Page 29 of The Witch Queen

Shit, it’s cold.Howling wind whips my hair away from my face, chilling me to my core in the outdoor garden I stumbled upon while exploring the palace. After training, Silene and Fionn had gotten wrapped up in playing Skran, Fionn determined to master the Thayarian game. My body was restless, eager to keep moving despite the grueling exercise Fionn put me through.

I pretended to head to bed early, then snuck back out, cloaking myself with my light magic. As Fionn yelled “Skran!” loudly, I used his loud bellow to slip through our apartment doors and into the palace, unsure of my destination. I’d wandered aimlessly until I stumbled upon a glass door leading to a terrace filled with some of the most stunning trees and flowers I’ve ever seen.

Despite the cold temperatures, a result of the fast-approaching winter, the garden is still effervescent in its beauty. Draping emerald trees create a canopy across the stone paths, while flowers in crimson, magenta, and lavender mound under the trees. Ivy and moss cover the path in areas, giving the space that now familiar classic Thayarian feel of being perfectly overgrown and luscious. Though I’m freezing, I can’t bring myself to turn and head inside, captivated by the harmony of smells that dance through the air and the peaceful quiet under the rising stars. As I round another corner, the same sense of being watched tickles my spine like it did as we traveled to the capital. I keep walking until the path opens up to a stunning view of the mountains behind Arberly, a misty navy portrait in the darkening sky.

“And what exactly are you doing here, Prince Hawthorne, hidden from view?” a cool and hard voice says from the shadows. I jump, searching the dark to my left for the Queen. A laugh sounds from beyond my line of sight before Queen Laurel appears, posture rigid and green eyes assessing. I release the magic cloaking me and bow deeply.

“Apologies, Your Majesty.” I hold my hands up in mock surrender. “I snuck from my rooms so Fionn and Silene wouldn’t protest my exploring and forgot to remove the magic. I assure you I’m up to nothing nefarious. Just some good old fashion hiding from my friends.” My sheepish grin does nothing to break her unwavering expression.

“Why are youexploringmy palace?” she asks, an edge to her voice. I take a few steps closer to her, practically involuntarily. It reminds me of my ruse to seduce her, so I take another step. Apparently, I have a death wish.

I shrug my shoulders, trying to lighten the mood. “I needed to move—needed to get out of the apartments. I was getting antsy.” I stretch my arms above my head for emphasis. “Am I not permitted to wander the palace?” My eyes narrow with a challenge I know she’ll rise to.

“I’d prefer youwandervisible, where others can see you,” she responds cooly.

“You saw me just fine,” I retort with a cocky smirk. I’ve somehow miraculously gotten her alone, and I intend to put the opportunity to good use. She gives me a long stare, like she’s bored and unfeeling. But here, under the barely visible stars just before twilight, I see it for the mask it is. And this time, I don’t back down, my skin itching with the need to unravel her, just a little. I return the stare, not breaking her gaze. We stare at one another until her lips twitch, and she looks away.Thorne—one, Queen Laurel—too many to count.But at least I’m making progress.

“Isaw you because I’m a super powerfulwitch, remember?” she says sarcastically, and it’salmost…flirty.

I press my advantage and make an exaggerated bow. “I’ll ensure I keep myimpressivemagic at bay in my future adventures through the palace,witchling.”

She scoffs half-heartedly. “A little light trick is hardlyimpressive magic, princeling.” Suddenly, I’m lifted in the air by a strong gale before being set down ten paces away. Queen Laurel pins me with a smirk that’s equal parts seductive and terrifying. From this distance, her curvy figure is on full display in leather leggings and a tight-fitting tunic. With her hair pulled from her face in a simple braid and no makeup, there’s something vulnerable about her tonight. In three strides, I return to stand in front of her, only a foot away, my body towering over her small stature. I swear her breath catches the tiniest bit, though she reveals nothing in her expression. My lips pull at the corners. “How was your training session?” she asks coolly, apparently unaffected by our closeness, though she doesn’t step away.

“Hellish.” I close the distance between us by another step, and now I have hersquirming.Her eyes dilate, and her nostrils flare.I’m desperate to fully crack that icy exterior. “Fionn’s brutal in his workouts, and with a month of sitting around, I was out of shape. He’s mandated high-intensity drills twice a week. I told him we should just walk up the aethers-damned stairs over and over again. But I think he hates them as much as the rest of us.” This time I know her lips twitch in a held-back smile. Ialmostcracked her. So I crowd her body with mine, the need to get a reaction from her overwhelming me. Once again, she doesn’t back away, and we’re so close that I can lean down and whisper in her pointed ear. “I’ve never wanted to be an air channeler more than when I walked up to the Council chambers for the first time. Good news is by the end of this ambassador appointment, my ass is going to look even better than it already does.” I pull back and wink. That comment gets an actual laugh out of her, and I can’t help from smiling at the sound.

