Page 2 of The Witch Queen

“I’m sure. Be ready for anything.”

I stride down the hill and cross the expanse between the two war camps. Fallen fae litter the landscape, impossible to distinguish friend from foe. As I walk, the noxious mud squelches beneath my feet with blood and other gore. I try to avoid getting the bottom of my dress dirty, slowly picking my way through the maze of severed limbs and abandoned weapons. Halfway across the expanse, I realize that it’s pointless, and Mazus should see what walking across the battlefield he created causes, even if it’s just a ruined dress.

As I approach, Velmaran soldiers break out in hisses of “witch,” and my cheeks heat with shame. Mazus was the first to use the word, and it’s taken off in the last few months of war. Narrowed eyes and pursed lips greet me when I finally reach the edge of their encampment, the soldiers on guard wary of me. Air channelers probe my body for weapons using wind, and when they’re satisfied I’ve complied with the terms, they nod to a guard standing outside what must be Mazus’s personal tent.

I feel a tingle of Mazus’s magic along my shoulders and tense, knowing what’s about to happen and yet still unprepared for the jolt of aerstepping magic that brings me face to face with the Velmaran King. Internally rolling my eyes, I look up at the man who declared war on my kingdom, labeled me a witch, and claimed he had to defeatmefor the good of the Four Kingdoms. As if my very existence threatened the safety of our world.

Mazus Vicant embodies his moniker—the Golden King, he’s called. Tall and tanned, he towers over me as his handsome face pulls into a glowing smile. Olive, green-brown eyes stare down at me, like a forest at twilight. Such an unusual shade that I’d know them anywhere. Despite his otherworldly beauty, the way he carries himself and the hollowness of his expression, like he’s chiseled from stone, make my skin crawl when I’m in his presence.

“I would have aerstepped you across the battlefield,” he says with a look of disgust on his perfect face, surveying the bottom of my dress. “I simply assumed you would use that deep well of power you keep hidden to avoid the filth now covering the bottom half of your dress.”

I clench my jaw.Play nice, you’re trying to marry him after all.“I only wanted to ensure you knew I was coming and for your guards to adequately search me,” I say with sickly sweetness.

“You need not lie to me. I know you have little control over your magic,witch.”I try to hide my flinching at his words, but I’m unsuccessful. He notices and gives me a menacing grin. “If only you’d agreed to marry me. I could’ve counseled you, and we might have been able to avoid the tragicaccidentthat led to your parents’ deaths. Committed by one with too much power and too little guidance.” My fists ball, and I feel magical energy begin to pulse through me. I try to speak, to scream at him the truth of his treachery, but he cuts me off. “No, there’s no need for lies between us. I know why you’re here, why you sent your pleading message to call for temporary peace and a meeting with me. You want to surrender. Want to beg me to wed you as a last desperate attempt to get me to agree to end this war.”

It takes all the willpower in me to hold my tongue.He just needs to stroke his own ego first. Let him get it out.This doesn’t change your plan.

“And since I’m demanding no lies from you, I’ll hold myself to that same standard. I’m the Golden King, after all. Driven by honor and duty and all the things my people believe me to be.” He grins, flashing his bright white teeth in what feels more like a snarl than a smile. “The truth is, I don’t need to marry you. Not anymore. I don’t need to end this war in a peace treaty. I’m winning.Decisively. And considering you aren’t even half as beautiful as my first wife, and certainly more trouble than she ever was, I have no desire to shackle myself to you in marriage when I can take what I want so easily.”

My chest tightens, panic rising. “Mazus, Your Majesty, please—my people—”

Disgust crosses his expression as he cuts me off. “Laurel, begging like this is beneath you. And certainly doesn’t make me want to marry you.Weakness is repulsive.” He practically spits the last sentence, but I barely comprehend what he’s saying. The distinct buzz of magical energy from the aether builds in my body.No, not right now. I need to stay in control.Sweat gathers on my brow from the effort of pushing the magic down. “As we speak, my soldiers are picking off the pitiful remaining army you have. I’ve sent my best assassin after yourGeneral,” he spits the word, as if the idea of a young female general disgusts him.No. No, no, no. Not again. I can’t lose another person.The buzzing intensifies, and this time I can’t dampen it. It shakes my bones and churns my organs. I’m consumed by rage and so… much… energy… “I will take you back to Velmara to experiment on. Thayaria will be absorbed into Velmara, and we can forget all about this pitiful excuse for a war.”

