Chapter 4
Max
Dropping back into the clearing, I duck behind a few boulders, shoving shaking hands behind my charred nightgown. Burnt hair and charred flesh floats through the air. Nausea surges up my throat and I battle back the urge to vomit.
This is too familiar. The smells, the noises, everything comes crashing into me as I hold on to my sword and try not to get swept away by fear.
My magic hisses like a serpent, ready to attack someone to offset my panic, but I can’t let it. I need to focus. I need to help—to save as many Witches as I can.
Just because they don’t like me, doesn’t mean they should die here.
Shouts erupt beside me, and I push myself to breathe, lurching forward to the smoldering hut. Smoke flares from the walls and the roof has caved in. Risking a glance, I edge around the corner and sweep my gaze over the entire village.
Figures run by, raiders impaling innocents along the fences, yells of glee and malice thick in the air.
My stomach churns as I search for Tay.
My ears ache as the hearts pound into my senses, so loudly, I don’t hear the one that comes up behind me. I curse as my feet are jerked out, my knees slamming into the grass. A rock cuts into my chin, and the sword flies out of my hand, into the brush.
Flipping over, I glare up into the masked face of another raider.
Twin orbs of floating ice shine out from the black cloth, cheeks pulling taunt as he smiles.
“What do we have here?” He wraps my dark strands around his fist, yanking me upward. “Such a pretty little thing. You’ll fetch a good price at the docks.”
Heart hammering, I snarl, sweat breaking out over my spine. The docks is where Humans sell females for servitude or sex for a lucrative profit. Witches outlawed it centuries ago.
I refuse to be sold.
Kicking out, I succeed with my heel catching his soft groin and he curses, dropping me. It’s a brief reprieve as I stumble to my feet before he grabs my shoulders, hauling me into the air again.
I’m tiny compared to him, dangling limply like a doll, toes scratching burnt grass.
Glaring, I spit defiantly into his face, refusing to cower. It’s a weak hit, barely hitting his cheek but it’s something.
He just laughs at me. “You’ve got some fight in you, I’ll give you that. I’m sure I could find a buyer interested in you.” He shakes me. “In Seti’s Hell, I might even keep you for me. You’re someone I’d enjoy breaking.”
Gagging, I swing my feet to hit him again, but he slides away. Cursing him loudly and my inability to land a hit, I inhale, mind spinning. If I don’t do something, I’ll be stuck, forced on my knees for men I don’t want.
A trail of blood drips down his throat, pooling into his collar and my eyes fasten to it.
Gods, I don’t want to do it, but the only way out of this is to listen to that blood call, give into that wicked power that thrashes inside my veins. If I want to live, to survive, I’ll need to rely on the magic everyone despises.
It’s an easy choice: let him break me, or use the magic I was given.
Fingers tense at my side and I coax them to move, to bend and find the blood that surrounds his heart.
I let my magic control my movements, finding his heart and attack. The blood pools, slows, tightens around his heart like a noose until I feel it stutter and hear the drum skip.
The raider sputters, eyes bulging slightly as my magic strangles his heart and he drops me. Sitting on my knees, dress pooling around my thigh, I keep my eyes on his chest. He sways, body following my fingers before I close my fist.
The pop rings in my ears as he drops, and relief washes over me in heavy waves, but it’s staunched as I look up.
Tay stands there, sword at his side, eyes wide. There is no relief in his gaze, just cold, hard fear as he looks to my fingers, tips red.
There’s a pause, the sounds of swords clashing between us before he grabs my arm, hauling me to my unsteady feet. His touch doesn’t linger, too afraid of my magic.
Face grim, he says, “Let’s go.”
By the time day breaks over the tops of the forest, the ground is smoking, huts are burned and I’m covered in ash, bleeding into my wrecked night shirt as I lean against a singed boulder.
Beside me, Nafre is speaking to the Coven elders with Tay, brows furrowed and conversation heated. No one is thrilled with how the Coven faired, everyone is worried about their wards and even more are mad at my involvement.
War has come to our doorsteps, but they’re still worried about the blood summoner in their inner circle.
I stand by Cully, Tay’s intended, as he tends to a few of the remaining villagers. He’s a skilled healer, though he doesn’t possess the powers that Taylay has; no one else has Tay’s magic. It’s a rarity.
