through her belongings, or her records. Look for evidence of what she does behind those locked doors." He spread his hands. "If nothing leads us to believe she is behind the Angel attacks, then she'll be cleared of any charges and Father Traum will leave." He cleared his throat. "If I'm right . . . then let's just say that your mother may not be the mother you thought she was."

I don't know, I thought. If she's not the mother I think she is, she might just have a soul. "I'll do my best," I said. "But no promises. My mother doesn't trust me any more than Traum—she won't even let me into her tower."

Jans ushered me out of the room. "Whatever you find might be helpful," he said. "Look for something written by your mother, anything at all. If she will open her doors to any of us, it will be you." He smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I left, troubled by his accusations. My mother was cold-hearted, but could she be responsible for so many innocent deaths? I wouldn't know until the sealed tower opened.

I made it to the stables before class started, so I studied the rangir we'd be practicing with. I didn't know if they'd have us riding the first day, but it would be exciting to learn anyway. I passed several pens with different rangir, some male and some female. It was nearing wintertime, so all had grown a full set of impressive antlers. I'd heard that rangir wore special helmets when they were ridden in combat to protect their heads, but they had to have two types, winter and summer helms. In one of the few books I'd read from cover to cover—one on rangir habits and handling—I'd discovered a picture of winter helms, two pieces that snapped together to allow the antlers through. Antlers were even tipped with metal sometimes.

Mira was there with some of our other classmates. I avoided Danelle by slipping behind one of the stable doors. A powerfully built doe rangir looked back at me, eyes meeting mine. "Hope you don't mind me intruding," I said with a smile. "I'm new here." I knew rangir couldn't understand us, but something about her eyes seemed to say that she knew what I meant.

I walked into the center of the room as class began. Our instructor assigned us to different rangir to go for a practice ride, and after a brief review of saddling and bridling the animals, I found myself next to a gentle-looking rangir whose coat was the color of chestnuts. "Her name is Dagmar," the groom said, handing me the reins. I climbed up and settled myself on the rangir's back. "Take good care of her."

"I will," I said. We started out of the stables at a slow walk, going out into a forested path via a road out of the city. We passed a shipyard, where workers were sawing wood for ships and caulking them with mud and tar. Longships and the larger cargo ships were being created all over the city, and it seemed that Kant Vakt was personally supplying the fleets of explorers venturing into the unknown lands beyond the sea.

Mira rode up beside me. "It's a beautiful view, isn't it? I go riding all the time to meet the scouts coming back from patrol. Riding is a major class here too, so you'll probably get to see a lot of the border forest this way."

"We're really close to the forest," I said. "How far do you usually range out?"

"We stay within sight of the walls. The bordermen go out farther, of course."

The shipyard expanded into a woodcutter's camp that bordered on the forest. Our riding path took us right next to it, and we skirted the treeline as we continued getting used to our mounts. The workers used small hand axes to cut the logs that came from the forest, hacking off portions of it and tossing them into a large pile of scrap wood. Rows of long, uncut tree trunks sat on one end of the yard, beside a stone hearth and one of the bordermen's stone towers. Steps led into the tower and up to the top, where a few archers could stand and shoot arrows at an approaching enemy. A cookfire rose from the center of the camp, the smell of roasting meat coming with it.

"Does anyone guard the woodcutters?" I asked. "I'm amazed they'd be bold enough to go into the forest for wood."

Mira shrugged. "Where else would they get it? They pay the baron to use the bordermen as guards, but they usually don't encounter any trouble. Most of the animals run from us, especially this close to the city. If you go a few miles out, well, then you'd need guards for sure."

We rode in a column, urging our mounts to a trot through the cleared brush. There was a path that led along the forest, taking us under the branches of thick oaks and pines. A patrol of four bordermen rode past us. They wore the same dark green cloaks I'd seen on my mysterious borderman when we'd spoken on the bridge, fastened at the breast with a brass clasp in the shape of a tower shield. Swords hung from their belts, and leather armor showed beneath their cloaks.

I turned to Mira after they had passed. She seemed to know a lot about Kant Vakt, so she might know if the bordermen had any kind of rivalry going on with Vormund. "So, what are the bordermen like? Do they talk to other people much, or are they separate like Vormund?"

Mira gave me a sidelong look. "They're not cloistered away in a mysterious tower, if that's what you're asking. They actually come out to the taverns and games all the time. Some of the girls in our class might end up marrying one. Even commoners who join the bordermen can gain noble titles if they rise high enough."

"Oh?" I said with a smile. "You have your eyes on one in particular?"

Mira blushed and shook her head. "No, not me. I'd be too scared to walk up to a borderman."

"But I thought you said they were basically normal guys."

"Well, I kind of have a hard time talking to normal guys too."

We reached the edge of the camp and took the path eastward, looping back toward the sagekeep. One of the riders waved at us. It was Willard, the boy from Jans's classroom, in a brown cloak with the hood down. "Are there normal guys in this town? So far I've only met the strange ones."

Mira glanced over and laughed. "You've met Willard Matthias?"

"He sledded into Jans's classroom and crashed into the shelves to warn me Traum was coming."

Mira smiled. "Well, it's the thought that counts, right? He's a good guy, even if he is kind of strange."

My rangir stopped. I pitched forward, catching myself on the saddle. "Whoa, what's the matter, girl?" I said, stroking the rangir's fur. "Dagmar, right? We're just going back to the sagekeep." The rangir stayed frozen, even as I tried to spur her forward with an encouraging kick. I looked to Mira for help, but her rangir had stopped too. "Does this usually happen too?"

Mira stroked her rangir and whispered something soothing into her ear. "They must have smelled something," she said, shaking her head. Our rangir started moving again, but their movements were quicker now, moving in haste rather than fluid grace. "Maybe one of the bordermen killed a beast out there, and traces of its blood are still on his cloak."

The other students were having similar problems. Instead of keeping to the nice even column, the rangir were scattering, each taking their own path across the underbrush. Dagmar turned to the side, trampling a bush and snagging her hoof on a root. We jostled forward, but the rangir caught herself and kept running. I steered her back onto the path in time to see Mira turn her rangir back as well.

"Get them back to the stables," I said, taking hold of the reins and kicking Dagmar hard in the flank to get her moving. "The grooms will know how to calm them down."

An icy chill flashed through me. A pale shape flew from the trees and collided with my rangir. I gripped the reins with white-knuckled hands, searching for the attacker. The rangir screamed, and I was pulled downward as something yanked on the animal's leg. I lost my grip on the reins. My body was thrown through the air, and when I hit the trees, my vision was blurred and disoriented. I fell with a thud, brushing leaves out of my hair.

The rangir lay on her side, blood flowing from a bite on her leg. A huge white wolf prowled beside her. Its golden eyes met mine, and it slowly advanced, blood dripping from its jaws.

A deep, gravelly voice spoke, issuing from the white direwolf before me. "So I've found you."

CHAPTER FIVE

### Angel Attack

I stared at the wolf, incredulous. Had I really heard it speak? It waited there, as if expecting an answer. "What are you?" I asked.

The wolf growled in response and started forward. "Where's your weapon, little Witch?" it said, circling around me. I eyed him warily, waiting for him to move. He didn't seem interested in my rangir at all. And where were Mira and the other students? "What is your weakness, I wonder?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, backing away toward the woodcutters' camp. "Do you know I've seen an Angel? Is that why you're here? I don't even know what the vision meant!"

The wolf leapt at me. His muzzle stopped inches from my face, and he fell back with a growl. A glow had started somewhere in my shirt, and I pulled out the serpent key I'd looped around my neck. It was radiating light, pulsating with inner life, like a creature itself. With the wolf recoiling from the light, I ran toward the shelter of the tower by the woodcutters' yard.

I tripped on a rock and fell into a roll on the dirt. My dress was going to be totally ruined by this. It was a silly thought when death and fangs stared me in the face, but I couldn't help but think it. I glanced around for the tower and saw a red-haired girl from my class on the pile of uncut logs. She screamed and struggled against something underneath the logs.

I took a step toward her, but something slimy grabbed my leg. A writhing, black tentacle latched onto my boot, pulling me down. I reached out and grabbed onto the first object I could find: a woodcutting hand axe. I hacked downward, missing the tentacle and planting the axe in the ground. The tentacle drew me closer, dragging me through the dirt. I pried the axe out and swung again. The metal head hit the dirt again and bounced off.

My classmate shrieked as she was pulled further down into the logs. The tentacle dragged me closer, until I was on the pile of logs as well, and could see what she was looking at. A monster with rows of razor-sharp teeth was underneath, and seemed to be pulling itself out of the ground as it dragged us down. Tentacles sprouted from its body, and it was covered with a spiny shell of black mucus.

I braced myself against the log with one hand and cut down with the axe. The head buried itself in the monster's head, causing black blood to ooze out. The creature howled, letting go with its tentacles. I took the other girl's hand and led her away, breaking into a run. "Get to the tower!" I said. "The bordermen are coming!" They had to be. This was what they watched for, wasn't it?

The girl, pale-faced, rushed toward the tower. I turned back to see if the monster would come after us. Instead, the wolf appeared, leaping over the cookfire with its golden eyes locked on me. I stared into its eyes, frozen. This couldn't be happening. The monsters of the forest had been beaten back by my mother. Why could I hear it speak? Why was it attacking only me?

An explosion sounded as the tower burst apart in a shower of fire and stone. Chunks of rock fell beside me, causing the wolf to hesitate. I looked to the sky. A rain of fire came down like hail, pelting the trees and igniting flames all around. For the first time, I noticed other dark figures leaping out of the trees and heading for the city. Twisted shapes of monsters from my worst nightmares joined the rest of the white direwolf's pack as they came down on Kant Vakt.

Something whirred by my ear. The wolf stopped short, growling at something behind me. Another whirr, and a crossbow bolt flew into the wolf's side. "Take aim at the target!" shouted a voice. Relief flooded over me. Boredermen in green cloaks approached with crossbows in hand and unloosed their quarrels at the wolf. He snarled and moved to evade. The bolts flew through the air, and a few hit their mark with dull thuds.

The wolf looked back at me, pausing as he crouched by a burning pyre of logs. Blood trickled from his wounds, but his movements were fluid and unimpaired. He said nothing, just stared at me with those unreadable golden eyes. Before the crossbowmen could reload, he bounded away down the forest path, a conflagration lighting up the trees all around us.

One of the bordermen grabbed my shoulder. "Back behind the lines!" he shouted. I had no idea what was going on, and my face probably showed it. He pointed to the soldiers behind him. "Nobles are to take cover in the sagekeep."

"What's happening?" I asked. It was barely a whisper, so he didn't hear me. They ushered me back with some of the other students they had gathered, leading us back into town. On the main road, we were a straight line away from the sagekeep, but the distance seemed to stretch on forever.

The streets were alive with monsters. Great black crows cawed overhead, shouting "die" over and over. Giant snakes slithered down the road. Rats crept through the streets. Hairy shapes bounded across the rooftops, running on all fours but shaped like people. If this was a dream, it was the worst nightmare I could imagine.

I moved to the back of the line, behind the bordermen. One kicked aside a hairy shape, eliciting a bestial groan as it scampered away. Another hacked a snake in half with his sword. I noticed a bright flame forming on the horizon. It wasn't the sun; the sun had been obscured by clouds all day, and still was. A brilliant red orb floated in the sky, growing by the second. It disappeared, and a plume of smoke rose up a few streets over. A wave of heat swept over me. The soldiers waved me toward the sagekeep.

This has to be a dream, I thought as I heard the wolf's laughter in the distance. This has to be a dream. It has to be a dream.

I'd only gone a few steps when the red blur appeared. It approached the bordermen, reflecting a reddish light off of their steel breastplates and shields. I squinted to make out what it was. As it came closer, I realized it was walking, like a person. No, it was a person. Sweat poured down my face in spite of the cold wind. How could a person walk within a ball of fire? I realized that a building next to me had been reduced to rubble. This was what was destroying the city. I stood frozen in fear, unable to move. An Angel—and not one that came in visions.

It was a man in full plate armor with a horned helm. Every inch of him blazed with reddish-orange fire, like he was made of light. He was nothing like the Angel I'd seen in the forest, though. This one carried a jagged sword and dragged a ball and chain behind him. He moved with slow, lumbering steps.

"Release!"

The crossbowmen aimed and fired at the Angel. Crossbow bolts flew straight at his body, but they incinerated on impact. Another flurry of bolts hit him, but they too burned. The Angel advanced, swinging the ball and chain at them. I flinched as the fiery ball threw aside dozens of bordermen as if they were dolls. They smashed against the walls, scattering bricks around the street.

The leader shouted out some commands, and a group of archers nocked arrows with oil-soaked rags on them. They fired into the inferno around the Angel, and the oil exploded with a deafening roar. I covered my ears and shut my eyes against the fierce winds that emanated from the explosion. "Archers, kneel!" I ducked behind the fountain as the world around me exploded again. "RELEASE!" More shouting, and another explosion.

Time passed in a haze. It seemed to have frozen in place, and for a while there was just the noise of battle and the ever-present heat of the Angel's flame. The bordermen gave a triumphant cry, so I dared to peek out over the pile of stone rubble. "Fine shooting, lads," said one of the leaders, clapping an archer on the back. "Come on, let's head back and fortify the sagekeep."

I looked at the spot where the Angel had been. Blackened ashes marked where buildings had stood around the area. Pieces of wood and brick lay strewn about the area. They killed it, I thought. They stopped the Angel. The city was saved. My heartbeat slowed as I stood to follow them. For all I knew, this was a normal day in Kant Vakt. Maybe it hadn't been an Angel. Weren't they supposed to wait for Vormund to fight the real Angels?

The cries of men behind me froze me in place. I looked back to see a bright flame rise up in the middle of them. The Angel had reappeared. He slashed at the nearest group of bordermen with his sword, batting them away. They fell to the ground, great smoldering marks creasing their armor. He lifted the ball and chain again, slamming it into any soldiers who came too close. They fired their crossbows, but the bolts vanished before hitting their mark. A chaotic crowd of soldiers swarmed around me in their retreat.

I crouched behind the rubble and hid there, shutting my eyes, wishing the Angels would leave. Why were they attacking? What wickedness had we done to incur their wrath? I racked my memory for what the Angel in my vision had said. How were we supposed to change if no one knew what we were doing wrong?

When I opened my eyes, the Angel stood alone, unharmed in his personal blazing halo. I caught a glimpse of his face beneath the helm. It was every bit as beautiful as the face of the Angel from my vision, but different. Sad. I stared at the Angel, and the Angel stared back at me, taking slow, deliberate steps.

Tears streaked his radiant face, melting my terror into confusion. He'd just battered through dozens of soldiers. He'd burnt down buildings halfway across town. He intended to destroy us all. Why would he cry?

"Kaybree!" a voice called behind me. Rangir hooves pounded against the cobblestones. A young man dressed all in black galloped toward me on his rangir. He carried a huge tower shield in one hand and the reins in the other. He let go of the reins, holding onto the rangir with his legs, and held an arm out to me. "Grab my arm!"

He wanted me to grab the arm of a complete stranger? But he did know my name—like everyone else, it seemed. Plus he wasn't a fiery Angel ready to slice me in half. So I held out my hand and grabbed onto his arm as he rode past. He pulled me up behind him on the saddle, right as the Angel threw a plume of fire at us. The mysterious rider raised his shield. "Watch out!"

I ducked behind his body when I saw the flames coming at us, feeling a twinge of shame at the reflex. Fortunately for both of us, the shield blocked the wave of fire. It even protected our rangir; not an antler was singed. "Who are you?" I asked, though with my track record lately, I doubted he'd give me a straight answer.

He turned the rangir around and taking us away from the Angel. "I work with your mother," he said. We trotted past the fountain and headed along a row of buildings toward the sagekeep. "She sent me to find you. I'm Galen Valkegaard."

Galen. Now that I wasn't fearing for my life—as much—I could get a good look at him. He had sea-green eyes and coppery hair, and his jaw was set in determination as we rode. He had one of those faces that belonged in a storybook, a scarless knight riding to battle. He smelled of leather and metal. Even though the rangir jostled us as we rode, I found that I didn't mind being pressed against him.

I noticed the red Vormund crest embroidered on his surcoat, made of fine linen and a sable fur lining, as well as the white material of his shield. It looked familiar. "Your shield is a relic?" I blurted out. When he gave me a surprised look, I cleared my throat. "I mean, thank you for saving me, Lord Valkegaard. Is that shield a relic?"

"I'll explain when we're inside." The ground shook around us for a moment. He frowned and glanced back. "That Angel is probably trying to target us."

"Why us?" I asked.

He frowned. "Because you're the only real threat to him." He nodded to the fleeing peasants, scrambling to take cover in the sturdier buildings. "As long as he knows you're out here, he'll conserve his strength until he finds you. That should buy the people some time to get to safety."

"None of this is making sense," I said. "I—"

"No more talking until we're inside, Miss Andresdatter," he said, leaning low on his rangir. "Wouldn't want to chip a tooth while we ride."

I took his advice and stayed quiet. The streets we passed were deserted, with pieces of cloth and broken carriage wheels littering the road. Thankfully, I didn't see any bodies. Indeed, it appeared that the Angel was only after me. While that boded well for the people of the city, it wasn't exactly a comforting thought.

The sagekeep drew closer. So did the tremors. "We're almost there," Lord Valkegaard said. "Now when we get inside, I want you to go straight up to the tower and—"

His voice was lost in an explosive blast of flame.

CHAPTER SIX

### Waking Up

Something exploded next to us. Pieces of brick and stone flew at us, and something hard hit me in the head. When the world stopped spinning, I found myself lying on the ground next to a pile of rubble. My head throbbed, and I had a gash in my leg. My dress would need some serious mending, but the Angel took precedence on my priority list right now. "Lord Valkegaard?" I asked, brushing hair back from my eyes.

I spotted the rangir first. It pushed its way up through the rubble, nudging aside pieces of broken tile. "Good, you're all right," I said, reaching over to pet the animal. "It looks like the rangir's okay. Where are you?"

"I think he's unconscious," said a female voice. I stopped petting the rangir and looked it in the eyes. "Dig him out and we'll take him back to the sagekeep."

My stomach tensed up. Another talking animal? I backed up, stumbling over pieces of rubble. I closed my eyes. "This can't be real," I said, taking three deep breaths. "Animals can't talk. The Angels are long gone. And—"

Something hit my shin. "Ow!" The pain throbbed like a red-hot knife. I opened my eyes and saw that the rangir had kicked me. "What was that for?"

"You felt it, didn't you?" it—she—asked. "This isn't a dream, Kaybree Andresdatter. People are dying. And if what Galen says is true, then you could be the only one who can save them." She nudged something on the ground, and I saw it was Lord Valkegaard's shield. As she pushed it aside, I saw him lying there, his eyes closed, with a line of blood dripping down his forehead. I knelt down and felt his face. He was still breathing, thank the Father Above, and his injuries did not appear serious. "Hurry up and load him on my back. We have to get inside before they find us."

As she was the only one of us with a plan, I did as she said, limping over to Lord Valkegaard. I tried not to move him too much, since I didn't know if he'd broken anything. I left his shield on the ground, not wanting to repeat my disaster from the relic classroom, and hoisted him up. Either he was heavier than he looked, or I was weaker than I thought. I strained to drag him over to the rangir, who bent down and let me put him on her back.

Another explosion rocked the city, and the rangir glanced around before leaning over to me. "Sloppy," she said with a snort. "He's aiming blind for us. We might be able to make it. Tie Galen onto my back and I'll start moving."

I resisted the urge to look behind me. "Okay." I found the saddle straps and tied Lord Valkegaard to the saddle. The rangir straightened and started walking toward a narrow bridge that crossed the canal. "Um, Miss Rangir? I know it's a bad time to ask, but I'm still not so sure about listening to a talking animal. Do you only talk when we're this close to the forest?"

The rangir snorted again. "Oh, we always talk," she said, limping on her injured leg. "Forest or no forest. And it's Signy."

"Signy," I said, slipping on a fox fur glove and plucking the shield from the rubble. "Okay. But why can I understand now, and not before?"

She swung her head side to side, gathering speed as she ran across the empty bridge. "You ask too many questions." I followed, holding Lord Valkegaard's shield in front of me and keeping it away from my skin. The path ahead looked clear. We headed for a barred gate that led into the sagekeep, and I hoped that someone would be there to open it when we arrived.

I heard a rustling beside me. Signy tensed. "Kaybree, down!"

I did as she said, dropping to the cobblestones of the bridge. This time I landed on my knees, sending a wave of pain through them. But the wolf's jaws snapped at the air, missing me. The white wolf pounced again, but this time Signy stopped him with her antlers. She bashed him in the side, knocking him away. I crept back as they fought, wind whipping my clothes and hair, hoping Signy had a plan. When the wolf leapt past her and ran for me, though, I knew that her diversion had failed. The wolf fixed its gaze on me and pounced.

I held out the shield, bringing it in front of me right as the white wolf struck. He slammed against the shield, pinning me against the bridge railing. I touched the shield with my ungloved palm, hoping for it to burst into flames. Nothing happened. The wolf snapped at my hand, and I pulled it away. "Don't tell me you're this easy, little Witch," he said, stalking around to get past the shield. "Surely you have some brilliant trick to throw at me."

A torrent of wind buffeted us on the bridge. I had what? I didn't know what I was doing here. When I wanted to fit in, the relics blew things up. When I wanted fire and lightning, they did nothing. Who did this wolf think I was? I wished I could convince myself that if the wolf ate me, I'd just wake up in my bed. But the throb in my shin told me otherwise.

I scrambled for another option. What about the key that the mysterious messenger had given me? I touched the key around my neck, waiting for a light to envelop me like the heroes in the sagas. But once again, now that I needed it, it wasn't working.

The wolf pounced again, and I thought of one last, desperate move. I hope this works. With a nod to Signy, I brought the shield around and clubbed the wolf over the head with it, throwing him off balance. The wind blew my draped sleeves in front of me, obstructing the wolf's view for a split second—enough for Signy to charge in and batter the wolf with her antlers. I knew these sleeves would be good for something. The wolf moved to strike again, but a pair of crossbow bolts lodged themselves in his hide. The bolts hissed like water on a hot fire.

Soldiers in black coats advanced from their fortified positions by the sagekeep. They wore the same red insignia as Lord Valkegaard: my mother's troops had arrived. They aimed their crossbows, which had relics tied to the tops of them, at the wolf. The creature snarled once more and loped off.

Our entrance into the stables was hardly triumphant. The soldiers took Lord Valkegaard, bandaging up his bleeding forehead. A groom led Signy away, leaving me with the rest of the Vormund soldiers, who were reloading their crossbows. One of them, a pale man with a blonde mustache, tapped me on the shoulder. "Young Lady Staalvoss?" I nodded, acknowledging my mother's surname. I was getting used to strangers knowing me. He bowed and pointed to the door. "Your mother would like to speak with you."

I remembered nothing but a blur from my walk up to my mother's tower keep, the central chamber of Vormund tower. The doors with the Vormund insignia were open, and guards stood at attention, waving us inside. We passed rooms buzzing with activity, but I never got more than a glimpse of them before the blonde mustache man nudged me on: a room where men in black wool coats mixed liquids together; an armory where smiths hammered away at a forge, dressed in leather vests; a library with more books than I could count.

We arrived at the tower keep. People shouted out orders, scribbled down notes, and ran from one side of the room to the other. At the center of it all, Lady Andreya Staalvoss stood firm like a rock amongst a storm of crashing waves. I hadn't seen her in over a year, but the hard lines of her face and her tight, severe mouth were the same. Her wide lapis eyes mirrored mine, and her slender frame and high cheekbones made her look like a skeleton. Her fair hair was tied in a bun behind her head. She wore a black uniform of military cut, even though women weren't allowed in the Kantmarck military, and military uniforms weren't supposed to be black, the color reserved for physicians. As far as I knew, she was the first woman to take a soldier's surname, but after she'd saved all of Nordgard, no one could argue.

When I came up in front of her, she was giving instructions to a man in plate armor. "Lady Andreya," the blonde mustache man said. "She's here."

My mother's head swiveled to the side, like a puppet on a string turning its head but leaving its body in place. Childhood memories of standing before her flooded my mind, and I stared down at her high leather boots, waiting for her latest tirade of disapproval. What would it be this time? Was I too pale? That was mostly her fault, for not letting me outside. Were my eyes too red-rimmed from staying up and reading by candlelight? Was I an embarrassment to her for being caught in the attack?

"Kaybree," she said, her voice low and cool. "I see that Galen found you." She frowned, inspecting me with her eyes like a noblewoman sizing up a new gown, or a blacksmith scanning a piece of metal. She stepped forward and hugged me. "I'm relieved that you're safe." As much as I'd wanted to hear those words, though, they sounded . . . hollow. Unreal. "Come. Let me make sure you're all right." She led me away into the hallway.

We ended up in a room by the armory full of odds and ends. Swords and shields covered the walls, with smooth, polished relics interspersed throughout the room. She closed the door, and I held my breath. This wasn't like her to drop her mission to see to my safety. "Is something wrong, Mother?" I asked.

Without speaking, my mother pulled a small colorless orb from her coat pocket. She held it over my forehead, lightly brushing my skin. Sweat dripped down my cheeks. I'd always wanted to impress my mother, to belong with her. She was all I had, and even if I acknowledged the nobles' disapproval of her, I wanted to make her proud. Despite my progress in my studies, she never seemed satisfied; aside from a few offhanded comments about my appearance, she rarely expressed interest in my activities during our yearly meetings. I understood that the world needed her more than I did, and I accepted that. But why was she stopping her mission now to talk to me?

The orb began to glow. It changed from green to red to a deep violet, and finally back to clear. My mother nodded. "Let's find a Weapon for you," she said.

"A what?" I asked. Before she could answer, she grabbed a gauntlet from a peg on the wall and handed it to me. I turned it around in my hands. Its texture felt the same as the relics, rough and brittle. "What's this?"

"Your Weapon," she said. "You'll need it when you go back out there."

I stared out the window at the plumes of smoke rising from the city. "Out where?"

"Into the city. To fight the Angel."

Her tone indicated that this should have made perfect sense to me. I paused, waiting for her to explain. Waiting for her the punch line to a joke that would never come. She stared at me with dead, icy eyes, awaiting my response. I turned the gauntlet in my hand. "You want me . . . to use this . . . to fight that big fiery thing out there that's wrecking the city?"

"Yes," she said, gesturing to a side door that led out of the room by another way. "Go out this way, and make sure that no one sees you. No one must know that you can use the Weapons."

Panic bubbled up in me, along with a flash of frustration. Did she really expect me to just leap out there and start fighting when I had no idea what to do? "Mother, I don't understand. I've never fought an Angel before. I've never fought anything."

She led me over to the door and cranked the latch so that it swung open. It led to a blank corridor that sloped downward. "Put the gauntlet on, and the Angel will find you. You'll know what to do when the time comes. I'm sure of it."

I stood fast, frozen in place. She had to be testing me somehow. Was she trying to prove my loyalty? I wished Signy would kick me again. "How can you be so sure?"

She frowned. "Because you're our weapon against the Angels. Why do you think I summoned you to Kant Vakt?"

My heart sank. She didn't call me here to see her little girl grow up, I thought. She needed to use me in one of her schemes.

Another explosion racked the buildings outside. People ran through the streets, fleeing from burning homes. A child staggered out of an alley, crying and waving her hands.

My selfish ire at my mother's attitude melted away. What was more important than saving the people of the city? I took a deep breath. Could I do it? Could I put on this gauntlet and fight off the Angel and its minions? I turned to my mother. "Isn't there anyone else who can do this?" I could put an outfit together for any occasion, but before today I'd never even thrown a punch, let alone swung a sword—or fought a divine guardian.

"No. You're the only one." Her voice was subdued, almost gentle.

"Then why did you never tell me?"

She stroked my face, leaning in close. "I had to wait until you were ready. Until you woke up." The words burned through my mind, and I thought of the strange events of the last few days. The vision from the Angel. Understanding the animals. Lighting the classroom on fire. Something had awakened inside of me—something that could fight the Angels. "Let the gauntlet be your guide, Kaybree." She gave me a push, and I stumbled into the hallway. "Don't disappoint me." She slammed the door behind me, latching it and leaving me alone in the empty corridor.

I tried the door, but it was locked. The sounds of battle raged outside, and the words of the Angel, the messenger, and the wolf all swirled in my head. According to my mother, I had a job to do. The people of the city needed me. I headed toward the downward spiral of the corridor, gripping the gauntlet tightly as I started down the hallway.

My heart pounded, and sweat trickled down my face and arms. This dress is going to be completely unsalvageable by the time I'm done. If I made it out of this alive, I'd buy a new dress. One of the classy, provincial Kant Vakt dresses with the flared skirt and a leather belt studded with fake diamonds. No, real diamonds. And my very own seal pup, one I could talk to when I went outside. If I saved the city, my mother could at least do that much for me.

The hallway ended in another door, and I opened it. A chill breeze greeted me, heralding my return to the street outside. I was abruptly aware that I had stepped back into the Angel's firing range as well. I walked out onto the road, stepping past overturned carts and smoldering pieces of wood. I slipped the gauntlet on my arm.

Nothing happened. I stood there for a few minutes, waiting. Where was the Angel?

A fiery speck appeared in the sky. My heart started hammering in my chest. The dot grew bigger, a splotch in the clouds. And bigger. She said I'd know what to do. But what? For a moment, I feared that I was just the bait, that she'd laid a trap for the Angel and wanted me to wave around this gauntlet like a worm wriggling on a fishing line. The dot continued to grow. I saw the outline of a person form, the same armored figure I'd seen before. It flew closer, landing on the ground down the street with an impact that shook the earth. It was looking at me.

A wave of heat emanated from the Angel, as if from a blazing furnace. I could see the anguish in his face. I raised the gauntlet and touched it with my palm, but it remained an ordinary gauntlet. Did it need words of encouragement to get started? How was I supposed to let it "guide" me? I looked frantically back at the Angel as it drew closer. It was only steps away now. My face burned from the heat. The Angel met my eyes, raising its hand. "Forgive me," he said, his voice low and soft.

I raised my gauntlet in defense. A river of flame flew out from his hands and hit me, throwing me back into the air. The flames scorched my skin, and I screamed. All I remembered was flying through the air and hitting my head against something hard.

I'd failed.

CHAPTER SEVEN

### Awkward Silence

I woke up in an unfamiliar room. I lay in pitch darkness, broken only by a faint light shining behind the curtains. The sheets on my bed smelled freshly washed. I hazarded a movement, wincing as aches exploded across my body. Had they rescued me from the Angel? Was it still out there hurting people? I sat up, but the intense, pulsating throb in my head forced me to lie back down.

I remembered only bits and pieces of what had happened. There were bright flashes of light, sharp and searing bursts of pain, and a sensation that I was flying. But everything was blurred, like I was trying to recall a memory from long ago. What had really happened out there?

After a minute, I tried sitting up again. My head still hurt, but I managed to focus enough to notice the sounds of people walking outside my room. I also noticed that I wasn't wearing any clothes, only the metal key that still dangled around my neck. My cheeks burned. What had happened to my dress?

My chest of clothes was nowhere to be found. Gathering up the sheet like a robe, I searched the room until I found a pile of clothes folded on a wooden chair. A simple lace-up dress and a white shift constituted my wardrobe, the simple style of a bordertown servant. The dress was forest green, with brown designs that made me look like a tree. It fit well enough, though the lacing left my neck bare. That was another aspect of bordertown fashion.

When I was dressed, I spun in search of a mirror. After being pummeled by that Angel, my hair probably looked like a ransacked raven's nest. I found the sink and mirror in the adjoining washroom, and started to inspect the damage. My hair stuck up at odd angles, but no pieces of it were missing, and nothing had burned off. In fact, aside from the aches and bruises, I had no other injuries. No broken bones either, not even a burn. Had I imagined the Angel's flames burning my skin?

Once my hair was smoothed down to a reasonably acceptable style, I pulled on the soft leather boots by the door and headed outside. I was due for a new pair of boots now that I was this close to the forest, and these would do fine; their style matched one of the bordertown outfits I'd assembled for my first few days at the sagekeep.

I entered a hallway that was eerily calm, with no decorations on the walls, and started looking for my mother. She'd know what happened out there. Maybe the Angel was still attacking and needed to be stopped. Hopefully they'd found someone else to be their weapon, and I could return to piecing together my social life. In fact, if my mother saved the city from the Angel, perhaps my status as her daughter would be less toxic to making friends.

Soldiers strode by me in the corridors. From their uniforms, I could tell we were still inside the Vormund Order's part of the sagekeep. I smiled at one of them as he approached. "Excuse me, sir," I said, "can you tell me where Lady Andreya—"

He turned away without a glance. Another soldier gave me a single look and then quickened his step to walk away. Maybe they weren't allowed to talk to civilians. I followed them down a long hallway, lined with torches, until I reached the area my mother had taken me through yesterday. Or had it been yesterday? My stomach growled, causing me to wonder when I'd last eaten.

I passed the rooms that the soldiers had rushed me past. The alchemical lab, the forge, and the armory where my mother had given me the gauntlet. Oh, right, the gauntlet. Where had it gone? I walked inside to ask the armorer, but he rushed forward and shooed me out. "Begone with you," he said with a scowl. He had a scar over one eye that throbbed as he glared at me. Without any further explanation, he shut the door.

I wandered through the hallways, looking for my mother's tower keep. The library archives had their doors shut and locked, so I couldn't try to find a layout of the tower. I saw a group of three students, around my age, and waved to them. But they turned away when they saw me and walked off.

Now I knew something was wrong. Why the cold reception? Why did I carry a bubble of silence around with me wherever I went? Do they know that I tried to fight the Angel and lost horribly? That I, humanity's only hope, wasn't good enough? I found my way at last to the tower keep and snuck in, wondering if my mother's guards would haul me out. But for some reason, the place was calm. Men in the Order's black military uniforms sat at the wooden tables discussing reports. Others chatted quietly by the windows, gazing down at the city.

That's strange, I thought. If the Angel was still out there, why was everyone so calm?

"Miss Andresdatter," said a voice I knew from somewhere. Lord Valkegaard appeared on my left, walking toward me. I cringed at the thought that he'd seen me defeated by the Angel. His coppery hair was slicked neatly in place, and his uniform was pressed. Two soldiers flanked him, including the one with the blonde mustache. "Word has it that you saved my life."

I was embarrassed at the gratitude in his tone. "Well, it wasn't all me," I said, glancing down. My face started burning, and it had nothing to do with fiery Angels. "Signy and I both took you back. She probably did most of the work."

"Signy?" he asked, frowning. "How do you . . . know my rangir's name?" I paled a little, realizing that I'd truly spoken to her. I guess this confirms it.

"I must have heard one of the grooms say her name," I said, hazarding a smile.

He laughed. "Oh, all right. Anyway, there's something your mother wanted me to show you. Come with me."

He waved away the soldiers, and I followed him out into the hall. "So . . . what happened back there?" I asked. He didn't answer. I swallowed. "You look like you're all right. Must have just been a bump to the head, right?" He nodded and looked away. We didn't speak the whole time we walked, and I noticed that his mouth was set firmly whenever he looked at me. Of all the silences this morning, this was the most peculiar. He'd talked to me a minute ago—why not now?

We reached the room where I'd awakened, and he shut the door behind us. "Miss Andresdatter, do you know what this means?"

I stared at him. "What what means?"

He shook his head. "We can't talk about your abilities in public. You have to be careful not to let anyone know that you're the one who . . . you know."

"The one who what, Lord Valkegaard?" I asked, feeling frustrated from the lack of answers. "What happened back there? What happened to the Angel?"

"You don't remember?" He stepped over to the window and threw back the curtains. He gestured down at the ground below. "See for yourself." One of the warehouses had collapsed, a segment of its frame charred black. A massive crater marred the ground beside it. At its center of it was the outline of a man, burned into the ground.

"Where's the Angel?" I whispered.

Lord Valkegaard gave me a curious look. He took something off of his belt and handed it to me. It was the gauntlet. "Gone," he said. "I'm not sure how to explain it. They woke me up when people sighted you and the Angel fighting outside the sagekeep. It was just like in the archives, just like everything I'd studied, but . . . still, I wasn't prepared to see it myself."

I took the gauntlet and turned it around in my hands. I put it on, and a flood of memories rushed into me. It was like coming up from the water for a breath of air, or being jolted out of a dream into consciousness. Power surged through me, and I woke up.

I remembered everything clearly now, back to that moment when the Angel had thrown me into the building. Fire consumed me, like my skin and bones would burn away into ash. But then something had happened. The memories flashed by, all jumbled and vying for my attention at once.

When I hit the building, I stopped screaming. The blaze singed my clothes and skin, but I stood anyway, the gauntlet bursting with energy. I exploded with light, and the air crackled around me. My skin changed to a bluish white color, pulsing and sparking, reminiscent of the affect my touch had generated in the relic that morning. I stared back at the Angel. He raised his arm for another blast of fire, but this time, I leapt aside. The fire scorched the building behind me as I flew out of the way.

