Page 15 of The Rat King
A guttural laugh escaped my throat. “Even if I wanted to void my vow to end the witches, I couldn’t. What has been set in motion cannot be undone. Like my mother, I made a binding blood oath with the Goddess. And I did not just offer her my blood, witch. Every warlock on this plane is bound to the oath.” She blinked up at me, horror glazing her eyes. “The Council of Matrons knows what’s coming if you fail, so I suggest you find a place in your heart for my brother”
Her lips parted, and my eyes locked on them. “But,” she stammered. “But love doesn’t work like that.”
“What?” I said, my voice taking a rough edge, as she ducked under my arms and walked down the row, away from me. Her shoulders were square and stiff, but she stopped at the end of the row, clutching the volume she’d selected to her chest.
Looking over her shoulder at me, she said, “Love is a mystery, Nighval. I can’t just make myself fall into it. Marrying him, providing him a child, or even growing to love him over time, I could do with greater ease. But to fall in love… Your mother knew what she was doing when she set up this nearly impossible task.”
The witch stepped out of sight, and I stood there for a long moment, her words digging their claws into my mind. She didn’t believe she could fall in love with Xavier and my brother was considered by all to be a good man. A gentle and kind man. I wanted to chase the witch and shake her, try to make her see that getting saddled with my brother should have made things easier for her, and she had to do it. Otherwise, I’d bring every warlock in this plane to theirs and take my vengeance on the witches. The power draw might kill us all, but the witches would suffer, too.
I raised an unsteady hand to the shelf. There was an opening right where the volume I’d come for should be. I stormed off toward the witch’s rooms, fully aware of the tingle of anticipation at the thought of more time in her presence. That wasn’t ideal.
I couldn’t imagine she was going to hand the book over willingly. Taking it from her was another thing I was looking forward to. Again, not ideal. As I paced down the hallway after her, I got the strangest sensation of familiarity, almost like I’d chased after her before. Or perhaps it was that I would do it again.
Chapter 9
Avery
Jesus,Nighvalwashuge,and really, really scary. And he hadn’t softened his features or removed his scars with his magic like when he’d picked me up. In the library, in the moonlight streaming through the broken windows, I saw the warlock in all his terrifying glory and completely understood how none of the witches sent to him ever even made it past go. His hair was darker, the same length as before, and tucked behind his ears, making his cheekbones poke out so they were almost gaunt. His nose was a hard line, like a squared off pyramid, but longer. Dark heavy brows protruded over nearly black eyes. And his lips, well I still never had seen them in any shape, but a thin angry line, even when he spoke.
All of this sounded intense, and it was exactly that. Especially with the scars. The largest one ran over the bridge of his nose and across his cheek. A smaller one sliced through his eyebrow and ran to his hairline. Another was about an inch long near the corner of his mouth and ran in a straight line down his chin. There were a few smaller ones, and given the circumstances, they seemed to have healed as well as possible in this weird throwback plane.
His presence was ominous, male, and possibly hot if you were into the scarred grim reaper dark mage sort of thing, which I wasn’t. I saw the appeal of softer magic’d Nighval from the first night, but real Nighval was something else entirely. And it wasn’t just this plane. If Nighval had walked up to the bar where I worked and ordered a drink, he would have frightened me then, too. He just had that kind of presence.
When he’d boxed me in, no doubt trying to intimidate me, my heart had seized, and I didn’t think I breathed for a whole minute.
Squeezing the book to my chest, I raced down the hall in the direction of my suite. I sent Xavier away when he came to my room at the start of the reprieve with that look in his eye and another poem gripped in his clammy hand. He was all human and barely contained excitement, seeming to have gotten over the fact that I practically told him I didn’t think I could fall in love with him. Since he told me about the curse this afternoon and we set a date for the wedding, it was like he doubled down on his seduction technique giving me silly grins, personally delivering me a late lunch, and asking me questions about my likes and dislikes. And then he lingered like he expected some sort of reward for his efforts in the form of kisses. I told him I wanted to wait until our wedding night to try to be physical. We chatted for a bit, he confessed more feelings, and he left dejected.
I should try harder, because thank God I got Xavier and not Nighval like so many of my sisters had. But the way Xavier chewed—it was disturbing. And his eyes, the way they moved across my skin, so eager, like a puppy. No woman wanted to sleep with, much less fall for, a puppy. Unless it was an actual puppy and the sleeping with would be puppy cuddles.
So, I went to the library, determined to find some loophole or spell that might reverse the curse myself. I would discover it and get a message back to my aunt and they’d find a way to use it to free these people of the curse. Sure, I figured Nighval and the other warlocks of this plane had already sifted through every piece of available material, but I was a witch. Without power, but still. I’d grown up around powerful witches, watching them do their spells, reading their works in case I ever needed to teach my daughter our craft. Maybe I could discover something they hadn’t.
I got to my room and set the book on the desk. Flipping on the lamp, I opened its thick leather cover. I made it through the first passage, trying to make sense of what I was reading, when the door opened with a creak. Jumping, I turned to see Nighval standing in the doorway. He glanced from me to the book and stalked in my direction. My heart hitched and sputtered at an erratic pace, and I closed the volume.
His focus narrowed in on it, and I pulled it toward me protectively. “Get out,” I said, my words clipped and loud enough, but he ignored them. Stopping in front of the desk, Nighval braced his hands on the edges and leaned down to get eye level with me.
“What do you think you’re doing with that?” He nodded at the book, still possessively clutched in my grip.
I scooted back in the chair, but made myself hold eye contact. I was prepared to be here, to hold my own, I reminded myself, and I would not cower before this man. I would be queen in a month, which would make him my subject.
“I said, get out,” I growled. Yep, I employed the tone described in every romance book ever when the brooding hero had something really important to say. Unfortunately, I think it backfired because a wide, toothy grin spread across Nighval’s face, exposing two rows of perfect teeth.
I wrinkled my brow as I stared at them. “How do you keep them so—” I started to ask when he cut me off.
“Answer me, witch.” His grin had a dangerous edge to it and my breath caught.
I unclenched my jaw. “I have been going through your spell books—”
“Why?” he demanded.
“I thought maybe I could find—”
“You thought you could find a spell that could break the curse?” His scarred face tensed, and he gave me a pitying look I really didn’t like.
“If you would shut up for one second, I would answer you.” I crossed my arms, book tightly nestled inside and raised my brows at him as I sat there, waiting.
He didn’t speak, but regarded me.
I gave him an agitated huff. “You aren’t a witch, therefore you don’t think like one. And yes, I thought it was possible that you might have missed something that could be helpful. And if I figure it out and end your mother’s curse, I figure it will void the one you made on my people.”
