Chapter 32
My cheek was flush with the pallet merely inches from the earth, so I felt the vibrations of the guards’ footsteps before I heard them.
I sat up, not knowing what to expect. When the flaps of the tent were pulled back, I laid eyes on the same warrior who had pointed her spear at my nose when I first arrived.
She grabbed me by the front of my shift, dragging me into the night.
A band of guards led me into the largest tent in the encampment.
My eyes widened as I saw that a small crowd was gathered there.
The men, women, and children were adorned in linen and furs, their faces bare and solemn.
If I looked closely, I could see a golden aura pulsing around each of them.
More witches. They watched, wide-eyed, as I was marched toward a dais where three robed figures sat in a row.
They had to be the elders Geraint had spoken of.
In the center was a woman draped in golden robes. She was dark in complexion, and her head was shrouded in a halo of salt-and-pepper curls. She straightened, flexing her palms.
To her left was a shriveled crone cloaked in black, which made her look like a vulture perched on the edge of her seat.
Her skin was ashy and delicate, with wrinkles scored over its surface.
A milky film clouded her eyes. Her cracked lips were parted as if she were about to speak, but no sound came out.
The third figure’s face was obscured by his cowl, the fabric as scarlet as a still-beating heart.
He slouched in his seat, his posture reminding me of a schoolboy about to be reprimanded by the teacher.
His hand was curled in front of his face as if he were inspecting his claw-like nails without a care in the world.
The guards forced me to my knees before the trio, my cheeks warming as I found myself level with the feet of my captors.
I thought of Enhart. He would never let anyone see his shame, let alone his enemies. Steeling myself, I lifted my chin and adopted an expressionless mask, my best impression of the arrogant prince.
“Welcome, Finwal,” said the woman in the center. “I am Lenora.”
My lip curled. “I don’t care who you are. What do you want with me?”
Her smile did not reach her eyes. “We’ve been keeping an eye on you for some time.”
“We being who, exactly?” I asked.
“Your family,” she replied, as if the answer was obvious.
I clicked my tongue as I looked around the tent for an escape route.
The main entrance was crowded with witches, but there was a small exit behind the dais.
I could make a run for it, but the elders were flanked by even burlier sentries than the ones who’d led me here.
If they all had magic, I didn’t like the odds.
“Clearly you have me confused with someone else,” I said finally.
Beside her, the hooded figure snorted. “I told you this would happen if you brought a peasant into our midst.” To me, he said, “You should bite your tongue in the presence of your superiors.”
I scoffed. “I’m the peasant? Have you seen how you live?
Even the people from my village were better off than you.
” Lenora raised her hand to quiet the affronted gasps that echoed around the tent.
Beside her, the old crone stirred with a low moan, as if shaking off sleep.
She reached a clawed hand into the ether, gesturing in my direction.
Her movements were so unsettling that I almost missed the tap, tap, tap of unfamiliar magic against my mind. Unlike Enhart’s influence, so cold and unyielding, this was somehow playful. Warm. A trick to lure me into a false sense of security.
I braced myself, but I had been rendered feeble and unsteady by the angelica root that laced the bonds around my wrists.
Unable to raise my wards, I could do nothing as a stranger’s will invaded my senses.
It wound its way around my mind like a spider strangling its prey in a trail of its own silk.
The imprint of this magic had a thin, papery element to it, as if it were very old.
And yet, I could somehow tell it wasn’t the wrinkled crone or even Lenora who was controlling it. No, it belonged to the same witch who hid his face not five feet before me. I raised my chin, willing myself not to look away.
My defiance was short-lived.
The witch’s magic burned through my mind like a fever. I doubled over as it ravaged my senses. It was nothing like Enhart’s. This was designed to be as painful as possible.
Memories flashed behind my eyes, just as they had when Enhart and I had begun our training. Except here I had no defenses, and not even a pathetic surge of panic or rage could expel the foreign magic from my mind. It searched endlessly for something, but for what I could not tell.
If I had been able, I would have cursed the witch to the depths of Ferinor’s kingdom. Instead, I was unable to utter a word of protest. It was as if my tongue had been bound as tightly as my wrists.
By the time it was finally over, the dirt floor had begun to look awfully comfortable.
I had become a stranger to this feeling—the discomfort of having your mind invaded against your will.
I straightened, my breathing labored as the final image burned into the backs of my eyes.
The curling of cobalt-blue flame around my fingers. The witch had studied it for some time.
“You’ve been practicing,” Lenora observed. “In only a few months you have nearly mastered the three tenets.”
I glanced at the robed figure. Was he feeding them information through his thoughts, the same way Enhart and I sometimes communicated?
His lip was curled into a sneer. “There are children here who have mastered the tenets. She’s nothing special.”
Lenora cocked an eyebrow. Beside her, the crone opened her sunken mouth, revealing a handful of graying teeth. “He has tasted her,” she whispered hoarsely. “Their king.”
A chill ran down my spine. Her eyes were on me, but they were so unfocused it was as if she saw beneath my skin.
“I could’ve told you that without having to be in her mind,” said the robed witch, stretching like a cat in his chair. “He is a vampire, after all.”
My hands curled into fists.
“And yet, I sense that the blood of another courses through her veins,” continued the crone, unfazed by the interruption. “How peculiar.”
“I’ve heard the vampires like to share,” he interrupted again. “Meals and otherwise.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I interjected, tiring of their ghoulish scrutiny. Although my mind had been ravaged, my voice was steady.
“So naive,” he said. “The perfect plaything for a couple of vamps.”
“Enough,” said Lenora.
