Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
I t wasn’t a surprise to discover the castle empty of the dead bodies I’d passed last night. But the lack of their presence wasn’t the only thing to change. Walls had been repaired, furniture righted and placed back where it had been. Floors which had been drenched with blood and torn limbs never looked cleaner. There wasn’t a single sign of the countless battles which had occurred during the Culling.
Perhaps Romy was right in her hunch. Maybe there was old magic here. It was the only way to explain the unexplainable.
We passed the Great Hall, noticing the bricks and doorway had been re-made. Inside, the room was set for breakfast. The inviting scents of cinnamon and golden syrup almost enticed me to change course. Unlike the night prior, there wasn’t a crowd of people inside. Small groups of three or four witches sat around a long table in clusters. They huddled over plates stacked with cooked bacon, toast, and bowls of pale sludge which could’ve only been porridge.
Heads snapped our way, witches eyeing us with caution. I didn’t recognise a single face, nor would I. But what we all shared was equal looks of pure exhaustion. Unless you’d had your head kicked in, I imagined not many people were afforded rest last night.
Only the dead slept soundly during the night of the first trial.
I followed Romy’s line of sight as she studied the chalkboard of names. Even since the last time I’d seen it, more names had been removed. Over half of what had been on there at the start.
First, I found Salem’s name and guilt reared its ugly head. After reading the beginning of Jonathan’s letter with Tomin, I couldn’t help but feel the need to speak to Salem again. Until I remembered what he’d done to the dying witch on the floor. Next, I found Arwyn’s name, then mine and Romy’s names. Jordan was still on the board, proving he had made it through the night. And Jaz.
How many of these people would I be forced to face? How many more would try and kill me?
And who was the Witch Hunter?
‘So he still lives,’ Romy said, her stomach growling in tandem with mine.
‘He does,’ I said, allowing her to draw me from the room. My stomach lurched in disappointment, but I promised myself I’d eat when we returned. ‘How many people do you think survived last night?’
‘Not even a fraction of those who came,’ Romy replied, wincing at the truth. ‘There was roughly three hundred and forty-two witches who put themselves forwards for the Witch Trials.’
‘Roughly? Sounds oddly specific.’
She scoffed, drawing me towards the northern part of the castle through winding corridors bathed in bright daylight. ‘I’m a sucker for numbers. I also take everything I do seriously. One thing Jonathan didn’t account for was me being prepared. I made sure I knew how many people were partaking, as well as studying those with Gifts that I believed could be a problem.’
It was the way Romy said it that made my mind land upon a single person. ‘It would suggest that Witch Hunters have sent a witch in then—otherwise finding the name of someone who wasn’t on your lists would be easy.’
‘Ding, ding.’ Romy’s steps faltered only for a moment. ‘Yes, like a witch who can turn any witch powerless with pain?’
‘You think the Witch Hunter could be Jaz?’
‘Who knows. She certainly is Jonathan’s favourite.’
‘Now we’re just fishing in the dark,’ I said. ‘Speculation leads to failure.’
‘No, Hector, it actually leads to caution, which we both need. The Witch Hunter could be anyone.’
‘Any other thoughts?’ I wondered if Romy would say Arwyn’s name, but she didn’t.
‘Jaz was one of two witches with similar powers, but Arwyn dealt with the other last night. There are witches here from elite families who’ve trained for this. We can imagine that if the acting Grand High is in Tomin Hopkin’s pocket, that isn’t stopping other influential witches from also working with him.’
‘But why?’ I asked, unable to grasp how we could want to work with the people who hunt us for sport.
‘Power and influence,’ Romy said. ‘Hopkin ensures the witch is the Grand High, whilst keeping them on a leash. It is a win-win for both parties.’
I couldn’t even begin to imagine what a Witch Hunter would want with our greatest source of power. Their goal had always been to eradicate magic, blaming it on demonic powers, and yet here their leader was, trying to get it all for himself.
