A Dance of Serpents

by Lauren Dedroog

Genres: Fantasy; Fantasy action & adventure; Epic Fantasy; Romantic Fantasy; LGBT Lesbian

Synopsis

Diana has claimed her birthright as Princess of Hell, Lady of Daemons and Chosen of Darkness Incarnate. But she can't forget the wrongs she suffered. The cruelties inflicted on her, as well as her family, friends, and subjects in the wars past. Cruelty from the gods, and the reigning Divine King who wrote the very myths that vilified her people.

Her powers have grown beyond anyone's expectations, though they come with a cost. And the price might be more than Diana is willing to pay.

Armed to the fangs with allies, the future is bright, and justice finally within reach. The line between justice and revenge is faint, blurred, and slippery. In attempting to punish the wicked, will she keep true to herself, or become the very creature her enemies fear her to be?

The sequel to the acclaimed romantasy A CURSE OF CROWS, Lauren Dedroog's A DANCE OF SERPENTS continues the epic tale of the wars between gods, men and daemons, and the woman at the centre of it all, whose suffering and rise to power will change the world forever . . . for good, or evil.

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'A sweeping epic for dark fantasy lovers!' - Tessonja Odette, author of A Rivalry of Hearts

'With emotional stakes that will leave you breathless and characters as intricate as they are dangerous, this is a story that simmers with passion-and slowly twists into something far more dangerous' - Logan Karlie, author of Dream by the Shadows

'A Curse of Crows is high fantasy at its best. A thoroughly enchanting read' -Mara Rutherford, author of A Multitude of Dreams


READERS ARE OBSESSED WITH A CURSE OF CROWS

'CRUEL. GENIUS. NERVE WRACKING' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'Out of this world . . . sexy, thrilling, high fantasy, emotional, sweet while it tears your heart out' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'This has me in a chokehold' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'This has to be one of the best fantasy books I've read' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'It honestly feels like I read a whole ACOTAR / TOG series in one book' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'I still have tears in my eyes and goosebumps all over my skin' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Release date: June 25, 2026

Publisher: Orion

Print pages: 528

Sample

Bastian stalked closer and started circling me with his wings spread wide, regarding me with an expression of pure disdain. He loathed me, a little matska with an attitude problem, and wanted to make me pay, to make me scream and beg while he taught me my place in this world – his world.

But this was no longer his world.

Lazily, he completed another tour around me. His gaze flickered from my face to my wings, and I didn’t need my varkradas to know he planned on wounding them. When Bastian noted he couldn’t penetrate my shadows to gauge my intentions, his eyes darkened. He drew his short sword, a Damast weapon, twin to Aiden’s. Aiden held on to it still, if only to remind himself of what he could have become, of what it was that he fought every day.

Bastian lunged forward, aiming for my abdomen. I crossed my blade with his, swift as air, to block the attack. His shadows warped and moved to pierce my back, but mine tore at them until they ebbed away into nothing. Another shadow spear shot forward, but I cut through it with Aecéso.

His next attack forced my arm down and Bastian used that opening to aim for my flank. Shadows exploded across my skin and the dagger merely bounced off. He swung again and using his momentum, I stepped sideways and slashed my dagger across his neck. A deep growl sounded from him while he furiously wiped away the blood. “Bitch,” he hissed.

Answering his taunt would only prove he’d succeeded in his endeavour to belittle me, so instead, I kept quiet and lunged for him, this time holding Abraxas, my Erobian sword. A blade so sharp that it could cut air, and so dark that it became an extension to my shadows. The black steel gleamed beneath the moonlight and the obsidian hilt remained cool to the touch.

I swung Abraxas for his abdomen and used Bastian’s own trick against him. My varkradas pierced him from behind, through his left shoulder blade. He roared again and staggered backwards while regaining his balance and the grip on his sword.

