Chapter 35
Kier had been wary about their direction, with how close to the barbaric southlands they were. Over the course of three days, Carwyn took them closer until they’d crossed the border.
The area was teeming with dragons. This was where most of them chose their lairs.
It was also where nomadic humans, often brutal and violent, had made their home.
They willingly warred with the country of Belsper if they crossed into its massive territory, multiple armies giving a blood-curdling roar of excitement.
They also fought against any witch that dared venture from the south, somehow keeping them at bay by sheer force and numbers alone.
Often leading them were dragons who had decided to take those humans in as pets, acting as chiefs to a pack and instigating the warring and bloodshed.
They were self-appointed guardians, who attempted to keep the witches from decimating the humans in the northern countries.
Dragons who had become untamed and barbaric in their bloodthirst.
Kier had never enjoyed meeting those battle-hardened warriors, even if they were of his own kind.
They will not care that I’m with her.
They would seek to destroy Carwyn simply for being a witch and in their lands.
Which was why he scowled at the small cottage situated in the middle of the forest. It sat near that terrible border, solid and pristine, as if it’d never been ransacked or invaded.
How a witch has managed to continue living in this region concerns me.
The wood-and-stone cottage appeared old, as if it’d stood there for decades, and he’d felt the magics surrounding it as they’d neared.
They continued to grate along his scales like prickling needles, trying to find a weak point to burrow.
A strong witch. One that has no stance in her leaning.
Such magic only came from wielding evil.
“Alright, here we are,” Carwyn stated, raising her hands to give him a platform so she could put him down. “I think it’s best if you stay outside.”
Kier leapt from her shoulder to land on the ground with a harsh thud and changed his form. When the fires of shifting dissipated, he stood as a human at his normal height, and naked.
He waved his hand down his body as he cast an illusion to clothe himself. “I will be entering with you,” he told her.
“No.” She pointed to the ground at her feet. “You’re to stay outside.”
He slid his eyes to her with a lethality that made even her shrink under its weight. “If you think I’ll permit you to go alone, then you know very little about me.”
His heart was unsettled by this.
By all of it.
He was angry that their journey had ended after a mere three days, and that he hadn’t managed to dissuade her.
He was annoyed that she didn’t deem his efforts to gain her trust sufficient.
He was fearful for her well-being in the presence of a witch who obviously had strong dark magic, and the idea of her facing it alone was abhorrent given his need to protect her.
“If you’re worried about her seeing my human face, don’t be,” he added, waving his hand up his body to gesture as he changed his appearance into a common facade he’d used in the past.
Carwyn chewed the corner of her lip. “No. You don’t need to do that. She lost her sight quite some time ago.” Then she squinted her eyes suspiciously at his glamour. “Why do I feel like I’ve seen that face before?”
He grinned, and it made his blue eyes crinkle at the sides. If they were real, the hairs of the red beard would be poking into his lips.
When she placed its familiarity, she put her hands on her hips. “In Coldbourne, you approached me.”
He’d been curious if he could use her, only to disregard her due to her white magic when he’d spotted the three dark wielders.
As was his nature around humans and other witches, he kept the glamour in place for his own peace of mind. “Carwyn, I refuse to argue with you on this.”
“Only if you promise not to interfere, no matter my choices or what is said.”
He tsked and stormed forward. “I won’t make a promise I cannot keep.”
“Kier!” she whisper-shouted, running after him.
She never grabbed him, and he peeked over his shoulder to see her hastily reaching into her bag to obtain her gloves. By the time she’d donned them and sprinted after him to stop him, it was too late. He bashed on the door with the side of his fist.
“Greetings, seer!” he yelled, just so she could hear that Carwyn wasn’t alone.
She came to his side with a very irritated glower, her lips tight with spite. But it forced her to accept his presence, especially when the door opened a moment later.
A woman wearing a white blouse with a brown overdress greeted them.
Straight silver hair that usually belonged to those well into their years was neatly brushed and freely flowed down her shoulders, yet her face had remarkably young features.
She greeted them with an expressionless oval face, her irises cloudy with white, her pupils a pale blue, and she blinked lazily towards his chest.
