Chapter 8
I had only been to the witch coven once before, and I often tried to forget the memory. It had been five years ago. I was twenty and desperate for my fae magic to manifest itself.
I had almost gotten myself and Mal killed in the process.
From that point onward, I vowed never to dabble in witch magic again. The risk was far too great.
My skin prickled with anticipation as I made my way downhill, trying to stifle the flow of memories that assaulted me from my last visit.
A blinding flash of green light. A pair of lifeless eyes staring at me. My body convulsing in pain. Mal’s wounded cries.
A lump formed in my throat, and I curled and uncurled my fingers into fists, using the motion to distract me from my anxiety.
When we reached the bottom of the hill, a trio of witches were waiting for us. I had no doubt they sensed our arrival from wards surrounding the encampment.
“We are here to see the sage,” I announced, lifting my chin to appear as regal as possible.
The witch in front, a dark-haired woman with a hooked nose, grunted in disbelief. “The sage does not see anyone unless she summons them. Intruders are not welcome on our holy ground.”
“I’m not an intruder. I’m a friend of Samiria’s.”
She offered a cold, cruel smile. “If you are a friend, then she will summon you when she deems your presence necessary.”
Rage and impatience warred within me. I drew my hands behind my back to hide my shaking fists. “Please,” I begged. “It’s urgent. Lives are at stake.”
“The only lives that matter to us are the lives of witches,” she said coldly.
“And what about the lives of dragons?” I challenged. “Do those matter to you?”
The three witches went perfectly still, their eyes shifting from me to Fennick and back again.
“There is an enchantment that has taken hold of the castle,” I went on. “If our enemies discover it, they will invade and seize the dragons.”
“Then bring them to us. We will protect them here.”
“I cannot,” I said. “They are bound to the nesting grounds in the forest surrounding the palace. Samiria understands this. Please let me speak with her.”
A second witch, with short white hair, stepped forward, her eyes steely. “We have not forgotten the last time you were here, my lady.”
My mouth went dry, and sweat coated my palms. My voice was rough as I said softly, “Nor have I. It is not an incident I intend to repeat. We will make this visit brief. I swear it.”
“And who is he?” asked the third witch, a shorter woman with flaming red hair. She gestured to Fennick, who stiffened beside me.
“He is my companion, here to assist me in breaking the enchantment,” I replied without even glancing his way. I hoped my casual dismissal of him would prevent the witches from scrutinizing him further.
The three witches glanced at one another, their eyes conveying hidden meaning. Given what I knew of their abilities, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were communicating with their minds.
After a moment, the hook-nosed witch nodded brusquely. “Very well. You may request an audience with the sage. But if she refuses you, you must leave.”
“I understand,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Follow me.” The witch turned on her heel and strode toward the mass of tents. The other two witches stepped aside to let us pass, but the white-haired one shot me a glare that told me she’d be watching closely to ensure I didn’t try anything foolish .
I felt Fennick’s eyes on me as we weaved through tents, following the dark-haired witch. I didn’t look at him, though. Instead, I focused on my breathing, trying not to allow the earthy clove smell to overwhelm my senses.
It smelled so familiar and brought with it a whirlwind of memories I’d tried so hard to forget.
Screams. Broken bodies strewn on the ground. My blood on fire. Mal’s shrieks of agony.
“What happened when you were last here?” Fennick murmured next to me.
“That’s not your concern,” I snapped, blinking rapidly to clear my head of the nauseating images that plagued me.
“It is if I’m your companion ,” Fennick pressed. “If my life is in danger by being here, I’d like to know.”
I whirled to face him, my nostrils flared and my eyes drilling into him. “It’s not. You are perfectly safe. When I was last here, I was curious and reckless and dabbled in spells I shouldn’t have. I assure you, I will not be doing it again.”
Before he could reply, I turned away, hastening to keep up with the witch’s brisk pace.
Though it had been years since my last visit, I still remembered Samiria’s large tent, the smell of rosemary wafting from the flaps. The dark-haired witch raised her hand to stop us before she ducked inside, leaving me alone with Fennick. Around us, several witches bustled about, casting us curious glances, and some outright glaring at Fennick, clearly dismayed by the presence of a man.
I crossed my arms and chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying to control my breathing.
It’s not like last time. It won’t happen again. You are safe. Everyone here is safe.
I closed my eyes. My heart was racing, thundering mercilessly against my ribcage. My bodice felt too tight, too restrictive. All around me, screams and cries echoed, results of the damage I’d caused.
“Aurelia.”
My eyes flew open, and I found Fennick standing before me, his jade eyes searching mine. His hands were on my shoulders, though I hadn’t felt or heard him approach. Startled by his nearness, a sudden rush of sensations slammed into me. The warmth of his fingers on my shoulders. His now familiar scent of pine and mint. The whispering breeze in the air, tickling my face.
I exhaled, long and slow.
“Aurelia,” Fennick said again, his voice a soft murmur. Belatedly, I realized he had never spoken my name before. It was always “Your Highness.” Though it was oddly intimate, I realized I needed to hear my name from his lips. It grounded me.
And perhaps he realized this, too.
“Move your feet,” he said.
I blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“Feel the earth beneath you. Plant yourself right here in this moment. You are here and now. Nowhere else.”
I swallowed hard, though my pulse still skittered. I shuffled my feet, the toes of my boots digging into the soft earth. Closing my eyes, I focused on the sensation. The smoothness of the soil. The soft scuffing sound of leather gliding along the dirt.
My breathing was shaky, but my pulse was slowing.
“You’re safe,” Fennick murmured. “There is no danger here.”
My eyes opened slowly, my lashes fluttering as I took in the concern etched into his face. Gods, why did he even care? Wouldn’t he rejoice if I spiraled into a chaotic fit and collapsed into a heap on the ground?
Shame and guilt coiled within my chest, making it hard to breathe for an entirely different reason. I’d been downright hostile to him, but none of this was his fault. Even after he swore on his own blood, I still had treated him poorly.
I had gotten along with him just fine in the forest when we danced. Perhaps I could try to see him as that handsome stranger in the woods instead of the prince of an enemy kingdom.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my cheeks heating. Mother was right; I behaved abhorrently toward other courtiers. And my sour attitude wasn’t helping anyone. “Please forgive me, Fennick. I should not be so cruel to you.”
Half his mouth quirked into a smile, his eyes brightening. “Think nothing of it, Your Highness. And please, call me Fenn.”
Warmth bloomed in my chest, and I nodded. “Very well, Fenn. And… you can call me Aurelia.”
His smile widened, and for a moment, he was nothing more than the charming man I’d danced with in the forest.
The tent flaps slid open, and I stepped away from Fenn, my face flushing as I wrung my hands together, suddenly flustered.
The dark-haired witch appraised us both with a sharp look. “The sage will see you now.”