Page 2 of Witch’s Ruin

Still, I was forcing him into close proximity with a man who’d physically abused him as a child. A man he hated. A man still intent on snaring him with a birthright he didn’t want.

King Maddox Kozma.

I suspected the reason for this assignment—we both did. But I couldn’t disobey it, either. I was a witch of the Citadel. Independent as I was, I went where I was bid.

The smudge of the city materialized on the horizon like an ink blot, spreading across parchment the closer we got. We were, perhaps, half a day out when we began passing travelers in small bands. Many nodded politely, some greeting, “Lady Witch,” as they passed, others looking at me with suspicion.

At the first narrowed glance, I disregarded it. At the second, I frowned. At the third, I started to itch. It was probably nothing. I focused on the destination ahead.

The edge of the horizon met the sea, where ships traveled freely, keeping Raeria’s most prosperous city alive, despite the kingdom’s strangled land trade. The road dipped and then rose, taking us to a better vantage point. It was here Rixon pulled Ferrah to a stop. I navigated Jarrow up beside him, giving my horse an affectionate rub. Jarrow was the only thing I had left from my past life—the life I’d run from before settling in at the Citadel—besides my journal, a gift from my mother. Now, its pages were nearly filled.

Rixon’s face was blank, unreadable. But there was something in his eyes, a darkness I didn’t like. His fist clenched hard on the reins, while his other hand rested atop his thigh, elbow jutting. “This fucking place,” he muttered, almost too quietly to be heard.

My stomach flopped. I wanted to reach out and touch his arm, to reassure him. What right did I have? I could only pretend to understand what he was going through.

I inhaled and said, “Chin up, Lord Wielder. We’ve got a job to do.”

His nod was distracted.

I clucked and spurred Jarrow down the road, not waiting for him to follow. He would, when he was ready. Judging by the silent minutes that followed, minutes I strained to hear the clip of Ferrah’s hooves, he’d needed those minutes.

We passed through farmland, crops arranged in tidy rows, several orchards off in the distance. I blinked, taking in the number of occupied farmhouses, even if I’d sensed the wards we’d passed, miles back—the strongest wards I’d ever felt. Past witches had added to them over the years.

How many were stationed here? I searched through my memory, but came up empty. Perhaps, between five and ten, given the city’s size. And yet, they needed me? To do what? Determine the source of a supposed demon outbreak?

As I glanced around, farmers worked, tending to their crops as if nothing were amiss. I didn’t see evidence of demons, or an outbreak. Except, something flapped in my chest, a restless recognition.

In the distance, Nebrine walls took shape. My gaze focused on the sight. How many people lived safely behind them? We’d traveled through forts and outposts, but the capital was a city unlike any other. There’d be thousands. Tens of thousands. Even from a distance, it looked double the size of the Citadel. Triple, perhaps?

I inhaled, long and slow, settling myself. The king wanted us here. He’d made these arrangements with the Citadel. Whatever knowledge he’d gotten from his precious general back in Rockfall, he’d found a way to manipulate the Citadel into sending his son back.

I could only wonder what I’d face when we met him. I rubbed Jarrow’s neck, cooing at him, telling him what a good boy he was for getting me here safely. He snickered.

How hard could it be, really? Facing Raeria’s king? I’d closed an entire rift, killing hundreds of demons. Aside from the one that got away—the one I’d been sketching earlier. If I could manage that, a king shouldn’t be a problem, even one as awful as Rixon’s father.

So…why did I feel a hard knot growing in my belly, the closer we drew to the city? Like we were approaching a monumental turn in the bend of life? Like whatever happened next, things wouldn’t go back to how they were yesterday, or the day before. Something was going to give. My power needed to be ready for it.

* * *

The walls loomed over us, pressing in against me. I drew up my hood, shadowing my features. While I’d grown better at controlling my emotions, my demonic traits were unpredictable.

We came to a stop at the city’s portcullis. I tried not to grit my teeth at the discomfort of it. Setting sunlight reflected off the Nebrine walls. A small line of people shifted from foot to foot, waiting to get in—a sight I’d never seen. Most were farmers coming in from a day of work. They produced papers, each one of them, before passing through the walls.

I’d never been forced to wait for entrance into a settlement. I threw Rixon an uneasy look, trying to read him, to glean something about our situation. Was this normal?

He sat silent beside me, a hulking presence. His glower was out in full force, directed towards everything in his path. It was the kind of glare that made others shy away—something he’d mastered years ago.

My mind skidded to a halt. The composure I’d maintained cracked slightly, then entirely. For a brief moment, I saw our situation with absolute clarity. A flush crept over my skin. Oh, gods. This was going to be a nightmare—this entire excursion into Corinna.

No. I pushed my misgivings aside. I had every right to be confident. I’d done things other witches could only dream of. It was with that confidence that I straightened my shoulders as we finally, finally, reached the front of the line.

“What business do you have in the capital?” A guard stepped forward, flanked by two others. He was mostly unremarkable. On the taller side, brown hair, with a tightly trimmed beard.

I frowned. “We are on assignment. I’m here to meet with your king.” I removed my glove, lifting my hand, showing off the markings that labeled me a witch.

The guard’s eyes traveled over me, overly slow, before he said, “Ain’t heard nothing about a new witch. What could His Majesty need another one for?” He traded a smug glance with the other guards. “Already got six and they ain’t doing their jobs.”

“Well, I don’t suppose His Majesty keeps you abreast of his every decision,” I snapped, losing patience. “Let us through.”