I floated in the air, streaking from one spot to another. My own speed defied my senses. I moved like light itself, or like a bolt of lightning; here one instant, there the next. The Angel shot a wave of liquid flame at me. I flew over it and appeared behind him. I grabbed a fallen pillar from one of the buildings and lifted it into the air. The Angel turned, a walking blaze whose flame I was somehow immune to. I brought the pillar down on its head, smashing it into the ground. Pieces of stone flew everywhere, burying the Angel in the rubble. I glanced around for signs of movement. The pieces of the pillar lay there, unmoving.

A hand made of fire shot up through the pile of stone. The Angel emerged, streaking toward me with its incandescent blade. I dodged aside. He struck again. I moved without thinking, as if this was a dance I'd been taught years ago and just remembered. I knew the steps, I knew when he was going to strike with his sword, and I knew how to outmaneuver him. I also knew how to beat him. The next time he swung at me, I planted a kick in his chest, knocking him back. The ground shook and sizzled as he fell. I grabbed a jagged piece of rubble from the pillar, extending my energy through it.

The Angel struggled to his feet. I stepped on his stomach, knocking him back to the ground. The Angel's eyes widened behind his helm. In fear? As I raised the jagged piece of stone, I saw my reflection in his eyes. A girl-shaped bolt of lightning stared back, sparking and pulsing with energy. I brought the stone down straight into his heart. The weapon smashed through his fiery armor and exploded through his body. A burst of light filled my eyes, and the vision of memories ended.

I'd killed him. I'd transformed into a monster of lightning, and I'd killed an Angel—just like my mother had said I would.

"So you remember," said my mother's voice, causing me to look up. I'd been sitting on the bed, with Lord Valkegaard standing beside me. My mother stood by the closed door. As usual, she wore her pristine black uniform and regarded me with her icy eyes. "From now on, you will not leave the core city of Kant Vakt without my express permission. You are not to venture into the forest, and you are to tell no one of your ability to resonate with the Weapons. Do you understand?" I understood nothing, but I nodded anyway. "Very well. Once you have recovered, you should begin your training."

"Training?" I asked.

My mother arched an eyebrow, like she did when I was missing something that should have been obvious. At this point, my mind was still reeling from these memories, and from the knowledge of my powers. "You are the only one who can do this. A Witch is born once a century. You alone hold the power to fight the creatures that threaten the world. Your safety is of utmost importance to me, as is your proper training." She gestured outside. "This will not be the last Angel you destroy. There will be more. I expect they may even walk among us. Be ready."

She nodded to Lord Valkegaard and then turned on her heel and left the room, shutting the door behind her. The prospect of training sounded ominous, especially with a full load of classes at the sagekeep. If I wasn't supposed to tell anyone that I was training to fight Angels, then I would be expected to continue my schooling, a noble's legal responsibility. What would I tell my classmates? Perhaps she relied on my inability to make friends in her calculations. At least she could buy me clothes to replace the ones I'd lost.

We sat in silence until Lord Valkegaard cleared his throat. "I know all of this must be new to you," he said. "Your mother cares about you very much."

I sighed. "The truth doesn't bother me, Lord Valkegaard." I didn't need to be treated like a child.

He frowned. "She talks about you all the time."

"She does?" I asked.

"She has told me a great deal," he said, setting his hands on one of the bedposts. "She did ask me to train you."

"Really?" I asked, feeling a smile begin to sprout. "You're going to train me, Lord Valkegaard?"

"Yes, I am," he said. "And to make our conversations less cumbersome, would you mind calling me Galen? Your mother always refers to you as Kaybree, so I admit that it feels odd to call you Miss Andresdatter."

I tried to contain my excitement. "As you wish."

He frowned again and stroked his chin. "I've never trained a Witch, but I've studied about the Angels my entire life. I'll make sure you're prepared to fight them. We have to be careful, though. If others knew you were our Witch, then the king and the sages would both try to use you in their own schemes."

"Okay, Galen," I said, trying out his name on my lips. It had an ethereal quality, elegant and refined. "But who else knows?" I thought about the messenger who'd given me the key I wore around my neck. "The people in the Vormund Order?"

He shook his head. "No one except your mother and me. And it needs to stay that way." His voice took on a stern tone. "Don't speak to anyone here. They are under strict orders to keep their work secret, so I doubt they'll talk to you on their own." So that explained the frosty reception I'd received. "You may need to visit occasionally to check in with us about training or your missions. Your mother will tell the guards to let you report to her about your studies, so you should be able to use that as a cover."

I gave him a weak smile, but my heart sank like shoes into a snowdrift. The only relationship my mother wanted was a smokescreen for giving orders to her secret weapon. It didn't surprise me; that was my mother's nature. Having seen the threat the Angels posed to the innocents of the city, I understood why. Saving the world was more important than family, friends, or anything else. And it looked like even if I was their secret weapon, I still didn't belong in their Order.

Lord Valkegaard walked over and rapped on the windowpane. "You should also know what the Order is officially saying about the Angel attack. As far as the king and the sages know, the attack was repelled by the combined efforts of the Vormund Order, and the exact methods are being kept secret for security reasons."

"I understand. But I'm still not sure how any of this works. I remember lifting a pillar, but it must have weighed twenty stone. And then there was the whole lightning part, and the explosions, and how did that gauntlet make me transform anyway?"

"I'm not sure myself how Witches work," he said. "I can explain some to you when we start your training. Tomorrow morning, perhaps?"

"But I have school."

"Right. That may complicate things. Of course you still have to attend, since that's why you supposedly came to Kant Vakt. The day after tomorrow, then."

"But I have school that day too."

"On Vision Prayer day?"

I stopped and looked out the window. The next Prayer day wasn't until the weekend. "Um, how long was I asleep?"

"Three days."

"Three days?" No wonder my stomach ached and my vision swam when I tried to walk. "Is this going to happen every time?"

Galen started to answer but scowled out the window instead. I followed his gaze. The Knights of Valir marched through the streets, Father Traum at their head. They stopped to speak with a group of workers that was rebuilding the road where my fight with the Angel had broken the cobblestones.

"With Traum here, you must be particularly careful," Galen said, his jaw set firmly. "He will use any excuse he can to get in here and see what we're doing."

"But we're protecting the city. Won't the sages want to help us?"

"I wouldn't count on it." He turned from the window. "I'll see you on your first day of training. Get some rest."

After he left, I noticed that someone had brought in a plate of food—a couple of biscuits, a pitcher of water, and some spinach soup. I dipped one of the biscuits in the soup and chewed on it, letting my eyes wander about the room. A note was curled up next to my bedpost, slid into the space between the post and the frame. I plucked it out and unrolled it. It was written in flowing script, and contained only a single sentence:

I hope you didn't lose my key.

I abruptly remembered the messenger, and my eyes shot to the window in reflex, but I saw nothing. The parchment was crisp and the ink dry. He must have placed this here while I was asleep. Or had he snuck in while I was looking for my mother? Whatever the case, he knew who I was, and he wasn't working with my mother or Galen. I touched the key around my neck, wondering what else it opened, or if he'd wanted me to find the journal in the first place. I gazed out the window, watching Traum and his entourage weave their way through the streets of Kant Vakt.

And wondering what I'd gotten myself into.

CHAPTER EIGHT

### Runes and Angels

"Kaybree."

I still didn't know how he knew my name. But he said it with such tenderness and care that invading my dreams seemed an insignificant crime. His face glowed with incandescent splendor and his eyes pierced my soul. My head felt fuzzy as my mind floated across the bridge from dreams to consciousness. His presence seemed to eclipse our surroundings. "Who are you?" I asked.

"And so shall the light burst forth in darkness," he intoned, switching to a recitation voice. "A light that sears the very roots of creation shall rise. Thus the Judge of the Almighty shall strike swiftly against it, to save the people from its wrath. Unknowing they shall follow, like lambs to the slaughter, as the Beast leads them. But the righteous shall not rest until the Beast is destroyed." The Angel seemed to look into my soul. "For if one of my servants shall fall, saith the Almighty, two shall arrive in their place."

My heart sank. This was another warning, and one I comprehended. The Angels would keep coming until they found what they wanted. "What should I do?"

As before, my voice fell on deaf ears. "I am an Angel of the Almighty," he said.

"Then why are you talking to a Witch?"

He continued, unfazed. "They are coming for you. But if you repent of your sins, you may be saved."

"What sins?" I asked. I was waking up now, and my mouth felt parched and clammy. "What's this whole 'searing light' about, anyway? Can't you just tell me what to do?"

"May the Almighty watch over you." His voice faded as his form vanished, and I opened my eyes. I sat up in my bed, inside my tiny room in the sagekeep. I wiped a few beads of sweat from my face. Had I seen an Angelic vision, or were my fears haunting my dreams? I climbed out of bed and washed my face at the washbasin, shuddering from the cold water in the pitcher. I dried off and considered today's wardrobe. I had relic class scheduled this morning, but now that I was banned from touching the relics, I had free time to study.

I settled on a lace-up white overgown with a black scarf, matching belt cinch, and fox fur gloves, with my hair braided in the back. In light of the Angel's warning, I kept my favorite clothes packed safely away from my hands, as they had a tendency of setting things on fire. I grabbed a quick breakfast and headed over to the history classroom, hoping that Jans could assuage my fears about this Angel. Not that I would reveal that I'd been seeing visions, but he might provide some important leads. Perhaps all Witches dreamt of Angels when their powers awakened. Knowing I conversed with imaginary people would be a mixed comfort, but at least it would mean that Sir Angel out there wasn't seeing my hair when I woke up in the morning.

When I reached Jans's classroom, he wasn't there. I walked around the empty room for a bit, wondering where he might have gone. What do the sages do when they aren't teaching? I thought of their religious duties, or of Jans's scholarship. Then again, why leave his classroom for long if he kept his books here?

My eyes caught a title on one of the bookshelves. The spine of the book had runes on it, and the leather cover was worn and tattered, but one word was written in our language: Judge. The visions from the Angel had mentioned the Judge of the Almighty, like he was a person ready to mete out judgment. I took the book from the bookshelf and opened it. It had pictures of weathered stones with place names I hadn't heard of, with text next to the pictures explaining what the runes carved onto them meant.

I tried to read the text, but it didn't make any sense. Maybe Mira can make sense of this. I glanced around for Jans, but figured that he wouldn't mind if I borrowed one book from him. I would even buy him a nice gift for letting me use it.

I stowed the book back in my room and read a little more of my father's journal to pass the time until riding class. It spoke of his excavations around the forest, and the relics they had found. Some of the relics had runes carved into them. They thought these were the objects that allowed the sages of the past to communicate with the Angels, and the runes were inscribed with the name of a particular Angel who the possessor could speak to.

But not just anyone could speak to the Angels, according to my father's companions. One of them, a sage, claimed that only the pure of heart who were chosen of the Almighty could do it. That made me wonder if anyone else saw Angels. I didn't feel chosen, especially with a title like "Witch" given to those with my powers. And if so, how was I supposed to understand the Angel's messages?

I headed to riding class to meet Mira and ask her more. When I walked into the stables, I could hear the rangir chatting with one another.

"Who's this noisy one?" one of the rangir said.

"City doe," said another, with a gruffer voice. "Take them out of the wild for a few years and they turn into clankers. All that oil she's wearing, you could smell her from a mile off."

I scowled at the rangir. "I know what you're saying," I said, hoping it would either quiet him or impress him. It was unsuccessful on both counts. He snorted and muttered to his rangir friends about how inconsiderate people were, eavesdropping on their conversations.

"Don't mind him," said another voice. "He gets defensive when he's surprised. Survival reflex."

I recognized the voice. "Signy!" One of the grooms shot me a strange look, and I cleared my throat and pretended to inspect her. I adopted a condescending voice, like people used to talk to their pets. "Oh, wonderful, girl, you still look like you're in good shape. I hope they've kept running you hard to keep your strength up."

"He's not looking anymore, Kaybree," Signy said, leaning over to lick my hand. She looked me in the eyes. "And for the record, never speak to me like that again, or I'll bite your hand off. You make me sound like a witless sled dog."

"Sorry," I whispered. "I didn't want him to think I was crazy. Not just anyone can talk to a rangir."

Signy flared her nostrils. "Oh, lots of people can. People like you, of course, but also some others who are particularly attuned to animals. Even so, it's a pleasure to see you again. And in one piece."

I smiled. "Thanks to you."

"I hardly did anything," she said. "You're the Witch around here."

"That's right," I said. "I've been meaning to ask you: What do you know about Witches?"

"Come on, everyone," the riding instructor called out, waving us over. "Time for class. You can get to know the animals later."

Signy flared her nostrils and scratched the side of her head against the pen. "Don't hold your breath. I probably know about as much as you do. Now you'd better head over."

"Okay. See you soon."

Over by the instructor, I spotted Mira. She waved to me. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Have they let you inside the stables before?"

"Well, I've been here once," I said. "I met one of the rangir during the Angel attack. They brought me back here before they took me to my mother."

Mira nodded. "That's great, but I don't think they'll let us actually go riding for a while." She gave the instructor a sidelong glance. "You know, we have to learn about safety first."

A group of students in our class had gathered around the instructor. There were twenty or thirty of us, including Danelle and her entourage. It irked me that we seemed to have every single class in common. "So do you know anyone else in our classes? They don't seem to talk to you much."

Mira glanced away. "It's kind of strange," she said. "I don't usually talk this much to people. All of them already have their friends from their families' alliances, so I never really get to know anyone." She pointed to a girl with fiery red hair, who was helping the instructor pull down one of the rangir harnesses for a demonstration. "I know Calli. We were partners last year in relics class. But we don't talk much outside of class." Calli looked like the girl I'd saved from the tentacle creature. But she didn't seem to recognize me when our eyes met, so I just smiled and looked away.

"I heard you were hurt in the Angel attack," Mira said. "Should you be walking around like this? It's only been three days."

"I wasn't hurt too badly," I said. "My mother wanted to make extra sure, so she kept me up in her tower for a bit longer."

"Oh." Mira bit her lip. "Did you get to meet her, then?"

"Yeah. Her secretary actually saved me from the Angel. I'm glad you made it away from the wolf attack. Did our rangir make it too?"

"They made it back. But we were all worried about you. They just told us that Lady Andreya had you up in her tower. You didn't see anything up there, did you? Like, how she fights the Angels?"

Just a little. "I saw a few things, and I actually had some questions for you. I found a book that I wanted to see if you could read. It has runes and stuff."

"Sure!" Mira said, smiling. "I'll help you however I can."

The instructor called us to order with the bellow of a horn and started class. I yawned as the instructor demonstrated sitting in a rangir saddle, and how to use the reins and harnesses. I'd been riding rangir since I was a child, and besides, now I could simply speak to the rangir to give commands. I did make a show of listening, though. The last thing I needed was my classmates discovering I could talk to animals as well as set rooms on fire.

We split into groups, each one with a harness and a saddle to try out on one of the rangir. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. "Hello, ladies. Need some help there? I happen to be the master of saddling and taming wild beasts." It was Willard. He grinned at us, holding harness and saddle.

"You're Willard, right?" I said.

He winked. "Willard Matthias, at your service." He glanced around at the rangir in the pens and rubbed his hands together. "Shall we wrestle up a rangir to saddle?" He led us around to the rangir who weren't being saddled by the other students. Attendants stayed nearby in case one of the rangir got angry and decided to headbutt someone. Mira and I followed him, though I still could not understand his intentions. His casual yet confident attitude led us along behind him.

We passed by Signy's pen, where she stood alone. "So he's looking to 'tame' a rangir," Signy said, flaring her nostrils. "Let's see him try."

I motioned toward her. "Hey, Willard, what about this one? She looks like she should be easy to handle."

He stopped and opened up her pen. "No problem." He held up the saddle. "Now, for a demonstration. You see, the key to handling a rangir is to establish who's in control from the beginning." He threw the saddle onto Signy's back, and started tying the harness on her face. But she nudged the harness away. He tried to set it back on, but she threw it off, and then bucked the saddle off too. Willard caught it before it hit the ground and threw it back on. "Now, this one is being a little difficult, so all you have to do is—"

Signy snorted. "Amateur," she said. She threw the saddle off again. "The first step is to establish a relationship of trust. But of course you nobles wouldn't think of that, would you?" Willard tried once more, and this time Signy lowered her head and rammed him with her antlers. I winced as he fell onto the ground beside the pen, landing on his backside.

I knelt down beside him, offering a hand to help him up. "Are you all right?"

He rubbed his lower back. "Don't worry. This happens all the time. Rangir can be stubborn creatures, you know."

We heard laughing behind us. "Do all the undesirables have a loser compass or something?" Danelle said, flipping her hair back. "They all seem to end up finding you."

Her constant appearances were wearing on my patience. I arched an eyebrow at her. "So that explains it, Danelle. I've been wondering why you talk to me every day."

Rather than respond, she continued past us and joined another group trying to saddle a rangir. Mira and I helped Willard to his feet, and he brushed himself off. He shook his head. "Let's try this again."

I grabbed the saddle. "Maybe I should give it a try." I walked over to Signy, smiling and muttering under my breath, "How do we lose this guy?"

Signy leaned over and let me put the saddle and harness on her. "I'm not sure you can. He came over and talked to you for a reason."

"Great," I said, glancing back at Willard. He frowned at us, as if perplexed at my success with the rangir in light of his colossal failure. "Brother Jans seems to think he's all right, though." Thinking of Jans brought to mind the mission he'd given me to explore my mother's writings. I fastened the harness, keeping it loose to ensure that Signy wouldn't headbutt me. "By the way, do you know where I can find any of my mother's papers? I'd like to know what she's doing. Do you ever hear about things like that?"

Signy settled into the harness. "Not sure," she said, flaring her nostrils. "Have you thought of checking the tower?"

I rolled my eyes and whispered back. "I'm not stupid. Where else would I check?"

"Well, that's my only advice. Doesn't she have official scribes to write reports to the king?"

I thought of the library archives I'd passed on my way to the tower keep. I could begin my search there. "Good idea." I stroked Signy's fur. "I'll come back and visit you sometime. Maybe I'll sneak in and we can go for a ride."

She snorted. "Bring your friend the 'tamer' too," she said. "We can all have a good laugh."

"He's not that bad. Not enough that I'd want to see him get a broken neck."

"Give it a few weeks," she said. "You might change your mind." I glanced back at Willard, and he grinned. Oh, well. Being followed around was the closest I had come to making friends, and maybe it was close enough to count.

CHAPTER NINE

### Ordinary Swords

The day's classes passed far too slowly, and I learned nothing, drumming my fingers on the wooden tabletops and waiting for a free moment when I could show Mira the rune book. I went to the mead hall with the other students for lunch, and sat beside Mira once I had my plate of food. "How was your morning?" I asked, sitting down at our table. It had a crack down the middle and leaned slightly to one side, so it was probably ours because no one else wanted it.

She chewed on a sprout. "We didn't do much," she said. "Calligraphy just had us practice dipping our pen into the inkwell and writing a single letter. And relics is still having us read about all the problems that happen when they're not used safely."

I sighed. "I know, I know."

Mira held out a hand. "Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that. Believe me, people have had a lot worse things happen when they misused relics."

"Worse than burning up a classroom?"

She glanced away. "It's not that bad. They say we might even be able to go back once they fix the windows." She smiled. "But look on the bright side. At least nobody was hurt."

I took a bite of bread. True, no one had been seriously hurt in the accident. But what about next time? Galen and my mother had made it clear that next time an Angel attacked, I would need the relics simply to stand a chance at fighting them. But how could I be sure that I wouldn't accidentally harm others?

I took out the Judge book and placed it on the table. "Can you read this?" I asked. "Ever since the Angel attack, I've been interested in learning more about them."

Mira turned the book over in her hands, gingerly turning the pages and peering down at them. "It's written in runic short form," she said. "If you know the meanings of runes, you can understand it. I can give you a translation of the first few pages so you can see what it's about. How do you know it has to do with the Angels?"

"It says 'Judge' on it. Does the Book of Visions call the Angels the 'Judges of mankind' or something?"

Mira nodded slowly. "That's a good point. Wow, I wouldn't have caught that." I didn't tell her how I'd learned about the term. She slipped the book into her bag. "I'll try to have the translation ready in a few days."

I glanced up, feeling someone's eyes on me and worrying it was Jans, looking for his missing book. Instead, Danelle was scowling at us, seated with her friends at their table across the room. "I wonder what her problem is," I muttered, looking away. "She's hated me ever since she knew who my mother was. Some sort of noble family rivalry?"

"I think I know why," said a voice behind me.

I paled. "Galen?" He stood there, looking like a painting of a prince with his flawless face, his coppery hair, his pristine surcoat of crimson and black. I suddenly hoped I had remembered to wipe the breadcrumbs from my face.

"Who else?" he said as he sat down between us. He held a tankard of juice with him. I knew it wasn't ale or beer due to my mother's strict policy against drinking in uniform. "But like I was saying, Danelle's opinion of you comes from her family's opinion of Lady Andreya. They think my association with her makes me look bad, and that of course makes Danelle look bad."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Well, we are betrothed."

A lightning bolt seemed to shoot through me. Galen, betrothed to the most vicious, horrible girl in all of Kant Vakt? But he was so nice to me. How could he already be taken? I realized Galen and Mira were staring at me, waiting for me to say something. "Oh. That explains it, then."

Galen nodded, as if nothing unusual had happened. "Anyway, I don't have time to chat today. I just wanted to stop by and remind you about tonight."

Tonight would be our first training session—out in the pouring rain. "I'm overjoyed," I said, rolling my eyes at him. After learning about my powers, it felt like I had been dragged into a spiderweb of secrecy and deceit. He was betrothed, I had to learn how to kill Angels, and my mother was being investigated for heresy and murder—with my help.

He gave me a sympathetic look. "This is really important, Kaybree," he said. He shot Mira a glance, reminding me that he couldn't talk openly when others were around. "As important as any of your classes, if not more. Try to take it seriously."

"Okay." I smiled at him. "I'll do my best."

"Excellent." He picked up his drink and gave polite nods to both of us. "Until next time, then." He strode off in the other direction, not once giving Danelle so much as a glance, which made me smile.

"What was that about?" Mira asked. "Does your mother have you on a special study schedule or something?"

"Something like that," I said. "Sorry, I'm not supposed to talk about it."

"No, I understand," she said. "Each House has its secrets. It's just that they usually have servants or guards doing the teaching. Having Galen Valkegaard drop by to give you a message is like using a relic to cook dinner."

Valkegaard. When I'd first heard Galen's surname, I'd been preoccupied with surviving the Angel's attack. But now I remembered where I'd heard the name before: at my last sagekeep. "House Valkegaard," I said, mostly to myself. "Isn't his family pretty high up in the capital?"

Mira gave me an incredulous look. "Are you kidding? They're third in line for the throne. If Galen weren't the youngest son, they'd never let him join the Vormund Order. He'd have all sorts of responsibilities in the capital."

"Then why do they let him?" I asked, picking at my bread.

"You should ask," Mira said. "I'm sure he'd tell you. He seems like he's really comfortable around you. I'll bet he'd even tell you why he's still betrothed to Danelle."

"Maybe," I said. I made a note to remember that when he was swinging a wooden staff at my head. Somehow I didn't see Galen answering any sensitive or complicated questions during our training sessions. We needed to spend all our time, according to him, preparing my skills for the next attack.

A group of students started applauding, and we turned toward the doorway to follow the crowd's attention. One of the boys, a little older than me, stood on a table and started singing. The others clapped along to the song:

Oh, I see a place

Out far by the bay

Through vision's all-seeking eye

And I know a song

That flies with the wind

And soars until the daybreak is nigh

So follow my tracks

Throw fear to the wind

Come search for the music we gave

Shout with me, my friends

Ale's great battle cry

We'll sing 'til we're dust in the grave

Come on!

When he was finished, the students clapped again, and he took a bow. I joined them; it must have taken quite a bit of courage to stand up and sing in front of the whole sagekeep. He grinned and made a sweeping gesture. "If you like to sing, or just like to listen, then come visit the Bard Song tomorrow night for our first show of the winter. The winter troupes are starting to come in, and we have an excellent lineup for you this year, including Snorri the First and Three Eyeless Hags."

A few students made sharp gestures toward the other doorway. Several sages strode into the room, scowls on their faces. The singer stepped down from the table and started for the other exit. "Price is one silver penny at the door. Hope to see you there!" We applauded him again as he left, only stopping when the sages shouted us to a pious silence.

When we began to trickle into our next classes, a low buzz of conversation began, and all of it was about the upcoming show. "It's like this every year," Mira said. "One of the local taverns has someone come in here and sing for us, and then the sages chase him out." She grinned in excitement. "You want to go? I'm sure they'd love to meet the daughter of Lady Staalvoss. A lot of them have their own issues with the sages, so you'll fit right in."

"Sure," I said. I'd never been allowed to go to taverns before. I had been mostly confined to the sagekeps where I was studying. My guardians had been appointed by my mother, which meant they shared her disciplinarian manner. "Can I meet you here? I still don't know the city very well."

"Of course." She pointed down a hallway. "Well, my class is down there. See you tomorrow in history, all right?"

After classes had finished for the day, I headed to the courtyard for my training session with Galen. A light rain was falling along with some snowflakes, making the ground soft and muddy. The sun started warming up the frosty ground as I stood beside the frozen fountain. Galen arrived a few minutes later, wearing a brimmed hat and carrying a sack that clanged with every step. I'd forgotten that hats were in fashion in the rainier port cities. "Ready for your first day?"

"If I'm not, does that mean we don't have to do it?"

"Nice try." He waved me over around the back. "Come with me."

We headed to a hidden courtyard behind the sagekeep. We had to vault a crumbling wall and traverse an overgrown path to find it, but by the time we arrived, the world around us was silent. A secluded location with Galen would have been an exciting prospect yesterday, but now that I knew he was betrothed—and to Danelle—it only made things awkward.

I shouldn't have worried; from the moment we arrived, he went straight to business. "All right, Kaybree, let's begin." He removed his coat and hat and set them on a stone ledge. Under his coat, he was dressed in an elegant black vest and collared shirt, with trousers and laced boots. It was an emerging courtly style, but certainly not what one would wear to training. If it was, then I had seriously underdressed.

"Are you sure you want to wear that out here?" I asked.

He smirked. "I think I'll be all right." He set down the sack and started pulling items out: two wooden swords, a heavy pad with dents in it, and a battered helmet. "Pick up one of the swords and I'll teach you some basic self-defense."

I picked up the wooden sword. It was lighter than I expected. "What kind of relic is this?"

He grabbed the other sword and began weaving a practice form in the air before him, the wood whooshing at his movements. "These aren't relics. They're ordinary practice swords."

"Oh," I said, disappointed. "I didn't know wooden swords worked against Angels."

Galen stepped forward and rapped against my shoulder with his sword. I jumped back, startled, and grabbed my newly throbbing shoulder. "First, you must master the basics of self-defense. If you can't fight with a sword, how do you expect to wield the most powerful weapons the human race has ever created?"

We had created the Weapons? As far as I knew, the Angels had forged all of the relics during the era of the Nordgard Empire. Perhaps Galen and my mother knew things the sages had forgotten. I held out the sword in front of me, skeptical. "And swinging around pieces of wood is supposed to help me?"

He adjusted my hands so they gripped the sword the right way. I took a little longer to fix my grip so his hands would stay there. "We can't have you carry around any Weapons on a regular basis yet. It would be dangerous if someone discovered that you had one—and worse if they found out you were our Witch." He took a position opposite me. "All right, aim the point of your sword at my throat. This is your ready stance."

"Ready for what?" I asked.

He stepped forward and whipped his sword around, knocking mine aside. His sword flew in a swift arc and ended up against my neck. "For that. Try it on me." I got back into ready stance and tried the same strike. But I didn't throw enough force into it, and our swords just cracked against each other. "Faster next time," he said. He frowned. "Oh, another reason why you can't carry Weapons around: you never know when they might shoot off sparks or flames for no reason."

I winced. "You heard about that?"

"Kaybree, everybody's heard about that."

I slashed at him again. This time he sidestepped and brought his sword down against my neck. He pulled the blow so it wouldn't injure me, but it was still frustrating. "I can't do anything if you keep changing up your attack pattern."

He arched an eyebrow. "And you think an Angel will just give you a predictable pattern to figure out? You need to learn to think like a fighter. Controlling the Weapons alone isn't enough."

I sighed. "Is that what your books tell you?"

"No. That's just common sense."

We sparred for the next couple of hours. We started with wooden swords, transitioning later to techniques involving fists and feet. He stifled a laugh when I hurt my wrist on my first punch. Once he'd shown me the correct technique, it didn't hurt so much. He taught me a maneuver to throw someone to the ground who rushed me as well. I would have enjoyed it more if it didn't involve me crashing to the ground each time and bumping my head on a rock.

After a grueling two hours of training, I was drenched in sweat and my muscles ached. The frigid air also made my fingers and toes numb. Galen dismissed me for the day, but instructed me to return the following day to continue. True to his confidence, not a spot of mud or dirt marred his clothes. While I assured him I would turn into a fireball and char the next Angel to smoldering bits, he warned me that the next ones wouldn't attack so directly, now that they knew I was here.

"Your power puts you on equal footing with them," he'd told me. "But each one of them has hundreds, maybe thousands of years of experience using their powers. You need training to beat them, and you need to outsmart them; otherwise you'll have no chance at all."

He promised me that tomorrow's task would be less physically taxing, like learning to ride a rangir, though from his urgent tone in discussing the Angels, I highly doubted that. Of course, in all his and my mother's talking about fighting the Angels, they had never mentioned being able to see them. Did they know that Witches could receive visions? Could they help me interpret what I was seeing?

CHAPTER TEN

### Stones, Bones, and Sulfur

Mira needed another day to look through the Judge book from Jans's classroom, so I focused on catching up on what I'd missed in the three days of classes I'd been asleep. I reported to the courtyard the next night for my next training session with Galen, making sure to dress in an ugly orange shirt and worn breeches so I wouldn't ruin any clothes I liked.

Before I reached the courtyard, though, I encountered my mother in the hall. Her icy eyes stopped me in my tracks, and I stood there, at a soldier's attention, waiting for her to speak. "Good afternoon, Kaybree," she said.

"Good afternoon, Mother." I tried to meet her eyes, but found myself looking away each time, like a magnet bouncing away from another magnet. "I'm on my way to meet Lord Valkegaard."

"He says your training is progressing," she said. She pursed her lips. "Albeit slowly. Will you be ready for the next one?" She meant the next Angel, but couldn't say that with sages and students passing around us.

"Of course," I said. Sure, I'll be fine. If it waits another fifteen years to show up. "Lord Valkegaard is a most dedicated instructor."

"That he is," she said, stalking around me with that discriminating frown she often wore. "Very well. I will check on your progress again next week."

I let out a slow sigh as she left. I wonder if she knows I have my father's journal. She hadn't mentioned it, so I put those fears aside. With the training session with Galen, I had plenty to worry about.

He was already there when I arrived, going through his forms with a wooden sword. Instead of the vest and collared shirt, he wore his Vormund surcoat and training breeches. The trees dripped raindrops into the marshy, muddy ground. The air smelled of moist dirt and sharp, fresh rainwater. "Right on time," he said, tossing me a wooden sword. "Go through some warm ups and we'll begin." As before, his manner was crisp and direct. No small talk, no "how was your day" or anything else. Just "let's begin." Perhaps my mother was rubbing off on him.

He came over, holding an item behind his back. "I thought we'd try something a little different to start off." He held out a white glove. "Now, don't touch it yet. This is a relic that we call a Weapon. No one is quite sure where they come from, but they're the remnants of items forged in the Age of Visions. This one doesn't shoot sparks, so you should be fine. Just put it on and focus on emptying your mind."

I slipped the glove on, holding my breath and waiting for it to explode. It didn't. In fact, as I stood there, breathing steadily and staring at it, nothing happened at all. "What do I do now?"

Galen took a step back and pointed to a large rock. "I want you to push the rock. Just lightly. Concentrate on moving the rock an inch back."

I focused on the rock, feeling a tingling sensation in the glove. Move. I gave the rock a mental shove, but it did not budge. I pushed again; still nothing. Galen watched me expectantly. I tried a third time, throwing my will at the rock in a fierce wave of motion. Bolts of lightning shot out from the ground around me, sizzling blue wisps that curled the blades of grass and scarred the tree trunks. Mud water bubbled and sparked. I stepped out of the marshy water, hoping to stop the lightning, but it only intensified. A bolt of energy blasted through a tree to my right, charring bark and knocking a large limb to the ground.

Galen cried out in pain. White energy sizzled around him, shooting toward his boots. In desperation, I pried the glove off of my hand and threw it to the ground. Like a candle flame extinguished by a gust of icy wind from an open window, the lightning disappeared. I ran over to Galen, who had fallen to the ground. "Galen! Are you all right?" I knelt beside him, cursing my inability to control the relics. How long would I be a menace to everyone around me?

He coughed and stood, brushing wet grass from his clothes. "Good thing I wore these boots," he said, gesturing at the smoke rising from them. "I thought something like this might happen."

"I'm so sorry," I said. "I just—it was out of control!"

"That's why we're doing this," he said, holding up a hand. "The very beginning is crucial to learning control over your abilities. Until further notice, we're going to escalate the training to a daily affair. Meet me here every night from now on."

"Every night?" I thought about the bards' show tomorrow night. It was the first chance I'd ever had to leave the sagekeep with my friends. And the first time I'd ever had a friend to go with. "But you know I have classes, right?"

"Classes?" he said, coughing. He stood and brushed twigs from his coat. "This is the fate of the human race. Your training comes first. If the sages have a problem with that, they can take it up with me."

My heart sank. So much for my plans. "Okay. What now?"

He shook his head. "We'll come back to Weapons training another time. It looks like you still need some time to adjust." He grabbed the glove from off the ground. "Go ahead and practice your sword strokes. Let's see what you remember from last time."

As catastrophic as relic practice nearly became, it could not rival the humiliation of sword training. This time, Galen wielded a six-foot oaken staff against my clumsy sword strokes, and I found myself face down in the mud more times than I could remember. Running and dodging on hard ground posed no problem, but in the icy slush of earth sodden with rain and snow, my feet couldn't hold traction. By the time the sun had set, a chill wind sapped the warmth in my joints, and I felt as if I moved through jelly. My only consolation, I thought while shivering and clutching the wooden sword hilt in frost-numbed hands, was that I had successfully chosen an outfit worth ruining.

After I pulled myself back up from tripping on a tree root, Galen set down his staff and said, "That's enough for now. I don't want to push you too hard."

I gasped for breath, leaning against a tree for support. I wiped my face with a sleeve, replacing mud with more mud, which now dripped from my cheek. Thoughts of impressing Galen had flown far away during the training. I had the impression, though, that girls who powdered their faces didn't impress him as much as those who fought the Angels. In that case, the mud and sweat would have given me an advantage.

Galen waved me over to a rock where he'd set his bag. "Come here, have a seat. We still have some time left before dark, and I wanted to show you something."

I plopped myself down next to the rock, resting my numbed legs and not caring about the water seeping into the old pair of breeches. "What is it?" A thought occurred to me, and I perked up. "A relic?"

"Something like that," he said. He drew a black gemstone from his coat pocket. It emitted a slight screeching sound, like someone dragging their nails across a chalkboard, but when he pulled it away, the sound stopped. "You see, Kaybree, when the sages talk about relics, they mean the 'holy' objects given to us by the Angels. They were meant to protect us from the creatures of the forest." He held up the black stone and put a blood red one next to it. "But there are also other kinds of relics. Objects that work against the Angels' power, should you come in contact with them."

"Relics against the Angels?" I asked. "How could the Almighty's creations hurt one of his messengers?"

He set down the stones and drew a small pouch out of the bag. "The Angels are more complicated than that." He scooped up a bit of moist earth. "For example, we know the Angels are tied to the forest. They're creatures of life and the natural world, so objects of decay and stone can hurt them." He picked up the black stone. "Gemstones from the darkest recesses of the earth have been discovered by our workers in the colonial mines. Their presence can sometimes weaken an Angel's power." He opened the pouch and held it out to me. "Smell this."

I made a face. "Smell it?"

"Go ahead."

I sniffed the inside of the pouch. The smell nearly overpowered me, burning through my nose and making my eyes water. I coughed and turned away from the stench, but it lingered, like a burning rotten egg. I waited for my sinuses to clear before I tried to speak. "What was that?"

"It's called sulfur. It might smell bad to us, but to the Angels, it's toxic. We're still trying to figure out why, but until then, at least it works." I coughed again, wiping moisture from my eyes. It "worked" on humans as well, it seemed.

Galen took a slender white object from the bag, handling it with both hands, like a woman cradling her baby. "We also have relics of our own. Remnants of those whom the Angels cursed." He held it out for me to see. "Behold, the finger bone of Elrich Ardawk the Heretic."