“Good night, princeling,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

“Good night, witchling,” I yell as she walks away, her face in profile. A real smile breaks out across her lips, and my heart skips a beat in my chest.Success.

Laurel

While plant and water channelers are the most well-known of healers, light channelers can also heal injuries. In fact, light healing is said to be the strongest of the healing abilities, as it requires a stronger concentration of aether to perform and thus passes that extra aether to the person being healed. However, it takes immense focus and control to heal via light, and very few light channelers throughout history have possessed the skill.

A Practical Guide to Magical Healing

“Prince Hawthorne, are you sure you wouldn’t like dancing lessons before the ball? Aria is a skilled dancer and teacher. I’m sure she’d be happy to walk you through the waltz we’ll open the ball with,” I say to the Prince and the room of advisors. We’ve been planning the ball this last week and decided to open it with a dance between the Prince and me. It’s a good opportunity for Silene and Fionn to sneak away, since everyone will be watching us, but I don’t want to do it. The Prince annoys me endlessly, always charming everyone with his dimple and his winks, despite beingengaged. He’s a shameless flirt—it’sexcessive. Never mind the way I feel when that flirting turns my way… If I allow him close enough to dance, he’ll use his stupidly handsome face to break through the carefully constructed wall I’ve erected around the Velmarans. The wall that is more difficult to maintain than I want to admit.

“Oh, my dance skills willmeasure upto yourexpectations,I’m sure of it.” He somehow makes the statement seem like an innuendo, and my cheeks heat slightly even as my blood boils in anger that he would say something like that in front of a room full of advisors. He truly has no shame as he leans back in his chair, smug and relaxed, clearly aware of how his statement sounds. This at least matches the rumors I know about him—a flirt, a womanizer, a handsome heartbreak. Aria, a young and pretty advisor, doesn’t seem to mind. She bats her eyelashes at him, and I want to roll my eyes.

“I would be happy to give you lessons, Your Highness,” Aria says with a sickly sweetness that makes something stir in my belly.

“I’ve been taught the traditional dances from many kingdoms. Even those I never thought I’d visit. I don’t need lessons.” His eyes shine as they lock on me, paying Aria no attention.

“Suit yourself,” I murmur, forcing myself to rip my gaze away from the way his rolled up shirt sleeves show off his strong forearms and large, calloused hands. The fact that his hands are rough instead of soft and smooth, like I’d expect from a Prince who does nothing but drink and flirt, affects metoomuch.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness, should we review the menu?” Lionel, another advisor who manages the kitchens, asks. I nod, grateful to change the subject and get my mind off the idea of waltzing with the handsome—and irritating—Prince. Lionel stands, but before he can continue, Carex bursts into the room.

“Your Majesty,” Carex huffs out, a panic in his voice that puts me on edge. “I just received a missive. There’s been another rebel attack. On Rusthelm.” My heart sinks. I’d just sent two healers there to help with the village-wide illness. Is the attack because of my assistance? How can I protect my people if any action from me spurs the rebels to retaliate?

The guilt and frustration force me into action. I’m immediately on my feet, ready to aerstep there and wipe out the rebel force. The room shakes with my power, and for the briefest of moments, I lose a tiny bit of my awareness, lost in rage and what feels likemadness.But it’s so short I barely register it, too focused on the situation at hand. I scan the faces of every advisor in meticulous detail, looking for the smallest twitch of lips or lack thereof, hoping to find someone who doesn’t look surprised at the news and might lead me to the mole. But shocked and concerned faces are all that stare back at me, waiting for my orders. Carex places his hand on my arm, and I jump slightly at his touch.

“We’ve stopped the attack, and the rebels fled.” His lowered voice and attempt at a soothing touch tell me he’s trying to comfort me, but nothing can make this reality any better. “But there were many injuries. We need more healers. Quickly.”

“Let me help,” Prince Hawthorne interrupts before I can respond. “I’m a powerful healer. I heal with both water and light.” Carex’s furrowed brow matches my own skepticism, though I also can’t ignore the shock his ability to heal withtwoconduits brings. I knew he was powerful, but this is rare and unusual.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say firmly while Carex nods in agreement, though several advisors seem to purse their lips. The Prince has won them over these last weeks. It’s infuriating.

“How many were injured?” Prince Hawthorne asks. Carex hesitates. The Prince stands, his towering frame dominating the room. “How many? Tell me,” he demands, and I’m taken aback by the seriousness and authority in his voice. It’s the voice of a leader, a ruler, brokering no room for argument. He fills the entire room with his imposing presence, and it’s no surprise that Carex gives in to his command.

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