As I stood there, I felt a prickle at the back of my neck. Keres had come to watch, but he wasn’t the only deity lurking on this field. There were eyes on me, ancient and unyielding. An all-seeing gaze that pierced even through my shadows and right into my very essence. The strange sensation rippled along my skin and sent a shiver down my spine. It left me reeling, too aware that I’d never be able to run from this – from him. There was no chance to pause and spot him among the crowd of onlookers, and maybe he wasn’t even physically present, but I still felt Eiran’s attention on me. Maybe he was curious to see what I could do, what he could use me for. Maybe he simply wanted to witness this new dawn rising over us all.

Whatever his reason was, I had no time to ponder.

Inkor steadily flowed from Bastian’s wounds and soaked the grass. His dark hair had become unbound, billowing in tangled waves in the soft breeze. His fangs were on full display with the wicked, soulless grin he was giving me, the sight chilling as black blood trailed down his temple and cheek.

He was wild. Feral. The image of every nightmare and legend I’d been told.

If I survived this, maybe one day they would whisper legends about me too.

My darkness wrapped around his throat to roughly haul him forward. Bastian stumbled to his knees, clawing at the cord around his neck. Once again, his shadows lunged for me but I dismissed them with a wave of my hand. Meekly, they fell to the ground, awaiting my orders.

His title of Lord moved between us like a pendulum, flicking back and forth, and anytime I overpowered him, it pointed to me, giving me more power and more sway over him. I realised this was why he hadn’t tried to use my circerian instinct against me. His power over me was too delicate, too fickle. And the way the gentle moonlight fell across my face and caressed my shadows …

I could’ve sworn I felt Ellowyn, guarding and supporting me. Urging me on.

I stood behind Bastian and watched him writhe in the grip of my varkradas. Again and again, he attempted to move his wings, but my shadows’ hold on him was relentless. Slowly, I ran a nail along the thick bone of his right wing and noticed the discolouration of the dark membrane. It was all I could focus on as the world around me ceased to exist: those dainty little scars, barely noticeable. A tender kiss of violence compared to the jagged lightning streaks that were still visible on mine.

Enyo’s torn-off wings flashed through my mind. Vanora, who still flinched when anyone came near her back, who suffered from nightmares and phantom pain, and in the delirium of recurring infections panicked upon seeing her mate. I remembered Bastian’s hands on my body and knew that if Aiden hadn’t found us when he did …

My jaw set. Something icy slipped into my veins. Something calm and hauntingly lethal. Whatever pain he’d gone through hadn’t been enough, not in the slightest. Bastian deserved so, so much worse. He deserved to drown in the very nightmares he’d called into existence.

My nails grew into sharp black talons. First, I dragged them over the membrane and when he snarled in warning, I merely grinned and let myself dig in. Bastian’s scream was deafening as he writhed in his bindings, but I continued my onslaught and only when nothing but dark cobweb-like filaments dangled from the thick bone, did I retract my talons. My blood-soaked fingers smoothed along the curve of his wing and Bastian’s whimper made me feel too powerful. Too proud of what I’d done.

But I wasn’t finished yet.

My fingers wrapped around the base, and I tore at the bone with all my strength to break it. My stomach rioted as a sickening crack echoed throughout the plain, accompanied by his horrifying scream and the scattering of birds. For the smallest moment, I was disgusted with myself, but he’d never cared about his victims either. My mercy shouldn’t be aimed at him.

I should’ve been ashamed of my steady hands when I focused my attention on his remaining wing, but I wasn’t. In the back of my mind, a darkly familiar voice – Erebus’ voice, I realised – whispered to me of an iron I could use to add another dimension to his torment, but in spite of Bastian’s actions, I couldn’t bring myself to use a Stygian blade. Bastian’s screams were blood-chilling as I tore into his second wing with my Erobian dagger, and despite knowing what he’d done, my conscience gnawed at me. When only tattered shreds remained, I strapped the dagger to my side and ripped off the final remnants.

Bastian’s body convulsed and trembled as he battled through the agony, but somehow, his mind was intact enough to snarl at me. “You,” he bellowed. “You’re dead. Fucking. Dead.”