I stared at the bleached white bone. I knew that people sometimes kept heirlooms from their ancestors, but bones were supposed to be buried underground—especially the bones of heretics. Ardawk had accused the sages of being worse than highway robbers: at least robbers admitted that thuggery was wrong, but the sages pretended it was a holy calling. Ardawk hadn't been known for his subtlety. "Where did you get that?"

"It's been passed down for generations," he said, sheltering the bone under his hands from the rain. "Legend has it that Ardawk's finger was cut off by a Knight of Valir shortly before he was burned to death for heresy. His followers saved the bone, and some say it's been imbued with his spirit." He cleared his throat and glanced around, as if nervous. "Listen, Kaybree, it's dangerous out there alone. Once the Angels know who you are, they'll come after you. But your powers are still wild and volatile. Until you learn to control them, you don't stand a chance. And I may be able to protect you from politicians, but not Angels."

He took a cord and wove it through a hole in the bone, and handed it to me. His eyes sparkled with sincerity. "That's why I want you to have this. It will protect you from the Angels, at least a little. Only an Angel will know what it is, so nobody will accuse you of heresy just for having it." He put the necklace on me, and I pushed my damp hair out of the way for him. "I want you to be safe. That's why I insist on an intense training program. That's why I won't accept anything but your best effort."

I smiled back at him as the relic sat against my chest beside the serpent-head key. "Thanks, Galen," I said, heat rising in my cheeks at his words. "That's really sweet of you."

"Keep the relic close to your heart," he said. "Let it remind you that I'm always near. We're in this together, Kaybree. We're here to defend humanity."

"Of course." I glanced down at the relic again. "I just have to forget that it's really some dead guy's finger."

Galen burst into an embarrassed smile. "Yeah, that might be best."

I smiled back. It might have been the finger bone of a heretic, but it was a gift from Galen and my defense against the Angels. I ran my hand down the grooves of the heretical relic, touched that Galen cared, but aware of the relic's true purpose. Stones, bones, and sulfur—as well as two days of training—were all that stood between me and humanity's worst enemies.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

### Sifting Through the Past

I slept terribly that night. The sounds of people hacking and wheezing outside my window kept me awake until nearly dawn. The flensu had come back, like it did every winter. When I finally arose, it felt as if my hours of rest had accomplished nothing. I touched the relic Galen had given me. It might protect me from Angels, but the flensu that was ravaging the peasants outside destroyed health from the inside out. The only defense was to keep warm and keep away.

I asked Mira about the sickness on the way to class. "The change of weather makes it easier to get the flensu," she said.

I thought about the people outside my window. "What happens to the peasants? I thought the sagekeeps sent out healers to help the sick."

She bit her lip. "Well, sure, they try their best. But mostly they just go out for comfort. Let them kiss a relic before they die. Once you get the flensu, there's really no cure."

We took our seats in Brother Jans's classroom. I stopped myself before letting my gaze drift toward the window, knowing I'd see red-faced peasants freezing and dying outside. If the knights here were anything like the ones in the capital, they'd clear the streets of the sick so that we students could go outside later today. It always bothered me that they brushed them away like pieces of trash, but then again, what could we do? If somebody got the flensu, they were going to die. The best we could do was send the sages to look after their souls.

I listened quietly as Jans recounted the history of the sages in Nordgard, leading mankind through the last several centuries. I hadn't told him I'd taken the book, and Mira was still working on translating it. I decided I'd tell him about it after class.

Once the class was dismissed and the others had filed out, I walked over to Jans. "When does the next class come in?" I asked.

Jans blew his nose in his handkerchief and then tucked it away. "In about ten minutes," he said. He rubbed his arms. "Kind of chilly in here, don't you think?"

"A bit," I said. I glanced around. "Anyway, I did what you asked. I was inside the Vormund tower when I was recovering from the attack."

"And what did you see?"

"I don't know. I saw an archives there, but I don't think anything is labeled 'Lady Andreya's Private Writings.' I'd need to ask someone to help me find something like that. And I don't think that would be a good idea."

"No, certainly not." He frowned, stroking his smooth chin. He must have shaved every day to look like that. "But these archives interest me. Keep your eyes open and see if anything turns up."

"Okay." I didn't tell him about my father's journal. I figured that didn't have anything to do with my mother's work, especially if it was dated so long ago. "By the way, I borrowed a book from you. I came in to see you, but you weren't here."

He wiped his nose with the handkerchief again. "That's fine, Kaybree. The books here are for your perusal, so feel free to take them, so long as you return them promptly."

"Thank you," I said.

"Which book was it, if I may ask?"

"One about the Angels," I said. "I figure I should try to understand them better if I'm going to figure out what my mother is doing. Like why they're attacking us."

He frowned. "Kaybree, do you know what the Angels are?"

I paused. "Not really." Even with Galen's explanation of their weaknesses, I still knew little about them.

He took a small book from a shelf. "Some histories provide accounts of the Angels, but the most complete picture we find is through theology, the teachings of the sages and philosophers of times past." He flipped to a page with archaic letters. "Here is a transcription of the Vision of Giles the Philosopher. He was one of the primary vessels for our understanding of the Angels. As you can tell from his name, he was not from the Nordgard mainland, so the translation is rough. But he mentions that the Angels are blessed beings, chosen of the Almighty and sent to protect mankind."

He pointed to a painting on the wall of an Angel walking toward a city, its arms outstretched. "The Angels brought light and civilization to us. They communicated God's will through visions. They imbued holy relics with divine power. They guided us and tutored us when we went astray from the right path."

"But why do they live in the forest? And when they attack, why do they bring those creatures of darkness with them?"

Jans picked up a fallen inkwell and set it on his desk. "The philosophers say that they stayed there to cleanse the forest with their light. They lived in the forest to stay close to man without being constantly before us. Or perhaps it was to protect us against greater evils that lay beyond."

"But is it possible that they might attack?" I asked. "I mean, what if my mother isn't pretending? What if the Angels really are attacking?"

"The Angels only strike that which is evil. Perhaps there is great evil among us that we do not yet realize." A few students began to trickle into the classroom, chatting quietly as they sat down. "We'll have to discuss this later. Just try your best to find more information. And . . . promise me you won't do anything reckless."

"Sure thing," I said, though I knew such a promise was impossible to keep. I wondered at his words, considering that these attacks could be warnings instead. But in that case, why not visit one of the sages in a vision? If the Angels loved us, why cause so much destruction and suffering?

***

That day's riding class was a disappointment. Due to the spread of the flensu, we were confined to the stables to perform the invigorating task of learning how to feed the rangir. I spent half of the time yawning and the other half muttering a conversation to Signy. After we were dismissed, Mira and I sat near Signy at a bench, working on yesterday's history assignment. "I spend at least an hour looking for this name," I said, flipping through my book. "He wants me to write about how Lord Magnus Ahlstrom affected the Nordgren Succession War, but he doesn't show up anywhere."

Mira took the book in a delicate hand and ran her other hand along its brittle page. "Which Nordgren Succession War?" she asked.

"There was more than one?"

Signy snorted a chuckle. "History isn't your strong point, it seems." I suppressed the urge to stick my tongue out at her. She nuzzled against my shoulder. "That's fine. A Witch needs to be strong. She doesn't need to be smart."

Mira laughed. "I think she likes you, Kaybree."

I gave Signy a sidelong look. From the time I'd been able to hold a book, my mother had mandated I study everything the sages offered at a given sagekeep. I'd suffered through classes in alchemy, geometry, natural history, philosophy, sophistry, astronomy, and applied political theory, all taught by sages who gave various rationales for offering them. Our geometry teacher had justified the topic as a way to recognize the symmetry in Nature as a sign of God's perfect creation. Mankind had fallen from this flawless state, and ever would dwell in sin, unless we heeded the counsel of God's messengers. I would rather have gone outside and studied the shape of an aspen leaf, or the angular alignment of a boar's tusks.

"What have you found from the book?" I asked, changing the subject.

Mira took out a sheaf of notes from her bag. "I've done a translation of a few of the pages," she said. Her eyes shifted back and forth between the paper and the surrounding students, as if one of them would snatch it from her hands at any moment. "It mainly contains quotes from the Book of Visions about the role of Angels in executing divine judgment."

"Does it say anything about why?"

"Do you have to ask? It has something to do with cleansing us of our sins." She found a passage with her finger and began reading. "'Behold, the Almighty will not suffer you to live in your iniquities, if you seek to destroy his people. Nay, he would rather destroy all who claim allegiance to him and raise up a new people, if it so be that his people fall into transgression, after receiving so much knowledge and wisdom from his hand.'"

"Sounds pretty grim," I said. "Do these judgments come to make us repent, or just to destroy us?"

"Both, it seems," Mira said. "Makes you think differently about the Angel attacks, doesn't it? Of course, what are they trying to tell us? If we just get destruction, how are we supposed to know what to change? That's what doesn't make sense."

"Hello, ladies," said someone from the side. Willard grinned at us, sweeping his long coat in a grand gesture. "Still keeping company with this foul-tempered beast?"

"Only nice-tempered beasts are allowed here," I said, gesturing to Mira to put the paper away. We didn't need overeager boys grabbing them. "That's why we let you stay." I glanced over at Mira, but she said nothing as she slid the papers away, reverting to her usual silent self around boys. Or around anyone who wasn't me. "So what brings you over here?"

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. "Apprentice night is coming up at the Bard Song in a few weeks," he said. "It's where new bards sing and old bards recruit. I'm working on a song, so, uh, . . . want to hear it?"

I tried not to let the cringe show on my face. The last time a boy had sung a song to me, it had been the poor beggar who sat on the steps of the capital's grand sagekeep. I'd passed him every morning on my way from my guardian's house to classes in the sagekeep, and occasionally dropped a penny or two in his hand. But one day he arose and started singing. He stood right in front of me, blocking my path as he coughed and wheezed a ballad of forbidden romance. His raspy voice proclaimed undying love for me, and said he would be the happiest boy alive if only I would marry him. Half the sagekeep must have stood there watching, chuckling into their scarves and mittens as I blushed beet red. I'd told him I'd ask my guardian about it—the impossibility of a noble marrying a peasant didn't occur to him—and finally escaped.

I never saw him again; the next day he died of the flensu. I told myself that refraining from laughing in his face provided some small comfort as he shivered to his grave. But with the ghost of his memory still haunting me, I had no desire for Willard to embarrass me with a love ballad with the entire class nearby.

He didn't wait for my approval, though. Taking a deep breath, he started singing—and I cringed for a whole different reason:

Riding toward the horizon,

Saddle up to charge the line

The battle cries of a thousand swords

Will tear through this night sky

As the ring of steel hits my ears,

I am bleeding for the right

The smell of burning flesh will rise

From our campfires tonight

And though we charge to the ends of our dreams

The sound of blazing hooves, and terrifying screams

We will not shrink from fear or war

Let death arrive and slam the door

We ride through the night

And ever will we fight

Through darkness and rain, through steel and through pain

We'll charge to the ends of our antlers!

No one can deny

The rivers of tears we cry

We'll ride rangir wings 'til we die!

I stared at him as he finished. I'd never heard any song lyrics quite so . . . ridiculous. My ears burned. He smiled and glanced between Mira and me. "So, what'd you think? Strong? Gutsy? Battle-cry worthy?"

I shrugged. "Definitely not what I was expecting," I said.

"How so? Is it my voice? It's my voice, isn't it?"

I shook my head. "No, actually your voice is pretty good. But . . . 'charge to the ends of our antlers'? And since when did rangir have wings? Maybe someone else should write the words for you."

He scowled at me. "And how many bards have you heard in your time?" He turned to Mira. "Come on, don't listen to the critics. Listen to your heart. What does your heart tell you?"

Mira's face spread into a nervous grin. "Um, it was . . . spirited?"

He nodded. "Exactly!"

She cleared her throat. "It was great, Will, but everyone can still learn from the best. Like the bards tonight, right, Kaybree? You still going?"

Willard's eyes brightened. "Hey, let me guess, Bard Song? What a coincidence! I'm going too."

My stomach tightened up. "Oh, about that." I shrugged. "You two can go, but I have things I have to do. My mother doesn't believe in days of rest. The bards will be here all winter, right? I'll go some other time."

"Okay," Mira said. "We'll go check out the scene and see when the best bards are playing."

Willard nodded. "Don't worry about it. If your mother needs you to do something, it's probably pretty important." I forced a smile. You have no idea.

I returned to my room once classes and assignments were finished, checking the time on my wind-up pocket watch. Four-thirty. I still had an hour before Galen would meet me in the courtyard, so I rubbed the lingering weariness from my eyes and took out my father's journal. I lit my candle on the torch outside and shut the door to my room.

I set the candle on my nightstand, moving my dolls out of the way so they wouldn't catch fire. Winter was coming, and the sunlight outside dimmed a lot sooner than usual. I took out the journal, caressing its cover as I opened it. I squeezed Galen's relic for luck and turned to the first page. I skimmed past what I'd read before and came to this:

"The expedition should begin soon. Lord Myrkron has sponsored us, so we shouldn't have any trouble from the local sages. We're staying in a tavern called the Bard Song tonight, hoping that the noise of the common room will deter any would-be spies. This mission is important, and we wouldn't want the wrong Houses to know."

I wondered what my father was referring to. I knew that he'd spent most of his life in the capital, and moved to Kant Vakt a few years before his death. I skipped some parts about the bards who played at the tavern and their preparations for their trip. What caught my eye next was the name "Andreya."

"I should probably mention Andreya about now. I've been so focused on writing down every detail of our expedition that I forgot the most important part. We haven't found anything yet, but we're being led by a local guide, someone who knows the forest inside and out. Her name is Andreya, and believe me when I say that I've never met anyone quite like her. She has the most gorgeous eyes, a smile to die for, and she can beat any man in this party in a knife fight without contest. I think I even saw her kick a bjorn in the face and send it whimpering away.

"But that's not the only thing. She stays up late keeping watch, and I sometimes stay up with her. We've talked about all kinds of things, like why we're looking for the trove, where we've come from, and what we believe about the Angels. Father has prodded me to court girls from low noble houses, hoping to get our foot in the door and rise to the high nobility in a few generations. But Andreya's not like any of those girls. Of all the girls I've ever met, she's definitely the smartest and probably the funniest too. I don't think I've ever seen her not smiling. Everything makes her laugh, and seeing her smile makes me smile too. I've never felt this way about someone before, but I think I'm in love."

I burst out into a fit of giggles. It was such a weird experience reading my dad's feelings for my mother, especially knowing her now. But his words were so sweet and so honest that I felt like I was intruding on his private life. Of course, if he'd left this journal for anyone, it would be for his family, right? I laughed again as I read a paragraph full of flowery prose, comparing my mother to a rose and a sunset and failing miserably. I promised myself never to repeat it, to preserve my dad's dignity.

At that point, I stopped. My mother, Andreya Staalvoss, compared to a rose or a sunset? It seemed so incongruous with the Lady Staalvoss that ran the Vormund Order that I began to grow suspicious. Was this even referring to the same person? Or if it was, what had happened to her that had transformed her from a wild forest girl to a Witch in a uniform?

His words sobered in the next section:

"It's a strange place to fall in love, this forest. One of our lads got his arm ripped open by a scaly creature with razor-like claws. And the ravens are always swooping down and trying to peck at our eyes, so we have to wear helmets when we get to clearings. This is a dark place, the lair of the Angels. The forbidden land with hidden wonders. For the sake of everyone back home, I hope we find what we're looking for."

People shuffled outside, snapping me out of my trance. I glanced at my pocket watch. I had five minutes to get to the courtyard. I shoved the book under my pillowcase and straightened my clothes as I headed out. I couldn't stop thinking about what my father had written, though. He had been sent on an expedition here to Kant Vakt, but what had he been looking for?

Perhaps this was what drew me to the magic of the forest: my parents' own wanderlust and desire to see beyond the lands of Nordgard. I should go on a ship to explore somewhere. Or the forest itself. I wonder if my mother still visits there. As I left the room, a nagging sensation tugged at me. What was so important about my father's old journal? Why had that mysterious "messenger" given me this key?

Galen was waiting for me in the courtyard by the fountain, but he didn't have his bag with him. "Where's your bag?" I asked. The mere thought of sword training made my legs sore. My joints were stiff enough already from the cold.

"Not today, Kaybree," he said, leading me over to our usual practice spot. "Your muscles are probably exhausted from the past few days. Today we try a new approach." He glanced around the empty marsh and drew a small ring out of his pocket. My heart pounded in my chest. My first thought was that he was proposing to me, but soon my rational mind caught up and I regained my composure. "Here, take this ring. Slowly. It's a relic."

I stepped back in surprise, remembering the disaster of yesterday. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea," I said. "As much as I'd love to skip sword practice, I don't want to risk killing you."

"Just slide the ring on your finger," he said, handing it to me. "Don't try to do anything with it, though. Sit down and try to get the feel of it. Now, you can't keep Weapons with you at all times, at least not now, but I want you to start acclimating yourself to their presence."

I sat down by the boulder I'd been unable to move, and slid the ring on my finger. Energy waves appeared around me, sizzling in the air. I concentrated on doing nothing. The ring stayed on my finger, and no flames or sparks shot out. I took slow, even breaths, wiping raindrops from my forehead where they fell and fixing my hair a thousand times while I waited for catastrophe to strike. Aside from the moist earth seeping into my clothes, nothing happened.

A buzz hummed in my ears, emanating from the ring. I listened closer, realizing that it rose and fell in the melodious rhythm of a voice. Not an actual voice, but something that oscillated loud and soft, left and right, pulsing with a life of its own. I wondered yet again what the Weapons actually were.

Galen sat down beside me, putting his arms on his knees. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," I said. "I haven't burned or shocked anything yet, at least."

"Good." He leaned against the boulder and yawned. "I could use a break myself. In this weather, it may not be a good idea to push your body too hard. You could catch flensu from the peasants. And no one could treat you." He shook his head. "A shame, isn't it? We can build ships to cross the ocean, we can build sagekeeps to withstand the elements, we can write a thousand years of history, but we can't save those who fall ill. Noble or peasant, all are alike." He chuckled. "Oh, but my father would hate it if I said that."

"Your father, Lord Valkegaard?" I asked.

He frowned. "So you've heard of him."

"Who hasn't?" His father was the king's chief treasury advisor, not to mention one of the most powerful men in Nordgard. He had connections to most of the noble houses in all seven realms.

Galen sighed and gave me a wry look. I abruptly realized how close our faces were. "You don't hold it against me, do you?"

"Of course not," I said, turning away before I blushed from toes to eyeballs. "I am kind of interested to know how you got here, though. What brought a Valkegaard to the Vormund Order?"

His face turned pensive. "I was seven years old when the first Angel attacked," he said, staring into the distance. "But remember, it wasn't only the Angel in Kant Vakt that killed people; many died from the monsters who came from the forest and the seas to strike at our cities." His voice had taken on a somber tone, and I wondered who he had lost. "It was a day that changed my life. I used to go to bed thinking I was safe at night because of my father's soldiers outside the manor. But what can a man with a sword do against a kraken, or a direwolf, or an Angel?"

Galen fingered the Vormund crest on his uniform. "I became fascinated by the woman who'd stopped the Angel, the one who'd halted the attack. Andreya Staalvoss, in the exotic land of Kant Vakt. I looked for every excuse to go, but I had to stay and focus on my studies. I was the fourth son, so I wasn't important for reasons of lineage, but I could be useful to my father in other ways, like the military or the ministry." He shrugged. "Military formations and logistics confuse me. I don't have the head for it. So I became a sage's apprentice."

I laughed at the thought of him in black robes, striding imperiously alongside Father Traum and wearing the same pinched expression. "You were going to be a sage?"

He smirked. "Imagine that." He shook his head. "Believe it or not, that's how I ended up working here. We were conducting a routine inspection of your mother's facilities—for heretical materials, no doubt—and I happened to run into her in the central hallway of Vormund tower. I still remember seeing her coming down the hall and thinking that this was my big chance to talk to my childhood idol. I'd read everything I could about her, and I'd planned on wowing her with an impressive theory about how she'd defeated the Angel—everyone had their own theories back then." He laughed. "But I was only fourteen, and all I could manage was 'Lady Staalvoss, I'm Galen Valkegaard. And I don't think you're a Witch.'"

I laughed too. "What did she say?"

"She asked me why I thought that way. I said that I didn't believe in Witches, that I only believed she could have killed that Angel by rational means. I believe differently now, of course, but it seemed to impress her. We talked a little more, and eventually she requested that I be sent as the sages' representative in the Order." He shrugged. "Needless to say, I accepted, and the sages have never forgiven me for it."

I smiled at Galen. He knew my mother better than I did. In a way, he was her real son, and I was the child she'd given away to politics. But I didn't envy him; it only served as another link that bound us together. He continued to talk with me as I held my concentration steady, listening to stories of life in Kant Vakt while I subdued the energy of the relic ring on my finger.

By the time I returned to my room, I was exhausted again. I lay on my pillow, gazing up at the stone ceiling in the low moonlight, and thinking about Galen, my mother, and the mysteries of my father's journal.

CHAPTER TWELVE

### Weaving the Mystery

"Love your dress, Kaybree," Danelle said as I entered the mead hall for breakfast. "Which corpse did you steal it off of?"

I stood behind her in line, waiting my turn for today's fare of bacon and buttered rye bread. Her friends snickered at me. "Actually, Galen gave it to me," I said, smiling back as I picked up my plate. "He said he liked how it brought out my eyes."

She glared daggers at me. "You need to work on your lying," she said. "Galen Valkegaard has much better taste than that." She turned away and picked up her food, leaving me in peace. I'd guessed right in tailoring my response; she resented the attention that Galen gave me. As far as she could tell, her betrothed was flirting with a half-peasant daughter of a suspected heretic.

When Mira and the others went to relics class, I stopped in to see Jans. He was polishing a bronze bust of Baldr the Philosopher. "Ah, good morning, Kaybree," he said, setting the polishing cloth on the table. "What searching questions do you have for me today? The origin of the sages, perhaps? The founding of Valir?"

I considered the stacks of history books. I could spend all my life studying here and not know half of it. It filled me with wonder that Jans found the time to learn such intricate details of history, though as a sage without a family, he could dedicate his entire life to his work. He probably spent every waking hour in this room, studying or imparting knowledge to his students. "Nothing like that," I said. "I was actually wondering what you could tell me about Galen."

Jans frowned. "Lord Valkegaard? Your mother's lack—I mean, your mother's assistant?" Suspicion crept into his tone—and a hint of disgust, if he'd intended to say "lackey" instead of "assistant." "What do you wish to know?"

I stopped beside the polished bust and met his gaze. "What was that for?"

He arched an eyebrow. "The polishing cloth?"

"No, about Galen," I said. "You don't seem to like him very much. Is it because he works for my mother?"

Jans rubbed his forehead. "Kaybree, you have to understand that there are a number of political currents running through this sagekeep at any given time, and most of them center around your mother." He shook his head. "Let me assure you that I have no personal grudge against your mother or her people. But that said, you really should be careful about your associations with Galen Valkegaard."

I leaned on the table. "Why? He seems like a nice enough guy."

"Of course he does," he said, brandishing the polishing cloth. "Smooth as butter, slippery as an eel. Did he ever tell you how he ended up working here?"

My heart skipped a beat. "He did. He said that my mother recruited him after they met during some heretic inspection thing."

"And did he tell you what happened after that?"

"What do you mean?"

"How his family practically disowned him?"

I searched Jans's expression for mockery, but he was serious. "He must have skipped that part."

"He had agreed to a career as a sage, Kaybree. He had much promise as well, a great many insights into theology and doctrine." He shook his head. "But whereas he was supposed to come here and act as an agent of the sages, to lend an air of transparency to your mother's activities—in essence, to provide proof that she wasn't doing anything heretical—he chose to turn sides. He's not given a report in eight years, or at least nothing that gives us any information as to what's going on in that tower. He says he's changed career paths, but that only throws more suspicion onto your mother's actions."

I nodded, fitting this into my picture of Galen. I was sure he had pure motives for failing to report, perhaps feeling it was wrong to spy on my mother when she placed so much trust in him. Maybe the sages had tricked him into taking this assignment, and his silence was a quiet gesture of defiance. "What about his family?"

"Needless to say, they aren't pleased with his decisions. They want him to leave the Order. The only thing that's keeping him from being formally disowned is his betrothal to young Lady Ambros, your classmate. His father figures that if he can marry into a high noble family, he'll be of use even with questionable associations."

I felt numb. Not only did Galen have to worry about his parents' wrath, but Danelle was his only way to keep from being totally disgraced. Even if they hated one another, he had no choice but to marry her. That's how the nobility worked.

Mira invited me to another bard show that night, but I had to decline again. Galen would want me there for our training session. But when I arrived at the courtyard, he wasn't there. I waited for at least an hour, rubbing my hands together to stay warm, but he didn't show.

I had thought it odd the first time, but when he missed three more training sessions in a row, with no sign of him in the hallways, I started to worry. I checked with the soldiers at the Vormund Order, but they said that they hadn't heard from him. Apparently he came and went as he chose. My mother was also nowhere to be found, which the soldiers informed me wasn't out of the ordinary either. I asked Signy about him, but Galen had not even entered the stables in the last three days, which meant that unless he knew how to fly, he must have still been somewhere in the city.

After the third night, I resigned myself to the fact that he had a secret mission to perform, and I wasn't invited. Instead of biting my nails in worry to pass the time, I took Mira up on her offer to see the Bard Song. I met her by the channel right outside the sagekeep, my boots crunching against the snow as I walked. She wore a plain woolen coat and knit scarf, and beckoned me toward a waiting longship. She gave the oarsman a copper halfpenny and told him our destination. He took the coin and began rowing us down the channel, gliding past a stream of traffic going the other way.

"Who's going to be there tonight?" I asked, settling into one of the hard wooden seats. A pair of soldiers strode by on the shoreline, their swords clicking against their belts. "Not that I know any of them."

Mira laughed. "Just come and see. It'll be fun." She pointed to the channel. "I wanted to take you this first time so you wouldn't get lost. It's in a crowded part of town, and it can be hard to find if you don't know what you're looking for."

We passed under an arched bridge, leaving us in darkness. I heard the oars dipping in and out of the water, and a moment later, we emerged back into the light. Now I noticed that lanterns were hung on steel poles on the shoreline, to guide the longships in their course on the water. "Do you go to this tavern often?" I asked Mira.

"Sometimes," she said. "I don't leave the sagekeep much, but when I do, it's usually for the Bard Song. I tell my parents I'm doing research on customs and stories of Nordgard. And I do hear a lot of stories there, so it's true."

"You sure are dedicated to studying," I said. "If I could leave the sagekeep whenever I wanted, I'd just go exploring. Have you ever been out to the forest? It's like stepping into another world, a magical place where the trees and rocks come to life around you."

Mira's eyes widened. "The forest? Oh, no, not me. I do appreciate when the bordermen bring back new plants and animals to study, but I don't go out there myself. People disappear when they go inside alone." She gave me a worried look. "You should be careful too, Kaybree. The Angels live there, and you saw what they can do."

"Right," I said. "Well, I guess it's good we have the Bard Song to keep me out of trouble, then."

We arrived at the street and stepped out of the longship, walking up a flight of stone steps carved into the slope. On the next street over, Mira led me to a tavern with a peaked roof and a wooden sign hammered above the door. The tavern had two floors, with a landing on the top floor where guests could walk around and gaze at the city below. A railing was set up around the second floor, perhaps to keep the tavern's most frequent customers from staggering to their deaths. The tavern was connected to another building with a similar peaked roof by a wooden bridge on the second floor.

Light from the street lanterns illuminated the sign as we approached. The sign had a lute painted on it, with the words BARD SONG in faded red letters. The sign's condition, as well as my father's mention of it in his journal, attested to its age. Lanterns hung on either side of the sign, bathing it in yellow light. We paid the guards at the door and walked inside.

A wave of sound hit me as I entered. Other people were packed inside the tavern, and most of them were singing along to the bard who was playing. It was a slow, somber song that referenced drowning one's sorrows in drink. A wooden, circular chandelier hung from the ceiling, with four large candles mounted on it. The room didn't smell nearly as bad as I'd feared; many of the patrons were students from the sagekeep, so the scent of sweat was tempered by the fragrance of rosewater. I spotted a few ragged figures with long, tangled hair sitting off in one corner. Two men gibed loudly with one another at a table beside them.

"So, girls, can I get you a drink?" someone asked. I turned, thinking it was the bartender. No such luck. It was Willard.

"We meet again," I said, shaking my head. This was getting kind of strange. He seemed to follow me everywhere. "Why am I not surprised to see you here?"

"Hey, I'm here for the music. As you know, I'm an aspiring bard myself. You said I should work on my lyric writing, so I've come to 'learn from the best'."

Mira cringed. "I wouldn't be so sure about that." The bard finished his song to a loud applause, and a student with a lute stood up and started playing. "Tonight's the first apprentice night. That means anybody with a lute can get up and start singing."

Willard shrugged. "Like I said, I'm here to learn. But if you're here anyway, mind if I buy you a ginger beer?"

I smiled awkwardly. "Sorry, I don't drink. Beer, that is. My mother's kind of strict about that sort of thing." Not to mention that I didn't want to accidentally loosen my tongue and start talking about fighting Angels.

He laughed. "No, silly Kaybree, despite the name, ginger beer is not really beer. I'm not such a scoundrel as to try and impair a girl's judgment to get her to like me. I have too much pride in my natural charm."

Mira took a glass filled with an amber drink from the counter. "I hate to say it, but he's right about this one. Give it a try."

I took a sip of the ginger beer. I hadn't tried real beer before, but I'd smelled it—it smelled like the sweat of sour-faced old men—and this definitely did not taste like that. It had sort of a tangy kick to it. "All right, Willard, you win. This is actually pretty good."

"Told you," he said, sipping his own ginger beer. "And by the way, nobody under the age of fifty calls me Willard."

"Then what do I call you?"

"Will. William. Mason. Any of those will do."

I took another sip. The would-be bard's voice stretched for notes way too high for him, and the crowd laughed. "The first two I get. But why Mason?"

He shook his head. "Long story."

"Fine, then. Will."

He smirked. "Okay. It's officially decided." He tapped my glass with his. "To my new nickname."

I frowned. "If nobody under fifty calls you Willard, and if you didn't have a nickname until right now, what does everybody else call you?"

He drained his glass and waved the bartender over to fill it. "Uh, mostly 'hey you' or 'you' or sometimes words I won't repeat in the company of ladies. Those are usually from my sister."

"What about your mother?"

"'Son'," he said. "What else would she call me?"

I glanced over at Mira, who was sipping her ginger beer intently. "So, you two must have known each other before, right? Haven't you both been at this sagekeep for awhile?"

Mira nodded. "Sort of. We've talked before."

Will gestured with his glass. "Right. But there's not usually much to talk about. Not until you came into town."

"What do you mean?" I asked, suddenly tense. Will's intense interest in me had seemed only innocent curiosity, but I feared that he knew more than he let on.

"I don't mean just you," he said. "As exciting as it is for Lady Staalvoss's daughter to move in and nearly burn down the relic room, the Angels and inquisitors also give us quite a bit to discuss." He leaned over. "Plus I have to ask, what is going on with Galen Valkegaard? He hangs around you like a maggot around rotten meat."

I sipped my drink. "I'm not sure it's any of your business," I said, trying to sound serious but unable to stop myself from smirking. "Especially if you're going to compare me to rotten meat."

He frowned. "Hey, I'm just saying that a lot of people don't like him. Sure, he's an amazing politician, but people are saying that it'll take more than smooth scheming to keep your mother safe from our Lord Inquisitor."

"I'm sure Galen will ask me about you as well," I said. "He might wonder why I'm hanging around with the son of a slimy merchant family."

Mira stifled a giggle, and Will shook a finger at me. "Oh, it's on now, Kaybree. That was kind of a low blow. Especially considering what I could say about your parentage."

I put on a guise of wide-eyed innocence. "But you wouldn't do that," I said. "You're far too much of a gentleman."

He rolled his eyes, and Mira and I laughed. It felt strange laughing and joking with Will and Mira. I didn't have to keep my defenses up around them. I could be myself, and not worry about what they'd think if they knew who my mother was. I couldn't tell them I'd killed an Angel, but that was a given.

"Kaybree," Mira said, tapping me on the shoulder. "Do you know that guy? He keeps looking this way."

I followed her gaze to a young man by the far wall, near the door. He stood alone, studying the crowd with his piercing blue eyes. He wore a traveler's cloak over a studded leather vest, though his belt was empty of weapons. The style was typical of real bordermen: not the students who dressed like bordermen, with their pristine leather boots and brightly colored cloaks, but showing authentic grit and dust from nighttime patrols in the forest. And I knew his face too: it was the borderman "messenger" who'd given me the key.

I stood, almost without thinking. He had a lot of explaining to do.

"I'm guessing that's a yes?" Mira said.

"Oh, I've only seen him once before," I said. "I think he works with my mother. I should go see what he wants." I pushed my drink aside and wove my way through the crowd. The borderman caught my gaze and took a seat at a booth behind one of the room's pillars. Convenient. Sitting here, we would be blocked from Will's and Mira's vision.

I took the seat across from him. "Would you like your key back?" I asked.

He straightened his cloak. "Keep it. My gift to the mighty Angel killer."

I glanced around, but with another bard attempting a rousing battle cry, no one paid us any heed. "How do you know who I am?" I said. "And why did you give me this key? It doesn't lead to anything important."

"Is that so?" he said, his expression unchanging. "My apologies. I thought you'd be interested to know why your father came to Kant Vakt."

"He came looking for relics," I said. "He found Angels. But I suppose you must know that too." I wondered if the messenger was one of my father's old friends. Studying his features, though, I discarded that idea; he was too young to have worked with my father, perhaps only a few years my senior. I leaned closer. He didn't smell like beer like most of the tavern's patrons. He smelled like pine and dirt, a fresh scent that made me long to explore the forest again.

"I know that you want to stop the Angel attacks," he said. "To protect Vormund tower and its contents."

I perked up. "The tower?" I asked. "What's so special about the tower?" Now I started to wonder if he was working with Jans. Both of them wanted to know what my mother was hiding in her tower.

He took a sip of his drink. "If you want to stop the Angels, you need to learn who you are," he said. "You need to understand your powers—and your destiny."

I sighed. "Why is everyone going on about my 'destiny' nowadays? I don't have a destiny. If the Angels stayed in the forest, I'd be a normal girl going to a normal sagekeep."

"That's what you say now," he said in a grave voice. He stood. "But you're not 'normal', Kaybree Andresdatter. I don't think you ever can be."

"Wait," I said. He couldn't leave without giving me some answers. "Do you see visions too?"

He frowned. "Visions can be seen by any who fervently seek them. But unless you have stewardship over others, your visions will not concern them. Only you." He turned to leave.

I grabbed his sleeve, halting his exit. "Who are you?" I asked in a fierce whisper. "At least tell me your name."

He stared into my eyes for a moment before answering. "Mikael," he said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have other messages to deliver."

"But how do you know about—"

I was cut off as a commotion erupted near the entrance. I gasped and let go of Mikael's coat as Father Traum strode into the room. He peered through the crowd, his beady eyes searching for someone. Was he here for me? The music stopped, and Traum marched up to the front of the room.

"The Knights of Valir request leave to inspect this place," he said to a bearded man at the front who must have been the tavern keeper.

"Of course you may," the man said, wiping sweat from his brow. "But I assure you that the Bard Song holds its patrons to high standards of piety and—"

"Spare me," Traum said, motioning to his knights. They shoved their way through the crowd, eyes darting from face to face. "Take anyone you recognize." The students in the crowd started muttering, and he made a sharp gesture. "Silence! The innocent have no need to fear. Only the guilty need quake before the Knights of God. Those who witnessed the incident of last week will come with us."

My heart pounded, and a bead of sweat ran down my face. Did he know I had seen the Angel? I searched for an exit. Mikael had vanished, leaving me to fend for myself. For the second time. If Traum questioned me, what would I say? If he wanted evidence to use against my mother, surely he would not take the daughter Andreya Staalvoss never spoke to. Or did he know about my powers?

Someone grabbed my arm. "Come on," Will said, leading me through the crowd. "I know a place where we'll be safe." We jostled other students as we passed, until we emerged by the staircase. I followed Will up the stairs, with Mira a few steps behind, and he led us across the wooden bridge over to the other building. We emerged into the cool night air for a moment, but we soon entered the door up ahead. This place was quieter than the tavern, with a long corridor of identical wooden doors. Will pushed on one of them, but it was locked. The second door swung open, and he gestured us inside.

We shut the door and sat on the pair of straw beds. "Extra room," Will explained. "The Bard Song doesn't sell all of its rooms every night, and the Knights shouldn't come looking for us here. Unless they saw us climb the stairs."

After a minute or so, my heart stopped pounding. "That was close," I said, listening for sounds from below. Muttered commotion and the heavy footfalls of Traum's Knights rose up in a muffled roar through the floorboards.

