I ignored the jab. “Volusian’s from the Yew Land. That’s where he was cursed. It happened a long time ago, but obviously, they’ve still got some pretty serious magic going on. Maybe he knows something.”
Jasmine leaned forward eagerly. “See? I knew you’d know how to fix this.”
“I don’t know about that. But at least it’ll give us a place to start.” I stood up and spoke the summoning words. That familiar, cold feeling spread throughout the room, though for once, it was easy to shrug off. After I’d trudged through that Arctic wasteland outside, Volusian’s aura felt pretty soft-core. Moments later, Volusian appeared. He inclined his head to me.
“Welcome back, mistress.”
Around me, the others shifted uncomfortably. Roland had disapproved of Volusian since the beginning, and for once, he and the gentry agreed on something. None of them liked Volusian either. Dorian had even offered to help me banish him, since the curse was too much for one person to break.
I sat back down. “Volusian, we need to talk to you about the Yew Land.”
Volusian’s expression remained unchanged, but like before, I got the vibe that his former homeland was nothing he wanted to discuss. “Yes, mistress.”
“Is the Yew Land responsible for the blight?”
A pause. Then: “Most certainly, mistress.”
The others exchanged surprised looks. I shared the sentiment. With Volusian, such a direct answer was rare. Even though he was compelled to obey me, he excelled at finding ways to evade the truth.
“That’s not quite the same as ‘yes,’” I pointed out.
“Indeed,” Volusian agreed. “I have not been to the Yew Land in centuries. I have not spoken to Queen Varia. I have seen no spells cast. Without that, I cannot say, ‘Yes, they caused it.’ This magic that’s blighted these lands feels exactly the same as the sorts of spells the Yew people work. It is possible someone else has learned their magic—but unlikely. Hence my answer: most certainly.”
“Fair enough,” I said. Volusian-logic was wearying sometimes. “I don’t suppose then that you know how to break the enchantment.”
Volusian’s tone remained flat. “Of course I do, mistress. I have known for some time.”
I nearly jumped out of my chair. Rurik actually did.
“What?” I cried. “Why the hell didn’t you tell someone sooner?”
I couldn’t be certain, but I thought I saw the tiniest shrug of Volusian’s shoulder.
“Because, mistress,” he said. “You never asked.”
Chapter 13
“God. Damn. It.”
It was one of those times—and believe me, there’d been many—when I wished I really could just blast Volusian into the Underworld. Usually those times also just happened to be when I desperately needed him. This was no exception.
I saw anger and disbelief kindling on the others’ faces. I knew how they felt and had to remember that this was typical Volusian operating procedure. By the terms of his servitude, he really hadn’t done anything wrong. Although I often asked him to give me a heads-up on useful information, he was under no obligation to deliver news I didn’t explicitly ask for. In fact, if I had a standing order for him to tell me “anything important,” I was pretty sure he would talk my ear off nonstop, just out of spite. His hatred for me and the Yew Land must have put him in quite the bind here. Who should he inconvenience the most?
I gritted my teeth. “All right, Volusian. Tell us about the enchantment.”
“The spell originated in the Yew Land,” he said. “Obviously. And that’s where it’s maintained from. I am not familiar with Queen Varia, but I find it unlikely she alone is working magic of this magnitude. Most likely, it is the collaboration of many who have pooled their powers together to establish the enchantment. Even then, a group of magic users could not maintain a spell so vast for so long. There is most certainly a physical component tied into this magic, objects that allow the Yew Land magic users to connect to the afflicted lands.”
I didn’t entirely follow that last part, but understanding filled some of the others’ faces. “We already thought of that,” said Dorian. “We destroyed all those ghastly statues the ambassador left behind. It had no effect on the blight.”
I’d nearly forgotten about those tacky green and white monstrosities that had been gifted to all of us. Looking back with the power of hindsight, I could see now how those sculptures would absolutely be perfect Trojan horses. Varia could have infused them with magic that maintained the blight spell, and then we’d unknowingly keep them on hand, ignorantly obeying the rules of etiquette. It was the perfect explanation—except that Dorian’s words completely contradicted it.
“Because those are not the objects tied to the spell, Oak King,” said Volusian. “This type of enchantment required much planning, and Varia and her conspirators would hardly leave the critical components around at your disposal.”
“Then what are they?” demanded Rurik.
“The other gifts,” I murmured. I remembered when Ilania the ambassador had given me the statues, one for each kingdom, and how she’d said she looked forward to seeing what we gave back in return. Needing to match her kingdom’s custom, I’d given haphazard orders to send some token back with her. I’d never followed up. I had no idea what my people had given to her. “Ilania made the rounds in all our kingdoms, distributing her crappy art, which then obligated all of us to give her something back.” I turned to Shaya. “We sent her with something, right?”
Shaya’s eyes were thoughtful. “Yes. We gave her a very rare vase from the Rowan castle’s original art collection. Later, she said that she would also like to take back something representative of the Thorn Land, no matter how small, so I made arrangements for that. She was very insistent it be from that land. I believe it was some sort of copper plate, but I can find out for sure.”
“No need,” I said. “What matters is that we gave her something. And you did too, right?” That was to Dorian. He shrugged.
“Perhaps. I don’t pay attention to such trifles.”
I repressed an eye roll. Dorian might not keep up on his household’s day-to-day affairs, but I had no doubt some wily servant had made sure the rules of etiquette were followed on his liege’s behalf. And, in fact, I was willing to bet every monarch in the blighted kingdoms had followed suit.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” I asked Volusian. Everything was starting to fall together. “All the gifts we willingly gave are what are being used to maintain the Yew Land’s spell. They’re tied to our kingdoms and were given freely. The ‘freely’ part must be crucial. Otherwise, she would’ve just stolen random things. The gifts provide a physical connection to us that the magic’s being worked through, allowing the blight to continue so long as she possesses those objects.”
“That would be my assumption, mistress.”
“And they’ve probably got those objects under lock and key.”
“Another valid assumption, mistress.”
“Would destroying these objects break the enchantment?” I asked.
“Of course,” said Volusian. “With no tangible tie to your lands, the Yew magic users would have no way to maintain the enchantment over such a long distance.”
Remembering that there was always the potential for information that Volusian wasn’t readily providing, I racked my brain for other pertinent details. “Is there any other way to break the enchantment?”
“You could kill or incapacitate the magic users.” There was something about the way he said “incapacitate” that made it sound worse than killing. “However, destroying the talismans are most likely the simplest solution. They would all be kept in one place. The magic users can be scattered at any given time, and it is unclear how many are needed for the spell. If Varia has planned well, she will have more on hand than she actually needs, should something happen to one or two of them.”