I hid my trembling fingers by clenching them into a fist, unnerved by his resistance. What I’d done should’ve been enough to break a circedera, but he was more monster than daemon. “I’m merely following the law of Equivalent Exchange,” I said with a surprisingly even voice. “As Lord, you must understand our ways of executing justice.”

He spat out dark blood. “You’re just some divine abomination, more nymph than daemon. You’re no matska, let alone Lady,” he said mockingly. “Just a little whore for the gods.”

My anger morphed into something more treacherous. I leaned in and purred, “How embarrassing for you then to have your wings taken away by a little whore.”

His eyes darkened.

“Erebus himself favours me and Ellowyn casts her Light on me. But you?” I clicked my tongue. “You have no wings. Your inkor and your shadows are the only things left to mark you as a circedera. And I could … so easily … take that from you.”

Bastian leaned closer in his bindings, biting back his pain. Blinding fury shone in his irises. “Silly little nymph … When I’m done with you … you’ll be too broken to still get fucked.” He grimaced. “A pity, since that’s all you nymphs are made for.”

The way he looked down on me, how he thought about us … He truly believed it was his right to abuse me. And I knew he wasn’t the only one. Too many men had attempted to own me already. And soon … Eiran would attempt to conquer me as well.

My pride reeled.

I struck against him, against memories, blinded by rage that whispered its sweetest song in my ears. Lashing after lashing with my shadows hit his back until Bastian crumpled down on the grass, grunting with each strike. This was no punishment, but a reckoning. His agony was unbearable and this time, the torture drove him right to the edge of insanity. I twirled my hand to replace the whip with my Erobian dagger while my shadows hauled him onto his knees. Black blood stained my forearms and cheeks, and I tasted his blood on my tongue.

Bastian glared at me, awaiting his death.

Heartache leaked into my varkradas. My world opened up again, allowing the reactions of others to find and ground me. Aiden had turned away, couldn’t bear to watch me. I could’ve been merciful and slit Bastian’s throat after taking his wings, but I’d been making a spectacle of his death by dragging it out for my own twisted amusement. Aedlynn was watching me, pale-faced and wide-eyed as she saw a creature prowl this field, so familiar and frightening. A life she’d escaped.

A shaky breath fell from my lips as I glanced over my shoulder at Aiden, and my heart ached when he lifted his gaze to mine and I found the mixed emotions displayed on his face. Aiden, who’d hated his reflection for so long because he looked so similar to his father. He’d grovelled at Aloïs’ feet for a chance to prove himself and now he was watching me be just as cruel as his father.

Beneath the weight of his judgement, I felt like a fool for trying to claim this title.

I didn’t deserve it.

The pendulum ticked; the scale tipped.

Bastian shot up, swiped my Erobian dagger from the strap on my thigh and managed to place a nasty cut across my chest with it. Within seconds, my blood soaked my leathers, but it wasn’t just the wound that dazed me, it was the strange weight of … something that seeped into me and rendered me defenceless. I gasped when Bastian’s heavy boot struck my stomach and I hit the ground, falling atop my splayed wings. The bones groaned beneath me. On pure instinct, I called on my shadows, but they didn’t react. A wicked gleam entered Bastian’s eyes while he watched me struggle.

Icy laughter echoed in my mind, belonging to a goddess I’d scorned. A goddess who’d extended him a blessing, if only to spite me. With Khalyna suppressing my every defence, I could only writhe beneath him while Bastian forced me down. His varkradas chained my ankles and wrists, and another tendril wrapped around my throat. I tried to claw free but my attempts remained fruitless.

His fingers caressed the arch of my wings almost sweetly and I stilled in quiet panic.

With a mad grin tainted by blood, Bastian lowered to sit on his knees, locking me beneath his body. “My, my … Even the gods don’t want you.” His hold was unrelenting, increasing my panic by the second as I struggled to free myself. The only dagger I had close by was strapped to my leg, but with the bindings—

Bastian’s first attack pierced my stomach and I cried out at his frenzied onslaught. He aimed for my side, right beneath my collarbone and then my lower abdomen. I gasped but was only met by the taste of my own blood as it flooded my mouth. Breathing became harder by the second.