Will let out a sigh. "Yeah, this is twice now," he said. "Maybe sometime you should just talk to him. You know, so he finally leaves you alone."

"Maybe," I said. Traum had been sent to investigate rumors of heresy, and with my mother's operation inaccessible to him, he was taking desperate measures. With my mother mysteriously gone, I had to do something before he declared her a heretic to satisfy his bosses in Valir. "But if he finds out my mother is innocent, he'll have to leave anyway." That was the key. Like Jans had said, I needed to keep looking. Maybe my father's journal held the evidence I needed to show she wasn't a heretic.

But what if the journal showed that she was?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

### Water and Wind

The next morning after class, I headed up the winding staircase to Vormund tower. The Vormund crest seemed brighter today, as if a conduit into the Angels' eyes as they scrutinized my actions. The guards let me through without a glance. "Your mother's not here," one of them said. "Just leave a message on her door."

"Do you know where she's gone?" I asked.

Their eyes narrowed, and the same guard responded. "She'll send for you when she returns," he said. His tone told me he'd say nothing more, so I nodded and continued past.

I checked my mother's office and Galen's quarters. Both empty. I wandered through the hall, searching for someone who might have a message from them. Maybe they're keeping a low profile until Traum leaves. My steps echoed in the halls. I picked the nearest door, the one to the armory, and turned the knob. It was open. "Hello?" I asked. The candles were lit, but no one was inside. "Anybody here?"

Swords and shields mounted on hooks gleamed with a crystalline light. Set in neat rows, each type of weapon was grouped by length and type, forming lines of swords, pikes, and axes that seemed like stationary ranks of soldiers. Bronze breastplates glinted next to silver shields, with swords in golden sheaths hanging above them. Relics shaped like accessories hung from the other wall, their smooth surface lustrous, as if they had fallen from another world, or were made of the stars themselves.

I picked up one I'd seen before, the ring Galen had let me use in our last training session. I turned it around in my hand, watching its color shift in the light like a rainbow in water. I remembered letting my mind flow into it before, and feeling that reservoir of power at my fingertips. Could I learn to control it? With Galen absent, should I continue practicing on my own?

I'll be careful, I thought as I slipped it into my pocket. It wasn't stealing, of course. My mother had told me that I was the only one who could use the Weapons, and if that was true, then all they would do up here was gather dust and ornament the armory's walls. Besides, I would need one if another Angel struck.

I shook away the thought as I left the armory. Whatever was happening, Galen's urgent insistence on my training ricocheted through my mind. While I enjoyed spending my nights at the Bard Song, a whole week without any word from Galen or my mother gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach.

I sat with Mira while we ate lunch. "So there was a rumor that the Green Sentinel came in last night," she said, gesturing with her fork. "He usually rides in alone with his green cloak draped over his rangir, so when people saw this massive cloaked man, they thought it was him." She leaned closer. "But it turns out it was the Silent Lute!" When I kept chewing my bread, she frowned at me. "You know who he is, right?"

"No idea," I said. "But I'm willing to go find out." I'd never seen Mira so animated before—and could hardly believe this dynamic, opinionated girl had never spoken to her classmates.

"I can't believe you're so sheltered," she said. "Your mother really never let you go see any of the bards in the capital?"

"I could barely leave the sagekeep."

She blinked in surprise. "Wow. Everyone knows about the Silent Lute. He's just the most amazing lute player born in the last, I don't know, thousand years or so? He never sings, and no one has even heard him speak, but he can play the most incredible songs! I've heard he's going to join up with Winter Guardian to form a troupe." She paused. "Um, I'm guessing you haven't heard of them either."

"Sorry."

Mira shrugged. "That's all right. I'm sure your mother was just looking out for you. It can't be easy having a mother that's, well, you know." She smiled. "But at least you get lots of alone time with her right-hand man."

"Not lately," I said. "I don't understand it. One day he's here, lecturing me about the importance of my studies, and the next he disappears. Sometimes I think he's so focused on his whole Vormund mission thing that he doesn't even notice I exist." Like my mother. Placing duty before family—and everything else.

Mira took a bite of her cooked sprouts. "He could be really busy," she said. "Maybe he wants you to keep studying on your own."

She'd come to the same conclusion that I had. And in a way, it made sense. Last time I'd finally been able to use one of the Weapons without endangering anyone's life. It was exactly in character with Galen's unorthodox training methods to leave me alone and force me to explore the relics on my own.

"I've been thinking about the runes we've translated from the Judge book," I said. "I haven't talked about it with Galen or my mother yet, but I wonder if they know why the Angel is attacking."

Mira set down her fork. "What makes you say that?"

"I've been reading an old journal of my father's. He met my mother on an expedition out to the forest. I'm not sure what they were looking for, but it seems like it was something ancient and powerful, like a trove of relics. Whatever it was, it looks like they found it not long before the first Angel attack."

Mira shook her head. "That couldn't be the reason for the first attack, though. The Angels' wrath came down on every city in Nordgard."

"But why attack here twice?" I asked. "Maybe they came out in judgment against the other places, but it was . . . stopped here."

Mira's eyes widened. "Your mother stopped the Angel attack. Do you think this second attack was trying to make up for the failure of the last one? But what does that mean?"

"Whatever the Angels want, it's in that tower. And they either want it back, or want to destroy it." We finished our food in silence, and I was sure that both of us were thinking the same thing: if my mother kept stopping the Angel attacks, did that mean they would keep coming?

As we left for class, we passed by a fountain outside. A light film of snowflakes covered the surface of the water like a powdery white veil. Pieces of armor and boxes of heirlooms were stacked beside the fountain, and servants in brown workman's clothes unloaded them from carts parked beside the sagekeep wall. One man removed a bone-crafted hunting horn and set it on a blanket atop the snow. I turned to Mira. "What's this for?"

"You haven't heard? It's for the festival. The sages in Kant Vakt put on quite a show for the Winter Sagas."

More snowflakes alighted on the ground around us. With winter coming and the bards staying here, it made sense that they'd be preparing for the Sagas. I'd completely forgotten about them in the confusion of the Angel attacks. The Winter Sagas came at Midwinter, my favorite time of year. Even though it was cold enough to freeze my nose off, the festivities and decorations made the cold worth it. Midwinter was the festival that celebrated our ancestors' survival on a frigid, barren island in the Western Sea, Byrjun. Because they couldn't leave their homes when the snows came, they had to build up stores of food and lay up enough to survive the winter. With so much empty time stuck inside, they developed a tradition of reciting the legends and stories of our people. These were the sagas that Jans was so passionate about.

I watched the servants unload crates of cheese and fish. Bottles of milk sat by the fountain as well. Fish and milk products were the traditional foods to eat during the Winter Sagas. The sages would recite the Sagas in the sagekeeps, while families and bards would do the same in homes and taverns. It was traditional to only eat fish, cheese, and plain yogurt during the Winter Sagas, to remember the time when our ancestors had to subsist on those foods alone. As a pilgrim without a home for fifteen years, I appreciated that they kept the same traditions across Nordgard. It gave me a sense of stability.

Jans strode toward us, his robes billowing in the icy wind. "Good day to you, Kaybree," he said. He carried a large tome in both hands. "Looking forward to the Sagas?"

"Definitely," I said. "I get to take time off of reading dusty old books to hear dusty old stories."

Jans chuckled. "Hopefully it will be at least tolerable for you," he said, holding up his book and brushing snow off of its cover. "They always have me read the Ballad of Giles the Philosopher. I'll be doing several recitations in my classroom during the festival. You're welcome to stop by if you'd like. Right now I must return to my students." He smiled at Mira and then walked back inside the sagekeep.

"We should go listen in," Mira said. "At least it won't be as noisy as the Bard Song."

As we passed by the fountain, we saw Danelle and her friends watching the servants unload the crates. She turned toward us. "Oh, look who it is," she said, leaning against the fountain. She wore a fur-lined coat and gloves. "Actually, I was just hearing about you, Mira. Willard Matthias was talking about you."

Mira's eyes lit up. "Really?" she said, though she hadn't seemed interested in talking to Will back in the tavern. She cleared her throat. "What was he saying?"

Danelle shrugged. "He was wondering who stole his watch. Naturally, your name came up."

Mira flushed. People talked about Easterners stealing things among the peasantry, but this was a brazen insult even for Danelle. Mira looked away, and Danelle's friends laughed. I glared at the Ambros, receiving a smirk in return. I knew at that moment that Danelle had only attacked Mira out of her hatred of me. A thought crossed my mind. My mother said I was supposed to do some practicing. I reached into my pocket and slid the ring onto my finger. The power I'd felt before was there, waiting for me. I reached out to it and nudged the water in the fountain. Just a little. I tugged at it, feeling its resistance.

Water sprayed from the fountain, splashing the area around us. It hit Danelle in the back and drenched her clothes, making her drop her purse. Her friends chuckled. She glared at me, and I smirked back. Mira gasped beside me, and I looked back at the fountain. The water rolled back and forth, until it started to heave beyond its bounds. I removed the ring and willed the water to stop.

It didn't listen. The fountain sprang to life, spraying water over the entire courtyard. The icy water slapped me in the face. The servants unloading the decorations stopped. Danelle threw back a strand of wet hair and marched up to me. "Was this one of your Witchy tricks?" she said, water dripping down her face. "You've just ruined my dress!"

I thought quickly, creativity fueled by desperation. "Sure, and mine too," I said, pointing to my own drenched clothes. Another dress destroyed by my newfound powers. "It's not my fault the wind blew that water out of the fountain."

"What is going on here?" said a voice from the side. It was Father Kraus. His bushy eyebrows were furrowed as he frowned at us. "You two, come with me. The rest of you, back to work. We need to get this cleaned up before tonight." Danelle started to protest, and he held up a hand. "With me, please, young Lady Ambros."

We followed him back into the sagekeep, where he took us into a side room. Our footsteps left little puddles of water trailing behind. He took a deep breath. "I don't know what happened out there," he started.

Danelle pointed to me. "She used her Witch powers on me," she said. "Didn't you see? I got wet first." I swallowed. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea after all. I thought about trying to hide the ring if the relics teacher decided to search me.

Instead, he shook his head. "Strange things are happening around here, and you two are always in the middle of it. Relic classroom burned. Water fountain gone wild. What's next?" His eyes bored a hole into my skull. "I'd rather not involve your parents. Instead, I'd like the two of you to help out with the Sagas."

"How?" I asked, exultant that he was taking this so calmly.

"Come here tonight and help the crew unload the remainder of the items," he said. "If you do good enough work, then I'll forget any of this fountain business ever happened."

Danelle cut in. "But I didn't do anything!" she said. "It's not my fault a fountain overflowed. And it's not my fault she burned up your classroom."

"Did you not issue her that relic without my permission?" he said. She glanced away. "I thought so. This is how we're going to do it. I'm going to ask the night watchman if you two come in, and if he says you spent at least three hours helping to unload, then we drop the matter."

Danelle's eyes widened, and I could see she was preparing another response. She seemed to think better of it, and instead turned on her heel and stormed out. I smiled at the relics teacher. "I'll be there."

He watched Danelle go and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry you've gotten involved in this," he said. "Your mother's political standing is probably the reason you've attracted this kind of attention. Don't worry; I don't consider you responsible for any of this. I would like you to try to avoid provoking the young Lady Ambros, however."

"Okay."

He waved for me to leave. "Get along to class, then. I'll see what I can do about lifting your ban on relics class. Perhaps if you and Danelle are put in separate classes, then we can avoid situations like this in the future."

My heart lifted. He was going to let me touch the relics again? "That sounds wonderful, Father." If I had more experience handling small relics, I knew I could learn to control the bigger ones. "I won't disappoint you."

He smiled. "I suspect not," he said. "You are your mother's daughter, Kaybree. I expect great things from you." I was still beaming from his words by the time I arrived in my next class. Great things, I thought. My mind sobered as I considered the possible meanings of his statement. Did he suspect I had the power of a Witch?

If he did, it sounded like his attitude toward them was quite different from Father Traum's. I would keep my ears open during relics class from now on.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

### Without the Wings

As I'd expected, Danelle didn't show up to help unload that night. And with the servants behind schedule already—they'd had to clean up after the fountain sprayed the decorations—I had plenty of work to do. I couldn't lift any of the heavy pieces, like the silver breastplate and matching helmet, but I made myself useful. I carried a bulb lamp from the wagon down into the sagekeep, and went back for a pair of rolled-up rugs. The servants didn't seem to recognize me, which was a relief, so I continued the monotonous chore and tried to forget that Will and Mira were enjoying a night at the Bard Song without me.

All this exercise is good for my training, I thought as I walked halfway up a staircase to place an antique vase on a wall ledge. Next time I'll surprise Galen with how long I can keep fighting. Swinging one of those wooden swords for about ten minutes left me winded, so maybe I needed the practice carrying heavy objects up and down stairs.

I grabbed another vase from the wagon and carried it up the staircase that led to the Order. I placed it on another ledge and sat down on the steps to catch my breath. A rat scurried by my foot. I jumped up, but it had already fled. That's strange. I hadn't seen rats at all in the sagekeep; students whispered that my mother had enchanted the sagekeep against vermin, or that the sages had prayed for divine protection. Whatever kept them out before wasn't operating now.

I took a clay pot to place in the alcoves. I wasn't an artist, but even I wished they had found more interesting pieces of scenery. Why hadn't they brought over the ones with charging rangir painted on them, or with angels flapping their mighty wings? I placed the boring pot and saw something flicker on the edge of my vision. A toad. Hopping up the steps. I bent down and listened carefully. I could hear rangir and crows talking, so why not toads? But if I could understand him talk, he wasn't saying anything. A creature scuttled by me on the wall. My stomach twisted. Cockroaches. Simply thinking about the black bugs with their tiny, flailing limbs made me ill.

I looked up at a ceiling that seemed to be moving. Beetles and ants and cockroaches scurried along the ceiling, all heading upstairs. Toward Vormund tower. But why? Had my mother left a feast of rotten yogurt sitting in the hallway? Or was it . . . a corpse? I gagged and sat down on the stairs. Corpses attracted bugs. All the stories said so. The legends stated that Baldr found his servant dead in the hollow of a tree, with worms and cockroaches crawling through his eye sockets. I didn't want to think what would lead all of these things upstairs. I glanced around for one of the sages. They would know what to do, or send the Knights to check it out.

"There's no one here, Kaybree."

My heart skipped a beat, and I whirled around to find Mikael standing behind me, a dark figure in a green cloak. "Where did they all go?" I asked, petulance concealing my fear. "Since you seem to know everything."

"They're in the sanctuary, holding a Vision Prayer," he said. "But they can't do anything about what's happening upstairs. That's your job."

I clenched my fists. "And how do you know what my job is?"

"You're a Witch. You fight Angels."

I swallowed to regain my composure. "You're saying there's another Angel up there."

"There could be," he said, circling around me. "More importantly, the doors are wide open, and the guards are away chasing shadows. If you're going to find out what your mother has locked up inside there, now's your chance. Unless the Angel gets there first."

My heart beat quickened, and my mouth went dry. Jans did want me to find out what my mother had hidden up there. And if someone caught me, I could claim I was working on the decorations and heard a noise. "How do you know the doors are open?"

"You'll have to take my word on it."

His secrecy was starting to wear on me. "Well, if it's so important, why don't you go up there yourself?"

He walked over, leaning down so our faces were almost touching. I hadn't realized how tall he was. "You protect people from the creatures of the forest, not me. I'm just a messenger."

"The Knights of Valir can handle these bugs just fine," I said, glancing around for the night watchman. "I'll just let them know."

He took me by the shoulders and looked into my eyes. "The Knights can't handle this. If you don't go up there, Kaybree, innocent people will die." His lips turned up in a slight smile. "And besides, aren't you just a little curious?" He let go of me and turned away, adjusting his coat lapels. He strode off down the hallway before I could say a word, his footfalls disappearing into the distance.

I turned toward the stairs, his words burning in my ears. I couldn't stop now. Even if he was wrong, I had to check.

I took the stairs two at a time, lifting the hem of my skirt to avoid tripping. I'd worn the bordertown style of blouse and skirt tonight, since it was more conducive to the physical work. I reached the top with my heart hammering. The bridge was eerily silent, and I burst into the chamber to find the guard gone and the doors thrown wide open, just as Mikael had said. Bugs scuttled in from the ceiling. I ran inside, conscious of the creatures creeping around me. A few fell from the ceiling onto my clothes, and I brushed them off before they made me vomit. Why had God invented bugs after all? They were so disgusting.

"I think we should go," said a voice that I knew. "This is starting to get weird." I paled. It was Mira.

"Come on," said Will's voice from up in the corridor. "Didn't you say you were trying to find out what was up here? These people turn sages away at the doors. If we don't explore this place now, you're going to have a lot of disappointed grandkids when they ask for a story."

Mira and Will? I cursed myself for getting her involved in this. She was curious now about what my mother had hidden up here, and I'd led them into danger. I had to get them out of here before another Angel came.

"Well, sure," I heard Mira say. "But what are we going to tell the guards? My grandchildren made me do it?"

"We can say we came in because we thought someone was hurt. That line always works."

More bugs dropped onto the floor. I squished them as I ran, trying not to think about cleaning the bottoms of my shoes later.

"But why would the guards leave like this? Lady Andreya will be furious if she finds out that—"

Mira screamed. I burst into the tower keep to find Will and Mira scrambling behind a table as a massive shape leapt at them. The silver glow of moonlight through the windows illuminated an advancing shape: a great white direwolf. It snapped its jaws at Mira, missing her by inches. It leapt onto the table and growled. "They say that drinking kills," he said, jumping off of the table and stalking toward them. Will and Mira backed up until they hit the window. "But curiosity kills faster."

"Wait!" I said. I bolted forward, sliding the ring onto my finger. I clutched the heretic bone hanging around my neck, beside Mikael's key. "I'm the one you're looking for."

The wolf turned to look at me. I stared into his golden eyes, into a gaze human in intelligence, but savage in hunger. "You miss one Witch to find another," he said, taking slow steps toward me. For some reason, the calm tone of his voice unnerved me more than if he'd been enraged. Predatory beasts were not supposed to stalk quietly toward their prey. Neither were they supposed to speak. "The Lancer should be here soon. He won't mind if I clear the path for him a bit."

Who was the Lancer? The other Angel? I backed away as he prowled toward me. I tried to focus my mind, as Galen had taught me. Think about nothing. Let the power flow into you. I locked eyes with the wolf, letting him come closer. The ring sizzled in my pocket, and energy crackled around my body like an electric suit of armor. The wolf pounced, and all of my concentration vanished. I dodged to the side, pulling out my hand and shoving the ring at him. My hand was blue with energy, with lines of electricity snaking around it.

The wolf hesitated. "She's teaching you, too," he said, circling around. "Wretched Witches. Your curiosity is breeding like a pack of spring rabbits." He leapt at me. I swung at him with my lightning hand, but missed. A heavy blow knocked me to the floor, and the wolf leapt atop me with unthinkable speed. Jaws snapped at my face. Panic rushed through me. Why wasn't this working? I'd vowed to Galen that I would protect the people of Nordgard. I'd made a promise, and I intended to keep it.

Light exploded around me. The wolf backed away, snarling at me. I raised my hand and saw that my whole body radiated that crackling lightning energy. Somehow, I'd managed to transform. I turned to the wolf. "Get out," I said, taking a step toward him. He growled and ran out the door, disappearing into the hallway.

"Kaybree?" It was Will. He and Mira crouched by the windowsill, staring at me. "Is that you?"

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window. The form staring back had my shape, but instead of flesh, there was only the whirring bolts of blue and purple energy, pulsing like a colony of fireflies. The image only lingered for a second, because the light of my own reflection blinded me, and forced me to look away. "Yeah, it's me," I said. I reached over and took off the ring. The glowing stopped, and I reverted to my ordinary self. My clothes smelled like they were burnt, but otherwise I was the same.

"What happened to you, Kaybree?" Mira asked, staring at me like she'd never seen me before. "Please tell me this has nothing to do with your mother's voodoo Witch stuff."

I swallowed. "This has to do with my mother's voodoo Witch stuff. Sorry."

Mira shook her head. "No, it's no problem, really. I mean, you did just save us from that scary wolf thing. But . . . how?"

"That's what I want to know," I said, partly to myself. They got up and shakily moved toward the hall. I heard footsteps and waved for them to stay back. I peered out into the hallway and saw Jans walking toward us. I tensed, waiting to spring into action if the wolf returned. I was about to warn him to leave, but then someone came out of the armory to meet him: Father Kraus.

"Brother Jans," he said, frowning. "What are you doing up here? The tower is forbidden to those outside the Order."

"I'm sorry," Jans said, glancing around. "I just heard a noise and thought I'd come up and check."

Kraus ushered him down the hallway. "Well, you'd better get back," he said. "Whatever it was, it looks like it left. We wouldn't want to get caught inside the tower after hours. I'm surprised the night watchman isn't here." I motioned for Will and Mira to be quiet. Once Jans and Kraus were gone, we could slip out and nobody would ever know we were here. As long as the wolf didn't tell his Angel masters who I was.

When they'd reached the end of the hall, Jans turned back. "What is it?" the relics teacher asked.

Jans shook his head. "I don't know. Why don't you stay here while I investigate?"

The other sage grabbed his arm. "You shouldn't go alone. I'll come with you."

"I'm fine alone."

Kraus frowned. "It's too dangerous. I'll scout ahead first."

Jans sighed, as if in resignation. "No, Father. I'm afraid you won't." He threw his hand off of his arm and then reached up and snapped Kraus's neck.

A sickening crack echoed through the hall. I stared as Father Kraus's limp form collapsed to the floor. What had Jans done? I turned back as he advanced through the hall. Jans had just killed Father Kraus. As I grappled with that awful fact, I tried to sort out the reasons. Why would he do such a thing? And how did he even have the strength to do so?

Will shook me. "Hey, carrier pigeon to Kaybree," he said. "I must be seeing things, because I think I just saw Jans snap somebody's neck. Please don't tell me that Jans just snapped somebody's neck."

"Jans just snapped somebody's neck."

He clenched a fist. "Nothing but bad news today," he muttered. "What do we do now?"

"Let me handle this," I said. I put the ring back on. "You two, find a place to hide. This shouldn't take long." Will and Mira scrambled away toward an alcove in the corner of the room. Jans's footsteps grew louder behind me. I concentrated on the ring, fighting with my fear and revulsion to bring it under control. Focus. It's just you and the Weapon, I thought. I'm calm. I'm totally calm. I'm totally not thinking about my history teacher killing people and sneaking into my mother's tower and—

"Who's there?" Jans called out. The sound startled me, and I lost my focus on the ring. The same light as before flared to life around me, and I noticed my hands changing—into bolts of lightning. I had no idea what had happened, or what it meant to be a Witch, but somehow I'd transformed again.

I looked at Jans. If I hadn't seen him earlier, I wouldn't have recognized him. His body had changed too, only instead of becoming a writhing mass of lightning, he had become a monster. His face distorted into sharp, jagged angles, and his skin was an ashen gray. His sinewy arms and legs extended longer than normal, and blocky muscles bulged out from his robes.

"You." He said it with such rancor, such bitter hatred, that I didn't notice he'd rushed toward me until the impact. I didn't feel the initial hit, but I did feel myself slam into the wall. Pieces of brick fell around my feet. I knew I should feel pain, but my mind tuned it out, narrowing its focus to the fight. A claw shot toward me. I brought my hand up to block, and sparks shot out. I tried to get a clear view of Jans, but his face was twisted in rage, and his claws flew at me. I blocked his attacks, but he struck so quickly that I couldn't pause to make an attack of my own. Survival was my only goal. I didn't know how much damage my lightning self could take, and I remembered waking up with cuts and bruises after my last fight. If those claws raked across my stomach now, would I awaken with a mortal wound in the morning?

Jans grabbed me by the shoulders. His claws sank into my arms and back. We met each other's gaze, my flickering eyes against his black coals. He threw me across the room, smashing me through the window. I grabbed onto a jagged piece of glass and hurtled back into the room. Icy wind howled inside from the broken window. I braced myself as Jans lunged at me.

I can do this, I thought. Jans slashed at my face, and I batted his claws away. Galen believes in me. Otherwise he wouldn't have started teaching me. I punched at Jans, clipping him in the ear. I'm a Witch. Mikael said it's my destiny. I've fought Angels—I can fight Jans too. I kept telling myself I could do it. I kept telling myself I could fight him. Because if I stopped to consider my chances of surviving against a thousand-year-old demonic messenger, the fear might have killed me first.

He kicked me full in the chest, knocking me into the other window. It cracked, but held. I latched onto him as he came closer. He slammed me into the wall, lifting me into the air.

"Why must you damn your people?" he screamed. I blinked in confusion. "WHY?" Before I could answer, my necklace dangled in his face and brushed against his nose. Jans's flesh burned at the touch, smoke rising from the wound, and he dropped me to the ground, backing away. I heard a commotion in the hallway. Jans glanced back and then ran out through the window, floating until he reached a rooftop. I watched him run across the rooftops until he disappeared into the night.

My eyes widened as I held the heretic bone dangling from my neck. An object like that could only harm a divine being. An Angel.

The curtains by the window flapped violently in the wind. Jans was an Angel? How was that possible? His dark, menacing visage contrasted sharply with the Angel from the forest, the one from my dreams. Was this the true form of the beings that had guided mankind to civilization?

A wave of exhaustion hit me. My arms and legs ached, and I steadied myself against the cracked window, noticing that my hands had reverted to normal. So had my legs. I shivered in the frigid wind, realizing that the burnt threads floating to the floor were the remains of my clothes.

"Kaybree!" Will ran over into the moonlight. "Lightning Girl! You all right?"

I blushed and grabbed one of the curtains from the window, throwing it over my body. "I'm over here," I said. My voice sounded cracked. My throat burned. "Can you bring my coat?"

Will walked over. "Your coat? Why do you—" He saw me behind the curtain and looked away, his cheeks reddening. Perhaps his vaunted claims to being a gentleman had some merit. "Oh. Wait here." A minute later, he handed me my coat and I wrapped it around me. As awkward as it felt to wear only a coat, it still covered what needed to be covered. We headed out the way we'd come, my bare feet slapping against the icy, wet stones of the bridge. Once we'd gone down the stairs, Will led us into a side room while a group of soldiers marched up to the tower.

We sat on the cold desks for a while, looking back and forth between one another, not daring to speak. I put the ring in my coat pocket, rubbing my hands for warmth. Finally, Will cleared his throat. "Well, I knew we might get in trouble going up there. But I was thinking of the digging latrines kind of trouble, not the losing-limbs kind."

Mira turned to me, her face ashen. "You said he . . . it . . . was an Angel?"

"Yes. Jans is an Angel. And he's trying to kill us."

Will nodded. "And you fight them by turning into . . . Lightning Girl?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged. "Never thought I'd actually see an Angel," he said, walking over and closing the curtains. He lit a candle on the torch outside and shut the door, lighting one of the room's table lamps. "From what people were saying, it was about what I'd expect. But without the wings."

Mira smiled. "Yeah, no wings. He jumped really far, though."

I didn't care. Wings or no wings, these Angels were dangerous. But it encouraged me that Will and Mira were taking it so well. I huddled in my coat, now slick with the trickles of blood from my wounds. My body was so numb that I barely noticed the little throbs down my back and shoulders. "I'm still not sure what's going on," I said. "But I don't think I'm dead yet, so that's something. Are you two all right?"

Mira patted my shoulder. "We're fine. Thanks to you." She bit her lip. "But this is . . . I don't know. I don't know what to think. Is this all real?"

"Yeah. It is." Not much could be said after that, and we returned to our melancholy silence. We stared at the flickering flame of the candles, lost in thought. The Angels were real, and were trying to destroy us. And now my friends knew it, just like me.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

### Politicians and Crusaders

Bruises and throbbing pain woke me up in the morning. I'd managed to limp back to my room and catch a few hours of sleep before classes, but the pain jolted me awake. My arm muscles ached from where I'd punched at Jans and blocked his claws. My shoulders burned from where his claws had grabbed me. My back hurt from being slammed into walls and windows. My neck and legs hurt too, likely from the strain of combat. I winced as I crawled out of bed.

That was when the full realization of the previous night hit me like an icy mountain wind. Jans was a murderer. And Father Kraus had been his first victim. But why? Father Kraus was a kind-hearted person, one of the few sages who didn't prejudge me by my mother's reputation. I wiped away a little trickle of tears that had come without warning. I hoped that Father Kraus had died quickly, and hadn't suffered. Getting your neck snapped killed instantly, right? I shuddered and shoved the thought away. I really didn't want to think about it.

I felt my face as I checked the mirror. Would I be able to go out in public after that fight last night? Major claw marks will show any Angels around that I'm their Witch. And I'd have to concoct a story about being mauled by a wild animal when the students started asking questions. Danelle wouldn't need to flex her creative energies to come up with a new taunt for me. Thankfully, my face only had a couple of minor cuts, which were already healing. The exhaustion showed in my red-rimmed eyes, though. God Almighty, I hope Galen doesn't see me like this.

I spent the next half hour combing out the snags in my hair. I peeled off the bits of linen that remained from my ruined clothes—the second outfit I'd lost so far—and used a damp cloth to daub my wounds. They didn't seem so serious now that I looked at them. When I had finished, I stepped out into the hallway, keeping my coat buttoned all the way against the frigid draft. My cuts burned, and my bruises ached. After I checked on Mira and Will, I decided I would skip class to catch up on my sleep.

I put on a smile as I searched for my friends inside the mead hall.

Instead, I found Danelle.

"You're not looking well, Kaybree," she said, inspecting the side of my face. My smile hadn't lasted long. "Are the Kant Vakt winters too harsh for you?"

"No, this is from last night," I said, pushing past her. "From the unloading assignment you didn't show up for."

She flipped her hair. "I was there. The night watchman saw me."

I was too tired to argue, so I scanned the room. Where were Mira and Will? They hadn't been hurt, so they should have been here at breakfast. Panic flashed through me. I pushed through the crowd of students, heading back the way I'd come. What if I was too late? I have to find Galen, I thought. He needs to know about—

"Your attention, please."

The chatting around me stopped. Out of the doorway strode Father Traum, accompanied by two of his knights. He scowled at the students, and we shrank back. "As most of you have heard, there was an attack on the sagekeep last night. Father Kraus has been murdered, and the Vormund tower broken into." He swept his eyes over us. A few of the students paled. One girl started crying. "As of today, the Knights of Valir are taking command of this sagekeep. We will be conducting an investigation into the matter. All witnesses are required to testify. Those of you who were here last night, please come forward."

No one moved. I tried to slip behind a table, but he locked gazes with me and walked over. "Young Lady Staalvoss," he said, seizing my arm with an iron grip. "Someone told me you were snooping around the sagekeep last night."

"It was for the festival," I said, conscious of all the students' eyes on me. "Father Kraus wanted me—wanted us—to help unload things. Have you talked to the wagon crew?"

"I'm interested in what you saw last night," he said, leading me away. For a bald, wiry man, his grip was incredibly strong. "Please, come with me and we'll talk."

I caught Danelle's eyes. "But Danelle was there too," I said. He paused. "It's true. She and I were both assigned to help with the unloading."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Father, but I completely forgot about it. Father Kraus told me to show up, but I never made it." She pointed to her friends. "We were all over at my parent's manor." I silently fumed; the one time that laziness avoided trouble, Danelle had hit the jackpot.

He dragged me through the corridors, past the main hall, and into a wing I'd never seen before. The honor guard clanked beside us. My arm started to hurt from Traum's unyielding grip. We passed huge golden statues of Angels and philosophers, most of whom I didn't recognize. Jans would know who they were. He's probably known them all in person. How old were the Angels? A hundred years? A thousand? No wonder he knew his history. Traum yanked me by my arm down a dimly lit hallway to descend a stone staircase. I squinted into the darkness, broken only by an occasional torch mounted on the wall.

At the bottom of the stairs, Traum shoved me into a room and finally let go of my arm.

"Here we are, young Lady Staalvoss," he said, shutting the door. He slammed a metal bar over its latch. "Just the two of us."

I glanced around at my surroundings. The room looked like a cross between the armory in Vormund tower and Jans's history classroom. Huge oaken bookshelves covered the walls, stuffed with black tomes, but weapons hung from hooks on the shelves as well. Weapons of every kind could be seen: swords, axes, scythes that farmers used to harvest grain, and some I'd never seen before, such as spiked maces. "What is this place, Father?"

"Look down."

I did. A bright red circle was painted on the floor, encircling the area where I stood. It had an odd design, like the visionary eyes on the Vormund insignia. "A prayer room?" I asked. "For . . . people who like battle axes?"

He pulled out a vial. "Something of that nature." He opened the vial and sprinkled a few drops of liquid on the ground. "There. Now, if you wouldn't mind, can you please explain to me what happened last night?"

I took a deep breath. I'd managed to avoid Traum so far since he'd arrived, and I'd never planned what I would say if he found me. I smoothed my clothes and looked back into his eyes, wondering how much of the truth I could hold back. "Well, I was helping unload things from the wagons. Then I heard something upstairs. I went to ask the wagon crew about it, but they were gone, so I left." My stomach grumbled, reminding me that I still hadn't eaten breakfast.

He frowned, and his bald head gleamed in the torchlight. Did he believe me? "Do you want to know what this circle is for?" he asked.

"Not really."

"To perform exorcisms," he said, circling around me. "To prevent demonic entities from using their powers when they've possessed someone. Some people, Kaybree, have their bodies taken over by demons." He leaned closer. I could smell the garlic on his breath, making me gag. "They're called Witches." He glanced down at the circle under my feet. "Are you a Witch, Kaybree?"

I tried to smile. "No, Father," I said, Mikael's words coming back to me. "No evil demonic powers here. Now, my mother . . . have you tried talking to her about this? She's more the Witch type. You know, a reclusive widow that everyone's afraid of, who does amazing things no one can understand?"

Traum's eyes narrowed. "Have you ever felt anything around your mother?" he asked. I tried not to let the relief show on my face. The more I turned this conversation away from me, the better. "Anything . . . odd? Like what you felt last night?"

"Um, maybe?"

"What did you see last night?"

I swallowed, though my mouth was dry. "Some bugs," I said. "Spiders, worms, rats. It felt really icky, so I left. I didn't see anything else." He stared at me, unblinking. I wondered if he knew about the Angels. Was he working with them? Had he sent Jans to kill Father Kraus?

No, he wasn't going to kill him. Father Kraus just got in his way. He was looking for something in the tower. Just like we thought.

Traum drew something out of his pocket. "And what of this?" I reached out to take the object, but he took it back. "Don't touch it. The last time that happened, you incinerated a classroom."

I winced. This must have been the relic Danelle gave me. "I'm really sorry about that," I said. "I'd never used relics before, so I just wasn't careful enough. It kind of got out of control."

"Yes, of course it did," he said, his tone biting. "Your mother isn't the only one who has caused problems, Kaybree. Unexplained occurrences follow you too." He arched an eyebrow. "Like that sighting from last night."

"Sighting?"

"Yes, a sighting in Vormund tower. A girl made of light or some such nonsense." He pulled me in close to him. "Your mother is playing some dangerous games in that tower of hers. And I'm going to find out what they are."

The girl of light. He'd already put too many pieces together. All he'd need to do was associate me with one more of these "random" occurrences and he'd know that I was a Witch. I had to do something unexpected. I had to make him think he could trust me. So I took a deep breath and said the most ridiculous thing I could think of. "Great," I said with a smile. "I'll help you."

Traum pulled back and scratched his head. He sneered at me. "And why would you want to help us?" He scowled at me, his eyes weighing my words on the scales of truth. "If your mother is a heretic, that would implicate you as well."

I bit my lip, searching for a response. When one came, it was surprisingly sincere. "I don't think she's a heretic, Father. She's secretive, and kind of cold at times, but she isn't evil. I think . . . I think someone is trying to use her to hide their own sins."

He pursed his lips. "And who might that be?"

The Angels. It was a perfect plan. They could blame her for the recent attacks without revealing themselves. If they convinced the sages she was responsible, they could get them to raid Vormund tower—and since Jans was one of the sages, he could walk right in there to find whatever he was looking for. "I'm not sure," I said. "But my mother is an easy target. She keeps secrets, she's powerful, and the sages don't like her. If I wanted to blame someone else for problems that I caused, I couldn't think of anyone better."

Traum's forehead creased in thought. A bead of sweat trickled down my back as I stared back, taking shallow breaths. He pursed his lips and nodded. "An interesting theory, young Lady Staalvoss," he said. "In that case, I will require periodic updates on the situation. Tell me everything you learn. If what you say is true, then perhaps I can show your mother some . . . leniency if she is not the culprit."

Traum lifted the bar over the door and his scowl returned. "But remember, you can hide nothing from me. The Almighty reveals the truth to His faithful in the end." He waved me out. "I'll be watching."