Cuthbert is a sweet, lanky man, with twinkling dark stormy eyes, and a kind disposition. He tried to heal me earlier, but I refused, making him focus on the Witches. Can’t have him giving me special treatment when they already don’t trust me.
Inspecting my arm, I faired better than most—a few cuts, the stabbing to my shoulder, the gash on my hip and a hard bump to my skull when a solider used their hilt to subdue me. It didn’t work, but I’ve been fighting off the headache, double vision—and my magic—ever since.
Shifting, a few elders glaring at me, and I tug my hair to cover my scar. They hate the reminder of what brought me here. It’s a bad omen.
“We’ll need to house who we can,” Nafre directs, gesturing to her home.
The stone cottage is large, grand for the Coven but simple for the Matriarch.
It sustained minimal damage. “We’ll take in the elderly or the injured.
The rest, we’ll set up a small camp around our home to act as a barrier. Guards are preparing tents.”
With faulty wards, the Coven is vulnerable. I’m not the only one afraid.
“We’ll need supplies,” Tay says, arms crossed over his broad chest, shirt nothing but rags. Blood and dirt cover him, but he doesn’t have any injuries. “I’ll make a list of essentials and send out the call. The sister Covens should heed us if we request it.”
Nafre sighs. “If they will.”
“What of the Human villages?”A matron rubs her frail hands. “A few should be willing to cooperate.”
“In exchange for what?” Tay asks, displeasure marring his dark face, fist clenching.
Too little sleep and too much worry has made him uncharacteristically short-tempered.
“The Humans will not help us without compensation. And if you haven’t checked, all of our medicinal herbs are burnt along with most of our coin. ”
“Then water,” a patron answers, voice rough from the flames. “Humans will want our water in exchange for supplies. We could use the hands, food, shelter. Seti’s Hell, even the protection now that our wards are failing.”
Nafre shakes her head tiredly. “I will not allow water to go into the hands of Humans. Not when we might need it most.” She meets the eyes of every elder for a brief moment, willing them to understand.
“We know how they operate. They are greedy. If they think they can have water, our only resource, they will try to overpower us. And we are already too weak to defend against another attack.”
“Then what?”
“Then we rely on our Coven blood.” Tay nods once, staring at the matron directly, as he continues, “Covens are required to help when requested by law. We might be the biggest Coven, but the others need us for trade as well. They’ll help if it helps themselves.”
A patron glares at me, nose in the air. “And what of her?”
“What of her?” Tay asks, eyes narrowed. I stay still, wishing I had my cloak to hide within.
“Should she be here?”
“She is allowed here, because I say so,” Nafre defends, walking to my side. “Anyone else have a comment to say?”
Thankfully, the elders keep quiet. But their looks are displeased.
At least no one mentioned my magic, or the soldiers I killed. I’m still trying to digest how easily my magic was able to do it, how ferocious it felt, like a beast devouring all the life it could find.
I didn’t want to appear like a monster, but maybe the Witches saw something I didn’t. My magic is evil.
A few guards run up to Nafre, their dark purple tunics and copper-colored embellishments making them stand out against the soot and falling debris. Their alarmed faces catch my attention, hair on the back of my neck standing on edge.
“A missive, Matriarch,” one guard says, handing over a crumpled piece of burnt parchment.
Her white brows furrow, mouth frowning. “Did this just come?”
The guard who spoke nods. “It did. Once the raiders were gone, a scout appeared. He was on his way to us.”
Shifting, she unrolls it and scans the letter. Her bottom lip puckers, a trait she does when something vexes her. “It’s from King Griffin.”
“The Lone Human King?” I blurt out, mind hazy. The elders spare me a reproachful look, but Nafre nods.
“He’s asking for us to attend a peace summit. To band together and combat the Crimson Army.”
“Convenient,” Tay remarks dryly. Grey eyes narrow on the parchment over Nafre’s shoulder. “Only after we’re attacked, do we receive this summons. Where were they last winter when the storm destroyed our storehouse? Where were they when the livestock fell ill? It could be a trap.”