Bastian leaned in. “I think … I’ll take my time with you.” I tried to kick my knee up but his shadows wrapped around my thighs, forcing me down. He pressed the sharp edge of the dagger against my throat, cutting the skin there. “Enough, Diana,” he shushed me while brushing my blood-soaked hair back, voice laced with compulsion. “Stop resisting me.”

Erebus’ ancient whispers snaked through some deep part of my subconscious but they were too quiet for me to understand them. Rapidly blinking and heaving, I tried hard to decipher his urgent words – to no avail. But there was another voice steadying me.

The absolute last voice I’d expected to hear: Eiran’s.

Easy, Diana. Use your blessing.

I blinked in a daze as I managed to slip one bloodied hand free and tried to pry Bastian’s fingers around my throat away, but he tightened his grip and I struggled for air, growing more light-headed by the second. Yet somehow, I remained icy calm. I was aware that his lips were moving but all noise had been cancelled out, except for Eiran’s clear voice. There was only peace in my mind, a forced kind of tranquillity. Somehow, time slowed. The seconds lazily dragged by like honey.

A chance to think.

I hadn’t yet explored the extent of my blessing and learned my new power. I still knew so little about it, and it was still so inaccessible.

He is the space woven between the stars, the darkness that encompasses the moon and the soil that nourishes life. The Beginning and Ending, Eiran murmured in my mind. And so are you.

I gasped for air. I felt him pull at me – at my power – like he might wield it himself. No, he wasn’t grasping at it for himself, he was unfurling it so I had easier access.

Give in. Be the Darkness.

And there in the depths of my soul, that connection shone. The glorious gift Erebus had given me, though I realised now that he hadn’t chosen me mere weeks ago. This claim ran deeper and suffused my blood. It had been hiding in the marrow of my bones since I’d drawn my first breath and escaped each time my heart bled, but he’d locked it away to keep it out of Lorcán’s hands.

What I felt lurking beneath my skin was a power so great that it terrified me.

But I needed to regain the upper hand or Bastian would kill me, so I gave in.

I was a wraith of darkness as my shadows struck with the efficiency and viciousness of Erobian steel, hurling Bastian away from me. Sentient, yet utterly docile and tame in my hands, they loathed the circes for harming their master. These were no shadows like my varkradas. This darkness was ancient – my birthright. This was what had birthed varkradas and what could destroy them.

Bastian screamed as his shadows were mercilessly torn apart. Somehow, I managed to scramble onto my knees while clutching my wounds. I wanted to see where Eiran was hiding among the crowd, but I forced myself to focus on Bastian. I was starving, which meant that my injuries and the strain on my power were even worse than I thought. I wouldn’t be able to handle another surprise attack.

I needed a healer, and soon.

Slowly, I dragged myself up from the ground to approach Bastian, reclaiming my dagger that now lay forlorn in the bloodstained grass. The slick darkness in my wake awaited my command. Bastian’s blood was now pure red and rapidly flowing out of his wounds. Wasting no time, I fisted his matted hair and slit his throat in a fluid motion. The life dimmed in his eyes as the moon shone brighter above us.

My knees gave out beneath me and darkness speckled my vision.

Then I was falling.

Strong but gentle hands caught and eased me down, though my grip on my Erobian dagger didn’t loosen, even when Aestor’s face blinked into focus. “Easy, I’ve got you.” He guided me down until I was sitting, hands already roving over my wounds to stitch my flesh back together and stop the bleeding. Only when I realised it was Aestor who was holding me did I let go of the dagger and relax.

My vision rippled like water and for a moment, Aestor looked younger. My age. His eyes were a dark brown with golden specks, decorated with kohl. Bronze skin and dark stubble, so familiar that his name rested on the tip of my tongue, tasting of sea breezes and sunlight. The trick on my mind lasted a mere second before I was staring at Aestor again, but he didn’t meet my gaze and his mouth held no trace of his usual humour, forming only a disapproving line.

