Page 82 of Witch's Fate

Malcolm woke early the next morning and extricated himself from tangled sheets. Sofia was draped over him, but he slipped out quietly. He turned to look down at her. Dawn light gleamed on her cheeks and the half-moons of her lashes. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful.

She looked perfect in his bed.

He brushed a hand over her cheek, regret washing through him. What could they have had if he hadn’t botched it all? A long life together. A good one. She’d be with him always. Maybe bearing his children—something he’d never considered or wanted before her.

As it was…

He shook his head and turned from her, headed toward the bathroom, flicking on the light and revealing the white marbled space. His power had earned him ridiculous wealth that had bought this immaculate castle. He couldn’t care less about it now.

A hot shower did nothing to help him find peace. They’d fight a battle in two days that might kill them both. If they lived, he’d have to leave Sofia.

He couldn’t win this, no matter how he tried.

After he’d dried and dressed in clean clothes, he returned to the bedroom. Sofia was still asleep, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her. He went to stand by the window, gazing out at the mountains that had been his home for more than two hundred years.

The sheets rustled, but he didn’t turn. A moment later, he felt Sofia’s arms wrap around his waist. Longing suffused him, warm and cold at once. Like he was standing in the doorway of a warm cabin as the snow raged behind him, wishing he could walk in but knowing he couldn’t.

His chest ached as he turned to her.

The sheet was wrapped around her and her golden skin gleamed. She was so beautiful.

Her gaze darkened. “What is it? You look upset.”

The words scratched his throat on the way out. “You’re right, Sofia. We can’t make this work.”

Her lips parted.

“I’ve been fooling myself,” he said. “I’ve wanted to be with you so badly that I told myself I could avoid fate. But I was wrong. I recognize that now. I went to Corrier’s yesterday. There’s no way for me to stop being a warlock. This has to be the last time we’re together.”

Her shoulders sagged and a shining tear rolled down her cheek. “I know. There’s no hope for us. For me.”

For her? Of course there was. Did she think she would die in this battle?The hell she would.He’d protect her witheverything he had. “Of course there’s hope. I’ll help you with your battle. You’ll win this.”

She nodded. The pain in her eyes made his heart feel like it was tearing itself out of his chest. He had to get out of here. This was too hard.

He squeezed her shoulders. “I’ll meet you in Bruxa’s Eye. I—I need to go now.” He spun on his heel and strode into the hall, then down the stairs and all the way into his aether room.

When he reached the cool, dark room, he bent over and propped his hands on his knees, heaving. His whole body was rejecting the idea of pushing Sofia away. Gods, he felt ill.

But it had to be done. This had been wrong. He was a warlock. Love and life weren’t in his future. He was destruction and he always had been. Great power at great cost, and he was paying it.

But Sofia shouldn’t have to.

Malcolm sucked in a hard breath and straightened. He had to help her. To at least make up for part of this. Sofia would go meet her council in Bruxa’s Eye. He’d follow, but first, he needed to fuel up on as much power as his soul and body could hold. A battle was coming.

He turned to the center of the room, taking in the space that was the epicenter of his power. This room’s worth was immeasurable. Its enchantments made it strong enough to contain the portal to the aether that gave him unlimited access to power. He could fill up with almost as much raw magical energy as agod.

But without this room to contain the aether, he’d lose control. It’d go wild, an impossible flame that would devour everything in a forty foot radius. More, even.

This type of room was everything to a warlock.

And he hated it.

Didn’t bloody well matter though, did it? He’d thrown away the one person worth anything, so now the least he could do was see to it that he protected her.

He focused on the air around him, and more importantly, on the aether. He reached out toward it, focused it on the center of the room and multiplied the aether he felt in the air around him, using it to tear a hole in space until he accessed the core of the aether. Like the darkness of outer space, but when accessed by a warlock, compressed into the brilliant white light of magical energy. He had to squint against it.

His skin prickled and his mind and muscles strained to contain it. Even with the room’s protections, it took strength to keep it from bursting outward. He extended his hands, drawing energy from the aether, filling himself up with it until his muscles vibrated and his skin tingled. The power of the aether burned into him like the heat of the sun, and he embraced the flames because the pain that touched him now replaced that in his heart.

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