I couldn't believe it. He was letting me go. Before he changed his mind, I pushed open the door and left, stumbling up the stairs toward the brighter light at the top. I met Will and Mira, with a pair of knights standing with them. Their faces were pale, and they swayed as they stood. "Will? Mira? Where have you been?"

Will glanced at the knights. "Long story," he said. "I don't know about you, but I haven't had breakfast yet. No explaining until I have something in my stomach."

My own stomach grumbled at the thought of breakfast, so I followed them to the mead hall. The walkways were empty, and the halls quiet. The other students had gone to their morning classes. We picked up some of the leftovers and settled down at our usual table in the back. The shuffling of cooks and murmured conversations in the halls were the only sounds around us, buzzing in the background.

I took a bite of cold eggs. "I was worried about you," I said, gulping down a glass of juice filled with pulp. "What happened?"

"The Inquisition finally caught up to us," Mira said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "Someone must have told Father Traum we snuck into the tower."

"But you're all right?" I asked.

"Great," Will said, chewing on a thick slab of venison. "Aside from being dragged down to the dungeon and having a bunch of old guys brandish pyramids at us."

"I'm sorry," I said. I wished they'd chosen a different time to be adventurous. "At least it wasn't anything worse. I thought that . . ." I looked around. No one in sight or earshot. "That maybe Jans had gotten you." Will fidgeted with his fork, and Mira studied the floor. I knew this look. It was the same way my friends usually reacted to finding out I was Lady Andreya's daughter. They'd act embarrassed and shy, and then say they had to get to class and leave. And then never speak to me again.

This time it was ten times worse. My mother's reputation wasn't driving them away; it was me. They'd seen me turn into a monster of lightning. They'd been attacked by a creature that came for me. And now they knew that one of our teachers was trying to kill me.

"Look, I understand. We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to." I stuffed a biscuit into my coat pocket and stood up with my tray. "I'll see you guys at the Bard Song, all right?"

I didn't turn back. I couldn't get them involved in my problems. It wasn't as if they hated me; we could remain friends, but not close enough to endanger them. I blinked to make sure I didn't cry. There was nothing to cry about. I was saving my friends the trouble of being hunted by direwolves and Angels. Besides, Galen and my mother would be furious if they learned I'd leaked my identity to my classmates.

I checked the Vormund tower upstairs for any sign of Galen or my mother. The guards at the doors gave me similar answers as the ones before, although they seemed more nervous about Lady Staalvoss's disappearance. They were conducting their own investigation into the break-in, so they didn't allow me inside. I decided to return to my room to rest and regain my strength. But my heart kept pounding. I thought about the conversation with Father Traum, but that wasn't what worried me.

It was Jans. I hadn't seen him since last night. Did he know who I was? The next time he saw me, would he transform and attack? Or would he simply accuse me of heresy? I wondered if his classroom had one of those red circles painted onto the ground. If he knew who I was, then maybe he was planning his next move. Maybe he was planning to—

"Kaybree?" said a voice up ahead. A figure strode through the empty corridor, causing the torches that lined the walls to flicker. I paled as Jans's form came into focus. I braced myself and searched for a quick exit. The wide front gate of the sagekeep was kept open, with a pair of the Knights of Valir standing guard at all times. Jans wouldn't transform, not with them around. Or would he?

I smiled at him. "Hi, Jans."

He smiled back and adjusted his spectacles as he came up to me. "I'm glad to see you're all right. I heard about what happened."

I froze, searching his gaze. Why the friendly demeanor? Had he not seen me last night? Or did he not remember? I tried to play along. "You heard?"

He sighed and put a hand on my shoulder. I thought of how he had done a similar action last night, only with claws that dug into my flesh. "You have to understand that the Knights of Valir are serious about their duty. They can be rough-handed at times, but it's mainly to maintain appearances. To scare you."

"Oh. That." He was talking about Traum. "It wasn't bad. I'm a little worried about the attack, though. You know, on Vormund tower."

Jans shook his head. "Yes, I heard about that as well. We've lost a valiant comrade in Father Kraus. What manner of madness has your mother been keeping up there?"

"People are saying it was the Angels." And if they weren't, then I would start spreading rumors.

Jans motioned to me. "Come inside. We shouldn't be talking out here." He waved me over, and I realized that his classroom door was only a few paces down the hall. I'd forgotten that his classroom was on my way back to my room. This conversation only confused me more, but it seemed that Jans actually didn't know who—or what—I was. I slid my hand into my pocket and brushed the relic ring with my fingers. I'd be ready, just in case.

I followed him into the classroom, which was brightly lit with candles. The curtains were drawn back, giving a clear view out the window of the patrolling Knights and the Midwinter merchants selling their wares. Jans stood before the painting of the War of the Angels on his wall, frowning. "The Angels are difficult for humans to understand, Kaybree," he said. "Everything they do is for the benefit of mankind. Why would an Angel kill Father Kraus?"

I paused, unsure of how to respond. If Jans really had killed Father Kraus, then he was being incredibly cold-hearted about it. If he hadn't, then whom had I seen last night? "It doesn't make sense, Jans. Why would that Angel burn through half the city a few weeks ago?" I pointed out the window, where the knights were shoving aside peasants with the flensu to make way for a gilded carriage. "And why don't they cure the flensu? Or give us enough food at harvest, or stop the snows from freezing people?"

"There is wisdom in all the Angels' purposes," he said. "Sometimes all we can do is wait and discover what they intended."

"I wish Galen were here," I said, half to myself. He would know what to do.

Jans frowned. "He is not here?"

"He and my mother have been gone for weeks. I'm getting worried about them."

Jans took a dry cloth and wiped the fog from the windows. "This is one of the reasons for your mother's unfortunate reputation," he said. "And why young Lord Valkegaard's family disapproves of his association with her."

I let my mind race to the first possible conclusion. Then I wished I hadn't. "Wait, you're not saying they're . . . ?" I'd never thought my mother would be courted by someone practically the same age as me.

Jans chuckled. "No, nothing like that. Not that I'd put it past him. But it's their general unpredictability that bothers people. In Kantmarck, it's the tradition to choose the king from among the nobility. He's the first among equals, and the others help him run the state. In this kind of system, trust is paramount. They're all part of some network, some political tribe. You join a faction at court, and then give and take resources. Weapons, soldiers. Secrets." He frowned. "You don't keep the contents of an entire tower hidden from the world. They don't like it if you refuse to play their games."

"But why are they still here?" I asked. "How did they get to stay in the sagekeep if nobody trusts them?"

"They're the only ones who can defend against these so-called Angel attacks," he said. "When you have fear on your side, you're indispensable."

"In other words, nobody can complain when you're the ones saving the world."

Jans snorted. "Saving the world? From whom?" He gazed out at the snow-covered streets. "And for whom?" He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Galen Valkegaard is one of a kind. He could charm the brass off of a doorknob. I suppose that's the real reason your mother has been free of scrutiny." He turned back to face me. "There are two types of people who wield power, Kaybree. Politicians and crusaders. The latter may be bold and aggressive, but the former are far more dangerous."

As much as I hated to admit, he had a point: there was too much that Galen and my mother weren't telling me. And until they did—until they came back and gave me some answers—I couldn't be sure of anything.

Even what I'd seen with my own eyes.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

### A Friend That Can Fly

I headed to the Bard Song that night. My muscles still ached from the fight, but I felt surprisingly awake as I cut through the quiet alleys that led to the tavern. I'd found that this was a more direct route than the channel, and besides, my mother didn't give me enough money to spend it on longship rides. I glanced back once more at the sagekeep, its figure looming in the moonlight. I'd checked every entrance to the sagekeep, and didn't see any bugs or rats lurking around. Also, with a legion of knights marching through the halls and the Vormund soldiers swarming the lobby upstairs, I was sure that Jans wouldn't hit the tower tonight.

I shivered in my coat. I exhaled mist into the frigid air and my boots crunched snow underfoot. I liked these boots; they had soft interior lining and never slipped on the ice. I hoped that I wouldn't have to transform and fight an Angel. If I did, then I prayed to God I'd remember to kick off my boots first.

Someone groaned in pain beside me. A heap of rags shuffled from next to the wall, and a woman with gray, ragged hair wrapped in a burlap shawl looked up. I met her eyes and expected her to hold her hands out. It made me feel awful to see the peasants' hands, calloused and gnarled and purple from frostburn, when mine were safe underneath a pair of wool gloves. But she didn't even say a word. She just hacked and coughed, turning away from me and toward the wall. She must have had the flensu.

I backed away. Well, it's nice of her to cough away from me. I pulled off my gloves and reached into my pockets for spare change. Just a couple of coppers came up, and one silver penny, which I needed to get into the Bard Song. I didn't want to walk all the way back to the sagekeep to get more money. I looked at my hands, pink and warm and soft. I should give her my gloves. Before I could stop myself, I tossed the gloves over at her. They landed next to her feet. She picked them up and stared at them for a moment, as if in disbelief.

"Survive the Midwinter," I said, using the traditional greeting for the Winter Sagas. I stumbled away, crunching through the snow. My hands quickly lost their warmth, so I shoved them into my coat pockets. That's what pockets were for, after all.

As I walked, I wondered why I gave my gloves to a random stranger. Maybe I figured that if she had the decency to stay away and not make me sick, then I owed her something. Besides, I could always get another pair of gloves. Or I could keep warm by turning my hands into glowing flames.

The Bard Song was alive with music when I arrived. The current troupe had started a spirited drinking song, and although I didn't drink, I still loved the tune. In all the time I'd spent at court and formal gatherings, I had never heard this kind of passion and fervor. Sagekeeps kept their music plain and somber, the sages' deep voices chanting praises to the Angels and philosophers. I sat by the counter, unbuttoning my coat in the warmth of the tavern.

"Can you believe it?" Will said. Somehow, he'd managed to sneak up and take the seat beside mine.

I arched an eyebrow. "That you're here in the Bard Song every night?"

He shook his head. "They're letting me sing for Midwinter Apprentice Night. You know, the biggest apprentice gig all winter?"

"He's really excited about it," Mira said from my other side. She sipped a tankard of some frothy drink. "He's been practicing all day."

I forced a smile. I wasn't sure I deserved friends like this. They were so understanding, so nonjudgmental. Of course, we outcasts had to be patient with each other. We didn't have anybody else. "Are his lyrics getting any better?"

Mira grinned. "Do you have to ask?"

Will cleared his throat. "It takes experience to create powerful lyrics," he said, walking around to my other side and putting up his fists. "Daring fights with direwolves, heroic battles with demonic creatures in sages' robes—it's all going into my next song. No more rangir or antlers for me."

Mira laughed, but I paled a little and glanced around. As usual, the noise of the singers and the patrons drowned out our voices. "Can we not talk about it? Just saying we've seen something like that could get us in major trouble with the sages."

Will made a gesture over his lips. "Oh, my lips are sealed, Kaybree. With cement. And glue. And the stuff that glues cement together with other cement. Mira was there. When those old guys took us, we didn't say a word of truth. I even told him I didn't like you."

I laughed. Will couldn't even take an interrogation seriously. "I'm flattered that you'd lie for me," I said. "But I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Mira frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You know. It's not every day you find out that your friend . . ."

". . . can turn into a glowing Angel thing and bash monsters into walls?" Will finished. He grinned. "Come on, Kaybree, that was awesome. You saved our lives." He cleared his throat. "Not that I'd like to meet either of those two again, but there's nothing wrong with being who you are. So what if you're a Witch? There's something kind of special about having a friend that can fly around and set things on fire."

I blinked. "Really?"

Mira took my hand. "Really. You don't have to hide things from us." She leaned closer. "And maybe we could help you."

I scooted back. "I don't think you guys know what you're getting into."

Will arched an eyebrow. "Hey, if you're going into battle against Brother Slash-and-Bash, then the least we can do is look out for you. And without your mom or that middle-aged guy helping you, we're the only ones who know who you are."

"What middle-aged guy?"

"That lordship from Vormund. The one who's always meeting up with you at night."

I laughed. "Galen? He's barely older than we are."

Will grimaced. "And you meet up with him at night? Aren't people going to start unpleasant rumors about you?"

"Like what? They know he's betrothed."

"Just saying. Anyway, with them gone, who's going to watch out for you?" He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Besides, if it ever gets dangerous, we can run while you turn into Lightning Girl."

Mira smiled. "With Will on your side, what do you have to worry about?"

I couldn't hold back my smile. I had to be the luckiest girl in the world to have friends that didn't care I was a Witch, even with a mad cadre of sages scouring the city for me. If it wouldn't endanger them, then I could definitely use the help. "You're right," I said at last. "I don't want you two to get into the line of fire, though."

Will spread his hands. "Sounds good to me. I'd rather sing about epic battles than actually fight them. Too much blood and bruises." He frowned and studied me in a way that I'd usually find unnerving. "Say, Kaybree, how're you holding up? You got pretty banged up last night. Smashing against windows and all that."

I felt my arms and was astonished to find that the pain was gone. I stretched my muscles, but the soreness had left them. No one had commented on my face either, despite the cuts I knew were there. How had the pain vanished so quickly? "Maybe it wasn't as severe as I thought," I said. "I feel fine now." Will and Mira shared a dubious look, though, and all three of us knew this wasn't normal. Some magic was at work here, whether from me or from the relic whose power I'd drawn on. Whatever it was, I hoped it would keep working. The healers wouldn't question a broken toe or a scraped elbow, but claw marks down my back would do more than raise a few eyebrows.

Will took a swig of Mira's drink. "So, what's the plan?" he asked.

"What plan?"

"What to do about Jans."

I turned back to the bards in the middle of the room. Their drinking song had given way to a slow ballad about a wandering traveler searching for his home. "There's not much to plan for," I said, wishing I had more guidance in what I should do. "All we can do is watch and wait for his next move."

At least this time, I would have help.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

### Defending Humanity

"Wrong color," Will said, pointing to a map Mira was drawing. "The ocean isn't green." I set down my tray and sat beside them. The mead hall was crowded at lunch, since nobody left the sagekeep to eat now. Snowdrifts covered the ground, and even the servants' frequent sweeping couldn't stop it from piling up. I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. Even wearing a fur-lined coat, my arms and legs were freezing! I guess being a Witch doesn't make me immune to the cold.

Mira shook her head. "This isn't green, Will. It's sea green."

"Well, I've seen the water out by the coastline, and it looks pretty blue to me."

"It's an artistic representation," she said, filling the empty space with green ink.

"Then what color is the forest?" he asked.

"Tree green."

I studied her map while I chewed on a piece of black bread. She'd colored each part of the landscape differently, and even made little ridges on the paper for the mountains. The jagged coastline of Nordgard as each country fed into the West Sea was intricately drawn, and she'd also included the Isles and Colonies on the western edge of the map. "What are you drawing this for?" I asked. "A class?"

"Kind of," Mira said. "It's part of my first apprenticeship project. Sister Solveig says I can apprentice with her if I make some maps."

I hadn't heard the name. "Who's that?"

Will rolled his eyes. "No way, Solveig? You mean Sister I-Killed-Forty-Pirates-With-My-Bare-Hands-But-Still-Have-To-Teach-Sailing-Class? Why do you want to study with her?"

She smiled. "I guess I hang around with strange people."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that," said a voice behind us. I nearly jumped out of my seat. It was Jans. He was standing right next to our table. "Kantmarck needs some proper cartographers. But I wouldn't risk an expedition to the Colonies. Far too dangerous." Will and I exchanged glances. More dangerous than having a teacher who's a killer? Jans must have noticed, because he cleared his throat. "You act like I'm going to spout horns. My presence doesn't always mean extra homework."

"No, it's not that," I said, flashing him a smile. Does he really not know that we know he's an Angel? "We're just nervous around sages lately. The whole interrogation thing."

Jans took a wicker chair from another table to sit down. "My sincerest apologies for that," he said. "Father Traum's methods can be . . . abrasive at times, I'm afraid. I hope all of you are all right. If there's anything you need me to do, you have but to ask."

"Can you make it less cold?" Will said, glancing out at the fluffy snowflakes falling outside.

Jans laughed. "Forgive me, but that is beyond even my powers. I should not trouble you more, then. I actually came to invite you to the readings I'm doing for the Winter Sagas. On Midwinter and every day following, at three o'clock in my classroom. You're all welcome to attend."

Mira looked up from her map. I was grateful she could maintain her composure. "What will you be reading?"

"The Saga of Baldr, and the Ballad of Giles the Philosopher."

"Sounds great," I said, nudging Will with my elbow. "Will's going to need better ideas for lyrics if he hopes to make it past Apprentice Night at the Bard Song."

Jans's eyes narrowed, and he frowned. I cut off in mid-laugh and shot Mira and Will an alarmed look. Had I said something to give us away? "That's not funny, Kaybree," Jans said.

"No, it's sure not," I said. I wished I knew what he was talking about.

"Children of your age should not be associated with such impious company," he said, crossing his arms. "The tavern environment is no place for respectable children of nobility."

Will grinned. "Then it's a good thing we're not respectable."

"I was just joking," I said, shooting Will a glare. "We'd never venture into such a sordid den of ruffians and scoundrels. My mother demands that I keep as far away from alcohol as possible. And from singing. I can't even hum in her presence."

Jans shook his head. "It's not that I don't trust you," he said. "But the streets aren't safe at night, especially around taverns. Please take proper precautions." He stood and met my eyes. "Trouble seems to find you all on its own. Best not to bring down any more, right?" He tipped an imaginary hat to me and left. It seemed an odd gesture, because sages wore hoods instead of hats. Had he worn a hat in his past life as an Angel?

"We need to keep an eye on him at the festival," Will said. "With large groups of people out in the marketplace, he might decide to take a peek upstairs at the tower."

I jabbed him in the arm. "Not so loud," I said, nodding at a group of students walking by. "We need to be careful when we talk about, you know, that kind of stuff."

Will's eyes lit up. "Ooh, can we talk in code, then? Say things like 'the red duke is marching to the blue castle'."

Mira stifled a laugh. "Sure. You go ahead."

Will lowered his voice. "What do you think he's looking for anyway? What does your mom have in that tower?"

"My father unearthed something when he and my mother searched the forest. The Angels want it, and I think the sages want to know, too. That's why Traum is really here."

Mira's eyes widened. "Speaking of Father Traum, I'm really glad he's here. He's just the kind of person we need leading us in these dark times. And he loves students."

Before I could ask why she would spout such an obvious lie, I heard a clanking noise behind us and turned around. A knight with the sages' triple eye pyramid insignia on his breastplate strode past us. He gave us a cursory look and walked on, disappearing into the hall. I let out a breath. "Good thinking. We probably shouldn't talk about that kind of stuff with knights around. I didn't think they came into the mead hall."

"They're everywhere!" Mira said, picking up her tray with a half-eaten breakfast on it. "Ever since this morning, I've seen them in all the hallways. It's like they're guarding the sagekeep from an army."

"Or searching for someone inside of it," I said.

I skipped class to check in at Vormund tower. The guards would probably just send me away, but I had to keep trying. What could Jans have been looking for up here? What drew him and his creepy legions of vermin? I passed the pot I'd placed as a decoration weeks earlier. Cobwebs had already appeared in the corner by the wall.

"Young Lady Staalvoss?" I turned to see Henri, my mother's lieutenant, motioning to me from the top of the stairs. His blonde mustache was neatly trimmed, and he wore his black surcoat with a butler's dignity. He reminded me of a couple of my tutors, formal but stylish.

"You're Henri, right?"

He smirked. "Indeed. I've come to escort you to the tower keep. Your mother has returned, and she wishes to speak with you." I followed close behind him, my mind racing. What could have kept her away for all this time?

Instead of guards, Galen stood in front of the doors. Having not seen him for weeks, he seemed like a flickering fire in a snowfield, or a spark of warmth for someone with frostburn. I smiled without thinking and said, "Galen! Where have you been?"

He didn't smile back. "Come with me," he said, opening the doors. "Your mother wants to see you." He seemed colder than usual, so I didn't question him. I stepped inside the hallway and waited as he closed up the doors and locked them. He turned a key and slid it into his pocket. "I trust you've been well while we were gone."

"I've been all right," I said. "But where were you?"

Instead of answering, he walked past me. "Your mother is waiting." I followed quickly, worried at the urgent tone in his voice. The doors of each room in the tower were barred shut and locked. I hadn't been inside here since that night when I'd seen Jans snap Father Kraus's neck, so my heart pounded as we took the familiar corridors. I knew that the tower was safe, but something about seeing it empty of chatting soldiers or bustling officers made me jumpy.

The tower keep, where I'd scared off the wolf and fought Jans, looked no different than before. The shards of glass that had broken from the window were cleaned up, and the windows replaced, with curtains covering them. A cluster of Vormund soldiers patrolled the room, checking doorways and windows with hands on sword hilts. We crossed the room and exited into the next hallway, where Galen took me to a side room. My mother sat at a circular table inside, inspecting several items. She covered them with a sheet when we came in. "What happened here?" she asked, folding her hands in her lap. "We haven't received a straight answer from any of the sages or guards on duty."

I sat on the rickety wooden stool, biting back an angry retort. It would be too much to expect my mother to care about me. No "Kaybree, I'm glad you're all right" or "Kaybree, how are your classes?" or "it's so good to see you." She didn't even use my name. All business, from the very start. I'd become used to it before, but somehow I thought that now I was her prize Witch that she'd treat me differently. Perhaps she was equally cold to everyone.

"An Angel attacked," I said. "It was looking for something. " I glanced between her and Galen, who had taken the chair next to hers. Both wore matching uniforms, black fabric with silver buttons. The gossipers might whisper of a clandestine relationship between them, but the grim look in their faces told me that they cared about one thing only: stopping the Angels.

She frowned and tapped a fingernail against the table. "Only an Angel? I heard reports of other creatures as well."

"They were all with the Angel," I said. "Worms and rats, creatures from the forest. And then there was this giant wolf that attacked—" I stopped myself before mentioning Will and Mira. "That attacked me. It was the same one from the first Angel attack."

Galen leaned forward. "What do you remember about the Angel? How did it appear? How did it fight? Did it take the form of anyone you recognized?"

I paused before answering. Should I mention Jans, or should I find out for sure first? No, I know it was Jans. But that didn't mean that he was responsible. From their attitude toward the Angels, I feared they would strike first and ask questions later. I couldn't give Jans to them until I was sure that he was guilty. "Do the Angels ever control people? Or possess them?"

My mother peered at me intently. The attention would usually flatter me, but this time it made my hair stand on end. "Who did you see?"

"Where were you?" I asked, tired of her endless questions. "Why did you suddenly leave without telling me? What was so important? I've been stumbling in the dark without you here. It was pure luck—and stealing a Weapon—that saved me from the Angel."

My mother bristled and grabbed my hand. "Where is it?"

"What?"

"The Weapon you stole."

I glanced at Galen, but he looked serious as well. "I have it in my pocket."

"Give it to me. Now." I reached into my coat pocket and handed her the ring. She snatched it away and cradled it in her hands like a baby. Except I could never have imagined her handling a baby so lovingly in her arms. "You are never to take a Weapon from the armory again."

"But it saved my life, and—"

"I don't care. These cannot leave the walls of the tower without my knowledge. Is that clear?" I nodded. She pocketed the ring. "Now, you were saying?"

They didn't even consider me one of them. Was it because I was too young, or because they didn't think I was useful enough? My mother and Galen were keeping so many secrets from me, but maybe the only way to get them to tell was to tell some of my own. "It was Jans," I whispered. "I saw him kill Father Kraus and then transform into a monster. But I don't know why. What could he be looking for in this tower?"

Galen gave me a sympathetic smile. "There isn't anything the Angels would want in this tower," he said. "And thank you for telling us. This will be of great help."

"That's enough, Lord Valkegaard." My mother's expression was frigid. "Secrecy was paramount, so we could not tell you where we were."

"She's part of the Order," Galen said, frowning at her. "We informed Tomas where we were. Her mission is no less important."

"Her mission is to follow my commands," my mother said with a tone of finality. She turned back to me. "But she is no part of the Order. Perhaps the Angel thought we were here and came to attack us."

"Maybe," I said. "You two are the official anti-Angel team." I glanced back at Galen, but his face had turned to stone. At least he wants to tell me more. But I doubt she will let him. "Jans was wearing a sage's robe, and he transformed into this gray-skinned monster with wings and claws. Kind of like how I can transform, but a lot uglier."

My mother arched an eyebrow. "You've transformed?" She frowned at Galen. "I saw the first battle, but I wasn't aware she'd achieved a stable transformation yet."

"She's getting close," he said. "Well enough to scare away the Angel."

"Not just scare away," I said, irked at their lack of confidence in me. "I fought with him. He had to leave when the soldiers came." I smiled at Galen and pointed to the finger of Elrich Ardawk that hung around my neck, hoping he'd know what I meant. "Of course, you never told me my clothes would burn off."

"They wouldn't if you'd learn to control your power," my mother said. "Your carelessness is unacceptable. You will train with Galen every evening from now until I decide you're ready. Is that understood?"

I winced. Looks like I'm not going to the Bard Song anytime soon. Hopefully by the time Will learned how to write better lyrics, I'd be allowed back. "Yes, Mother."

"Excellent. Then I want you practicing and patrolling all tonight. We have guards set around the tower, but none of them will be sufficient if the Angel strikes again. Galen will accompany you and provide you with Weapons as needed." With that, she made a shooing motion, and I took that as my cue to leave.

Galen came outside with me and led me back through the halls. "For what it's worth," he said as we passed the newly repaired window, "that was some nice work surviving your second Angel. It appears that you learned something from my lessons after all."

I smiled. "I have a good teacher. Even if he does vanish without telling me."

"Yes, there is that," he said with a laugh. "You know your mother. She gets this idea that there's a—well, that there's something we need to look for, and there's no dissuading her. I wish I could tell you more, but . . ." He cleared his throat. "I'll see you tonight."

That day, I watched Jans lecture from the back of the room, trying to memorize his movements and mannerisms. He didn't move like the Angel had, nor did he stand in any sort of battle-ready posture. He blew his nose into a handkerchief and sneezed like someone with a minor case of the flensu. He polished his spectacles and rubbed his eyes when he read from books. He talked about the early philosophers organizing the sages and uniting us under one ruler. I had to wonder if he had been there.

I itched to ask him. But not here. I couldn't approach him in the classroom, even if I had transformed, because he might know who I was. I had to lure him somewhere alone and then ask him. I had to know why the Angels would betray us and start attacking our cities. If they were so benevolent, and if they did only what was good for mankind, then there had to be a reason.

If not, then maybe Galen was right about the Angels after all.

***

I met Galen in the courtyard by the frozen fountain. It had been decorated for Midwinter with wreaths of ivy, statuettes of Baldr and others from the Sagas, and seal bones. Since huge snowdrifts were part of the Midwinter décor, they hadn't been cleared around the fountain. I remembered from living in Artium by the western coast that some sagekeeps would have to make fake snow drifts from cotton and use them to decorate. Kant Vakt wasn't one of those places.

Galen ran his hand along the wreath and smiled over at me. "Good evening, Kaybree. How were your classes?"

"Fine," I said, clearing a space to sit down at the fountain. "You like the wreath? I helped the decorating crew put it up."

"It's beautiful," he said. He took a deep breath and let it out. "I just love Midwinter. Don't you?"

"Aside from the weather?"

He chuckled. "Good point. No, I meant the holiday." He stared at a statuette of Giles the Philosopher. "We put up images of the philosophers in sagekeeps, but this holiday has been around since long before them. Before the Angels even began speaking to Man."

This piqued my curiosity. Besides, if I send him off on a tangent, it would cut down our training time. "Really?"

He nodded. "The Feast of the Saints and the Procession of Visionaries are holidays invented by the sages. Most holidays are like that. We honor the philosophers or some special vision. But the people of Nordgard have been reciting stories to our children for millennia. The tradition of Midwinter saga reading was instituted by ordinary people, not by Angels or sages." He smiled and gazed at the sky. "It's a celebration of human survival against all odds. Our ancestors survived the bitter winters of the Isles, along with crop failure, wars, famines, everything. Although all the world stood against us, we lived and even prospered."

"I've never thought about it like that," I said, shifting on my stone seat. I was getting cold sitting on the icy stone. "I thought they just told stories so their children would know about their history." I loved hearing stories at Midwinter, like the eternal love of Baldr and Katja, or Osvald's journey across the face of the tundra.

Galen shook his head. Snowflakes shone in his coppery hair. They seemed to sparkle in the light of the setting sun. "Not only that. The sages say that the Angels inspired the heroes in those stories, but they were people just like us. That's why we honor them, and our ancestors too. They survived, they made the world a better place. And so should we." He grabbed his bag and brushed snow off of it. "Well, we'd better start training. There's not much light left."

My sword skills had not improved since the last time we practiced. The wooden sword still felt awkward in my hands, and my legs tangled as I tried to move with Galen's languid grace. I couldn't concentrate on moving all four limbs at once. When I nearly tripped over my own feet executing a sword stroke, I threw down the wooden sword in frustration. "I'll never get this," I said. "I'm just no good at sword fighting."

Galen picked up my sword and handed it back. "You'll get it. It takes time, that's all."

I rolled my eyes. "Easy for you to say. You're a man. Men are built to fight with big heavy weapons." I swung the sword. It still wobbled and went in weird directions. "Girls weren't meant to swing swords."

He frowned. "Is that what the sages tell you? Kaybree, you can do anything a man can do." He coughed, and his cheeks reddened. "Well, just about. If you work at it, you can sword fight just as well as any Knight of Valir. And besides, you're a Witch—who knows what you're capable of?" He met my gaze. "Never limit yourself by what others say. People used to say that women would never be able to read, but I'll wager that you can read quite well."

I shrugged. "I guess so."

"There," he said, walking toward me. His boots crunched the slushy snow. "If you can read, then why not wield a sword or command an army, or even rule a nation?"

I smiled. His face always lit up when he talked like this, passionate and full of conviction. "You're right," I said. "In that case, why not teach everyone how to read? If women can learn, then maybe peasants can too."

"A visionary idea," he said, nodding in thought. A fire burned in his eyes. "Indeed, we could improve a great deal by educating the peasantry. Labor organization, city efficiency, exchange of ideas. Why, I never knew you thought about such things. Perhaps we have more in common than I thought."

I found myself grinning, though I'd never thought about teaching people to read until today. It just sounded like something he'd like to hear. Like I'd known from our first meeting, there was something different about him. He didn't play the same political games as the students I'd grown up with, or their elder siblings at court. He seemed genuine about what he said, and convinced of what he believed. That's why I trusted him. But I still was unsure of what he'd say about what was hidden in the tower; he turned to ice whenever I asked about the Angels.

He slid away the practice swords and drew out a blue disc. "We have a few minutes remaining, so you should do some Weapon training. But remember, as much as I want you prepared to fight the Angels, you need to practice safely."

I paused before taking the disc. "Are the Angels really so bad?" I asked. "They've done good things in the past, right? Why would they suddenly turn against us now?"

Galen frowned. As I'd predicted, his face turned stony. "No one knows. Until we do, we need your help. Now focus on clearing your mind. You need to be in contact with a Weapon to use your powers, so get used to holding one."

I took the disc and closed my eyes, following his instructions. When I opened my eyes, the disc emitted a soft glow, but nothing else happened. Either this was a sign of increased control, or he'd chosen a weaker Weapon on purpose. While I held the disc, we chatted about the places we had visited, and I learned that he had lived in almost as many places as I had. His favorite was the bustling metropolis of the capital, where artisans and inventors displayed their latest ideas. I'd hated the capital, with its scheming politicians and endless sea of people, but I admitted that if I'd seen some of the inventions he described, like the farseeing lenses and the gear-powered block printer, I might have liked it better.

Eventually we headed back to patrol around the sagekeep. As long as I didn't bring up the Angels, Galen talked and laughed like usual. But his hatred for the Angels ran deeper than I'd imagined.

I could understand why. I'd lost my father to the Angels, and he spoke as if he'd lost loved ones as well. What bothered me wasn't that he hated them—quite the opposite. Rather than speak of revenge, he talked about "defending humanity," like the Angels were plotting our annihilation instead of looking for an object in Vormund tower.

Mikael's questions stung like an itch at the back of my head, and I wished I could answer them. I hoped that someday Galen would explain to me why exactly I was defending humanity from Angels. But I had the feeling I might have to find that answer on my own.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

### Whispers from the Forest

I couldn't sleep that night. This time, instead of coughing peasants, the commotion came from the chatter of the animals outside my window. "It's coming," said the raven, cawing as it flew by.

"Out of the shadows," said the rat, scurrying by the door.

"Death," hissed a snake. "Death, death, death . . ."

"Something's coming," chirped the crickets. "Something's coming."

"Hunt it down!" howled the wolves, one after another. "Destroy it!"

They continued like that all night, until their voices became a torrent of sound in my head. It was deafening. I ended up staying most of the night in the halls, pacing the empty corridors and trying to rest on the floor.

I asked Signy about it during riding class in the stables. "Animals sense things that humans have forgotten," Signy said as I brushed her fur. I'd sent Mira and Will to get oats to feed her, so we could have some time to talk. "Even tamed animals like us or your hunting dogs can become so accustomed to city life that we ignore what instinct whispers to us."

"What kinds of things?" I asked.

"Danger, mostly," she said, taking a sip of water from the trough. "They can sense when something is about to happen. They are also more attuned to the energies of the Angels. The Angels are the rulers of the forest, after all."

I hung the brush up on the wooden peg. "Rulers of the forest," I said, frowning in thought. "Is that where they came from? Like how we came from Byrjun Island?"

Signy flared her nostrils. "Who knows? It's always been this way. Humans live in caves of stone and brick, Angels live among the trees and beasts. Perhaps that's why the forest became impassable to you fifteen years ago. When the Angels turned against you, so did the animals." She turned to look at Mira and Will as they returned. "They're coming back. You sure you don't want to tell them?"

"One surprise at a time," I said. "When they saw me fight that Angel in the tower, I thought their eyes would pop. I'll tell them eventually."

Signy nudged my hand and I rubbed her nose. "Angels seem to like Vormund tower," she said.

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"That's where the first Angel was headed. It would have made it if you hadn't transformed."

"But what are they looking for?" I asked, mostly to myself.

"Probably whatever the animals are upset about," Signy said. "Whatever is causing these dark energies."

Will and Mira arrived and poured some oats for Signy. Will stayed as far away from her as he could, and Mira smirked at him. "Thanks," I told them.

"Don't know why you insist on hanging around this one," Will said, crossing his arms.

I stroked Signy's face again. "She likes me," I said.

"Your mother might have it written down," Signy said. My ears perked up, and I gave her an inquiring look. "If the Angels want something that's important, Lady Andreya probably has a record of it. Whatever it is."

I thought of my father's journal. I needed to continue reading to the end. Besides, it was fun to watch my father fall in love. That he fell in love with my mother kind of spoiled it, but I tried not to think about that.

"So what did Lord Valkegaard tell you?" Will said, leaning on the rangir stall. "Was he off visiting his secret mistress on the edge of the forest?"

"No," I said, too quickly. Mira arched an eyebrow, and I cleared my throat. "He and my mother went to check out a lead that the border patrol gave them. They didn't say if they found anything." He wasn't the type. Galen was noble, in the true sense of the word. A gentleman, what every knight dreamed he could be.

"Don't fall for Galen Valkegaard," Signy said. My face burned, though I knew that none of the others could understand. "Many women chase him, but they never catch him. I'm not sure there's anything to catch." I stroked Signy's fur and gave her a searching look. "I don't want you to be disappointed. He's absorbed in his work, Kaybree. I'm sure the only reason he spends time with you is because it's part of his mission to defend humanity."

He'd used those exact words yesterday. Did he only talk to me because I was a Witch? Maybe. But what if I shared his ideals? The only reason those other girls had failed was because they couldn't understand his grand ideas like I could. I only wished he would tell me what he and my mother were trying to accomplish.

"What do you think?" Mira asked me. I realized that she and Will had kept talking.

I smiled, embarrassed. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was asking if you thought we should go to the Bard Song right at noon tomorrow," she said. "That's when the first bards start, and we want to get good seats."

"Yeah, sounds great," I said.

Will gestured with his hands in front of my face. "But they're serving royal cured goat's cheese at the same time," he said. "We don't want to miss out on the cheese! Come on, were you totally spacing when I said how awesome it was?"

"Kind of," I said. "Sorry."

"I know, I know. Thinking about Lord Galen makes you spacey."

"That's not it," I said, even though it was. I hadn't realized it before, but I did think about him a lot. The arch of his nose, the vibrant sea green of his eyes, the way his hair waved in the breeze. I hung on his every word when he had that gleam in his eyes, whenever he talked about fighting the Angels or inventing machines or teaching people how to read. He had such amazing ideas that I couldn't help but think about him.

"Well, you decide tomorrow morning," he said. "We'll meet up at breakfast and then go to the festival from there." He grinned. "I'm so excited for the bards! And the cheese, and the sled races, and the Sagas. This Midwinter is going to be incredible!"