I opened my mouth to say something but vertigo overtook me and the world was drowned out once more. There you are, a woman’s smooth voice whispered in my head, sending the words along the walls of my mind like a caress. Seductive and enticing, her voice was an invitation to come and present myself to her. My trembling wasn’t due to the blood loss. No, something buried deep inside of me wished to answer that ancient call. I’ve been searching for you. Dark talons brushed over my mental wards to pry my mind open and peer in. But where, oh where is he hiding you?

Moonlight washed over my hair, the braid now undone by the fighting. It soaked my pores and seemed to cleanse my skin from whatever hold that voice had over me. As if Ellowyn was looking me over and checking on me. My busy mind quieted again.

Then I remembered Aestor.

I blinked again, too aware of my shaky breaths and deeply confused by these intense visions I’d been having since returning from Erebus. My exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed me and it wasn’t only due to the fight I’d had. It took all my conscious effort not to give in and melt into Aestor’s hold.

“You’re mad at me,” I observed, my voice as weak as I felt.

“I’m not mad,” he replied while he focused on the deep cut across my side. “I’m worried. I know you value justice and that you’re intense. But this …”

“I was just …” I searched for the right words. “Overcome.”

“No, you weren’t,” he said, and the words hit hard because we both knew them to be true. “You were fully aware of what you were doing and you were enjoying it. I didn’t see Diana in this fight. Not a trace of you.” Aestor finally lifted his gaze to meet mine. “That is what worries me.”

Shame crashed through me with such aggression that I forgot how to speak.

“What the Hell got into you?” I looked up to see Aedlynn crouch down beside Aestor and look me over as if the answer to her question could be found on my blood-soaked frame. The obvious distance she put between us had my heart groan in my chest, as did the apprehensive look on her face.

My mouth opened and closed as I tried to find an excuse to defend my actions. Their reactions were justified, but hadn’t Bastian deserved it? Had I not executed justice for us all? “I just … I snapped.” I swallowed hard. “Everything he’s done and he … I stopped thinking. It was like what happened with Kallias and in … in Erebus.”

Aestor nodded slowly and when he reached out a hand to brush my matted hair away from my face, I could’ve wept. Even though my wounds had closed, he remained sitting with me and thoughtfully watched me as though he could see into my soul. “Maybe we should talk about that some more when things have quieted down. You’ve been through a lot.”

I managed a nod.

“Are you okay?” Aedlynn asked. “What you did was … a lot to process.”

I stared at her, deeply unnerved by her anguish and the parallels she’d drawn in her mind. I hadn’t just reminded her of her old self, but of Lorcán and what he’d done to her and Kaelena. “I’m sorry I scared you,” I whispered.

“You didn’t scare me, silly.” A lie. “I just worry about you. You rarely speak about Erebus, but I know you still have nightmares about everything that transpired there.”

I did. Nightmares, daydreams and visions. They came to me showing me everything and nothing, but mostly shadows of the man locked away in Erebus. Eyes and wings like my father, and a cunningness worthy of Antheia. He lived a cursed and isolated existence now, erased from history and memory alike. I had no idea what had befallen him, but I ached to excavate his past from the rubble there.

I wasn’t sure how to reply to Aedlynn, so instead, I glanced over at Aiden, who stood before Bastian’s mangled body. Cas was with him, but he didn’t care about the dead man lying there, blood still passively leaking out of his wounds, only about the ache in his brother’s heart. Aiden saw a fate that could’ve been his if he hadn’t turned away from his father.

“One thing at a time,” Aestor said to Aedlynn. “Let her rest first.” He looked over his shoulder, into the chattering crowd, and rose to stand. Then he met my gaze. “Eiran is here. He wanted to watch you write history. I’ll stall him so you have a moment to catch your breath.”

“Thank you.”