‘I gathered as much.’ I had yet to tell Romy about what had happened last night after I left the library. Arwyn had filled so much of my mind, as had trying to find Romy, that my run in with Jaz hadn’t seemed important until now. ‘So we just kill everyone we don’t trust, or do we give them a chance to explain? Because I’m good with either option.’
‘I’m starting to figure out how your mind works,’ Romy added, side eyeing me. If her sharp brow didn’t raise into her hairline, I would’ve believed she was judging me. ‘Fight or flight are two normal reactions for a normal people. Except, you seem to only know one.’
‘Yes,’ I added, deadpan. ‘Survive.’
A bustle of noise caught my attention, as it did Romy’s. It came from ahead of us, the sound of dull thuds and grunting echoing across stone.
‘Either someone didn’t hear the bell toll and still thinks the Culling is in full swing, or’
‘Or someone is getting fucked,’ I finished.
‘Lucky them.’ A wicked smile crept across Romy’s mouth. Her arm hooked in mine a second before I was dragged in the direction of the noise. It was strange, to feel the touch of another so flippantly. I wasn’t complaining—obviously Romy wasn’t my type and I hardly imagined I was hers either. But the closeness, the—dare I admit it—friendship was rather comforting.
We reached the end of the corridor to find another doorway which led out to another corridor. The difference was this one stretched around a square courtyard in the centre. It was exposed to the outside. The only cover offered was from the leaning maple tree at the side of the courtyard. It coated the stone floor in red leaves, concealing the reaching roots that speared through the ground like petrified serpents.
Beside the tranquil beauty of the courtyard, it was who was in the centre of it that snatched all my focus.
‘I … holy hell take my soul ,’ Romy muttered from beside me, tugging me closer.
I didn’t voice it aloud, but I shared a similar sentiment. Except mine was slightly more explicit in more ways than one.
Arwyn fucking Morgan. Topless, for all the world to see. And by all, I mean the small crowd standing around the courtyard, clearly entranced by the same scene as we were. In the centre, circling one another, Arwyn sparred with another man. One I didn’t recognise, nor did I pay him too much care. It was the other that I couldn’t take my eyes off.
Topless, his sculptured chest and stomach rippling as he tensed, was Arwyn. Of fucking course it was. His trousers practically hung off his hips, dropping low enough to see a hint of boxer shorts above a perfectly sculpted V-shaped lines of muscles. They seemed to point down, like an arrow, practically screaming at me to look. His shoulders were certainly broader than his waist, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t completely stacked with muscles in every place I could see.
‘Do you think fighting without your clothes makes you better?’ Romy whispered into my ear, her tone humorous. I didn’t need to look at her to know she was grinning from ear to ear. She was likely entertained with my stunned silence and parted mouth. ‘Or do you think it’s to distract his opponent. Because consider me…distracted.’
Talking of his opponent, they sprang forwards like a cat before completely disappearing. I waited for the witch to reappear, but he didn’t. That was because he never actually went anywhere. The shifting leaves across the courtyard was proof of that. Arwyn noticed the detail at the same time I did.
His opponent was invisible.
Arwyn lifted his hands up which flashed with violent blue fire. It wasn’t to harm the other witch, but to blind him. A heavy thud followed by a groan confirmed he was successful. Arwyn reached down, hands no longer flaming, and grasped seemingly thin air. But where his hand touched, skin materialised.
‘Are you done yet?’ Arwyn growled at the witch he lifted off the floor. His raspy voice made my skin shiver. ‘Or do you want more?’
‘I want more,’ Romy answered the question that wasn’t even for her, ‘and I don’t even like men.’
‘Don’t be blinded by his ego, Romy,’ I replied. Arwyn must have heard me. Which was strange, because there was so much noise and his focus had been razor sharp until I spoke. Arwyn turned his attention from the witch, to me. Our gazes met across the courtyard so suddenly that the air was practically knocked from my lungs.