Yes, of course it would. Except that there was a killer Angel roaming the sagekeep grounds—and reading us the Sagas. I stroked Signy's fur again, wondering just how memorable this Midwinter would be.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

### Songs and Judgments

We started at the Bard Song. Mira and I sat at one of the oaken tables beneath a hanging steel lantern lit for the holiday. Its orange flame mixed with the rainbow prisms of sunlight that streamed through the open window. A light breeze blew through my hair, causing a chill tingle on the back of my neck.

Will walked in and sat beside us with a few packets wrapped in white paper. "I snuck some of the cheese from the shop," he said, unwrapping it and taking a bite. He nodded to the stage by the hearth, where a bard was playing a fast song on his lute. "What do you think of this guy on the lute? Nice technical work, no?"

I sniffed the cured cheese and took a bite. It was rich for goat's cheese, and packed a strong punch of flavor. "He's really fast," I said. "You have some tough competition."

"I can take him," he said. "You know, I can play lute and sing at the same time. Like to see Hot Fingers over there do that. Crowds can appreciate a man with multiple talents."

Mira sipped her drink. "As long as one includes writing lyrics. Unless you're trying to make them laugh."

The smell of vanilla swept over me, a scent popular in the capital. Danelle and her posse walked past, and she shot me a warm smile. I tensed and waited for her attack. "Good morning, Kaybree," she said. Her hair fell to her shoulders, and her dress attempted to match the festive spirit of Midwinter with heavy fur lining, but still managed to cling to her figure like her other dresses. My own clothes consisted of a burgundy bordertown riding dress, along with my snow fox coat. To me, Midwinter was about celebrating our ancestors' survival in harsh conditions, so flaunting seemed kind of disrespectful. Like all their sacrifices were for the purpose of making us rich.

"Good morning, Danelle," I said. I tried a little civility. "Your dress looks nice." I didn't even tack on any biting commentary. I was proud of my self-control.

Her smile twisted at the edges as she likely tried to discern some hidden insult. "Why thank you," she said. "It's good to know that peasant blood doesn't keep someone from appreciating noble fashions." She gestured at the bards performing. "Or quality music. If you stay around longer, you might catch my troupe's performance."

I folded my hands, wishing she'd go away. "Oh? What do you play?"

"The lute, of course," she said, holding up a case. "Most students learn. Didn't your mother send you to music lessons?" She covered her mouth in mock sympathy. "Oh, maybe that was beyond her means. I understand."

I tried not to let my smile falter. In a way, I wished that Danelle would turn out to be an Angel so I could transform and pound her a few times in the face. But I couldn't just punch someone because I didn't like them. I could do other things. "No, I was actually surprised that Galen never mentioned that you play. We spend so much time together that I was sure he'd bring it up." I pretended to think about something. "Oh, wait. He never talks about you."

Danelle's eyes flashed. "If they don't burn you for witchcraft," she said, flipping back her hair, "then maybe they can behead you for adultery. Your family may not take your oaths seriously, but civilized people do." She turned on her heel and left, with her friends close behind. They melted into the growing crowd in the tavern.

We listened to a few more songs, performed by bards of no small talent. I kept glancing at Will, wondering if he knew how weak his songs were in comparison. I didn't want him to rush up there next week, blustery and full of bravado, and think that he'd get roaring cheers from the audience. It might only be Apprentice Night, but after hearing so many fantastic bards, the crowds might not be friendly to beginners.

"So, Kaybree," Mira said, sliding her glass over and sitting close to me. She lowered her voice. "Any word from your mom on what's in the tower?"

Mom. The word didn't seem to fit my mother at all. I glanced around. With all the clanking of glasses and commotion of the patrons, not to mention the music, no one would hear us. I shook my head. "She and Galen seem to think there's nothing special there at all. I told them I think the Angels are trying to get something, but either they're not telling or they really don't know."

Will took a swig of his drink. "You know," he said, setting down his mug, "all this time we've thought the Angels were looking for something. But everyone knows that your mother fought off the Angels here in that first attack. Could it have something to do with that? Maybe he's just scoping out a rival."

"Seeing how she did it," I said, nodding. "That's right. No one has ever found out how she defeated the first Angel. I was here to fight the second one, but that first one is still a mystery. I saw Vormund try to kill the second Angel, but even putting relics on crossbows didn't seem to work. They have good defenses against the monsters of the forest, but not Angels. But still . . . that doesn't tell us why they stopped attacking fifteen years ago. Why not strike in other areas?"

Mira twirled a strand of black hair on her finger. "It does give us a clue of why they're here now." She pulled out the Judge book and turned to a page full of runic letters. "Think about it, Kaybree. If you were an Angel, and mankind starts falling into sin, you first send visions to the sages, and then if that doesn't work, you send judgments and destruction. When we repent, the judgments stop. Except this time, before that happened, one of the Angels was defeated—by a mere human."

I understood. It was all making sense. "Of course," I said, my heart pounding. "You wouldn't want to risk another attack until you knew how they fought you the last time."

Will drummed his fingers on the table. "Ladies, we are still missing a crucial piece to this puzzle: why did they attack in the first place? If there's some kind of sin brewing among the masses, their visionary message must not have gotten through. And if we haven't mended our wicked ways, then they're just biding their time for the next wrathful judgment. Stop one Angel and bring a thousand more down on you."

Visionary message. Had there been visions before the first attack too? And had anyone else but me seen visions before the latest one? I bit my lip, unsure of what to say to my friends.

Will gave me a sidelong look. "You're making that face."

"What face?" I asked.

"The face that girls make when they know they should tell you something but really don't want to. So what is it?"

I scowled at him. "You really know nothing about girls, Willard Matthias."

He laughed. "Nope, I don't." His smile disappeared. "But I am a bit worried that you're getting so defensive. What's going on?" A wry smile returned on his face. "Come on, it can't be any crazier than transforming into a flying ball of mayhem and fighting with the Almighty's holy servants."

"I've seen a vision."

Mira's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Twice."

Will paled. He cleared his throat and shrugged, as if trying to pretend it was nothing special. "So, visions too. That's nice. They tell you anything useful?"

"That judgments were coming upon the land, and that if we don't change things, it'll be the doom of us all." I shrugged. "So it's pretty scary, but not very useful."

Mira shook her head. "That doesn't make sense. I mean, I'm sure you're a pure vessel before the Almighty, but why appear to you and not the sages?"

"Maybe the sages weren't listening," Will said. "Or maybe they're the problem. Have you seen Traum marching around the sagekeep like someone stole his hair and he wants it back?"

"I'm not sure," I said. "Jans seems to support the sages, even if he thinks Traum is a little too obsessed with his inquisition job. That is strange, though. Why tell me about judgments and then not tell me what we needed to change?"

"There's only one person in this city who knows for sure," Mira said. "And I think we all know who that is."

I twirled a strand of hair on my finger. "I guess I could try to ask him," I said. "I'll need to talk to him alone, and maybe say that I know something about how my mother fought the first Angel. But I can't let him know that I know about him."

"Why not transform?" she said. "That would get his attention."

Will rolled his eyes. "And then what? Hold up a white flag and say 'Sorry about killing your Angel friend, but couldn't we just talk this out like civilized mythical beings?' The moment he saw her he'd turn battle-rage and try to slash her face off."

I finished the last of the cheese, washing it down with a mild wheat tea. "Good point. I wonder what would happen if I just said I'd seen a vision?"

Will frowned. "Well, he'd either tell you what you wanted to know . . . or tie you up and toss you into Traum's dungeon."

"We'll think of something." I held in a sigh. This was Midwinter, and I hated having to worry about the Angels. I wanted to sit back and listen to the music and stories, like I always had. Except it was different this time. On the plus side, I had friends to enjoy it with. On the minus side, I had enemies too.

The crowd's noise level dropped a notch. The bard performing laughed nervously and raised his mug of beer in a toast. "I'd like to dedicate this next song to those who guard our sagekeeps and make this festival possible. Ladies and gentlemen, Father Arctur Traum and the Knights of Valir!"

There was a halfhearted applause. The bard whispered to his lute player, flute player, and drummer, and they started a traditional folk song about Giles the Philosopher, whose visions led humanity after the War of the Angels. It was a polite gesture, perhaps, or a way to stay politically safe.

Traum moved through the crowd in his usual austere robes and wearing his usual condescending sneer. At least, I thought it was condescending. He probably thought it was righteous contempt for frivolity or something. His eyes locked on mine like metal to a lodestone, and he flashed a smile, heading my way. His teeth were long and sharp, like a predator's. "Ah, young Lady Staalvoss," he said. "A moment please."

I smiled at Will and Mira. "I'll be back in a minute." I followed Father Traum outside, into the frigid winter air. Acrobats tumbled along beside jugglers and a team of sled dogs in the street. "Enjoying Midwinter, Father?"

He scowled at the statuettes of philosophers and wreaths that hung on the doors of buildings. "Enjoying? A celebration of man's ignoble past mixed with raucous impiety? Why, there are more drunks and cutpurses and women about on Midwinter than any other time." He leaned closer. His breath smelled of onions today. It made me gag. "You don't think it makes my job more difficult when the unwashed masses gather? You tell me how to sift the wicked from this rabble."

I smiled back. "It's nice to know that you've captured the holiday spirit: duty and responsibility. I'm glad we have people like you around, Father, to keep us in line."

He frowned, probably at my cheery tone. "Your mother and her pet have returned," he said. It curdled my stomach to hear Galen referred to as a "pet." "What have you learned?"

"That if they ever did anything important, they probably wouldn't tell me about it until it was over."

Traum clenched my shoulder. It felt eerily like Jans digging his claws into that same shoulder a few days ago. "What have they talked about? What have they not talked about? Surely you know something."

"Nothing. They didn't tell me anything. Whenever I ask about Angels, they just lock up."

He stroked his chin. "Interesting," he said. "Perhaps you can—"

"Uh, excuse me?" said Will, bursting in and grabbing my arm. "I'm really sorry, Father, but we kind of promised Brother Jans that we'd be at his reading, and it starts in, like, five minutes."

I grinned. I could have kissed Will right then. "My apologies, Father. I'll be sure to tell you if my mother ever does anything abnormal. Like kiss babies or smile. Survive the Midwinter!"

Traum took his hand off of my shoulder and straightened his robes. "This is no laughing matter." He brushed snowflakes off of his coat. "Beware of pride, girl. The eternal souls of this city are at stake." His tone chilled me, and I realized that although he spoke in ignorance, he was right. The city counted on me, and I was the only one who could stop the Angel. But even if I could fight them all, how could we stop them from coming back?

We left quickly to lose ourselves in the crowd. Mira and Will raced along beside me through the streets, skidding on icy walkways and dodging other students rushing toward the taverns. We arrived at the sagekeep only a few minutes late, and slipped into Jans's classroom right as he opened the thick tome and began to read. The room was covered with a series of wreaths made of broken pine branches. Candles gave off a strange fragrance, their flames bright blue and their candlesticks placed within bowls of water. I coughed when I caught a breath of the smoke. It made my eyes water and my nose run. I found a seat toward the front, where the candle smoke wasn't as heavy.

Mira took the seat on my right, and Will scooted into the chair on my left. He nibbled on a piece of cheese while Jans began the Saga:

O fair and ye foul,

Who grin and who writhe,

Through death's hallowed halls ye now tread.

Gaze anew at this world

That thy hands have made

Of burning keeps housing the dead.

Rise up, Giles, see true

Let vision shine bright

Over desolate lands charred with hate.

Thy people, not lost,

Shall still rise anew

Awaken, for small shall grow great.

He stumbles from ruin,

Through trees charred and black,

From moldering heaps he called friends.

When blindness descends

In lightning array

A messenger seeking amends.

Mistakes light the candle

To understand pow'r,

The Angel recounts to the Sage.

A philosopher's gift

To fight wisdom's bane,

Together they turn a new page.

I listened, lost in his sonorous beauty of his voice. I thought of the Angel that had appeared to me in my dreams. Had Giles the Philosopher felt this way when he'd seen an Angel for the first time? How had he felt when the Angels took him from this world in a shaft of light? Where was he now? I wondered if he and the other great philosophers were watching us. I wished I could ask them what to do. What would the philosophers do if they found that the Angels were turning against mankind? Talk to them. Just like I'm trying to do. Maybe it was humanity's fault. Maybe Mikael's questions were leading me toward the truth. How could Angels be evil?

My vision blurred, and I sneezed. Why did Jans have this horrible smoke inside his room? I glanced around at the others. No one else seemed to be reacting like I did. I blinked away the watery blur and kept my composure. I didn't want to worry Jans in the middle of his recitation.

When the poem finished, we applauded for Jans and he took a bow. When we kept clapping, he gave a sheepish smile and bowed low again, setting the tome back on his desk. "Thank you all so much for coming. Please, enjoy the rest of Midwinter. I shall be reading again tomorrow at this same time. Thank you again."

I walked over to Jans, but Will ran in front of me. He reached out and shook Jans's hand, grinning. "That was amazing, man! I felt like I was really there, peering off the edge of the abyss with old Giles himself. How do you do that?"

Jans laughed. He seemed embarrassed by the attention. "I did not compose the poem," he said. "I am merely the voice of the poet. But I'm pleased that you enjoyed it."

"Are the Angels really like that?" I asked. "Glorious, full of light, beautiful?" I wanted him to think I was asking about the poem, but I wondered what he'd say. After all, he hadn't been very bright or glorious when he'd attacked us in the tower.

"That's what most of the accounts say," Jans said. "Giles, Baldr, most of the philosophers described the Angels they saw in vision that way."

"Most?"

"Angelic manifestations come to each philosopher differently," he said. "Most accounts converge on Angels of brilliance and glory. But there have been times when Angels have come in more humble guises, hiding as beggars or friends until they revealed themselves."

Just like him. "And why would they hide? Why not reveal themselves right away?"

Jans frowned. "I suppose that some Angels come for different purposes than others. Some appear to grant knowledge. Others come to test our faith."

To test our faith. Was that Jans's purpose here? And what were we supposed to do to pass the test? "Is there anyone else who wrote about the Angels? Any other poems? I'd like to hear some of those too." I smiled. "Not that they'd be better than your readings, of course."

Jans waved a hand and wiped his nose with a handkerchief. I could tell that his eyes were watering too, though it couldn't have been from the candles. He'd placed them here himself. "Nonsense, Kaybree. Brother Van and Sister Arcias both have fine readings about visions later today that you should attend. They have theatrical training as well, so it should be quite marvelous. I think I'll go to them myself."

"Thanks!" I turned so he wouldn't see me squint against the smoke of the candles. "We'll see you then!" I walked out and took a deep breath. My eyes cleared up and I saw Mira and Will staring at me. "Sorry, guys. Where are we going next?"

Will took my arm and we started walking. "You all right, Kaybree? Or do all Witches cry at old poetry?"

I sneezed. "No, it's not that." I wiped my eyes. Now that we had left the classroom, my sinuses began to feel clearer. "Just the smoke from his candles."

"I've never seen bright blue fire before," Mira said. "Are you sure it was the candles? They smelled funny, but nobody else was tearing up."

I shrugged in response. I decided to ask Signy about it later.

We emerged outside, where the cheese vendors and herb sellers had set up stands and booths. Although the traditional foods were supposed to be plain, most of the vendors sold salted or sweetened versions of them. "I wonder where they sell pure yogurt," I said. "I usually live on that stuff during Midwinter."

Will bought a roasted fish on a stick and wagged it at me. "What, did your mother lock you up in your room? So you wouldn't fraternize with the unsavory characters at the taverns?" He took a bite of the fish. "Here, have a bite."

"No thanks," I said. "Actually, I like going through Midwinter eating a winter diet."

Will chewed on his fish. "Why?"

"Some of the sages say it's good for your health," Mira chimed in.

"Not just that," I said as we passed a street performer playing Ignes's Ballad to a crowd of clapping children. "I want to feel a little of what our ancestors had to go through. Don't you ever wonder what it was like living back then? You struggled all summer to store up food in cellars and iceboxes, and to keep your animals well fed for the winter. And then the snows would come and trap you and your family in your homes, with nothing to do but eat and tell stories and try to survive." I shrugged. "It makes me appreciate what we have the rest of the year, I guess."

Will shook his head wryly. "Whatever you say."

The snow fell lightly around us as we kept walking down the street. We reached the end of the vendors' row and took the next street, which curved back and led to the Bard Song. Will told us about a legendary bard, Black Frost Giant, who was performing later today, so we decided to go back and eat at Bard Song before the show.

"What are you doing here?"

I knew the voice, and it made my insides twist. My mother stood there, and although she was only a few inches taller, her presence towered over me. "Hi, Mother. Survive the Midwinter!"

She wasn't in a festive mood. Her uniform was crisply pressed and its buttons shined. Her hair was pulled back in a conservative bun. "You have a city to defend, young lady," she whispered. Mira and Will hung back at a respectful distance. "Jans continues to walk among us, waiting for an opportunity to strike again."

I kept my eyes down. "I'm searching for him now," I said.

"You're unarmed. What do you expect will happen if he attacks you first?" She handed me a pouch. "Take this."

I opened the pouch. It contained a slender red bracelet. "Is this—"

"Yes," she said, snatching away the bracelet and putting it back into the pouch. "Only use it if absolutely necessary. Its power capacity should be small enough that you can handle it."

"But what about Father Traum?" I asked. "If he finds me with this—"

"Do not worry about one mad crusader," she said. "An Angel is far deadlier a threat. I want you ready if he should move."

I slid the pouch away. "It's nice to know you care about me."

She clasped me in a wooden embrace and kissed me on the cheek. At least she was honest about her motives for wanting to protect me. Talking about humanity's defense was the only time she sounded sincere.

My thoughts turned to Jans. I'd fought an Angel before, even killed him, but it was only when he threatened to burn the whole city down. If my mother and Galen thought Jans was going to do the same, would they order me to attack him? Even knowing what he was, even seeing him kill Father Kraus, I wasn't sure I could. I was a Witch, but I fought Angels when I needed to protect someone; I didn't attack someone who looked so human and defenseless. And what if we were wrong, and Jans wasn't the real evil behind this—how could I live with myself if I killed him and he was innocent?

Will and Mira came up behind me, and we continued toward the Bard Song. I thought about my mother, how my father had described her and how she was now. Was she ever bright and fun loving like he had portrayed, or was he a lovesick fool tricking himself? A shudder passed down my spine. What if she wasn't my mother? Could Andreya Staalvoss be an Angel dressed up as a human? That would change everything. I put the thought in the back of my mind for now, though. I couldn't go around accusing everyone who acted strange of being an Angel.

"Black Frost Giant is the king of the lute," Will said, ushering us back into Bard Song. "I picked up my style from his technique. And his singing and lyrics are incredible too. I'm really stoked for this." He ordered some food for us—traditional fish and yogurt—and we sat at our table, waiting for the next bard to come out.

Mira tapped my shoulder. "So what did your mother say?"

"She asked me about the Angel," I said. I tapped the pouch in my coat pocket. "She also gave me a present."

Mira's eyes widened, and she pointed to the side. "Kaybree, it's that guy again. The borderman. I think he likes you."

Mikael stood by the entrance, looking straight at me. His eyes locked onto me like a hunting cat, elegant yet dangerous. He had a gorgeous face, though it seemed hewn from stone because of his grim expression. Not to mention that his fashion sense was nonexistent; he wore the same green cloak and studded vest as before. They didn't even match. I waited with my friends as Mikael made his way through the crowd, nudging other patrons aside as he advanced. When he passed by our table, he leaned over and said, "We need to talk."

I stayed right where I was. "Anything you can say to me, you can say to my friends."

Mikael eyed Will and Mira, who both seemed embarrassed by his presence. Will carved his initials into the table with a pocket knife, while Mira flipped through the pages of a book, glancing up every few seconds. "You're running out of time," he said, making a show of not looking at Will or Mira.

"Until what? I turn into a pumpkin?"

His hand shot out and grabbed my arm, pulling me away toward the tavern counter. I stumbled along, surprised by his strength. Will stood, but I waved him away. I let Mikael lead me to the counter, where a loud game of dice was happening. The rattling of the wooden dice and the shouts of the winners and losers covered our conversation. Mikael leaned close, his hand still clenched tightly around my arm. "Do you think this is a game? They're out there, Kaybree. They're hunting you."

I tried to pull my arm back, but his grip held firm. "Well, what do you want me to do about it? I still don't know why they're attacking. And if I keep fighting them, more will come in their place. I need to know why."

Mikael released my arm. He took a step back, eying me with an amused smile. "You're really something else," he said with a chuckle. "Give you the power to move mountains, and you play pranks on an Ambros." He stroked his chin and arched an eyebrow. "You've never wondered about the possibilities? You're a Witch. You could have anything you want."

I rolled my eyes. "What I want is to have a normal life, with normal friends, without fiery flying things trying to kill me." I leaned in closer, whispering into his ear. "Look, if the Angels want us to repent of our sins or something, why not just send a vision to one of the sages? It would be a whole lot more polite than all this death and destruction."

Mikael frowned. "And then what would you do with your powers?"

"Nothing." I smiled. "If the world isn't in danger, I don't need to save it."

The crowd broke into applause as a massive figure strolled toward the stage. Mikael leaned in closer. "Power can be used for good, or it can be used for evil. You can't just put it on a shelf and let it gather dust."

I smirked back. "Watch me." I returned to Will and Mira, who were sitting at their table and sipping mugs of ginger beer. I slid into the seat next to Mira and gave them an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that."

Will sighed. "That must be what fame is like," he said. "You just got here to the city, but everyone wants to talk to you."

"It's mostly because of my mother," I said. "I'm used to it. But it's nice to have some friends too. Ones who don't just come by to give me cryptic messages."

Will had already turned to watch Black Frost Giant strum his first chord on his lute. He stood at least two heads taller than most men in the room, and he carried an enormous double-lute as tall as he was. Something about the lute's design made it sound deep and explosive, like a rush of pure power. He started on an intricate intro to the song, and then sang in a deep, resonant voice. The song described the epic of Baldr the Philosopher, how an Angel saved him from the winter snows. How he led humankind toward a greater understanding of ourselves.

I looked around the room. These people don't know there's an Angel out there. An Angel that might want to kill them instead of save them. The stories told us to rely on the Angels to protect us, but what if the Angels were what we needed protection from? That means I'm the one. I had to protect all of these people. Could I do it? Did Baldr or Giles or the heroes in the songs ever feel like this? Did they ever wonder if someone had made a mistake and chosen the wrong person?

I listened to the rest of the song, but the whole time, I wondered what Baldr would do if he was in my shoes. Then I thought of a way I might be able to find out.

CHAPTER TWENTY

### Relics

I took Will and Mira to every reading of the Winter Sagas the next day. I asked every sage who recited the poems about where I could find more information about the philosophers, and ended up back at the entrance to Jans's classroom. Just standing there with the smoke from the candles coming out made my eyes water and my nose congest. I could barely stand to even be there.

"Which books do you want to look at?" Will asked. "We'll go get them. It'll save your eyes the trouble."

I took a step back. "Ones about Baldr, Giles, Ignes—the major philosophers. I want to know what they were like, so I can know what they'd do. Maybe the Angels have done something like this before, and we can figure it out." My mother and Galen would know more about this, but they weren't sharing with me. So I had to find out for myself. "You search here, and I'll meet up with you later."

"Will do," Mira said.

I left them to the smoke-filled classroom and headed back to my room. I closed the door and sat on my bed, pulling out my father's old journal. I turned to a page I'd read before. It was from my father's second expedition to the forest with my mother. It was romantic thinking of the two of them searching the forest for ancient relics.

"Andreya and I are both so similar, but in some ways different. She smiles with each new discovery like a child with a new toy. There's a sense of wonder about her that I'm still struggling to capture. This was my family business, after all, and she came into it all on her own. She has such passion for her work that it's hard to tell when she's happy about our job and when it's about me. What does she feel about me? She says she finds me 'fascinating.' I guess that's a good sign."

I kept reading, smiling at my father's romance. Was that what I felt for Galen? He was so dedicated to his cause that I couldn't tell when he smiled at me because I was helping him save the world and when he smiled because he liked to look at my face. But no, he was already betrothed. Maybe that's why I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Was there a way to pry him away from his family obligations? If he saw me as someone who shared his beliefs, then maybe he could love me—maybe he could love me so much that he'd turn his back on his family and Danelle and just follow his heart. I blushed thinking about it. What a stupid dream. He probably never even thought about me. I was sure he'd be shocked to know I thought about him like that. But what could I say? That was just how I felt.

I kept reading: "Last week we found another relic. We had to run some tests first to find out what it did. She didn't eat for a whole day. I had to remind her to breathe. Of course, with what we've found so far, we can change the world. So I guess she isn't overreacting. Maybe I'm the one who isn't reacting enough. Like Andreya says, never trust yourself with great power. And never trust anyone else."

The journal ended there. I had pored through its pages, trying to find insights into why the Angels would be here, and what sin my parents committed. There seemed to be more relics in Vormund tower than anywhere else I'd seen, and if they'd used them to fight the Angels, that might be the reason they'd won. I'd always heard that the relics were the last remnants of the Angels' power given to man. Had my mother rediscovered the power that men had before the War of the Angels?

No, of course not, I thought. She still needed me to fight the Angels that appeared now. Or was she even telling me the truth? I wanted to be a good daughter and follow her orders, but I itched to know more. I needed to find a place to belong, a place where I knew what I was supposed to do. What did I need to do to show her I was good enough for Vormund?

I shut the journal and realized I already knew. Mikael. He'd somehow known why she'd sealed her tower, he had a key to my father's hidden journal. He knew of my powers when no one else did. Was he a spy for the sages, or one of my mother's agents, testing my loyalty? Either way, I had to tell her about him.

I headed up to the tower, to see if the guards would let me in. They wouldn't. On my way out, I met Galen. He smiled at me. "I didn't expect to find you here. Practicing extra during Midwinter?"

"I was looking for my mother, actually. Does she work with any bordermen? There's one who keeps talking to me."

Galen laughed. "Are you sure it's because of your mother? He could be drawn to you for other reasons."

"Very funny," I said, rolling my eyes. At least Galen thought I was the type who would draw boys rather than repel them. "His name is Mikael. He seems to know a lot about me, so I was wondering if he was a friend of yours."

"Mikael Skovsson?" Galen frowned. "He works as our intermediary with the border patrol. Come to think of it, he does ask about you sometimes." He narrowed his eyes. "Do you think he suspects anything?"

"I don't think so." I wasn't sure if I should tell Galen first. A part of me wondered if my mother would just think he did all the work, and I hadn't contributed anything. Now that I knew Mikael worked with the Vormund Order, it made sense that maybe he was spying on my mother's conversations.

"Good. I like him. It would be a shame if we had to get rid of him." The way he said it sent a chill down the back of my neck. If Galen thought someone threatened our mission, what would he do?

"Okay." I turned to leave. "Are we going back to practicing after Midwinter?"

"The very next day. If the snow is too thick, we'll have to spend most of our time inside. How are you enjoying the holidays in Kant Vakt, by the way?"

"It's great," I said. "I love the sagas."

Galen stroked his chin. "So do I. Of course, we'll have sagas written about us someday. Vormund is going to do what heroes in those ancient tales never dreamed of."

"What's that?" I asked.

He smiled, but it was paternal, like a father keeping a treat out of a child's grasp. "You'll see."

I thought about what he said all that day. When Will and Mira brought back a few books about the philosophers, I flipped through them as we sat together in the mead hall, preoccupied by the thoughts of scheming Angels and Weapons of Power. I caught a glimpse of Jans wandering the halls, so I went out and caught up with him right as he was entering his classroom.

"Jans?" I said.

He smiled at me. "Hello, Kaybree. What can I do for you?"

"Oh, nothing," I said. I couldn't be too direct, especially asking about something heretical. "Just wondering how you're liking Midwinter in Kant Vakt. It must be different in a big city if you're used to being out in one of the northern outposts."

"Quite different," he said, smiling at the scene outside, the bustling people and vendors and soldiers walking to and fro. "I do love Midwinter, though, wherever it is. So much life, so much beauty."

I rubbed my hands for warmth. "It just looks like a bunch of people buying stuff," I said.

"It's much more than that. This is a celebration of survival. Thousands of years of relying on God's guidance to surmount obstacles and overcome selfishness, when all instinct would prompt us otherwise." He shook his head. "Forgive me. Too long spent indoors causes me to wax philosophical. I do not mean to bore you."

"Not at all," I said, walking closer to the window. A pair of Knights strode by us in the hall. "I'm interested in the philosophers and the Angels. Though sometimes it seems like the Sagas don't tell the whole story. What were they really like? Were they people, like us?"

Jans's eyes glazed over, like he was gazing into the distance. "Traditional poetry can only capture a certain kind of story. We lose the everyday details, the personal struggles, the doubts, the fears. We only get a heroic narrative that fits into our view of history. Yes, there was much more to it. But who could keep an accurate record for eight centuries?"

I saw his point. How much did we think we knew about the Angels that was twisted by time? "So maybe that's why we don't understand the Angel attacks," I said. "They're attacking because of a reason we've never considered."

"Perhaps," Jans said. "I suppose I should return to my preparations. I hope to see you at the next reading. You don't seem to have missed one yet."

I smiled back. "I'll try." I waved to him and walked out into the hall. The swish of robes and clank of swords and armor stopped me in mid-step. A bald, robed figure strode into Jans's classroom with a pair of Knights of Valir on his heels. Father Traum. I felt a chill, glad that he hadn't seen me.

"Father?" Jans's voice said. "What's happened?"

The urgency in his tone made me curious, and I crept closer to listen from the doorway. Traum's nasally voice was triumphant. "We have her. Unlawful possession of holy relics is the charge, but we are working on finding information about the tower."

I paled. They were talking about my mother.

"I see," Jans said. "What of the others?"

"Valkegaard was with her," Traum said. "But it seems Henri Svenson slipped beneath our notice, with several of the soldiers. We see so little of them here that they could be walking among us, and we wouldn't know it. They blend with the peasantry."

"And the tower?"

"We are marching toward it as we speak. Where is the girl? She may be able to tell us something."

I held my breath. The Jans I knew wouldn't let them harm me. Of course, the Jans I knew was wearing a mask of flesh and fancy speech. "She was just speaking with me," he said. "You should find her nearby. But I feel that the carrot would be more effective with her than the rod."

I took the cue and tiptoed away from the door. The farther I got, the faster I walked, until by the time I could see the entrance chamber up ahead, I was almost skipping. Thank the Almighty the servants didn't notice. They went on with their duties, oblivious to the frantic girl rushing past them and glancing behind her back every four steps.

I didn't return to my room, but instead went to the hidden courtyard where Galen and I practiced. I slipped past the branches into the secluded, overgrown area, taking refuge from the wind next to the massive, bowed oak. My heart was pounding, and it took me a few minutes of closing my eyes and taking deep breaths to calm down. They arrested my mother. I couldn't believe Traum had been so bold. What was worse, I knew that he'd only received the lead about the relics from Jans because I had been the one to tell about it.

How could I have missed that? I'd tried so hard to sneak around and keep Traum away from me that I'd set my mother and Galen up for disaster. Not only did the mad crusader have them, but now Jans had free access to Vormund tower.

Or did he? I stood, brushing dirt and ice from the back of my coat, and rubbed warmth into my hands. Jans had asked about the tower, and Traum had said they were on their way now. Could I make it there before them? Or could I sneak in behind them, to see what Jans did once he was inside?

I crept toward the doors to the sagekeep and stepped inside, grateful to be out of the wind and snow. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I looked down the hallways. Empty for now. I raced toward the steps that would lead to the tower, hoping I wasn't already too late.

"There you are."

I spun at the sound of the voice and flinched. Danelle stood there in the hall, hands on hips, wearing a fur-lined ermine cloak and blue v-neck dress inlaid with golden embroidery. She looked like she was on her way to a ball. "Hi, Danelle," I said, glancing around. "Survive the Midwinter."

She stepped forward and took hold of my arm. Her nails bit into my flesh; she was stronger than she looked. "I was hoping I'd be the first to tell you," she said, a smile budding on her rose-shaped lips. "Your mother has finally gotten what was coming to her. She's been arrested for heresy."

"Heresy?" I asked, stalling for a way out. I couldn't transform here or use the power of the relics, and with my normal strength, I wasn't sure I could get out of Danelle's grip. Even if I could, running away would just make me look more guilty.

"Preaching that man had the right to use the powers of the relics for our own use. They are strictly forbidden by Valir doctrine, and saying that she could protect man from the Angels' judgments was in direct conflict with the sages. Trying to receive the glory for herself and not the Almighty's rightly appointed stewards."

"Have they found any relics?" I asked. "They must have gone into the tower."

Danelle started walking in the direction of Vormund tower. "We'll see," she said. "Don't try to run away. I know you're guilty too, and I won't let you escape." So much for sneaking into the tower. We passed through the entrance chamber and into another corridor, with her pulling at my arm and striding along with a determined scowl on her face. How could I convince her to let me go?

"Oh, good, you've found her," said another voice. It was Mira's. Mira and Will stood in front of Danelle, blocking her way.

Danelle frowned and curled her lip. "You're in my way."

Mira spread her hands. "We're sorry," she said. "But we've been looking all over the sagekeep for her. Father Traum wanted us to find her to bring her to the trial."

Danelle's eyes lit up at the mention of a trial, but they narrowed as she looked at Mira. "He sent you?" She made a disgusted face at Will. "Stand aside and walk with us if you must, but I will see this trial myself." Her grip tightened on my arm. "I wouldn't want to miss the end of the Witch hunt." My thoughts were spinning; a trial, already? Had they already prepared the charges of heresy beforehand, and were only now finding the evidence to start a trial?

Mira nodded. "That's fine," she said, moving aside and walking alongside us. "You're welcome to come with us. I'm just surprised that you would, considering how you feel about Lady Andreya."

Danelle paused and looked over at her. "The trial is to accuse Andreya Staalvoss of heresy, is it not? That's a spectacle I'd want a front-row seat to."

Mira gave her a puzzled look. "But this is a preliminary defense trial. They won't hold the real one until after this one, and that will have to be in Valir. This one determines if she's guilty of heresy in the first place, and the only witnesses testifying will be in her defense. Anyone can watch, of course, but any nobles who come will be there to defend her. Will and I are from low enough houses that it won't look like we're Lady Staalvoss's benefactor, but if a representative of House Ambros were there, the sages might think something different."

Danelle gave her a blank look. "A what?"

"Preliminary defense trial," Mira said, taking on her monotonous lecturer's tone. "It was part of the reforms Valir passed in the Second Great Council of 730 to prevent them from being swamped with heresy trials. Official Valir policy is that noble houses of higher status than the accused stay out of them unless they want to make a statement on their behalf." She held up a small book with its title worn away. "You can look it up if you want."

Danelle's eyes widened, and she let go of my arm. She made a shooing motion. "I suppose you lowborn are useful for something after all," she said. She shot me a look before she turned to go. "But don't expect I'll miss the bonfire." She stalked away, her heels clicking loudly against the floor.

Mira took my arm and led me down the hall. Will, who had been silent and pale up to this point, exhaled and waved us into a classroom. It was dark, the only light coming from the window. "That was close," he said. "I guess you heard?"

"My mother was arrested for having certain relics," I said. "Jans and Father Traum were going to break into the tower and see what was inside."

"They can't get in," Mira said. "The tower has been sealed again, and the Vormund soldiers have scattered. They have guards posted there, though, so we have to keep you away."

"Wait . . . you're not taking me to the trial?"

Mira broke out into a smile. "No, of course not. But we had to say something to get you away from Danelle."

"And you made that whole thing up?"

She shrugged. "It wasn't hard. There really was a Second Great Council in 730, and laws were discussed, but there's no such thing as a preliminary defense trial."

"What if Danelle looks it up?"

"You expect her to read a book?"

I laughed at the thought. Quiet, unassuming Mira was turning out to be a little more devious than I'd expected.

Will waved me over. "Let's get out of here for now. We can go to the Bard Song and lie low until we have a plan."

"To do what?" I asked, but as I spoke the words, I already knew. We had to find a way to contact the members of Vormund or get into that tower before Jans did. Whatever the Angel wanted to find, and whatever evil my mother had unearthed, it was in there. Without my mother and Galen here, we had to do this ourselves.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

### A Plan

Getting out of the sagekeep wasn't a problem, with Father Traum and the sages focusing on Vormund tower. We took the first longship on the channel and climbed inside, letting the oarsmen take us away. Will handed them a few coins and came to sit back with Mira and me, and we set off in the water.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Bard Song," he said. "It's about the only place that's safe to talk."

"I don't know," I said. "Traum could come it at any time. And that borderman Mikael always hangs around there too."

"Trust me," Will said, a gleam in his eye. "I practically grew up in that tavern. No way they're going to catch us unprepared." The oars dipped through the water, and a wave lapped at the side, spraying frigid water onto us. Our breath made puffs of mist in the air. "Besides," Will said, "the Knights won't want to come after us if we're that far from the sagekeep."

