Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 71 - Chapitre 80

The days blurred together after that, each hour swallowed by preparation that left little room for anything else. Kael spent most of his time with his war council, mapping out exactly how many men could travel to the trading post without breaking the twenty-escort limit, and where the rest would wait, close enough to respond fast if something went wrong. Bertram helped him work through every possible way Drogo might try to bend the terms without technically breaking them. Corin barely slept. He and Ilsa went through the journal again and again, searching for anything they might have missed about the ritual — how long it took, what it needed, whether there was any way to break it once it started. “I keep finding the same problem,” Corin admitted, rubbing his eyes during one of the rare moments Bonita checked on their progress. “The fragments that mention this ritual are old and torn. I know it needs blood relation. I know it needs someone who understands how to perform it. Beyond th

The trading post looked smaller than Bonita remembered, the same worn stone marking the border between territories, though this time it stood empty of ordinary traders — cleared out, deliberately, she suspected, before either party arrived. Drogo’s delegation waited on the far side of the clearing, more men than the agreed twenty by Bonita’s quick count, though not so many that Kael could accuse him outright of breaking terms. Selene stood near him again, composed as ever, and beside her, gripped firmly by the arm, stood Mira. Bonita’s breath caught at the sight of her daughter — thinner than she remembered from just days ago, a bruise darkening one cheekbone, but standing upright, chin lifted, eyes scanning the clearing with the same sharp alertness she’d always carried. “She’s alive,” Kael murmured beside her. “Hold steady, Bonita. We do this carefully.” They advanced to the clearing’s center, both parties stopping at a distance that felt, to Bonita, entirely too far from her da

The battle stuttered to a ragged halt as the shape at the clearing’s edge pulled itself fully into being, warriors on both sides freezing mid-motion, weapons forgotten in hands gone suddenly nerveless. “What is that,” someone shouted from Drogo’s side, pure terror cutting through the words. Bonita felt the cold press against her chest before the whisper even arrived, familiar and sickening in a way that made her stomach turn. She’d hoped never to feel it again. She understood now, with grim clarity, that hope had been foolish. You brought her here yourselves, the voice pressed into her mind, wordless and everywhere at once. Exposed. Vulnerable. This is easier than I expected. Around the clearing, Kael’s warriors staggered, but Bonita saw something different in their faces than she saw among Drogo’s men — recognition, however horrified, rather than pure blind panic. They’d faced this before. They knew, even through the fear, that the voice wasn’t truly their own. Drogo’s men had n

The clearing looked like a battlefield in the truest sense once the chaos finally settled — bodies scattered across torn ground, some moving, some not, Kael’s healers already moving among the wounded with grim efficiency. Bonita sat with Mira wrapped tight against her, unwilling to let go even as Corin approached carefully, his own face pale and exhausted from the struggle with the mage. “Is she alright,” Corin asked, crouching to check Mira’s pulse with careful, practiced hands. “The ritual pulled hard, near the end. I need to know what damage it left, if any.” “I’m tired,” Mira mumbled, barely awake against Bonita’s shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Just tired.” Corin’s expression eased slightly. “That’s the ritual’s aftermath, most likely, not lasting harm. The mage lost his hold before it could finish whatever it intended. She should recover fully, given rest.” Bonita pressed a kiss to her daughter’s hair, relief and exhaustion tangling together until she could barely separ

Kael didn’t call the council this time. He called five people into a small room instead — Bonita, Corin, Bertram, and two of his best trackers. “No council session,” he said. “No vote. Drogo doesn’t get to see us debate this in front of half the pack. We move fast, or we don’t move at all.” “You’re planning to go get him,” Bonita said. “Not negotiate.” “Negotiate for what?” Kael said. “Last time we negotiated, he tried to steal Mira’s power through a ritual. I’m done trading words with that man.” One of the trackers, a quiet man named Fenwick, spread a rough map across the table. “We’ve had eyes on the border for two days. Blackthorn’s pulled most of its warriors back to the main settlement — licking their wounds from the trading post. But there’s a smaller holding cell, east side, lightly guarded. Word from a trader is that’s where they’re keeping him.” “How lightly guarded,” Bonita asked. “Six men, maybe eight,” Fenwick said. “Drogo doesn’t expect anyone to try this. He thinks