“Or Gods’ Will,” Cully says brightly. My body aches but I can’t help but smile at his upbeat personality. “Perhaps this is a sign? Pointing us in the right direction. Maybe for good things to come?”
Tay shakes his head, smiling despite the deep exhaustion lining his face.
Gods’ Will is a myth, with most believing things happened because the Gods were directing you toward where you were needed most. Fate. Divine intervention. Whatever you called it, that’s what it was.
If that were the case, I don’t think it would have directed me into the blade of a Crimson soldier at ten.
“Even if it were,” Nafre smoothly interrupts, “we can’t afford to lose anyone to attend. We have to rebuild.”
She’s not wrong. It’ll take every set of hands to help clean up the mess and rebuild the village. That’s if the sister Covens can spare any resources to help.
Times are tough for the Covens. Trade is limited, demand low as the Humans hinder our growth. Only the Blackwoods Coven has a steady income due to the water we use in our potions.
If we had magic, things might be different. But it’s an old myth that magic once ran through our world. Now, Tay and I were oddities.
Taylay hums, fingers tapping on his pants in thought. “I can go.” He shrugs, as his sister glares. “Think about it. I’m not needed to lead, and we only need a small party to attend. The sister Covens will help secure our borders while we rebuild if requested.”
“That’s if they heed the call.” That’s a big if. “My need, as Matriarch, is to have you here.” She points to the scorched dirt for emphasis. “Helping me care for our people. Rebuilding our home. That is your duty.”
“This is a way to help us care for our people, Nafre.” He smiles gently. “If it’s truly a peace summit, it’ll be a great way to gather more help for our village. If it’s a trap, they’ll only have me.” He doesn’t have to say why this is a good thing.
If they take him, Nafre will still rule.
The siblings stare at each other, neither willing to yield. Gods, it’s like they’re ten again, fighting over the last plum.
My mouth works before I can think better of it. “What if I go with you?”
At everyone’s shocked faces, I tug at my hair again. “As you said, this is a way to help the village. I’m not needed here. And a peace talk could allow us allies, allow us resources to rebuild. What if I go with you to gain more support?”
Cully snaps his fingers, eyes bright. “That. I like that idea. You two can keep each other safe.”
Nafre bites her lip. “And what if we’re attacked again?”
My hand waves out toward the village. Sadness hangs heavy around us. “Look around, Nafre. There’s not much left. If we only take a handful of guards, that won’t cripple the Coven. It’s a peace talk. There are people seeking allies. Seeking trade. We could use all of it.”
A few elders perk up. No one is going to miss the resident monster.
Grumbling under her breath, Nafre crosses her arms in aggravation. She doesn’t like it. But it’s a good plan, and it could help.
I can help in this way. The elders don’t respect me, don’t like me and the Coven fears me. Maybe if I do this, go on a long journey, bring back reinforcements, they’ll finally accept me.
If this is Gods’ Will, I’ll surrender to it.
Nafre pinches her brow. “Fine. You and Tay. Four guards, no more or less. You’ll take my carriage.” Thankfully, it survived the fire.
Tay and Cully smile, pleased at her acquiesce. I didn’t think she’d give in so easily.
Stepping forward, I ready to follow the men back to the cottage to set up tents, before Nafre’s grip on my elbow stops me. Her concerned gaze fills my vision, panic clawing up my throat.
“Listen to me,” she breathes, moving closer.
“King Griffin’s palace is not like here.
It’s dangerous. It’s full of deceit and you might see some things that make you uncomfortable.
” My brows furrow as she winces. “I’ve been there before, with my mother.
Women are not thought of as worthy rulers.
Tay was a good choice, but you? You will be vulnerable.
“Do not, under any circumstances, use your powers there,” she commands, voice strong.
“Act as a mute, do not speak. Never leave Tay’s side.
Do not trust anyone but him.” She steps back.
“My mother thought your magic would be too power to control and taught you to fear it.
You are dangerous but there? You will be coveted.
“You do not want to be something a Human King covets, Max. Hide your magic. Do not lose control. Can you do that?”
Nodding, I dip my chin out of respect, a cold ball of dread dropping into my gut. “Of course, Nafre. Whatever you say.”
Nafre nods, stepping away. “I have a bad feeling about what might happen once you leave this forest. Protect yourself.”