I watched him leave, all too aware of Aedlynn’s lingering attention. I almost flinched when she said, “So you’re Lady of Circederae now.”

I nodded, but was distracted by the sight of Aestor stopping my parents in the crowd to have a hushed conversation with them. Both looked equally distressed. Via shadows, I picked up snippets of their interaction. How Aestor assured them I was okay, that I’d reacted this way due to trauma. My heart sank further in my chest. I’d looked monstrous, hadn’t I? People who knew me well enough to recognise I was nothing like what I’d displayed during the fight were worried about me. I’d snapped and slipped up due to the strain of everything I’d been through in the past months. And I recognised the wary glances some of the other daemons cast me, so similar to looks and whispers I’d grown accustomed to in Orthalla. To them, I looked as feral as Bastian.

Suddenly, I couldn’t bear Aedlynn’s heavy look. The weight of her judgement.

“Excuse me,” I murmured before scrambling up, despite my limbs still feeling heavy. I needed to feed, but right now, the idea of leeching from someone to strengthen myself only greatened my guilt. I wasn’t certain if I fled to Aiden to check in on him or to prove something to myself, but I carefully laid my hand on his arm. “Hey.” To my relief, he didn’t flinch. “You okay?”

He nodded, but didn’t look at me. His stare was still fixed on Bastian’s broken corpse and his mind was alive with memories, the self-loathing when he looked in the mirror.

I laid my head on his shoulder. “You’re nothing like him, Aiden,” I whispered. “Nothing at all.”

Again, he slowly nodded. I watched his profile and could’ve sworn that the moonlight caressed his face. It lit up his eyes, painting them purest gold. Aiden, I realised as I studied him, had fought and bled for our people. He’d seen them fall, fallen with them and helped to rebuild. He knew the bitter aftertaste of moonsbane and bore scars of Stygian iron. He’d withstood Eiran, fought alongside Antheia. He’d played a role in every historical event, including Yael’s revolution.

That title was never meant to be mine.

I blurted out, “I want you to be Lord.”

At last, he looked over at me, utterly caught off guard. “What?”

“Our people like and trust you. They seek you out for guidance, for protection and just … because they like you. You’re a friend, an ally and a brother. You are what they deserve.”

“Diana, you killed him,” he argued. “You’ve earned—”

“I came here to punish his crimes and to rid our people of a tyrant Lord, which I did.” I was grinning, excited by my new idea. Instantly, I felt lighter. “I want to do right by our people. I want them safe and sound, well-protected and looked after. You can do that here. I can do that in Aeria.”

Aedlynn, who’d followed after me, began to smile and gave me an approving nod. Her worry had begun to dissipate, which removed some of the messy tangles in my own stomach.

“I’m no ruler.”

“Aloïs is a ruler. You are a leader, just like Faolán and Dáneiris are,” I countered. “I’ve seen you lead your men. You’re not afraid to go head-to-head with my father either, not when it matters. If you hadn’t done it again and again during the War, he would’ve killed my mother. You’re clever and humble, and you might not like politics but you have a warrior’s heart, and it beats for our people.”

“If we agree to this, I cannot be your Corusiar. I can’t be Lord as well as your protector; it would interfere with my duty to look over the circederae.”

“I’d rather have a good leader for our people.”

His gaze slipped to Bastian and I felt those dark thoughts infiltrate once more. Haunting reflections – how he’d never dared find a lover in Bastian’s shadows, scared his father would target them, or that one day he’d turn out to be just as twisted and cruel. He’d never felt worthy, but he was genuinely one of the kindest people I’d ever met.

My first friend.

A bit more aggressively than I’d meant to, I took his chin and forced him to look at me. “Stop that,” I ordered softly. My next words to him were as serious as he needed them to be. “You offered to be my sword and told me I can wield you however I like, because you trust me,” I said while holding his attention captive. “I will offer you the same. Let me be your sword. Should that recurring nightmare ever become real, should you ever fatally fall from grace, I’ll make your death quick and painless.”