"I wouldn't count on it," Mira said. "Trials to pass through are a crusader's best medicine. The harder it is to track us down, the more they'll want to show their loyalty by doing it."

"Then we'd better be fast," I said, keeping my voice low. The oarsmen were bundled in furs and seemed focused on their tasks, but we still needed to be careful. "Where do you think the Vormund people went?"

"To their secret hideout," Will said. "That's where I'd go."

"Yes, but their hideout is the tower," I said. "And it's under siege and about to be broken into."

Mira threw a scarf around her neck, adjusting it as wind blew at her hair. "There could be a chamber hidden underground," she said. "Or they could be counting on the strength of their locks. No one has been able to get inside yet without their permission."

"Except for Jans," I said. "Or do you think someone just left the door open that night?"

Will scratched his chin, where the beginnings of a beard was growing. "That's strange. When we went in there, the doors were already open. You think the sages have someone on the inside?"

Mikael. Could he be the sages' agent? If that was true, why give away the key to me, instead of to Father Traum? Unless he had another way to get in.

"You're doing it again, Kaybree," Will said.

"Doing what?"

"Making that face. The one where you look like you've realized something, but you don't want to tell us."

I ducked as a gust of wind hit our longship. "I think I know someone who can get us in. And he might be hanging around the Bard Song."

"That borderman?" Mira asked. "I thought he worked with your mother."

"So did I. But why give me a key, or tell me to search the tower, or warn me about my powers? It makes sense. He's been trying this whole time to make me question my mother's motives. What if he needs me to go in there to find what he's looking for?"

Mira nodded. "You mean he needs a Witch to find the source of your mother's power?"

Will motioned us to silence. "Hey, ladies, we're about to hit land, so let's continue this riveting conversation of distrust and betrayal when we're indoors."

The longship left us on the beach, and we climbed the stairs carved into the slope until we reached the street. The Bard Song came into view, its sign caked in icy white snow. Will led us inside and through the common room to a smaller room on the side. I glanced over at a table by the crackling hearth, and started heading there. But Will took us to a table in the corner, where we sat on benches of cold stone.

I shivered and rubbed my arms. "What are we doing over here?"

He pointed downward. A trap door was underneath this table, leading to who knew where. "Escape routes aren't always the coziest," he said, huddling into his coat. "Also, we have a nice view of the entrances. Got to think about these things when you're a legendary hero."

"We are not legendary heroes, Will," I said.

He smirked. "We will be. If we don't get caught by the sages." He waved over a serving girl. "Three mugs of steaming cider, please," he said.

"Is that for you, or for the three of you?" she said. She seemed annoyed by something."

Will turned to us. "Any objections?"

"As long as you're paying," I said.

He rolled his eyes and produced four copper pennies. "I'm too much of a gentleman, it seems."

The girl took the coins and slid them into her apron. "When you're a gentleman, Willard Matthias, the sun will be purple." She walked away without even speaking to me or Mira.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"Like I said, I practically grew up here," Will said.

"Looks like they know you pretty well," I said. The serving girl was back in a moment with three steaming hot mugs. I took a sip from one and let its warmth fill me. When the serving girl was gone, I set the mug down. "So, what's the plan?"

"We're trying to get into Vormund tower before the sages," Mira said. "And we think Mikael needs you to be there to find your mother's secret weapon against the Angels. Whatever it is, it's brought down judgment from men and Angels both. We need to make contact with someone from Vormund—or else find a way inside."

Will took a gulp from his mug. He made a face as he swallowed; he probably hadn't waited for it to cool. "What I don't get is why this borderman hasn't told the sages his secret way in yet. If he just needs you, why not snag you and stroll inside?"

I paused with my mug halfway to my lips. I thought about my conversations with Mikael. Had we ever talked about uncovering my mother's secrets, or had he just urged me to accept my role as a Witch? And if he was with the sages, how had he known about me—and why hadn't he told Traum? "He's not working with them," I said. "I think . . . he's working for my mother."

Will gestured wildly with his hands. "Well, that makes a lot of sense. If we were living in crazyland and crazy was normal. Isn't this the guy who told you that your mother was hiding things from the people of the city? That judgment was coming, and you needed to know about it? Why would your mother want you to suspect her of heresy?"

"He gave me this key," I said, taking the serpent-shaped key from under my shirt and showing it to them. "It opened a secret door in the sagekeep archives. That's where I found my father's old journal." I shook my head. "This whole time, I thought he was trying to get me to spy on my mother for him. Trying to get me to learn about the relics in the tower. But what if he was my mother's messenger, trying to keep an eye on me and encourage me to embrace my powers? How else would he have known about me being a Witch—and why else wouldn't he have told Traum about me?"

Mira took a sip from her mug. Steam rose from the mug to float in front of her face. "I think she's right, Will. Did the journal say anything special?"

"Just how my parents searched the forest for relics. It listed different types of relics they found, and how much it would change Nordgard if they found certain ones. Then it just ends."

"Your mom sure does go out of her way to not talk to you," Will said. "You and Galen have to meet in secret. She doesn't allow you in her tower. And she won't even come right out and tell you what the relics are for; she gives you a key and makes you read a book hidden in secret alcove."

I looked away. His words were more hurtful than he realized. Was my mother really so ashamed of me that she couldn't bear to let others know she was training me as a Witch? Or was she sending me a message that she just didn't have time, and I needed to learn on my own? "I guess you're right."

"Can I see that key?" Mira said. I held it up for her. "I think I've seen a design like that before. There are runic inscriptions on the base of the tower, and a few of them have drawings of serpents over them."

I thought of the alcove in the archives where I'd found the journal. I turned the key in my hand, remembering the soft red glow it had emitted when held up to the wall. A wall with a drawing of a serpent over it. "Maybe he wasn't just spying on me," I said. "What if Mikael gave me this key so I could get into the tower and sneak by the sages?"

Will arched an eyebrow. "Mikael knew several weeks ago that Traum was going to arrest your mother for heresy?"

"More than that," I said. "My mother knew the sages would do this. She also probably suspected an Angel would try to find a way in. I think she sent me this key through Mikael so it would look like I wasn't part of Vormund, but I could get inside the tower once she was arrested. Maybe she wants me to go and find the weapon, and take it out of there before the sages get in."

"And how does she expect you to find it?" Will asked. "I doubt she's left a sign that says 'Super Spooky Angel Killing Sword Ahead.'"

"I might be able to resonate with it," I said. "If it's a relic. If not, then maybe she left someone inside the tower to hand it to me. If we can smuggle it out and then she lets Traum in, he won't find anything, and he'll have to leave."

Mira twirled a strand of hair. "Your mother does seem like the type. Many of the great leaders I've read about have tricky plans like this. But what if that key doesn't open anything in the tower?"

"Then we come back and try something else," I said. "I don't know how long we're supposed to wait, but it might be best to go under cover of night. Oh, and you two probably shouldn't come with me, at least not into the tower. If one of the soldiers is there, he might not like it that I've told my secret identity to my classmates."

"We'll keep on the lookout for sages," Mira said.

Will smiled and leaned forward in a conspiratorial pose. "Even better: we can give you a signal if they're approaching." He took a set of pipes from his pocket and played a few notes. "If the sages are coming, I'll play The Maiden and the Troll. If it's a borderman or someone else, it'll be Mists of Morning."

"That's a good idea," I said, "but I don't know either of those."

Will set down the pipes. "How about Astrid and the Serpent King for Traum, and Pretty Maids with Whiskers for the bordermen?"

I laughed. "Is that really a song?"

"It's about girls who turn into cats. Or maybe girls with beards. Or girls who have beards because they turn into cats. I'm not really sure." Will glanced over at Mira. "Do you know what songs she'd know?"

"Play a fast one for Traum and the sages, a slow one for anyone else," Mira said. "That will make it easier for her. Your first two would work fine."

I looked outside. The sun was still hours away from setting. "Any song you want would probably work," I said. "We have time for me to learn."

I listened to Will alternate between playing the pipes and singing, while walking over to warm my hands at the hearth every few minutes. I checked my pouch for the bracelet relic my mother had given me, and realized that she had planned this all out. This was my chance to prove to her that I was worthy of Vormund. My chance to prove that I belonged.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

### Andreya's Secret

All three of us skipped the festivals to patrol outside the sagekeep that afternoon, and stayed there into the evening. It was Midwinter's Eve, the coldest night of the year, and my breaths came out as opaque mist. While normal students were eating roast venison and laughing by the fire with their friends, I was waiting for night so I could get into Vormund tower. I paced around in the snow, holding my fur-lined hood close against my face and wiping my nose. Not with my hood, of course; I'd brought a handkerchief. I'd at least learned that much from etiquette class.

I leaned against the carved arch of the sagekeep wall, watching for the sages or a sign of the Angel. Nothing inside, nothing outside. I took out a book on Baldr the Philosopher from my pocket and read through some of it while I waited. Mira and Will were waiting on the other side of the sagekeep with pipes and lute to warn me if anyone approached. I found myself dozing several times before I finally put the book away and watched the snowflakes fall instead. I did feel a bit like Baldr, though, trapped in an icy land and confused about my place in the world. I hoped he would approve of what I was doing tonight.

Someone rapped against the window and joined me outside. It was Will. "Just checked the tower entrance. Still plenty of sages guarding it, but the rest seem to be gone."

"No one at all watching the base of the tower?"

"Nope. Mira says you should try one of the serpent drawings first." He pointed across the snowy landscape. "Closest one is over there."

"All right. I'll wait another few minutes."

Will rubbed his hands together and pulled on his gloves. "You all right out here? It's freezing."

"I'm fine."

"You sure? Your lips look kind of purple." He cleared his throat. "I mean, can't you turn into Lightning Girl and warm up?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea," I said. "The Angel knows how to find me if I transform. Besides, it's not too bad." The tension was eating at me more than the cold. "Just kind of weird to spend Midwinter's Eve like this. Waiting outside a sagekeep to sneak into my mother's tower."

He laughed. "Who would have thought? And my father said I'd never do anything important with my life."

"Don't say that," I said. "You're a nice guy. You'll do great things, I'm sure of it."

"As long as the human race survives this Angel, you mean." He handed me a pouch of sulfur and a black gemstone wrapped in cloth. "You sure you'll be all right in there?"

"If anything bad happens, I'll turn into Lightning Girl and run off," I said. I wasn't as nervous about running into trouble as I was about misinterpreting my mother's plans. I had to get this right. I had to prove I was worth something to her.

Will smiled and held up his pipes before stuffing them into his coat. "You remember the songs, right? I'll play them extra fast if there's an Angel around."

"I think I'll be able to tell. But thanks. And you be careful too."

With a flourish of his cloak, Will strode back into the sagekeep. I stayed next to the arches, letting them block the wind, until I could barely see in front of my face. If I wait any longer, I won't be able to see where I'm going. I started out into the snow, guided by the last reflections of light on the window of my mother's tower.

When I reached the base, I saw the brightly painted serpent's head. It was about eye level, so it would make sense if there was a passage hidden here. I held up the key to the stone, but nothing happened. I tried waving it high over the drawing and walking all around it. The key didn't work.

I gathered my hood against my face, biting my lip to keep my teeth from chattering. The wind howled in my ears, bringing with it a tide of icy force. I trudged through the snow toward the next runic inscription. Once I made it inside, it would be warmer. And if I checked the whole tower and found nothing, I could transform to warm up and meet back up with Will and Mira at the Bard Song. I just had to get through the snow a little longer.

The second inscription led to nothing, as well as the third. The fourth was another serpent's head, but the key still refused to glow. I was starting to wonder if the key only worked on that particular alcove in the archives. But if that was true, how did my mother expect me to get in?

The sound of pipes stopped me in mid-step. I listened, cupping my hand over my ear. The song was slow and melodic: it was Mists of Morning, the one for someone who wasn't Traum. I peered through the gloom, but saw nothing. Who could it be?

The song stopped, and when it resumed, it was twice its ordinary speed. The melody sounded rushed and frantic, and Will was missing some of the notes on his pipes. What did this mean? If Traum was coming, he said he'd play the other song faster.

A crash from above answered my question. I looked up at the window of the tower, which was shattered inward, cold air making the curtains billow into the night. Jans, I thought. Did he jump, or did he fly? Whatever he'd done, I didn't have time to find the secret entrance anymore. I needed to try the main entrance, whether or not there were sages guarding it. They wouldn't be able to stop me if I transformed.

I ran across the snow, heading for the sagekeep. A crossbow bolt whirred by my ear. "Who goes there?" asked a firm voice. I stopped. A figure emerged from the shadows to the side, clad in a gray cloak that hung open to reveal a black coat underneath.

"Galen?" I asked. "Is that you?"

The figure stepped forward, lowering the crossbow. In the waning light, I recognized the blonde mustache and disheveled hair of Henri, my mother's lieutenant. "Young Lady Staalvoss," Henri said. "Your timing is impeccable, though your arrival was hardly anticipated. Come with me." He strode over to the wall and felt around on its rough-hewn surface.

"So there is a passage?" I said. "I was looking for it, but nothing opened."

"You need to know where to look," Henri said. "And what you're looking for." There was a clicking sound, and the grinding of stone followed. A doorway opened from the side of the tower, with a staircase leading upward.

"How did you do that?" I asked. "Do you have a relic too?"

He gave a slight smile. "This is no magic here, Kaybree. The magic of man, more like." He started up the staircase.

I followed after him, and the grinding of stone closed up the passage, shutting out the cold and the wind. We were in a dark stairwell, and I gripped the stone railing as we ascended. "So this was the plan all along," I said. "I think the Angel may have already gotten in. It's looking for whatever my mother used to fight the first Angel." We continued climbing, but Henri didn't answer. "You do know how she fought the first Angel, right?"

Henri pushed open a door, and we emerged into one of the hallways. He turned to look at me, his face serious. "I am not at liberty to tell you that just yet," he said. "But if an Angel has indeed entered this tower, it may soon find out for itself." He waved me forward. "I need to get to the armory, but we have no idea how far the creature has penetrated. Can you draw him off?"

I felt a sense of elation. He wasn't going to give me answers, but he was including me in a mission. Was I finally part of Vormund? "Of course," I said. "But how do we know that he won't run into you first if we split up?"

"Your transformation, girl," he said. "I've no doubt he'll sense you the moment you transform." He gave a quick salute and began walking down the hallway, picking up his feet and making no more noise than a cat.

I took the relic from my pocket and took the other path, heading for the tower keep. I slid the bone-white bracelet on. The relic warmed my skin where it touched, and a tingling sensation came over me. I tried to calm down so I could gradually slip into focus and activate its power. This one felt different from the ring, though I couldn't say how. My mother would have chosen one suited to me, I hoped. I rounded a corner, passing a pile of fallen swords and a mangled suit of armor. Claw marks scarred the walls. The door to the tower keep lay up ahead.

A blast shook the tower. The door flew open and fell at my feet with a thud. Jans stood there, robes billowing in the icy wind, transformed into his monstrous Angel form. His robe bulged from a pair of spindly wings beneath, his hands had bloated into curved claws, and his face had turned a pale gray. His features had changed as well, his face contorted into a grotesque, elongated mask, but his eyes remained the same. "You're here," he said.

I grabbed the pouch at my belt and realized it had lit on fire. My whole body was aflame, though I couldn't feel it. A violet blaze enveloped my skin, and the bracelet on my wrist glowed. This must be what the bracelet does. I threw off my coat and opened the pouch of sulfur. Jans rushed at me, and I hurled the pouch at him, scattering sulfur powder along the floor.

He raised his robe, ducking beneath it and blocking the sulfur rain. He slipped off the outer robe and threw it—back at me! I pushed it away, but as I did, my hands burned where it touched the sulfur. Vivid blue smoke rose from the contact, reminding me of the candles in the classroom. Jans held an object out toward me: a black gemstone, mounted on a wooden ankh with a pyramid engraved on it. The stone emitted a high-pitched screech that raked against my ears. I staggered back, stunned for a moment. Gritting my teeth against the rattling in my skull, I kicked the ankh out of his claw, knocking it down the hall.

"You seem surprised, Witch," he said. His voice sounded little different from the Jans I knew and loved, but eerily hollow. He drew a mirror out of a pouch in his inner robes and thrust it at me. Instead of seeing my reflection, a searing blast of light blinded me for a second. Before I could focus, something slammed into me and threw me to the ground.

Come on, Henri, where are you? I kicked and thrashed as I came up, blinking away spots of color from my vision. A claw slashed my arm, but I pummeled him with a fiery fist. He flew back into the tower keep, and I rushed after him. In my Fire Girl form, I could blaze across a room in seconds. Jans slashed again, and I dodged away. I punched at him, sending him into the wall. The stone cracked where he hit. He shot back at me, cuffing me across the face. My vision spun, and he hit me again. I crashed against a table, splintering the wood.

Jans leapt at me, and I rolled to dodge. I scrambled to find a weapon. No sulfur, no gemstones. He slashed at me, and I ducked. My necklace bounced against my chin. Wait, the heretic's bone! I ripped the finger bone and its leather cord off of my neck and whipped it at Jans's face. It seared his cheek, and he yelled and stumbled away. I held it out, watching for his next move as the bone dangled in front of me. "Why are you doing this?" I asked. "Why are you attacking us? We've obeyed the sages and the words of the philosophers. What have we done wrong?"

Jans scowled, crouching against the windowsill and using his hands to shield his face. "You should know, Witch." He clutched the smoldering spot on his cheek. "Traum will be here soon. He'll find you and expose what you truly are." I stood there, confused. He shook his head, and his eyes softened. "Give this up. Your Weapons and your devices will serve no one. The sins of your fathers must not be repeated."

"What are you talking about?" I asked. The wind from the broken window rushed in, blowing the splintered bits of the table around the room. "We only use the Weapons to defend against you."

Jans bared his teeth and sent a wave of howling wind at me, knocking me against the wall. "Are you so delusional? This world is not your plaything. The people here deserve to know what you are. At least your daughter."

Daughter? He thought I was my mother. "Jans, I don't want to hurt you. I just want to know what's going on. Why are you doing this?"

He hurled a sharp chunk of the table at me. "You are the disease that cankers this people. You are the disease that rises and refuses to die. You are the bane of humanity." I ducked the projectile, which hit the wall behind me. "I love these people too much to let you live."

"What am I doing that's so wrong?" I asked, exasperated. I couldn't understand it. All I'd done was defend the city against the Angels.

Jans snarled and crashed into me. I kicked him away, shattering another window as he smashed through it. He clung to the edge and vaulted back inside, shaking off shards of glass. Droplets of silvery blood dripped onto the floor.

"She's not Andreya," said a voice from the side.

My heart lifted. Mikael strode toward us in the tower keep, his long cloak fluttering in the wind. It was just like I'd thought. He was working for my mother all along. "Mikael?"

He drew out a crossbow and fired it. At me. I was too shocked to dodge, and the bolt stuck in my side. Pain exploded through me, and before I knew what was happening, I lay on the ground with blood covering my fingers. My blood. Wait, how can I bleed when I'm made of fire? I looked down at my hands; they'd returned to normal. I tried to focus on the relic, but Mikael grabbed my hand and tore the bracelet off. "What are you doing?" I asked, frantic.

He slid the bracelet into his coat pocket. "You see?" he said to Jans. "Just a girl. Like I've been telling you." His skin blazed where the bracelet had touched. Pure white, the color of something I'd seen in recent memory. In my visions.

I stared up at Mikael. He was my Angel. And he was here to kill me too.

"But . . . ." Jans shook his head in disbelief. I clutched the nasty wound in my side. "There must be some mistake. Kaybree?" My vision spun, but I saw his face had paled.

"The pieces fit, Giles. We didn't sense her until fifteen years ago. Each Witch is capable of destroying us from the moment of her birth. And only one Witch is born every hundred years. Two in the same generation would be impossible."

Jans met my gaze. I struggled to keep breathing; it hurt every time I did. "So fifteen years ago, what killed Astriel was . . ."

Me. I saw through the haze of pain what I'd feared all along. My mother hadn't killed that Angel a decade and a half ago, and the Angels weren't looking for an ancient relic. They were looking for me. "But why?" I whispered. "Why am I a Witch?"

Mikael stepped in front of me. "You see, Giles? She's harmless."

"And what does that mean, Mikael?" asked another voice I knew. A figure crouched by the window loped out into the tower keep. The wolf. "Will you try to control her, then? Charm her into following you?" A growl issued from its throat. "Do not interfere with our divine injunction."

"Jans, what's going on?" I asked. "Why does he keep calling you Giles?"

Jans looked pained. My side had gone numb, and my mouth was dry. "Giles never saw an Angel in a vision," he said, blinking back tears. "I . . . am he. Eight hundred years ago, I founded the order of the sages. There I vowed to do whatever was necessary to protect humanity."

"But I don't understand!"

"No, you don't," he said, walking closer. His gaze darted from his claw and back to me, as if ashamed at what he was about to do. "You weren't there. You did not see men and Angels murdering each other. Cities set aflame. Children massacred in the streets." He shook his head. "Humanity was not meant to have such power."

He gestured at my mother's office as he continued his somber advance. "Lady Staalvoss uses you and your blood for her experiments. She and her minions aim to recreate the ancient relics. They seek power over life and death." I stared at him, finally comprehending his purpose in coming here. And realizing why my mother had my blood taken every week. She had used me to defeat the first Angel all along.

I glanced over at the piles of weapons. Jans had blasted a hole in the wall, and swords and shields lay scattered about the floor. Polished white objects lay next to them—the relics. I bolted forward, stumbling because of my throbbing side, and grabbed the first relic I could find. Another bracelet. I put it on and threw myself into it. Immediately the pain in my side disappeared, and my skin blazed with violet fire. I met his gaze stoically, awaiting his attack.

Mikael and the wolf stepped over to block my escape out the hall, forcing me to take another route. I ran headlong at Jans—Giles—and swerved at the last moment, leaping out the window to soar outside into the frigid air. Snowflakes peppered my skin as I flew. An exultant ecstasy swept over me as I sailed above Kant Vakt, wind howling through my hair of flames and whipping against my violet skin. The city lay below me, a grid of houses in neat array, with people moving like ants through the streets.

To my dismay, the ground began to rise up to meet me. I tried to float back up, but to no avail. I could leap great distances, it seemed, but extended flight wasn't an option. Wind flattened my cheeks against my jaw. I grabbed onto a spire of the sagekeep as I fell. My nails screeched against the spire, grating on my ears but slowing my fall. Sparks flew from my hand as I desperately tried to stop myself. I landed at last on the roof of the sagekeep, with a numb right hand and a wind-whipped face. The moon shone brilliantly in the sky, blazing through the gray snow clouds. I winced at the scar my nails had left on the spire: four ugly red claw marks.

"Kaybree!" said a voice below. Will and Mira waved up at me from the courtyard. In this desperate moment of my battle, I wondered if they would throw some secret weapon to me, to help me win the fight. That's what always happened in the Sagas. But they didn't throw anything. Instead, they pointed frantically, their eyes wide with fear. Behind me.

I dodged aside, and a hairy shape flew past. The wolf. "You know, I have to give it to you, little Witch," he growled, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. "It was a good hunt. Your delicate little finger bones will make a nice conversation piece."

A figure leapt up from the broken window onto the roof. "Away from her," Mikael said, putting himself between me and the wolf. "This is one chosen for vision. You may not harm her."

The wolf growled, his features twisting into a very human-like anger. "Know your place, Syn'Kurir. Your people discovered the Witch and her mother's sins. But if you hinder our mission, you will be destroyed."

Mikael drew his sword and fell into ready stance, his skin glowing with white light. "I am a messenger of the Almighty," he said. "The Domari cannot destroy me."

The roof tiles exploded upward, flying into the darkness. Giles the Philosopher-Angel climbed through the jagged hole of stone and heaved himself onto the roof. His body was misshapen, swollen so it almost looked like it would burst. He let out a bestial roar, and his robe ripped free, showing a mass of writhing tentacles. He was a monster, a horror I could barely comprehend, and he continued to grow as I watched. Claws formed on the ends of his hands and feet, stabilizing his position on the roof. Horns grew from his head, curling downward. Tusks formed on the sides of his mouth.

"Look out!" Mikael cried. I spun to see hordes of creatures crawling up the sides of the sagekeep. There were things with spidery legs and men's twisted faces, hairy shapes that could have been trolls from a storybook, and black lizards with bulbous heads and rows of sharp teeth. Mikael swung at a spider, gashing its body and causing yellow liquid to ooze out. A lizard leapt for him, but I shot forward and slammed it with my blazing fist, sending it over the rooftop.

"What are they doing here?" I asked.

"They're here to kill you," he said.

"I'm flattered they'd go to so much trouble."

"Witches were the cause of the War of the Angels," Mikael said. "The Domari will stop at nothing to destroy you. Even if it means taking the whole city with you." He slashed at a hairy shape, and it leapt back out of reach. "You have to stop Giles. He's the one behind this."

"But why won't he understand? I'm just a kid. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"The Domari cannot be reasoned with. They perform their duty. That is their purpose."

A wave of monsters charged us, and Mikael rushed forward to meet them, slashing in wide arcs to keep them at bay. I tried to think about my training with Galen, but all I remembered was face planting in the mud. My sword and staff skills were weak, and my fist fighting was clumsy. But I'd killed an Angel before—twice, in fact. How had I done it then?

"Your death is not in vain, Kaybree," Giles said, a face forming on the monster for a moment. "Please understand. You must die so others may live. It is the will of the Almattugur."

The wolf snapped at me. I slammed him in the face, but his teeth still sunk into my leg. I heard a sickening pop, glad that the transformation filtered out the pain. My leg didn't work right, but I did manage to throw him off. I glared at Giles as he returned to the towering monster, willing myself to anger in hopes that it would keep my mind occupied.

But I couldn't stop the fear from paralyzing me. Father Above, I'm only fifteen. I don't want to die. Why did it have to be me? I'd never wanted to be a Witch whose power everyone fought over. I'd never wanted to save the world. I just wanted a normal life! I wanted to listen to the bards with my friends. I wanted to chat with Galen out by the forest. I wanted my mother to care about me, without worrying about righting all the wrongs of the world. I wanted to feel the rush of the wind, to hone my fashion sense, to walk through the forest and smell the freshness of the pines and watch the seal pups play. Not get eaten by monsters on the roof of a sagekeep.

A sensation came over me, like someone was pulling the power right out of me. A beam of light shot upward, searing Giles's monstrous form with a blinding flash of flame. Henri vaulted onto the roof, coming out in a roll beside Giles. He raised his arms and unleashed another blast of energy, twin bolts of lightning that struck Giles in the center of his body. The creature's tentacles whipped out at Henri, and he dodged aside.

I recognized the bone-white gauntlets on his arms. They were the relics my father had described in his journal. That's how she did it. My mother had channeled my powers through the relics to kill the first Angel. I watched as Henri burned away a group of monsters charging at him, sending their bodies off the roof. He drew his sword, holding it until it glowed white-hot, and hurled it at Giles. The creature deflected it with a clawed arm, sending the blade to clatter next to me. The weapon left a smoldering brand where it had touched.

I glimpsed Mikael's shining form at the edge of the roof. His eyes met mine for a moment as he slashed at a tusked creature. Power can be used for good, or it can be used for evil. You can't just put it on a shelf and let it gather dust. He was right. Whether I used my power or not, my mother would. She would use me in her experiments, or her soldiers would use my power to defend their secrets.

But Mikael believed in me. He was willing to risk his life, even fight his fellow Angels to save me. He knew that I'd make the right decision.

Giles knocked Henri to the side, hurling him across the roof. I felt out for the gauntlet relics on his hands, listening to their harmonious resonance with my energy. The tentacled creature raised a claw and swung it down at Henri. Twin plumes of flame shot from the relics, raking across Giles's body. The creature bellowed. I grabbed Henri's sword from the roof and started forward, focusing on the blade. Lightning crackled from the steel. Sparks shot out as I walked forward.

The monster turned toward me. Lightning gathered in the sky, and bolts of white energy struck the ground beside me. I had to use my power for something, so I would. I'd use it to protect others. I set off another blast through Henri's gauntlets, searing a pair of tentacles. They hung lifeless, charred by the flames. Giles slammed a clawed fist onto the roof. I leapt aside and cut at him with my sword of lightning.

A tentacle whipped forward, striking me in the stomach. I flew back, colliding with one of the sagekeep's spires. I looked up and met Henri's eyes across the roof. He hurtled to his feet, unleashing a fiery blast from the gauntlets. I rushed at Giles, hacking at him with my lightning sword. The blade sliced clean through his slimy flesh, but not nearly deep enough. Another tentacle threw me the other direction, and I rolled against the roof, coming up beside Henri.

I scrambled to my feet. The gauntlets. I tossed his sword at his feet, and he nodded, releasing the gauntlets and letting them drop. I caught them as they fell, slipping them on. Giles crawled toward us, a black tide of monstrous creatures coming from all directions. I let the power of the gauntlets fill me, raw energy beyond my imagination. I grabbed the sword and felt it blaze with violet fire and crackling lightning.

I ran at Giles, slashing and ducking as I advanced. The tentacles battered me, but I kept running, feeling Mikael's and Henri's faith in me carry me on. I raised the blade and plunged the sword into the heart of the writhing mass, and a bright light exploded from the wound. The last thing I remembered was falling, but not hitting the ground.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

### The Girl of Fire and Lightning

I recognized the ceiling from somewhere. It sloped upward, blurring into focus as I opened my eyes. Little rays of sunlight peeked into the room, warming my face. I'm back in the tower. How had I gotten here? I sat up in the bed, but my arms were stuck. When I looked down, I saw why: my wrists had been chained to the bedpost. Panic flashed through me. Had Traum captured me? Where was everyone?

The door opened. I squinted as light flooded the room, and a shadow walked toward me. "Kaybree? You're awake!"

I sighed in relief. "Galen!" His coppery hair gleamed in the light and his uniform was neat and pressed. I smiled into his bright, caring eyes, glad to see he had recovered. I glanced down at my wrists, shackled to the bed. I managed to sit up and even smoothed my dress a little. Someone must have dressed me after the relics burned my clothes off. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders. "They told me what happened when I was released. We were worried about you."

"How about Henri and the others?" I asked. "Are they okay?"

Before he could answer, another figure strode into the room. My blood froze. It was my mother, and her face was an angry mask chiseled from steel. "Leave us, Galen," she said. He hesitated for a moment and then gave me a smile before departing. He shut the door, and my mother came to sit at the edge of my bed. "How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts," I said. "And I'm kind of sore."

She inspected me with a searching gaze. "No permanent damage was done to you, it seems. We have that much."

I studied her boots. Rigid and austere, like the rest of her uniform. "How is everyone?" I asked. I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but waiting any longer would be unbearable.

"The sagekeep and Vormund tower were damaged as a result of the fighting," she said. "Brother Jans, your Angel, was found dead. And there was one casualty among the guards. We lost Henri in the explosion."

I paled. "Henri?" I blinked back tears. "I'm sorry."

My mother stared back with a steely gaze, but I noticed pain there as well. "You made a choice. He understood that."

I looked away. I didn't want to look into her eyes now, or anyone's, for that matter. I wanted to crawl into a dark hole and disappear. After all of that, I hadn't even been able to protect the one who'd relied on me, who'd stood up for me against the Angel?

"I still wonder at why you came in the first place," she said. "You should have stayed far away from the tower until the business with Traum was finished."

"I thought . . . I thought that's why you called me here. To help you in your mission."

She leaned closer and grabbed my shoulder. Her nails dug into my flesh, and I felt more scared than when I'd seen Giles kill Father Kraus. Because I had no Weapons now. "If I'd wanted your help, do you not think I would have brought you here years ago?"

I was shocked. "What about all of my classes?" I asked. "You've sent me all across Nordgard, made me take every class I could fit into my schedule—"

"To keep you occupied," she said. "Whether you learned anything or not was of no consequence. Because that is not your place. You do not lead: you follow." She released me and pulled back. Her expression softened, and she placed a hand over mine. It was like being caressed by a rock. "Has Galen told you what we're trying to accomplish?"

"Just a little." I thought about Giles's words, of her using my power for her experiments.

"You have to trust us," she said, her voice subdued. "We seek to achieve something that will save all of humanity. Something that will teach us to cure the flensu of the peasantry, to feed the starving masses, to halt the wars between nations. The Angels are trying to stop us. We need you to stand between us and them."

"But why can't you find someone else?" I asked. "You've seen me; I'm terrible at this. I can't use a sword. The Weapons go out of control and hurt people when I use them. Just let me have a normal life."

My mother straightened her coat and stood. "That is the one thing you can never have," she said, all emotion drained from her voice. She was back to the mother I knew very well. "Whether you are suited or not, it is your task to bear. Every century, a Witch is born—but only one. You will fight the Angels, or all of us will die."

"Then let me join Vormund," I said. "You've been teaching me how to control my powers. If I can't have a normal life, then this is my destiny, isn't it? Henri trusted me enough to fight beside me. He believed in me, Mother. Why can't you?"

She looked into my eyes, a strangely calm expression coming over her features. "I wouldn't trust myself with the power you wield," she said. "And yet, perhaps you are ready to understand." She tossed a key onto my bed. "You are to sleep in chains from now on, and never to leave the sagekeep. It will serve as a reminder of the temptation you face each day. You are not prepared to take the Vormund Oath, but I will keep you within the walls of the Order. If you learn obedience and discipline, there may be a place for you here among us."

Her voice became lower, almost emotional. "I will not lose you, Kaybree. You are the only chance we have." She took my chin in her hand, and it could have been a trick of the light, but a tiny mist of tears seemed to appear in her eyes. She looked like she was about to say something else, but instead turned on her heel and left, shutting the door behind her.

I unlocked the chains and rubbed my sore wrists as her words sunk in. I was the only Witch in all the world. But why did the Angels not want us to cure the flensu, or stop wars? And as distant as my mother had always seemed, I had felt real affection from her. Was I a tool or a daughter to her? Perhaps both, and that was why she found it so difficult to talk to me. While she still hadn't told me everything, she'd made one thing clear: there was no going back to things as they were. I was the Witch of Kant Vakt, and until the Angels stopped attacking, they had become my life.

But now, I finally had somewhere I belonged.

I washed my face and hands, changed into a coal black dress that suited my mood, and threw on my coat. I found the hallway outside empty, and only encountered people when I passed through the wrecked tower keep. The windows were completely gone, and the roof had been blasted away like some giant had torn it off and left a melted mass of stone on the sides. Workers in vests and loose trousers chatted as they took measurements and compared pieces of stone to the damaged tower. Vormund guards in their black and red uniforms patrolled, keeping the workers out of the hallway.

They stepped aside and let me pass. I put on my hood and kept my face down, in case anybody knew me. I heard some of the workers' conversation. "So did you see what did this?" one said.

"Heard it was an Angel," said another. "Came down from the forest and crashed into the tower. Big fiery thing, looked like a girl. Killed a bunch of people too."

"Naw, that's just hearsay. Angels?"

"Yeah, Angels. Like that one that came a few weeks back."

"What happened to it?"

"Don't know. Maybe Lady Staalvoss stopped it again. They say she has . . ."

Their voices faded as I left the tower. So they'd seen me. Rumors were probably floating around the city. What would they think when they realized that I was still here? Would I be the queen of the evil Angels, a harbinger of misfortune? Or something else?

I exited into the foyer. One of the guards stepped in front of me on my way out, startling me.

"I'm sorry, Miss Andresdatter," he said. "Lady Staalvoss ordered that you stay here until further notice. She seems quite worried about your safety."

I smiled back at him. "It's okay. I'll be fine. She told me I could go anywhere in the sagekeep. I'm just going down to get my things."

"But we've brought everything up from your rooms. She said you'll be staying here now." He nudged me back, and his partner's hand slid down to his sword. "Come along."

I let the guards escort me back into the tower. I was locked here, it seemed, aside from classes. The only other exceptions my mother was likely to grant would be training with Galen or battling an Angel. I plopped down on one of the couches in the entryway, rubbing my forehead. It still hurt from where I'd smashed into the tower. The nails on my right hand were worn down to stubs from clawing my way down the spire. I was still in shock. I'd killed Henri, even if it was by accident. And I'd killed Giles—on purpose. I'd let my power fly out of control. What would I say to Henri's wife and children? And what had happened to Mikael, who'd betrayed Giles to save me?

I heard footsteps on the stairs. "There is no admittance for those outside the Order," said the guards in the foyer. "You may send a message inside if you wish. There's parchment over there."

"Well, you see, I'm looking for someone who can't read. And she's not really bright either, so it would be best if I just went in there and let her see my face. You can keep your swords out the whole time, if you want. Keep me blindfolded too."

I recognized the voice. "Will?"

"Young Lord Matthias," said the guard, sounding annoyed, "the last watch told us you would try again. I'm sorry, but you'll get the same answer from us. No."

I walked out into the foyer and saw Will and Mira there, looking at me with a mix of awe and surprise. "Will! Mira! You're all right!"

The soldier frowned at me. "You know these two?"

