She stared at Manon, then at Asterin and Sorrel. “You said they were to be … implanted.”

“Yes,” Manon said.

“Did you know how many times?”

“What?” Asterin breathed.

“Did you know,” Elide said, her voice uneven with rage or fear, “how many times they were each to be implanted with offspring before they were let go?”

Everything went quiet in Manon’s head. “Go on.”

Elide’s face was white as death, making her freckles look like dried, splattered blood. “From what I saw, they’ve delivered at least one baby each. And are already about to give birth to another.”

“That’s impossible,” Sorrel said.

“The witchlings?” Asterin breathed.

Elide really did vomit again this time.

When she was done, Manon mastered herself enough to say, “Tell me about the witchlings.”

“They are not witchlings. They are not babies,” Elide spat, covering her face with her hands as if to rip out her eyes. “They are creatures. They are demons. Their skin is like black diamond, and they—they have these snouts, with teeth. Fangs. Already, they have fangs. And not like yours.” She lowered her hands. “They have teeth of black stone. There is nothing of you in them.”

If Sorrel and Asterin were horrified, they showed nothing.

“What of the Yellowlegs?” Manon demanded.

“They have them chained to tables. Altars. And they were sobbing. They were begging the man to let them go. But they’re … they’re so close to giving birth. And then I ran. I ran from there as fast as I could, and … oh, gods. Oh, gods.” Elide began weeping.

Slowly, slowly Manon turned to her Second and Third.

Sorrel was pale, her eyes raging.

But Asterin met Manon’s gaze—met it with a fury that Manon had never seen directed at her. “You let them do this.”

Manon’s nails flicked out. “These are my orders. This is our task.”

“It is an abomination!” Asterin shouted.

Elide paused her weeping. And backed away to the safety of the fireplace.

Then there were tears—tears—in Asterin’s eyes.

Manon snarled. “Has your heart softened?” The voice might as well have been her grandmother’s. “Do you have no stomach for—”

“You let them do this!” Asterin bellowed.

Sorrel got right into Asterin’s face. “Stand down.”

Asterin shoved Sorrel away so violently that Manon’s Second went crashing into the dresser. Before Sorrel could recover, Asterin was inches from Manon.

“You gave him those witches. You gave him witches!”

Manon lashed out, her hand wrapping around Asterin’s throat. But Asterin gripped her arm, digging in her iron nails so hard that blood ran.

For a moment, Manon’s blood dripping on the floor was the only sound.

Asterin’s life should have been forfeited for drawing blood from the heir.

Light glinted off Sorrel’s dagger as she approached, ready to tear it into Asterin’s spine if Manon gave the order. Manon could have sworn Sorrel’s hand wobbled slightly.

Manon met Asterin’s gold-flecked black eyes. “You do not question. You do not demand. You are no longer Third. Vesta will replace you. You—”

A harsh, broken laugh. “You’re not going to do anything about it, are you? You’re not going to free them. You’re not going to fight for them. For us. Because what would Grandmother say? Why hasn’t she answered your letters, Manon? How many have you sent now?” Asterin’s iron nails dug in harder, shredding flesh. Manon embraced the pain.

“Tomorrow morning at breakfast, you will receive your punishment,” Manon hissed, and shoved her Third away, sending Asterin staggering toward the door. Manon let her bloodied arm hang at her side. She’d need to bind it up soon. The blood—on her palm, on her fingers—felt so familiar …

“If you try to free them, if you do anything stupid, Asterin Blackbeak,” Manon went on, “the next punishment you’ll receive will be your own execution.”

Asterin let out another joyless laugh. “You would not have disobeyed even if it had been Blackbeaks down there, would you? Loyalty, obedience, brutality—that is what you are.”

“Leave while you can still walk,” Sorrel said softly.

Asterin whirled toward the Second, and something like hurt flashed across her face.

Manon blinked. Those feelings …

Asterin turned on her heel and left, slamming the door behind her.

Elide had managed to clear her head by the time she offered to clean and bandage Manon’s arm.

What she’d seen today, both in this room and in that chamber below …

You let them do this. She didn’t blame Asterin for it, even if it had shocked her to see the witch lose control so completely. She had never seen any of them react with anything but cool amusement, indifference, or raging bloodlust.

Manon hadn’t said a word since she’d ordered Sorrel away, to follow Asterin and keep her from doing something profoundly stupid.

As if saving those Yellowlegs witches might be foolish. As if that sort of mercy was reckless.

Manon was staring at nothing as Elide finished applying the salve and reached for the bandages. The puncture wounds were deep, but not bad enough to warrant stiches. “Is your broken kingdom worth it?” Elide dared to ask.

Those burnt-gold eyes shifted toward the darkened window.

“I do not expect a human to understand what it is like to be an immortal with no homeland. To be cursed with eternal exile.” Cold, distant words.

Elide said, “My kingdom was conquered by the King of Adarlan, and everyone I loved was executed. My father’s lands and my title were stolen from me by my uncle, and my best chance of safety now lies in sailing to the other end of the world. I understand what it is like to wish—to hope.”

“It is not hope. It is survival.”

Elide gently rolled a bandage around the witch’s forearm. “It is hope for your homeland that guides you, that makes you obey.”

“And what of your future? For all your talk of hope, you seem resigned to fleeing. Why not return to your kingdom—to fight?”

Perhaps the horror she’d witnessed today gave her the courage to say, “Ten years ago, my parents were murdered. My father was executed on a butchering block in front of thousands. But my mother … My mother died defending Aelin Galathynius, the heir to the throne of Terrasen. She bought Aelin time to run. They followed Aelin’s tracks to the frozen river, where they said she must have fallen in and drowned.

“But you see, Aelin had fire magic. She could have survived the cold. And Aelin … Aelin never really liked me or played with me because I was so shy, but … I never believed them when they said she was dead. Every day since then, I’ve told myself that she got away, and that she’s still out there, biding her time. Growing up, growing strong, so that she might one day come to save Terrasen. And you are my enemy—because if she returns, she will fight you.

“But for ten years, until I came here, I endured Vernon because of her. Because of the hope that she got away, and my mother’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain. I thought that one day, Aelin would come to save me—would remember I existed and rescue me from that tower.” There it was, her great secret, which she had never dared tell anyone, even her nursemaid. “Even though … even though she never came, even though I’m here now, I can’t let go of that. And I think that is why you obey. Because you have been hoping every day of your miserable, hideous life that you’ll get to go home.”