DARKHAVEN | "Three Sisters" Book One

Chapter Twelve

Gia

They broke their fast on a spread of elven bread, pink dragonfruit, honeyed cakes, and blackened sausages. Dale and his retainers had laid the spread the length of the table and lit every candle. It was truly a breakfast worthy of High Lords and their ladies.

It was too nice. Blodwyn regarded it with great suspicion. "Alright," she groused, taking her usual seat beside Roslin. "Out with it. What's going on?"

Lucien, of course, smiled. "Never one to pull punches, dear Blodwyn."

The words had stopped having any effect on her. She'd almost become accustomed to his pet-like treatment of her. "Never," agreed the copper-haired witch.

Lucien settled back in his seat. He eyed Aleksander, then Novak, waiting to see which of the Lords would answer first. When neither did, Lucien heaved a sigh. "Fine, I'll do it." It was clear whatever he was about to say would not be to the sisters' pleasure. "I will skip the formalities. It's plain that what we walked into the other day was a blatant trap."

This had gone in unspoken acknowledgment and hung uneasily in the air of the castle in the previous days. "It's far, far bolder than we anticipated the First Evil would be, even when it comes to our lovely ladies."

Blodwyn sneered. "What, are you going to lock us in towers like the helpless princesses we are?"

Aleksander, from his regular seat at the far end of the table, was bemused. "Quite the opposite, in truth." His fingers steepled on the table. "Their numbers may be growing, yes. They demonstrated that their power is great. But you–," he motioned the length of the table towards the sisters, but made intentional eye contact with Gia, "–demonstrated that your power is greater should it be refined."

The praise made Gia straighten in her seat. She remembered him wreathed in fire as they stood side by side in a literal blaze of glory, their powers playing, intertwining, working in tandem.

"Still," the red-eyed Lord continued when he at last tore his gaze from Gia's, "the First Evil has been emboldened. Their numbers surpass our expectations...greatly."

Novak brushed a hand through his hair. "This is all to say desperate times, desperate measures."

Aleksander shot him a glare. "We do not stoop so low as desperation, my friend."

Novak smiled over the top of his goblet. "Figuratively, of course."

"Of course." Aleksander looked back at the sisters. "He's right, as much as it pains me to admit it. We must double our efforts."

Roslin flinched. "How much more effort could we possibly put in?" She realised how harshly her words came out and corrected herself. "I mean no disrespect, my Lords. But we train daily, and though we haven't trained physically while recovering, we haven't stopped. We never stop. When we're not training we're reading, studying, writing, practising. The only time we stop is when we sleep, and...some of us...aren't even doing that anymore."

Lucien made the face so characteristic of a man about to swallow his pride. "Not you. Us."

The sisters blinked.

"We're calling in the banners," announced Aleksander with much finality, as if this was something the sisters would argue against.

It must be easy, Gia thought, for the Lords to forget they were talking to once-peasant women who lived in a cottage baking bread and practising magic for fun.

Blodwyn asked, "Are we expected to know what that means?"

"Allies," Novak replied, "it means we're calling our allies."