She rose swiftly to her feet. She was an impressive figure, towering taller than any woman I’d ever seen. Her voice echoed around the tent. “Mother Catrin, your words are unnecessary, however insightful.”
Mother? My eyes flicked to the crone. They didn’t look related.
Lenora turned to her left. “Brother, if you please.”
The witch sighed as he climbed lazily to his feet.
I wondered if he was enjoying the sight of me like this, bound and powerless.
He approached me, lingering too far away for me to peek beneath his cowl.
A faint, musty stench reached my nostrils.
I jerked backward as his hand snapped out, his fingernails slicing across the skin of my cheek.
Blood rushed to the surface, spilling onto the earth beneath me.
“Good girl,” he purred.
To my horror, he unsheathed a silver athame that had been hidden until now between the folds of his robes.
I flinched, but he did not raise it against me.
Instead, he caressed the blade with bloodied fingers until it shone crimson in the dim light.
His touch was tender, almost perverse. It made the hair on my arms stand up.
I watched, bewildered, as he handed the knife to a guard. She disappeared between the folds of the canvas while the witch retreated to the dais. I raised my bound hands to my cheek, bewildered as blood seeped between my fingertips.
What in Letlas’s name?
“Our thanks to you, Finwal,” said Lenora, her voice echoing around the tent. “Take her away.”
The guards wrenched me unceremoniously to my feet.
Blood trickled down my cheek as I struggled in their arms, hurling a litany of my finest Outland curses at them as they dragged me backward.
On the dais, the cloaked witch smirked. Lenora leaned toward her companion, whispering something that made the old woman nod.
Outside, the camp was dark and deathly quiet.
When we arrived at the tent where I’d spent the night, the guards nudged me through the canvas flap without another word.
A pair of them stood on the other side, their figures shadows against the canvas.
I dropped onto the pallet, my head resting on my bound hands.
My mind whirred. How long would I be their captive, drained of blood for whatever nefarious purpose they had in mind?
There had to be some way to break my bonds. Once I did that, I could phase from this place. Unless …
I swallowed. Unless it was protected by wards. Or runes.
“Fuck,” I muttered, picturing the rune that had trapped me when I first arrived. Of course this place was protected. I inhaled a shaky breath. The dried blood on my cheek itched, and I resisted the urge to scrape it off against the twine wrapped around my wrists.
The rustle of canvas caught my attention and my gaze flicked toward the entrance of the tent.
The guards hadn’t moved, their shadows watching me through the fabric.
I jumped to my feet, spinning away from them, searching for the source of the noise.
My eyes widened as fingers peeled the bottom edge of the fabric at the back of the tent upward.
Geraint shimmied through the gap, putting a finger to his lips once inside.
My jaw slackened. “What are you doing?” I whispered.
His eyes widened. “Please be quiet,” he begged. “I heard about what happened. I wanted to help.”
“What are you talking about?”
He beckoned for me to stand. I scrambled to my feet, eyeing him warily. “I can get you out of here,” he whispered. “You just have to trust me.”
“I don’t trust you,” I bit out before I could stop myself. “Why would I?”
He shrugged. “Do you have a choice?”
My jaw snapped shut. I thought about issuing a threat about what would await him if this was a trick, but it would have been empty. He jerked his head toward the back of the tent. “Let’s go.”
“Aren’t you going to untie me?” I hissed.
He shook his head. “I’ll help you, but I don’t trust you. Besides, this way if they catch us, it’ll look far less suspicious.”
“Wonderful,” I muttered to myself.
He knelt at the edge of the canvas and tugged it upward, gesturing for me to go first. I sighed resignedly then lowered myself awkwardly to the ground, rolling through the gap. Bound and rolling in the dirt, I thought. How humiliating. Geraint joined me on the other side and helped me to my feet.
He gently urged me forward. “I can’t open a portal here,” he explained under his breath. “The whole place is warded.”
We wrapped around the perimeter of the encampment, keeping to the shadows.
The pebbles strewn across the ground pricked the soles of my feet through my socks.
I didn’t dare protest. Or breathe too deeply.
My ears strained for signs of anyone coming to stop us.
What if Lenora discovered us? Or, worse, the cloaked witch?
I shuddered. I never wanted to see him again.
I counted the paces as we crept toward the exit. Fifty, forty-nine, forty-eight …
“What about the guards?” I whispered suddenly. “Is there only one way out?”
The corners of Geraint’s lips turned upwards. “I’ll take care of it.”
I sucked in a breath as the gate came into sight.
Two guards were posted outside, staring into the distance with weapons in hand.
Geraint tugged on my elbow, urging me to stop.
He glanced around like a fox being cornered by hounds.
Gods, what was he about to do? He pointed a finger at the guards, who immediately keeled over into the dirt, the earth muffling the clatter of their weapons as they rolled out of their hands.
I shot him an alarmed glance. “What have you done?”
“They’re only sleeping,” he replied, pressing forward.
As we passed through the gate, the guard closest to my left foot snored.
I stepped gingerly over them, hurrying after Geraint as he picked up his pace.
As we widened the distance from the encampment, I wondered how long it would take them to notice that I was gone.
I glanced worriedly over my shoulder, but no one was on our trail. Not yet, at least.
“This is far enough.”
My chest rose and fell rapidly as we came to a halt. The witch raised his palms in an arc above his head. The scent of pine tickled my nose as he peeled aside the air, revealing the dense trees of a forest. My heart leaped.
Geraint sucked his lower lip between his teeth, wringing his hands together.
“They’ll know it was you, won’t they?” I asked.
He smiled softly, his gaze flicking to meet mine. “It’ll be worth it. I promise.”