One heartbeat.

Another.

Aiden held my gaze with just as much burning intensity. “On the Netha,” he murmured for only me to hear. A request. A plea.

I let go of his chin, but didn’t look away. “On the Netha,” I answered, and fought the shiver that slid down my spine as the thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Diana?” I looked over to see my parents standing a few feet away. Neither appeared excited by my win. They looked … spent. Eva’s cheeks were smeared with kohl. She was trembling while fidgeting with her rings. Aloïs had retracted his shadows, keeping his emotions and thoughts private from everyone, including me. But I didn’t see the same judgement in his eyes as I’d glimpsed in everyone else’s. Only dark surety.

One moment kept replaying in Eva’s mind: Bastian stabbing me to near-death.

Like Lorcán had done.

I was with them in an instant, wrapped up in Eva’s arms. “Don’t scare me like that again,” she murmured against my hair, not caring about the dried blood staining her clothes. She only pulled me closer. They weren’t taken aback by my violence, I realised, but by what could have happened if I hadn’t regained control over the situation.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into her shoulder.

Eva kissed my hair, fingers feathering my back and chest while her magic cleaned me up and mended my clothes. I let her hold me for as long as she needed to, let myself rest in her warm aura, and only stepped back when she let go to wipe the remaining grime from my face.

“Your fighting style is interesting,” my father murmured, and I only now realised he’d picked up Abraxas. He ran his fingers along the black blade as if inspecting whether it was still sharp enough. “It looks like you’re dancing, especially when you use Abraxas.”

“She fights like you do,” Eva said to him. “The moment either of you pick up a sword and enter a battlefield, the Æther draws back and watches.”

I stared at her, caught off guard by the bold statement. “Why do you think that?”

“I don’t just think that,” she said, looking away from my father to meet my gaze. “I know it. I felt it during the War, each time I watched Aloïs fight like he was a god, not of death but of killing, or whenever Antheia stepped onto the battlefield to make it rain blood. And now with you. When you rise, the universe goes quiet and holds its breath, and only when you step down does it dare exhale again.”

Perhaps it was childish, but I admitted, “I felt Ellowyn, like she was guiding and urging me on.”

Eva nodded, never taking her eyes away from me. As if she was clearly seeing something in me that she hadn’t seen before. At last, she looked to Aloïs. “Tell her what you told me.”

“You shouldn’t have survived your suppression,” he said, so quietly that it took me a moment to register the meaning of what he was implying. “Your shadows were locked away for twenty-four years. Your inkor was corrupted for just as long. You starved since birth but never drank any blood. All of that is already a death sentence for a daemon, but the emotional turmoil you went through … Without any sort of proper outlet, you should’ve gone mad. You shouldn’t have survived for as long as you did.”

“So why did I?”

“I believe Ellowyn has been watching over you. She’s been fighting to get you home.” A lump formed in my throat and some stray tears blurred my vision, which my father gently wiped away. “You are so loved, Diana,” he said softly. “Even the earth you walk upon sings your name.”

I had grieved the girl who worshipped the gods. Let go of the devotion that had kept me upright through my worst years when I’d only been able to crawl, and so kneeling came naturally to me. But I’d latched on to the belief that Ellowyn loved us, that we weren’t her mistakes but the creatures spun in her image. Nymphs to stir and guide her creations, and daemons to guard them. It was why my parents’ union was so celebrated among our peoples: the Sun and the Moon, united at last. It was why I was looked upon with curious stares and why I yearned to prove myself and reclaim our lands, our birthright. To give back what the gods took – and what had never belonged to them.

My soft smile was laced with dewy tears. “That’s what I want to do,” I whispered to him, not having to voice my dreams, since he could read them so easily in the varkradas that lay curled around my legs. “I know what it’s like to be suppressed, dádia. I want to set it all free – her magic and creatures, to let it flow like it ought to. Bring rebirth to the old ways of Avalon. And if the mortals or gods dare raise a weapon at innocence … I will dam