Chapter 42 Ditch
Ditch
Twenty days till the Hunter’s Moon
A knock on the door.
Fantastic. Meek Meera had returned again—no doubt hovering with her information binders and worries. For a week, the mousy witch had tried to corner her for an audience, but Ditch had been plotting Witchwood defenses.
She intended to contain certain Craigdúr wolves in their cages, but she’d also devised gruesomely fun traps for any who thought to aggress her.
The Hunter’s Moon promised so much pleasure but would bring such pain to those who didn’t behave.
The wolves weren’t her only concern. Though Bloodreach’s royal vampires might be neutered, two demon kings still loomed, reigning over their unruly denizens with baffling efficiency.
She didn’t yet know what they wanted. Or the shifters. Or, gods forbid, the Furies. She’d heard that a bulging nest of them was located on the outskirts of Valhalland. What if those flying she-avengers woke from hibernation and targeted Ditch for past misdeeds?
She had also been keeping herself busy, so she didn’t dwell on Thane’s remarkable self-restraint. He hadn’t even considered surrendering his throne for her, had basically said, “Yeah, no.” Or, in his case, “Aye, nay.”
Ditch understood Thane’s reasoning, but she’d thought she’d made more of an irresistible impression on him. Her tail flicked, sparking.
Am I losing my touch? Even a female as superlative as Ditch could feel disposable after having once been disposed of so thoroughly as a pup.
Another knock, more insistent.
Might as well get this over with. And Ditch was curious how much food they had. “Come in.”
Meera shuffled in, looking wounded. “When you went missing a week ago, I scried for you and found you in the Helter. Um, could you perhaps let me know when you leave the territory for something deadly?”
Ditch blinked at her. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m, uh, second-in-command.”
“You?” Laugh. “And not Rosewyn the Banehand? How strange.”
Meera’s mouth tightened. “I’m responsible for maintaining governance until the House sends a replacement high priestess.”
Another laugh. “No one else is taking my position. And you should never count me out unless my head is next to my body. And even then, don’t. Just. Don’t. Do it.”
Meera swallowed. “O-okay. Um, in the overview binder I made for you, I outlined the many, many reasons why the Helter is dangerous. Will you please tell me why you journeyed to the land of the undead? A quarantine zone?”
“No.” Ditch waved her off. “Now why are you here?”
Meera pursed her lips. “We’ve completed the audit of our food stores. It’s…dire. Conjuring can’t produce enough food to replace what the process demands. We must have supplemental sources.”
“Your binder also indicated that Umber grows food. You have my leave to contract with them.” And bother me no more. Her mind drifted—straight to Thane. What would his next move be? Why had he respected her boundaries so perfectly this week? Not a scroll. Not a message. Nothing.
What’s he plotting? And why do I keep replaying our night together? Why do I sleep curled up with his coat?
Meera lingered, saying, “Conjuring gold to pay for food creates a similar problem for us. Conjurers will expend more calories than we can buy.”
“Suggestions?”
“Uh, I’m working on it.”
“Then my suggestion: next time, come to me with fewer problems and more solutions.”
Meera flinched at her tone. “Yes. Of course. I’ll return as soon as possible.”
“There is something else,” Ditch said. “You must have heard that fate has selected me to be King Thane’s mate.”
Meera shuffled in her flats. “I had heard, yes.”
“He was caged on Mount Nothrior for the last moon. That won’t work this time.”
“Why not?”
“Because another party has booked that popular venue. I plan to send Craigdúr containment spells for the cages of Straegan and Thane. I’ll add a little beast dampener for Thane.” Wouldn’t do any good for Straegan. She had no spell to put that beast back in the barn.
“We can’t underestimate the strength their ancient ages will bring them. Those spells would need more fuel than we have on tap. We’re nearly drained.”
“After your news about our food, I figured. So I will be fueling them.”
Meera blinked. “You’d pit your personal reserves against two male Lykae in their prime—remotely?
” Her analytical mind was clearly working out all the angles.
“I’ve read accounts of wolves too strong for even a pack to subdue.
I believe Thane might be one, especially if he’s never claimed you.
He has the age, and his beast will be rabid to mark you with its fangs. ”
Titillating. Would the creature mind if Ditch bit back?
She’d seen glimpses of Thane’s beast and thought it could handle every demonic inch of herself. A match made in hells…
But when given a stark choice, Thane had chosen his pack over her.