He takes a step toward me, and I react instantly. His body freezes, eyes widening in shock and horror as he realizes I’ve stopped his ability to move. I stare at my own hands, unsure what magic I’ve used and how to undo it. Looking at Mazus again, determination settles across his expression. He grunts, breaking my magical hold on him, then calls for guards to bring in iron shackles. I vaguely sense the guards arrive, distracted by my fury and the effort of keeping my magic under control. If I let go and unleash it, I’ll have no ability to direct it, not in this emotional state. Not to mention the years-long plan to keep the true depth of my power hidden, the plan my parentsdied for, will be ruined.

Soldiers grab me and pin my arms to my sides, their grips so tight it makes my arms ache. I scream in fear, but there’s no one coming to save me. My parents are dead, thousands of my soldiers have already fallen, and Nemesia… the only person left in this world who I love is probably already dead. Mazus steps toward me, a dagger and several vials in his hands. He slices down my arm and a whimper of pain escapes me. Tears collect in my eyes and blur my vision. I try again to break out of the soldiers’ hold, whipping and contorting my body in any position I can think of to break free, but to no avail.

Collecting the crimson blood that seeps from my skin, Mazus grins at me with malice. I panic, unsure of what’s happening. Iron shackles clamp around my wrists, and then Mazus is speaking with his aether-voice, able to compel me because of the iron, even though I have more power than him.

“Laurel, use plants to slice your wrists,” he commands, and my magic rises to follow his command, even as my mind pushes against the order. If I don’t get out of here, I won’t survive what he plans to do with me. Of that I’m sure. I grunt, and with every ounce of magical prowess I possess, I ignore the compulsion. His eyes widen in a lethal fury as his hand wraps around my throat, squeezing tightly. I try to bring my hands up to pry him off me, but they remain shackled at my sides. My eyes water, and my nose runs. He issues the command again, and I manage to fight it off, but just barely. The iron is quickly draining me of my power. I have to get out of here.

I can’t move my hands, can’t breathe, can’t even thrash my body, so I close my eyes and focus on the only thing that might save me—magic. My skin buzzes with more intensity than I’ve ever felt. With barely the whisper of a thought, I stop the aether from flowing through Mazus’s veins again, an awareness of how to use the magic washing over me. Before the guards can react, I’ve halted them as well, and I easily duck out of their grasp. The iron on my wrists melts away. With an explosion of light, I take one step forward in the tent and the next is on the grass of my war camp. My arm still drips with blood from Mazus’s cut.

The bodies of my slaughtered soldiers are everywhere. Only a few remain, desperately trying to fight off the Velmaran soldiers sent to decimate my forces. I want to help them, but my thoughts are on the war tent and Nemesia. Without thinking, I’m aerstepping again through a pocket of magical current and then I’m in the tent. A soldier has Nemesia pulled tight against his chest, dagger poised at her throat and ready to slice.

The buzzing inside of me builds to an unbearable level. I can’t breathe, and the world around me becomes fuzzy as my sight diminishes. All I feel is the jostling of the magical current as it rises, unchecked, within me. The tent shakes, steel poles bending towards my orbit. The soldier holding Nemesia looks up for a brief second, hostility flickering across his expression. With barely another thought, I find the magical current flowing around the soldier, then focus in on where it collects around his heart. I wrap my power around his magical source andsqueeze,willing the aether to stop flowing through him. He drops.

Relief fills my lungs as Nemesia gasps for breath. Before I can reach her, another dagger whips through the air. I turn, realizing too late that the King said he sent hisbest assassinfor Nemesia, not a soldier.

I can sense the magic being channeled through the steel of the tiny blade as it whips towards Nemesia’s heart.

It will not miss.

The pressure inside of me builds and builds—filling my stomach, my lungs, and my throat with sizzling, burning magic—until Ierupt. With a screeching bellow, I force magic into and then out of me in massive amounts, thinking only that I want this all to be over. That I want my people safe and the Velmaran soldiersgone.That I want King Mazus to suffer like he made me suffer, and that I want him defeated. With a final, hoarse yell, all the magic within me pours into those desires. I won’t be able to hide the truth of my power after this, but I don’t care.

When all the magic drains from my veins, I collapse in a heap on the ground, relieved that death will finally take me.

Hawthorne

Witch Queen, Witch Queen—Leave me be

Witch Queen, Witch Queen—Set your sights away from me

Witch Queen, Witch Queen—Terrifying and fierce

Witch Queen, Witch Queen—My heart don’t pierce

Velmaran Children’s Nursery Rhyme

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