Our connection only broke when his opponent took advantage of Arwyn’s distraction and slammed his skull into Arwyn’s nose. Bone shattered and blood sprayed. I winced, almost feeling guilty for Arwyn’s own lack of focus. He stumbled back, dropping the witch, who turned completely invisible again. To Arwyn’s credit, he tried to right himself, but the damage was done. And he was fucking pissed about it.
His perfectly formed lips curled over perfectly straight teeth. Teeth which I guessed were also perfectly white when not coated in blood.
Unfortunately for the other witch, it took little time for Arwyn to regain control over the fight. Not but a minute later, Arwyn was straddling the witch, raining punches down into him. He was feral, blinded by the need to cause pain.
It should’ve scared me, but the feeling I harboured was opposite.
‘Tap. Out,’ Arwyn shouted between each slam of his fist.
Not a sound was made around the courtyard. Even Romy missed her chance to make some joke about wanting to ‘tap him’. Instead, we all watched as Arwyn kept attacking until, finally, the witch gasped out for it all to stop.
Arwyn pushed off him, rocking back a few steps. Two women walked into the courtyard and begun to help the beaten witch up. It was then I noticed how similar they all looked. Triplets, or at least siblings. And a coven no doubt, because no one else risked stepping close enough to Arwyn to help.
‘I think we’ve seen enough,’ I said, drawing my eyes off Arwyn for the first time since they’d found him. The lower half of his face was covered in blood, giving him the look of a beast having torn into a fresh kill.
‘Good idea,’ Romy replied, although I could tell she would’ve been happy to stand around and watch. She’d call it research, saying it was a way of studying our fellow contestants. But I knew the truth.
I barely turned my back on the courtyard when my name rang out across it.
‘Hector, don’t you want a go?’
Slowly, I turned back around to find Arwyn looking directly at me. His breathing was deep, making his powerful chest swell dramatically. Without taking his eyes off me, he took his t-shirt off the courtyard wall and cleared the blood from his face. It didn’t take away from the ominous way he studied me.
This…this was personal. If I hadn’t distracted him, his nose may not have been broken at the bridge. Shame that wasn’t my issue.
‘No thanks,’ I called back, aware of every set of eyes on me. ‘I’ve had a night full of sparring. I think a morning off is well deserved.’
Arwyn smiled deceptively. It was an infuriating grin that had the desired effect on me. One he clearly wanted. He was goading me, forcing me into a corner he already knew I would not get myself out of.
‘Oh come on, dance with me, Hector.’ Fuck my life. ‘Or perhaps you’re nervous you’ll expose yourself for having two left feet in front of all your adoring fans.’
Audible gasps sang out across my crowd of ‘adoring fans’. The sound wormed itself through myself control, enough that not another word was required for me to give in.
‘The choice is yours,’ Romy said beside me. Her faith in me to win was proving rather motivating.
‘You’ll heal me up again, right?’
‘Or him,’ she said, allowing me to pull free of her arm.
Yes, Arwyn was built like a mountain of muscle. But if anyone had seen the way I fought, it was Romy. She’d watched me take down three hunters—well two, because she’d finished the third.
Then, I’d had Caym to help. But that was a one-off. I didn’t survive all these years on my own for the likes of this arrogant witch to make me look like a fool.
I was not only proving myself to Arwyn and the crowd, but to myself.
I could do this. Last night was a fluke, four witches against one. This time, it was only me and Arwyn.
‘Would you like me to take my top off too?’ I asked, sauntering into the open space with my shoulders back. ‘Or would you also find that too much of a distraction?’
His smile faltered, broken nose twitching. ‘I don’t find you?—’
I swept my power out with a subtle flick of my finger. Arwyn’s legs were knocked out from beneath him. It was so sudden, so unexpected, that he didn’t even have a chance to put his hands out to stop him. He hit the ground on his side, groaning as the wind was banished from his lungs.
All I did was ready myself, bend my knees and flex my neck from side to side. ‘Clearly.’
I knew, from the look he gave me next, that this was yet another time my sarcasm would leave me with a few bruises. And I welcomed it.