"Yes, sir. They're close friends of mine. I asked them to come and tell me what I missed in class."

He stroked his chin, glancing at his companion. "They cannot be allowed inside, you understand."

"Can we talk out here?" I asked, gesturing at the couches in the foyer. "You can watch me. I promise I won't leave." He and the other guard nodded at each other and waved their assent, so I walked out and took Mira and Will's hands. When we'd sat down at one of the couches, grinning like children, I whispered, "I'm so glad you're alive. When my mother told me about what happened to Henri, I thought . . ."

Will shrugged. "What can I say? With you around, I don't think either of us seemed like much of a threat."

I smirked. "Even though I'm illiterate and not very bright?"

We laughed, and Mira squeezed my hand. It felt wonderful to laugh again. "How are you feeling, Kaybree? We watched for as long as we could, but after that blast, we had to run. Sages and archers were coming."

A thought struck me. My mother had never mentioned them when I'd asked if everyone was all right. "Did anybody see you? Sages, or guards from the tower?"

Will glanced around, like a burglar making sure the coast was clear. "Don't think so," he whispered. "I know you said your mom wouldn't like it if other people knew about you. Hope you don't mind us leaving you like that."

"No, no, it's fine!" I said. "You might want to practice your abandoning skills. You'll need them next time too."

Mira cleared her throat. "So, did Jans . . . say anything? Or do you not want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "I'll tell you guys later. I'm still pretty confused about all of this."

Will stood up. "Yeah, we should probably let you rest. You're still looking kind of pale." He leaned over and grinned. "Oh, but now that you're up, you won't miss my maiden performance."

"Your what?"

"Apprentice night at the Bard Song. I finished my song while you were asleep, and I want you to hear it. It would mean a lot to me, really." He shifted his feet and glanced away. I'd never seen Will this nervous before. "So, can you make it? It's tonight."

"I'd love to!" I said. Then I remembered my mother's rules. "But, actually, I'm not allowed to leave the sagekeep."

Will winked at me and nodded at Mira. "Not gonna be a problem." He pointed at the entrance to the tower. "Meet us out here at nine. We'll think of something."

I put a hand on his arm. "No, Will, I'm serious," I said. "Until I learn to control my powers, my mother has forbidden me to leave. And you know what? Maybe this once, she's right. I'd love to see you sing, but it'll have to wait. Okay?"

Will glanced at Mira. She took my sleeve and we walked over by the corridor, out of Will's hearing. I put on a smile. "I really want to go, but—"

"Kaybree, he really wants you to hear this song." She glanced back at Will, who paced in front of the couches. "His palms are actually sweating."

"What's he singing?" I said, giving her a sidelong look. "Has he shown you the lyrics?"

"Nope. But he says there won't be any more lame antler references. He spent all day working on this costume that would make him look like he'd walked through a fire. He's poured a lot of time into this, so I hope he pulls it off. I'd hate to see him embarrassed in front of the whole tavern. Remember those guys with the braided beards and the billowy cloaks? They're other bards. They come to Bard Song to scout for new members."

I sighed, wishing I could make her understand, wishing she could feel the dark pit in my stomach. "I killed someone, Mira," I said. "Henri died because I lost control. I don't like my mother's rules, but I need to keep them."

She bit her lip. "All right, I understand." A gleam came into her eye. "So you're stuck in this tower all night?"

"Right."

She smiled. "Then I guess that's how things have to be."

She led me back to Will, shaking her head. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe we can push it back," he said. "Can we come visit tomorrow?"

"Of course," I said. "And I can go to classes and the mead hall too. But only on days when we actually have class."

Will gave me a wry smile. "Get some rest, then, Lightning Girl. You'll need it."

I spent the rest of the day sleeping in my new room. Trapped in the tower, with only a tiny window to see the snow piling up outside and the peasants coughing and dying of the flensu. Maybe this isolation was a blessing, but I missed seeing the outside world. I had no one to talk to, nowhere to go, and only a couple of books to read. At least no one had noticed that one of the books they brought up was my father's journal. I wasn't sure how much more use it would be, but it was nice to have it around.

Someone knocked at the door. "It's me, Kaybree," said Galen's voice. I blinked, wondering if I'd imagined it out of delusion. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," I said, glancing into the mirror to fix my hair as he entered. His coppery hair was smoothed down, and his black surcoat neatly pressed. "It's great to see you. How did you get away from Traum?"

"You had something to do with that," he said, smiling back. Why did he have to be betrothed to Danelle? I wished I could find someone like him someday. Find someone I could talk freely with, who I felt comfortable being myself around. Our particular connection, however, only belonged to those who fought the Angels. "When the borders were overrun with monsters, he had to let us go. We're the only ones who know how to fight them."

"Does he still suspect anything?"

"Of course," he said. "But with Jans gone, he'll have a hard time getting any information. Did he tell you anything when he attacked?"

"He told me my powers were dangerous. That they could be used to start another War of the Angels."

He met my gaze with one of firmness and conviction. "Your powers can also save people. So can other things the Angels have stopped us from creating. The Angels have ruled over us for all these centuries, pretending to be our benefactors, but really controlling us. They fear you and your power. They fear what your mother is creating. They fear a human race that can defend itself." He smiled. "I have faith in you. We can do this."

I smiled shyly. As eloquent as that sounded, I was starting to fear his epic speeches. "Okay. I'll do it. But keep the 'you are our only hope' rhetoric to a minimum, all right? I really don't need the extra pressure."

He winced. "Sorry. I do that sometimes." He met my gaze. "I have to go, Kaybree. You'll be all right here tonight?"

"Sure," I said with a smile.

"Ready to start training tomorrow?"

I gave a dramatic sigh. "We're defending humanity, right? How could I possibly say no?" He gave me an odd look, as if he thought I was mocking him. Well, maybe I was. I grinned back, and he smiled slightly as he left.

I wandered the tower halls all night, unable to sleep. I stepped into the tower keep. No torches were lit, and the only light came from the glow of the moon outside and the pale orange lamps of households not yet gone to bed. A draft blew in through the cracks in the wall where the workers were repairing it. They had left a heavy canvas over the spot, and tools were stacked on the side next to a pile of bricks.

I stared out at the night, watching the stars appear in the sky as my vision adjusted. I could see the forest now, dense foliage stretching for countless miles south of us. The city slept, but danger lurked in the forest beyond. How could I protect everyone? I was just one girl with powers I didn't understand.

A shadow shifted on the wall, and my head snapped to the side. "Hi, Kaybree," said a voice as a figure stepped into the light. Rugged hair, long cloak, smell of moist greenery. It was Mikael.

I met his gaze, gauging his intentions. Or wishing I was good enough at reading people to gauge his intentions. "Hi, Mikael. What are you doing here?"

"Giving you a message," he said. "That's what I do, remember?" He stepped closer and nodded out the window. "You can probably hear them now."

I glanced down at the city below. It wasn't far, so I could see people moving through the night streets. "Who's down there?"

"Your friends wanted me to tell you to open your window," he said. "The bard and that Eastern girl."

Will and Mira had talked to Mikael? I stared at him, not understanding. "Do they know . . . what you are?"

"No," he said. "Just that I'm a friend."

"I thought you were a messenger."

"I can't be both?"

I studied his relaxed expression. He'd deceived me into trusting him, betrayed me . . . but then saved me. I knew why he'd attacked me; he was an Angel. It was the saving that confused me. "I don't understand," I said. "Why did you help me back there? If you're—" I glanced around. No one in earshot, but I lowered my voice anyway. "If you're an Angel, why did you turn against Giles?"

"He was a Domari, a Judge," he said. "I am of the Syd'Kurir, a Vision Bringer in your speech. You call us all Angels, but our forms, as well as our purposes, are different. Man has come to resemble the Syd'Kurir, and we guide you toward the light of the Almighty. You have come to fear those who strike out in judgment against sin."

"Was that the real Jans? The real Giles?"

"Yes," he said. "You call them monsters, but they have a purpose in the Almighty's creation. So do we."

"How do I know I can trust you?" I asked.

Mikael walked forward, leaning closer. His breath felt warm on my face. "I'm here to help you." His face glowed, as if he was letting me see part of his Angelic nature here in the hallway. I recognized the beauty I'd seen that first day, during my vision in the woods. His words carried sincerity, even though I knew he was my enemy, and his radiance reminded me of how close to the Almighty he was. "I want to guide you. I want to help you make the right choices."

"But I'm a Witch," I whispered, firmly meeting his gaze. "I kill Angels."

"You don't have to," he said. "Witches manifest their power in many ways. I don't believe you need to die to save humanity. But you do need to be careful—your mother is doing things that are dangerous, things that could threaten everything humanity has built, and everything the Angels have protected."

"But she needs me to do it," I said. "Without me, the Angels can stop her. Why didn't you let Giles kill me?"

He looked away, his face a stoic mask. "Why defend mankind if we destroy all that's worth protecting?" He motioned at the corridor. "Hurry back. I'll be watching." I heard a commotion outside and turned to look, but I could see nothing from this vantage point, only a flicker of torches. When I looked back at Mikael, he was gone.

I remembered his message and returned to my room. I shut the door behind me and grabbed my coat, buttoning it tight. What did Will and Mira want me to see? I unlatched the window and opened it; my mother hadn't yet padlocked the windows, as she didn't expect me to fly out of my own volition.

The night was cool, though the snow kept the air warmer than it would have been without. Sages patrolled the grounds of the sagekeep at night, and Traum's Knights of Valir strode along the streets with drawn swords. I pulled my hood over my head and put out the lamp next to my bed, peering into the night. Just outside the confines of the courtyard, by a series of flat boulders, a crowd had gathered. I strained to hear their voices, and caught a glint of light. It stung my eyes, and I realized someone was reflecting torchlight through a mirror at me.

It was Mira. She noticed my gaze and waved, stowing the mirror into her cloak. She had her hood up, but her dark hair stood in stark contrast to those around her. She smiled a shy, mysterious smile, and pointed to the boulders ahead. The crowd held tankards and jostled one another for the space before a high ledge. Torches of bright blue flame had been set up alongside the ledge, and panels of wood were placed around it, similar to the stage at the Bard Song. Will had told me that they did that to project the sound outward.

The crowd quieted down as someone walked out onto the ledge from behind, hooded and cloaked. He carried a lute in one hand, and his coat and trousers were worn and tattered as if from a long journey. The cloak had burn marks on it. He stood there for a moment while the crowd fell totally silent. The figure threw back its hood to reveal Will's face. His cheeks had dirt smudges and his hair looked singed on the ends. His eyes were glazed, as if staring into the distance.

Like Mira had said, the costume made him look like he'd just jumped out of a fire. The makeup also highlighted his cheekbones and made his skin look smoother. He strummed a chord on the lute.

"Tales we spin of legends long past," he said, switching to another chord, deep and somber. His voice came into my window as if he was singing right below me. Had he convinced the patrons to listen to his song . . . outside? "But few know the tales that lie in our midst." He stepped forward, starting a slow arpeggio of notes as his eyes swept the crowd. His gaze turned upward, toward the scene of my battle with Giles atop the sagekeep, but stopped at my window. Our eyes met, and I barely saw him wink. "Someday men will sing of things that we see." He snapped his body forward. "Let legends be told, then, of what soon shall be." His lute rang out over the courtyard, and he began to sing in a powerful, resonant voice:

The monster arose from the blackest abyss

With robes dripping red, a serpent's kiss

A dragon devouring with flame

Neither child nor priest nor beggar to spare

As murder approached in its glory

Claws taut to end my life story

Through torrents of rain you appeared

A beacon of hope shining, stopping all fear

The sky blazed bright on the sagekeep tow'r

As you fought with your life and all of your pow'r

I never asked your name

But I know I shall see you again

You're the girl made of fire

Soar on through the night

With thunder bolts flashing

I'll bask in your light

When demons and Angels strike

A thousand hearts screaming, you rush to the fight

Though evil's array may stand in your way

You're the one who will save us tonight

He was singing about me, a heroic ballad of a girl who was hardly a hero. But as the people in the crowd joined in on the chorus, their voices echoing across the courtyard and into the forest beyond, I noticed something. They loved the song, in spite of Will's ludicrous lyrics. They sang with fervor and passion. About me. Did they know that they were talking about the fiery monster that had wrecked their town? Or were they caught up in Will's music?

I never asked your name

Though your face appears in my dreams

I know I shall see you again

For I will never forget

You're the girl made of fire

Soar on through the night

Oh, girl made of lightning

Blaze trails through the sky

Our future rides on your light

As ten thousand demons turn dust when you strike

And with you we stand, protecting our land

Together we'll ride to the fight

You're the one who will save us tonight

When the music ended, the crowd thundered with applause. Will executed a sweeping bow, and finally looked out across the courtyard and smiled at me. "Thank you, everybody!" he shouted over the applause. "And thanks to that special girl who saved us all." They roared even louder.

I smiled back at Will. My eyes welled up with emotion. These people weren't just clapping for his song; they were clapping for me too. For the mysterious girl of fire and lightning who defended their city against the Angels. I gazed out over the city, with its thatched-roof houses, cobblestone streets, and stubborn goats that chewed on the scraps of winter foliage. At the excited children who crept from their homes into the night, boots crunching through the snow, searching for the source of the impassioned singing. All of Kant Vakt was my home now, and I vowed to do my part to protect it. Even if I made mistakes, even if I was the worst Witch in all history, they still appreciated me. And I couldn't let them down.

I could be the Witch my mother wanted me to be. I might not be able to live up to Will's song, but I could fight my best. A little trickle of tears flowed down my cheek. I was the one chosen to do this, whether I wanted it or not. For their sakes, I had to keep fighting.

So that's how I became a Witch. That's why I patrol the streets of Kant Vakt with a relic on my wrist and a dead heretic's bone hanging around my neck. To most people, I just seem like a normal girl, with Danelle and Father Traum making my life miserable and Galen and Mikael making it complicated.

But I don't live a normal life. I'm Kaybree Andresdatter the Angel Killer. And whether I like it or not, I'm humanity's only hope.

END OF BOOK I

About the Author

Harrison Paul has worked as a heavy metal musician, a Chinese translator at Nanjing University, a math and science tutor, and a morning custodian. He has also served as a full-time missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Taipei, Taiwan, and currently teaches middle school and high school Mandarin. He has written 19 novels to date (Kaybree versus the Angels is #15), and plans to release more of the Angel Killer series in ebook form as soon as possible. 他也希望做一个中文翻译。

Connect with Harrison Paul

For updates, you can visit http://www.harrison-paul.com or check out my author pages on:

Facebook

 Amazon

Goodreads

Wattpad

Twitter

Smashwords

If you enjoyed this book, please feel free to leave reviews on any of sites where this book is sold or send me messages through my website or Facebook page. Thanks for reading!

Links to Other Books by Harrison Paul

Kaybree the Angel Killer Series:

 Kaybree versus the Angels

 My Very Own Witch Hunter

 Girl of Fire and Lightning

Steel Fox (coming Summer 2014)

Twilight of the Angels (coming Fall 2014)

Here's a preview of the next episode in Kaybree's journey...

### My Very Own Witch Hunter

### Available wherever ebooks are sold

CHAPTER ONE

### The Hunt Begins

I'd met a few talking wolves since moving to the city by the forest, but this one I could recognize before he opened his mouth. His fur was the color of snow, his eyes yellow-gold, and his body twice the size of an ordinary wolf. The smell of rotting meat lingered around his fangs, and black clumps of earth clung to his fur.

"Come out, little Witch," he said, pacing the cobblestone road. Twisted plants grew from between the stones, blanketing the road with a patchwork underbrush. "I know you're here."

I peered out from behind the crumbled pillar into the empty street. No one was in sight except for the wolf's massive form. A trail of dropped purses and fallen coins on the uneven stones marked the path of my classmates' flight when the wolf had struck. I fumbled around in my purse for the relic disc I'd kept hidden there. This was supposed to be a class trip to the ruins on the outskirts of town, the wrecked buildings that had been destroyed at the first Angel's attack fifteen years ago. But this wolf knew who I was—a student at the sagekeep—so he'd jumped out and attacked us, scattering the group.

I listened for sounds of the others. Nothing. At least they'd gotten away. Not only did I not want to put them in danger, but I couldn't fight him without revealing my identity to my classmates.

The air was still, and I peered out again. The wolf stood there, not ten paces away, looking straight at me. I flinched and backed away, coming out into the open and edging toward the cover of a ruined tavern. Its windows were gone, leaving holes in the walls like a skull's eye sockets. "So you're back," I said, searching for the relic. "You must have really missed me. To come all this way instead of frolicking in the forest with your pack."

The wolf snarled and took a step closer. "The mission's not done yet," he said, saliva dripping from his fangs onto the ground. "Now if your little heart would stop beating, maybe I could get back to my merry frolicking."

My hand closed around the relic. "Sorry to disappoint you." I sparked the energies of the relic, and its power rushed through me. Usually this meant that I would transform into a girl of lightning and blazing fire, leaping through the air and blasting enemies with streams of flame.

But this time, something hit me from behind—knocking the relic out of my hand before I transformed. I stumbled forward, and my disc clattered to the ground and landed next to a pile of stone rubble.

I turned and my face blanched; another wolf stood there, and this one wasn't interested in talking. It launched at me, snapping its jaws. I ducked aside, rolling through the dirt and coming up against an abandoned tool shack. Splintered wood stuck out at odd angles from the boards, and I glanced behind me to make sure I didn't get my clothes caught on it. I'd worn a slim dress of bordertown cut, which wasn't supposed to be disposable, but now I just hoped it wouldn't get me killed.

I glanced at the rubble, spotting the disc among chipped bricks and scorched stones. One leap and I should make it. The second wolf rushed forward again and snapped at me. I dodged aside, but not before the wolf's teeth scraped against my arm, drawing blood. I winced from the pain, covering my arm. This wasn't good. I could only use my Witch powers when I had a relic in hand. I glanced up at the rooftops. Where were Will and Mira when I needed them? Had they forgotten all we'd practiced?

The first wolf stalked toward me. "Come on," he said, tongue lolling out. That seemed to mean he was mocking me. "Don't tell me you only brought one relic with you. That would make this so anticlimactic."

I bolted for the tavern, grabbing onto the stone windowsill and vaulting into the common room. I was grateful for my training sessions with Galen. I landed on a dusty table, slipping on a puddle of rainwater and rolling to the ground. The tavern was dark, its only light source the sun outside. The oaken front door had rusted hinges, and the few remaining chairs were reduced to wood piles on the floor. The roof had sunken on itself, leaving a hole above the tavern's counter where a shaft of sunlight streamed in.

A splintering sound turned my attention to the door. The white wolf burst through, scattering pieces of wood everywhere. Another white shape leapt in through the empty window, crouching on the table. I glanced back at the hole in the roof, now my only exit. The wolves closed in, padding forward with their eyes locked on me.

I spotted someone scurrying along the rooftop and took a deep breath, hoping it was who I thought it was. "Will, NOW!"

The wolves turned to look at the figure on the roof. Willard Matthias stood there, wearing a ridiculous green and orange cloak that flapped in the icy wind. "Here, catch!" He pulled a handful of relics from his pockets and tossed them from the roof. The wolves leapt up and caught a few in their jaws as they fell, but two of them managed to get to me—and one was all I needed. I ran to the ring that fell on the ground beside me and snatched it up with a handful of dirt and dust. It irked me to get dirt under my fingernails, but when my life and the human race hung in the balance, I could afford to get a little dirty.

I slid the ring on my finger and focused. The wolves snarled and leapt at me. Someone threw a bagful of burning dust from the rooftop, and the wolves flinched back. The smell burned my nostrils as well. Sulfur. Toxic to the Angels and creatures of the forest, but dangerous to me too. Mira stood atop the roof, empty bag of sulfur in hand. I flashed her a smile; I could always count on her to think one step ahead of the enemy—and a step ahead of me too.

Flames rose from my hands, and my skin glowed bluish white. The second wolf lunged at me, and this time I fought back. I slammed a kick into its face, sending it flying into the tavern wall. The stones shuddered from the impact. I shot forward in a blur of motion, coming out into the road and hovering there for a moment, waiting for the first wolf to come out.

When he emerged, the wolf hung back and circled me. "Bravo, little Witch," he said, tongue lolling out. Why was he mocking me when I clearly had the upper hand? In my transformed state, I could fry any one of his forest friends. "Very nicely done. And right on time, too."

I froze. Something wasn't right. Those wolves could have pounced on me before I had the chance to transform, but they hadn't. Were they too afraid that I'd pull out some trick when they came close? Or was this . . . part of their plan? A hand grabbed my ankle, and I screamed. Will and Mira shouted something from the rooftop, but I didn't hear them. All I could hear was the grinding sound of something rising from the ground behind me.

I tugged my foot free and turned to face an Angel.

It had been weeks since I'd last seen one, and that was by the dim light of the moon. By day, I could see the lines of this one's face zigzagged like fissures in the earth. This Angel was dirt brown, with blocky rocks for arms and legs. There was still a lot we didn't know about the Angels—how they came to live in the forest, why sulfur and heretic bones hurt them, or why they turned from beautiful to hideous when they attacked.

But we did know why they attacked us fifteen years ago: because of me. Whether they thought I was dangerous to humanity or a threat to their survival, all but one of them wanted me dead. And this wasn't him.

The Angel swung a fist at me, catching me on the forehead. He was fast! I hadn't expected a rock creature to move so quickly. My vision swam as I dodged his next attack. The ground shook beneath me. I punched at him, but the shifting ground threw me aside. He planted a kick in my stomach and I flew into one of the broken pillars. The stone cracked where my back hit.

The Angel blurred forward, throwing a spray of rocks at me. I blocked them with my arms, though one hit me in the head. I felt for the essence of the relic I'd put on. It was a fire relic, so I'd have to channel fire through something to beat the Angel. But what?

Something metallic flew through the air, pinging against the Angel's stone back. Will stood beside a fallen pillar, using it as cover as he lobbed sulfur-tipped knives. It was just like how we'd practiced, although he wasn't a very good shot. Most of the knives had turned to the hilt by the time they hit, and they pinged harmlessly to the ground. With the Angel's attention diverted, I rolled to the side and pushed off of a ledge.

The Angel turned back and hurled razor-sharp stones at me. I leapt over them and kicked at the Angel's head. My kick connected, knocking the head clean off. It bounced against the ground like a fallen boulder. "Not the head!" Mira yelled from the side. She had my father's journal open and was scanning the pages. "This isn't the Angel's natural form. It's only using the earth as a shield for its heart, and that'll be its weak point."

A shield for its heart. The Angel fired off another barrage of rocks—at Mira this time—and she ducked under the cover of the ruined tavern. The center of the Angel's body had a slight glow emanating from it. A spray of stone projectiles flew at me, slicing my hands and face, and one hit me in the stomach. I stumbled back, taking cover beside a fallen pillar.

A crossbow bolt lodged in the Angel's shoulder. Smoke rose from the wound, and the Angel hissed in pain. "Kaybree!" I turned to see Galen Valkegaard, my knight in shining armor, galloping toward me on a doe rangir. Well, he wasn't really a knight, and he wore a black uniform with silver buttons instead of armor, but he charged forward, holding a crossbow in one hand and the reins in the other. I didn't know how he aimed the contraption while he rode; I would have been lucky not to hit myself in the leg. His coppery hair waved in the wind, and his sea-green eyes pierced through the distance between us. "Hit him now!"

I snapped a piece of wood off the tool shack. A massive white shape streaked toward me: the wolf. I clenched my teeth and waited for him to strike. Galen's rangir bashed her antlers into the wolf's side, throwing him back. She turned toward me and said, "We'll cover you. You take the Angel."

"Right," I said with a nod. Galen arched an eyebrow at me, reminding me that he couldn't hear his rangir speak. But I could talk to Signy, and Signy could talk to me, and if she said she would cover me, then she would.

The Angel recovered from the bolt—dipped in sulfur, if the acrid smell was any indication—and pulled it out of its shoulder, dropping it to the ground. I slammed him in the chest with my fist, hearing something crack and hoping it wasn't my hand. I knew I'd feel it later, every ding and bruise. The Angel reeled back and slashed at me with rock-hard claws, gashing my shoulder. I focused my energies into the chunk of wood, setting it ablaze. The Angel struck again, but I stepped in and tackled it, throwing it to the ground. I plunged the fiery weapon into its center.

The Angel kicked me in the face. I staggered back as it rose, flaming stake protruding from its middle. How was it still not dead? Its insides had begun to melt, and airy, bluish blood trickled from its wounds. It struck out again, clipping me on the side of the head and sending me spinning.

I glanced at the crossbow bolt on the ground. As the Angel lunged for me again, I grabbed the bolt and threw it into the open wound. The bolt sizzled as it sank in, and the Angel gave a horrible shriek. The blocky figure fell to its knees and crumbled to a pile of stone in the street.

My transformation ended, and pain flared up on my arms. And my stomach. And—ouch, my head! I looked down at my now-normal hands. No scars, at least. I hoped the marks on my face healed fast, because I did not want to show up for class at the sagekeep looking like the victim of a tavern brawl. Galen and Signy swept in front of me protectively, and I struggled to my feet. I could barely focus through the pain.

Someone chuckled off to the side. I looked up, straight into the wolf's yellow eyes. "You've got spunk, little Witch, I'll give you that," he said. His partner wolf limped away behind him. "I told Karna the straight-on approach would get him killed. But who listens to a lowly wolf?"

I forced a smile. "I guess this means you'll go back to stalking me," I said. Why couldn't Signy install some metal spikes on her antlers and gore him right here and now? "And you still haven't even told me your name."

"My name?" The wolf bared his teeth. "Any self-respecting Witch from the last centuries would have grabbed a drop of my blood and boiled it in baby's tears to find out my name."

"I prefer to ask first. Otherwise I'll just have to make one up. Like Meatmouth."

He seemed to flinch. "You could have at least picked something dignified."

I thought of historical figures we'd learned about. "Siegfried." I nodded. "Fine, then. You're Zeik. Zeik the talking wolf."

He started slinking back, away from Signy's antlers and Galen's crossbow. "Zeik," he said. "I like it. Simple but predatory. Perfect for the Winter Hunt."

"The Hunt?" The yearly hunt was about to begin, but I hadn't known that forest creatures kept track of our holidays, much less celebrated them.

He licked his lips. "My true master is coming for you, little Witch," he said. "This'll be over soon enough. Let the hunt begin." With that, Zeik turned sharply and loped off toward the forest.

Galen dismounted from Signy and put a hand on my shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked. "You were talking to that wolf." He didn't know that Witches could talk to animals. I kept meaning to tell him, but I could never find the right moment. I thought that one of his books on Witches would have told him, but he must have skipped that part and gone straight to the explosions. "I know you're still getting used to all this fighting."

I smiled up at him. "My prince came and saved me," I said, letting a little sarcasm drip from my words. "How could I not be all right?"

He gave me a flat look, but it curled into a smirk. "Sorry, Kaybree, but in this fairy tale, the damsel saves the prince." Galen was probably the smartest, most charming guy in all of Nordgard—the kind whose eyes blazed with passion whenever he talked about saving the world. Which was convenient, since I was the Witch that defended humanity from the Angels, and we talked about saving the world quite a bit. Of course, he was betrothed to somebody else. So I could look, but not touch.

Unless he was inspecting me for wounds after a fight, that is. Then it was "save the world" business.

"How did you know where I was?" I asked.

"Mikael said you were in danger," he said. He lifted my chin with his finger, scanning my face for wounds. "He said he saw you when he was coming back from a patrol. What were you doing out here all alone?"

I glanced up at the rooftops. Mikael stood there in the distance, wrapped in his billowing brown duster. He could probably see the expression on my face right now, down to the last detail. I didn't know how he did it, but he could see me over long distances, and knew when I was in trouble.

It was sweet of him, looking after me and all. But with him sending Galen and Signy to help me today, I wondered how he felt about the results. Mikael was an Angel too, and had helped me defeat—kill—a fellow Angel this Midwinter. Now add another one. Did he feel like he was betraying his own people? He didn't like the idea of killing me, since he thought I was innocent, but how far would he take it?

To Galen, though, Mikael was a only borderman soldier who worked for my mother. If he knew I was having secret conversations with a real live Angel, I didn't know what he'd do.

On the other side, Will and Mira climbed up a set of cracked stone stairs, waiting until Galen was out of sight. Thankfully, Galen hadn't seen them on his way in. He and my mother had hidden my powers from everyone, including me, for fifteen years, and they didn't like it when I risked exposing my identity to others. But Will and Mira were friends, and I'd saved them from Zeik a few months ago, so they helped back me up.

Like bringing Weapon relics when I lost mine. Zeik's deadly gibes made me feel foolish for only bringing one, when that left me open to attack. But the relics were cumbersome to haul around, especially when possessing one could draw unwanted attention from the sages. I'd know better next time.

"There were a lot of us here earlier," I said. "Before the wolves attacked. I was with some of the other students, scouting out good spots to launch hunting parties."

Galen shook his head. "I can't believe they're still going through with that," he said. "After the Angel attacks and forest creatures pushing the borders, you'd think they'd cut down on the deliberate danger."

I shrugged. "Have you entered a sagekeep lately? If you're a boy who likes a girl, what's more important—having a pretty wolf pelt to show off to your friends, or having all four of your limbs?"

"Losing limbs makes certain courtship rituals rather difficult."

"You're right. Holding hands, for instance."

"Of course." He cleared his throat; I knew he hated talking about courting—likely because of the girl he was betrothed to. If Galen was the kind of guy who only existed in fairy stories—gallant, visionary, and charming—then his betrothed was the kind of girl who only lived in funny tavern songs—prickly, arrogant, and self-absorbed. "My point is, you really need to be more careful." He picked up the disc relic I'd dropped and brushed the dirt from it. "Your mother won't be pleased if you damage her Weapons. And she does care about you too, don't forget that. All of us do."

"I'll try," I said, wishing he'd mention more about how much he cared about me. Galen's seriousness came off as mysterious, but my mother's had always struck me as callous. I was still trying to figure her out. "Mind if I ride Signy back to the sagekeep? We'll take it slow so you can keep up."

"Won't be a problem," said a voice behind me. It was Mikael. How had he arrived so fast? He held the reins of two rangir and motioned to me. "I'll take her back, Lord Valkegaard. I know you have business to attend to at the Order."

"Thank you, Mikael," Galen said. He turned to me. "I'll see you at the sagekeep. If you meet any trouble, just run, okay?"

I nodded in response. Just run. That meant that he didn't want me to transform. That made sense, since I was already hurt and tired from the last fight. And also he didn't think Mikael knew I was a Witch. He climbed back onto Signy, kicking her into a trot and riding off.

Mikael helped me gather the fallen relics from the tavern—and my purse, which was so covered in sulfur dust that it made my eyes water—and helped me onto one of the rangir. I was glad that the wolves hadn't carried any relics off; my mother kept strict watch over her precious magical items. "Your charming lord has one thing right," Mikael said. "It's far too dangerous for you to be traipsing around the city borders."

"I'm tired of being stuck in the sagekeep," I said. "Besides, we were supposed to meet up with a few border scouts to give us a tour. I didn't think the Angels would know where I was."

Mikael's face broke into a wry smile. "We can't see everything, but we see quite a bit. And that wolf has your scent. Going out with the others for the Winter Hunt is like painting a 'please eat me' sign on the back of your head." He mounted his own rangir and we started through the streets at a slow trot. "They set this trap just for you."

"You could have told me that an hour ago." I looked into his eyes as we rode. He had very serious eyes, grayish-blue, set in a face that was ruggedly handsome, with a few days' growth of beard stubble. I wondered if being able to change his appearance let him keep the stubble the same length all the time.

"Then you wouldn't have learned the lesson," he said. "The Angels' purpose in the beginning was not to prevent mankind's follies, but to ensure that you learned from them."

I studied his half-smile and shook my head. "You didn't even know about it, did you?"

"You're starting to catch on," he said, still smiling. "At least you had your friends here to help."

"We're starting to become more of a team, I think," I said. I thought of Will's attempt at knife-throwing. "Of course, we all have a lot of work to do."

"They can help you, but you can't rely on them too much. By the time you transform, the battle becomes yours alone. If that wolf can be believed, it looks like you'll have another fight on your hands soon enough."

"Who do you think his master will be disguised as?" I asked. I winced as the saddle scraped against the tender flesh of my leg. There was a cut there from one of the Angel's rocks. "Someone that goes hunting with us?"

"Hard to say," he said. "I'll watch for suspicious activity around the borders when I'm on patrol. We have extra soldiers around this year from the capital because of the Angel attacks."

We rode in silence for a few minutes before I asked him what I was thinking about. "How does it feel?"

"What?"

"To . . . kill other Angels."

"I'm protecting you," he said, his lighthearted tone vanishing. "If the Judges try to harm you, they are acting against my wishes as a Vision Bringer."

"But why?" I asked. "Why do you protect me?"

"You are innocent," he said. "That's enough." I wondered if there was another reason, but if there was, he was keeping it to himself.

We arrived at the sagekeep and left our rangir with the handlers. I stared up at the arched spires and the intricate carvings of sages and philosophers that adorned the face of the sagekeep. Last time an Angel had hidden here to attack me, he'd used the guise of my history teacher, Brother Jans. He'd been such a loving, caring person, that I couldn't believe he'd be a murdering Angel.

But he had his reasons, like they all did. I wondered whom the next Angel would pose as—or if this one would attack in a way that none of us would ever suspect.

Acknowledgments

The road to publishing a novel is long and arduous, and many have helped me along the way, so forgive me if I forget to mention someone (and remind me so I can credit you for your help).

First, I want to mention my mentor Brandon Sanderson, who has given honest feedback and helpful advice through the last several years, and who gave me the idea to publish this series in the first place. I also want to thank Dan Wells, an author whom I greatly admire and whose works have been an inspiration to me. Another author I wish to thank is David Farland, who has provided excellent advice through his Daily Kick and Writers Death Camp seminar, and stands out as one of the greatest writing instructors of our day.

Many thanks to my editor, Jenni Alan, for taking a rough draft of this book and challenging me to do better. No book would ever be complete without a competent editor, and Jenni's help has been invaluable. Additional edits and revisions are thanks to members of my writing groups. In no particular order: Michael Vatcher, Kim Mainord, Laurel Amberdine, Jonathon Burgess, 13 Lucky Waffles from Space, Tony Dutson, Jared Olsen, Mark Fassett, Jo Schneider, my FOGCon workshop group (David Levine, Gregory Randolph, Eva Folsom, and Carolyn Cooper), and my BYU writing group (Laura, Christian, Erik, and Anthony).

If you like the cover art, you can thank Claudia McKinney, a superb graphic artist with lightning-quick email responses, as well as Maria Amanda Schaub, our magnificent cover model, and Ashley "The Bookish Brunette" who crafted the wonderful typography.

My alpha readers have been of immense help in refining this book and my writing in general. To list a few: Henry Bartholomew, Matt and Jin Di Giordano, Carl Brinton and Gloria Gong, Kimberly Green, Heber Nelson, Alice-Catherine Hawks, Annelis Walker, Wendy Freeman, Daniela West, Courtney Fanello, Earle McEwen, Elizabeth Gray, Victoria Garza, Xu Guo, Jim Paul, Jameson Fox, Brandon Cusak, Ryan Bennion, Diane Humann, Dallon Penney, and Bridget Paul. Also many thanks to Nik Rode for insightful critiques on pacing for this version.

Special thanks to my creative writing class at MIT Academy as well as the students and staff who have shown me their support. The creators of All Things Paul should get some credit as well, for forming a fan club before they knew I was anything other than a Chinese teacher who didn't look Chinese: Nelissa, Charline, White Rabbit, Rea, Textbook Penguin, Jonalyn, Toni, Justin Palor, Regina, Trisha, Priscilla, Darren the Robot King, Elisa, Anayancy, Ethan, Princess Leah, Dawei Gongzhu, Missy, the Rettinhouse twins, Patrick Jesus, Ben the Pinkman, Caitlyn, Alpha and Omega, Anthony, Stingray, Maricar, Jamie Pudding, Ana and Pamela, Jessica, Justin, Ben G and Ben L, Claudio, Donnie, 100% Domo, Josephine, Taylor, Reniel and Francis, Dajsha, Bai Meiguo, Nathan, and Mileena.

I've also met numerous professionals at conventions who have helped me become part of the writing community: Brandon Lindsay, E.C. Myers, Simon Larter, Jessica Corra, Mary Thompson, Miles Romney, Sam Sykes, Jessie Cammack, Eddie Schneider, James Dashner, Ian Drury, Jordan Ricks, Joshua Bilmes, and many more.

Finally, my family and friends have been great supporters of my work from the beginning, but you know who you are. Nicolette and Sean, thanks for letting me name my main character after your daughter. An additional thanks to all of my readers; you are the ones who make this all possible. And of course, thanks to Aisha. For being awesome.

I would be remiss if I did not express thanks to my God as well, for gifting me with the inclination and the insanity to become a writer, and for teaching me that divine beings are not always easy for mortals to understand.

