Page 10 of Madness of Her Mages

“Where do you think you’re going,girl?” he asked with a sneer while rising up like a phantom emerging from a crypt.

No, he definitely wasn’t my father. I gritted my teeth, and a strange sensation flooded my fingers as if my hands were being swarmed by a thousand buzzing insects.Magic,an inner voice whispered to me.Use it.“Far away from you.”

His low, dark chuckle wrapped around my chest like a vise, and I was suddenly struck by a blinding white light. I screamed, falling to my knees before sinking into oblivion.

Thorin

Two years later

The human lands

Beneath the Periculian Mountains

THORIN FELL TO HISknees, discarded skulls breaking beneath his weight. The chains around his ankles rattled as pain lanced through his bones while his mistress held him trapped under her binding spell. One drop of blood. That’s all it had taken all those years ago to bind him to her. He’d been fighting it these past two years, having his sweet Anya make him potions to dull the pain of the very blood boiling his veins. Those potionshad worked well enough, for Thorin’s powerful magic protected him from the worst of the poison, unlike weaker mages who easily succumbed and died from the binding spell. Together Thorin and Anya had been happy, content. Though she’d fought him when he’d tried to take her to bed, he’d found other women to sate his lust.

But then a few nights ago he’d taken an older witch to bed, not realizing she was a spy for his mistress. She’d coerced him to travel with her to the northernmost outpost of the human realm, dangerously close to the Werewood Forest. He should’ve known better than to trust her, but fool that he was, he’d been too addicted to that thing she did with her mouth. Then she’d drugged him to loosen his tongue, and he’d revealed dark secrets that he realized Anya had heard when he thought she’d been sleeping by the fire. Those secrets weren’t exactly truths, though. They were just fancier lies packaged with neat little bows.

But the damage had been done. Anya had heard him. There was no other explanation for why she’d run straight into the Werewood Forest, taking his heart and happiness with her. He loved Anya, more so than Flora. More than anyone. Even though she balked at his kisses and fought his touch, she’d become like a daughter to him.

And now here he was, feeling as if he was being suffocated by the low, dark cavern walls, chained up in his mistress’s chamber alongside her other prisoners. Just another one of her meals. Her other prisoners had gone eerily quiet when she’d approached, only reminding Thorin of their presence with their ragged gasps and rattling chains.

He cried out when she twisted a noose of magic around his ribcage.

“You betrayed me, Thorin!”

Candlelight flickered behind her, bathing her hideous, furry face in an orange glow. She jutted a foot forward, giving him aglimpse of crusty, curled toenails sticking out from beneath her robe. He’d had the displeasure of seeing her naked before, her feet curled up in the air while he was forced to fuck her. Caked in filth, her toes looked part avian, part human. She had wings like a bird, though her face looked more like a demon canine, a twisted, wicked snout and jagged, rotting teeth, and a third eye in the center of her forehead. She had saggy, human breasts that dripped poisonous milk and a distended stomach as if she was with child. But he knew the only children she carried in her gut were the ones she’d eaten. She was the most hideous, terrifying creature he’d ever known, and she was about to make him her next meal.

She let out a low, deep snarl, like a dragon about to pounce on a goat. “For two years you’ve alluded me while keeping the white witch to yourself,” she hissed. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t pluck out your eyes and slice off your genitals.”

“I was saving her for you, for the right time,” Thorin lied. Truthfully, he’d rather die a thousand deaths than surrender his sweet Anya to this monster. “The girl’s white magic hasn’t fully manifested.” That part was true. Her magic was on the cusp of greatness, though by hiding her in the human lands he was able to mute some of her power. A witch’s magic was always stronger north of the Periculian Mountains.

His mistress’s red, glowing eyes narrowed. “You lie.”

“I don’t lie.” He swallowed back grit and blood, his innards quaking when she pointed a crusty talon at him.

“Perhaps I should ask your demon, Samael.” She flashed a fanged grin. “Samael, I summon you to tell me the truth.”

Lie,he told his demon,or she will destroy us both.

Fuck off, old fool,his demon retorted. “It is true that she hasn’t reached her full powers,” Samael answered, using Thorin’s tongue to speak. How he loathed this monster inside him. His last demon was far less volatile, far less stubborn.

Their mistress knelt beside them, her rancid breath hitting Thorin like a poisonous fog. “How close is she?”

“She was close when we last saw her,” Samael answered, not bothering to try to protect Anya. Bastard.

Their mistress licked her lips with a long, forked tongue. “Where is she?”

“She escaped after she overheard the old fool spilling twisted secrets to his whore,” Samael blurted while Thorin fought for control of his voice.

“My spies saw a witch and a Fae fly out of the Werewood Forest on the back of a dragon, after the dragon ate my berchta.” Their mistress stood, letting out a wail that shook the marrow of Thorin’s bones. “And now all is lost.”

Now you’ve done it,Thorin grumbled to his demon.You couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

“All is not lost, Mistress,” Samael said with a serpentine hiss, “for we have something that will help you find the white witch, her sister, her mother, and her twin daughters.”

Thorin tried to slam his hand over his mouth, but Samael fought him.Stop!he cried.I’m begging you! Have mercy on sweet Anya!

Their mistress’s eyes widened as she cupped her sagging breast. “Twin daughters?”

---