She really is blind.
Softly, she said, “Don’t you know it’s rude to wake a lady from her rest by bashing on her door like an ill-mannered oaf?”
Then with a slow, wry smile filling her rather beguiling face, she slammed the fucking door closed with a definitive boom.
His jaw dropped and his right eye twitched. A growl bubbled its way up his throat as he lifted his fist once more. Carwyn grabbed it with two gloved hands and shook her head.
“Don’t you dare,” she warned, yanking his arm down and then pointing a finger at his nose.
His upper lip twisted with disdain before he rolled his eyes and stepped back, making way for her. She slid in front of him to tap her knuckles gently against the distressed-timber door.
“Harietta,” she called, shoving sickly sweetness into her voice. “It’s me, Carwyn. You sent me a letter.”
The door flung open immediately, as if she’d been waiting behind it. “Carwyn,” she greeted with a light smile, her lips parted and flashing even white teeth. “Had I known it was you, I wouldn’t have slammed the door.”
“Yes, well...” she grumbled with a pout in her tone. “In your position, I likely would’ve done the same thing.”
Harietta’s grin deepened for a moment before it soured as she sightlessly stared between them. “I didn’t expect you to have company.”
“Is that an issue for you?” Kier bit out, eyeing her suspiciously.
She tilted her chin up at the source of his voice. “Not until you came knocking on my door like a barbarian. Be cautious of your brutality surrounding women alone in forests such as these.”
“I can ask him to stay outside,” Carwyn offered, surely knowing he’d never heed such a command.
“No, it’s fine.” She opened the door and stepped to the side to invite them in, her simple peasant dress fluttering around her ankles. “Come inside. Make yourselves comfortable.”
All manner of scents, strong and cloying, spilled from the doorway. Sage, rose, frankincense, and sandalwood were the strongest to fill his nostrils, but it did little to hide the pungent, decaying sweet note below it all.
He lowered his head slightly to cross the threshold of the small cottage.
The woman stood a little taller than Carwyn, but it was as if the house had been designed so that she would never need a stool to reach for any particular item.
A place that perfectly fit her, neatly organised with furniture filling it to the brim.
Every yellow-stained white curtain was open, allowing bright sunlight to flood the space within. It glinted off anything reflective, like multiple glass jars, a bronze chalice, and a silver vase empty of flowers, catching his attention before he turned away from the sparkles to look elsewhere.
The entrance area had a long oak table running along the wall until it reached a square dining table and three chairs.
A complicated kitchen hearth rested nearby with a wall of plants, crystals, and jars of no doubt questionable contents.
The area smelt foul with blood and evil witchcraft, and it seeped into his skin like a contagion, but even Kier noted the constant pleasant aroma of pure magics swirling with it.
A wall blocked off an additional area, likely a bedroom and a study. Resting against the partition was a bookshelf filled with more ingredients, some familiar to him, others not.
Harietta brushed her fingertips along the hallway table to guide herself to the dining table, but quickly dipped around it without touching it.
“About your letter–”
Harietta threw her hand up.
“I’m rather irritated after that greeting,” she stated firmly, approaching the hearth.
Her hands tapped against the wooden bench as she searched for a cloth on it.
She obtained it and wrapped it around the metal handle of a pot sitting over old coals still glowing with heat.
“I think some tea should settle our nerves before we talk. Please, sit.”
Carwyn sat in one of the available seats at the dining table. Then she nodded at the chair on the other side. When he didn’t do as clearly instructed, she widened her eyes with anger and jabbed her finger in the air at it, silent words falling from her lips.
Sit down this instant, he surmised.
A disgusted shudder ran through him the further inside he crept, the magics somehow growing stronger and crawling along his skin. They invaded his sensitive nose, clogging it until he could taste them in the back of his throat like acid.
Taking the seat across from Carwyn, he folded his arms for comfort, but he imagined he just appeared surly.
Harietta turned with a tray in both hands and took two calculated steps towards the table to place it down.
On it were three flower-patterned, porcelain teacups from a matching set.
She patted the rim of a cup and placed it in his direction, then another for Carwyn, and the last in front of herself.