Her claws rapped the desk, puncturing little crescent moons into the wood.
“You don’t think your high priestess can handle two pups?
” She sniffed with an aggrieved tone, and her tail drooped dramatically. “I’m more than a pretty face, Molly.”
“If you faltered or if the spell wasn’t perfection, you’d be compromised. He might still escape, and then you’d have no recourse.”
Except for my traps. And my innate defenses. Her tail perked up, all but a salute for active duty. “Then I’d better not falter. Prepare two spells. Once I put my blood signature on them, we’ll courier them to Thane. No rush. I want to keep him in suspense. Now why are you still here?”
The witch all but darted from the room, making Ditch roll her eyes.
Remembering to make an effort at kindness, she called after Meera, “You still look tired.”
***
Meera
She took the long way home to her toadstool. The waning moon lit the narrow path, coaxing night creatures to frolic in the shadows.
She both craved and dreaded Lowell’s visit tonight after a week apart. She could already picture his handsome face brightening at the sight of her—only to shutter when she confronted him about hiding the identity of Thane’s mate. Meera had waited days to tell him off!
Unless…the king had kept it secret even from him?
Pitiful Meera. Grasping at straws.
She still reeled over Thane’s fated connection to Ditch. Unlike Rosewyn, Meera didn’t believe their leader would ever surrender to the king.
More likely, Ditch had simply changed the rules of combat. Meera could practically hear the demon-witch saying dryly, Yes, young witch, I call it fuck-fighting. We body each other, and orgasms are the spoils.
Meera sighed and tugged at the waistband of her skirt as she walked. The top button pinched. Her sensible flats pinched. Everything pinched. She wanted nothing more than to curl up with Nettle, finish their leftover pie, and order a larger wardrobe from Umber.
But she needed to conserve rations. And solve the coven’s food crisis. And figure out how witches could earn gold without selling their souls—or their dignity. Once, witches had been proud mercenaries. Today’s Skein witches acted scandalized by the idea.
She neared her beloved toadstool at last and fished out her key…but the door opened before she touched the lock.
Lowell.
“How did you get in here?”
Damn him—his face did light up at the sight of her. “Your witchly lock surrendered to my wolven claw. Endless metaphors there.”
Meera wasn’t having it. “Don’t ever break into my home again.” She kicked off her flats and mutinously unfastened that cursed waistband button.
He lounged against the wall, looking tall and strong and confident. “Very well. Next time I’ll loiter outside for all your neighbors to see.”
There wouldn’t be a next time. “What happened to your face?” Three parallel scratches ran down his cheek, already regenerating.
“Nettle took exception to my presence, clawed me, then bolted to the attic. Your wee pussy is pouting over me.” Sly grin.
“Why are you here?”
“I wrote you I would be. Missed you, lass.” He stepped forward to kiss her, but she didn’t respond. “What’s wrong?”
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
He straightened. “That I’m no’ a fan of self-incrimination?”
“You knew all along that Ditch was Thane’s mate.”
“Aye.” Lowell exhaled slowly, as if he’d been waiting for this. “’Twas no’ my secret to tell.”
“I brought up this very possibility, and you brushed it off like a hypothetical.”
“I did. I have a duty to my king.”
Simmering all week, her power flared. “Was it your duty to seduce his mate’s assistant?”
“As I’ve told you, I was attracted to you before I knew of Thane’s connection to your boss. Did you no’ notice my interest?”
She could almost believe him. Almost. “Well, it doesn’t matter. This is getting way too deep, and we both agreed not to embark on anything.”
“We did no’ both agree. Nor would I, witch.”
The moon’s light stole in through cracks in the curtains.
Outside, a breeze blew, and a spider skittered through her garden, spinning webs she’d need to trim tomorrow.
She was just tired enough to say, “I wondered if you might show up here on the night of the full moon. With your beast risen. I imagined your breaths coming rough, your eyes glowing blue, your fangs bared to claim me.” She’d prayed to Hecate for exactly such a scenario, aching for it.
He raked a hand through his hair. “I wondered too. Even though I’ve never felt the moon’s pull like that.”
“It would just be so much easier if I was your mate.” Resentment tangled with grief. Nothing could change fate.
Voice gone hoarse, he said, “I wish to the gods you were.”
His declaring these feelings for her made Meera queasy. She had to make him see. “You feel this way because…because I’ve enthralled you.”
He huffed a laugh. “Aye. No shite.”