Page 88 of The Witch Queen

“I think Laurel’s right,” Fionn says gruffly, and I give him a look of betrayal. “A lot of the rebels are just common folk, pulled into something they don’t understand. We shouldn’t punish them, at least not without a warning first.”Of course he would take the commoners’ side.

Laurel gives him a grateful nod. “We can tell the Council tomorrow morning and complete our plans.” No. No, no, no. This isn’t safe. I can’t allow Laurel to put herself at risk like this.

“Laurel, can I speak with you privately, please?” I ask, trying and failing to keep the tension out of my voice. She follows me into my bedroom in the apartment. “I don’t like this,” I growl, my voice low. “It puts you in unnecessary danger. I know you haven’t accepted the mating bond yet, so you don’t understand the…primal urgeI feel to protect you.” She puts her hand on her hip, expression haughty and fierce.

“I’m the strongest fae to ever live, Thorne. I think I’ll be okay,” she snaps.

“Iknow that, but the mating bond doesn’t,” I practically choke out.

“I will always be a target. If it’s not the rebels, it will be your father. If it’s not your father, it will be the Queen of Delsar. If you truly intend for this to work between us, you’re going to have to learn to live with my being in danger.” Her eyes are bright, and it drives me mad. I understand her reasoning, but the protective urge is overwhelming. I swallow once. Twice. Then I take a deep breath, pulling myself together.

“Okay,” I finally say. “But I want to be by your side, hidden.” She starts to protest, the attitude I love so much rising to her expression. I know what she’s going to say, so I hold my hand up. “Please, Laurel. I know you can protect yourself. But Ineedto be there.”

I can feel the weight of this compromise between us. Me accepting her exposure; her accepting my protection. She studies me, and for once I understand the thoughts running through her mind—she also realizes how important this moment is for us.

“Fine,” she says, and I loose a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I give her a giant cocky grin. “You won’t even know I’m there, witchling.”

Nemesia

The witch’s great power was consuming her, becoming too much for her to bear. Those closest to her from the coven searched high and low for a solution to stop the madness they were glimpsing. No solution presented itself.

Unknown Story, Unknown Origin

“Follow me,” Genevieve says, taking my hand in hers. I follow her through the bustling crowd of the Floating Market. I’d mentioned to her my love of the district at night, and she’d insisted on bringing me to her favorite places in the humid and damp bazaar.

We weave in and out of stalls where merchants sell silk scarves, roasted nuts, magical objects, and everything else imaginable. Despite the Market’s position atop the salty water of an inlet on the coast of Arnia, the wooden walkway is sturdy beneath our feet. The sun has just started its descent in the sky, deep orange in the haze of the briny air.

“Where are we going?” I ask. Genevieve only turns her face back to me, joy written so clearly across her open expression, and smiles.

“We’re almost there,” is all she says before tugging harder and increasing our pace.

We near the end of the pier-like structure that halts abruptly at a cliff that soars a hundred feet above the water. The crowd has thinned significantly this far away from the hub of the market, and less than a handful of patrons stroll the walkway. When we reach the mass of rock, Genevieve jumps, grabbing a rope ladder expertly hidden in the crevices of the cliff. Her eyes are bright, and without speaking, she climbs.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, my heart rate skyrocketing.

“I’m going to our final destination. We need to hurry. Start climbing.” Eyeing the flimsy ladder skeptically, I pause before sighing and beginning my ascent, limbs shaking involuntarily. Genevieve climbs quickly, her short frame scaling the cliff fully before I’m even a quarter of the way up. Black curls peep over the edge at the top as she peers down at me. “Come on!” she yells. “You’re going to miss it!”

“Miss what?” I yell up at her.

“The view!” she cheers before disappearing from my line of sight. I move my legs and arms quicker, focused on not looking down. I’ve never been particularly fond of heights. Especially not while attached to a fraying piece of fabric turned into a makeshift support system. When I finally reach the top, I roll my body away from the edge, remaining prone on the ground as I wait for my racing heart to still. Genevieve nudges me gently with her shoe. “Just a few more minutes of walking and we’re there.”

Standing to follow her on shaky legs, the adrenaline still coursing through me, we walk a few more minutes along the edge of the cliff. I keep several feet of distance from the sheer drop on the other side. Noticing my breath quickening, I realize we’ve climbed even higher and now stand on the highest point of the shoreline for miles around. A few other couples sit spread out along the smooth rock. Genevieve finds us a private location before flopping down and patting next to her.

When we’re both seated, I survey the view. Cobalt sea wraps around most of the view, the ocean turning more green-gray with each minute of twilight that passes. The sun almost reaches the horizon, and a vibrant explosion of tangerine, peach, and blush ripples across the sky. The fluffy clouds that perpetually surround Velmara light from within with the color of apricots. The smallest sliver of moon appears in the sky directly above us, and Genevieve sighs next to me. Her sweet scent wraps around us, and I can’t help but let out my own contented sigh. Genevieve speaks softly, explaining the significance of the location.

“When my father still lived in Arnia, before he remarried, I had a nursemaid turned governess who was common born. She used to bring me up here in the evenings to watch the sunset and to distract me from the fact that my father wasn’t around, even at night after his responsibilities had ended. I always felt like I was in the middle of the sky. We’d lay here until the sun had fully set, then she’d aerstep us home so we didn’t have to make the long trek down the ladder in the dark. But we always climbed up. She said that I needed to learn that not everything required magic.” The setting sun paints her face in a golden glow as she tells me the story. “I haven’t come back up here in years. It’s just as breathtaking as I remember it.”

“What happened to her? Your governess?”

Genevieve swallows, turning eyes filled with grief upon me. “When my father remarried and gave me over to my Uncle Silas, she tried to sneak us both away. Silas was unkind to both of us. She feared for me and hatched a plan to take us deep into the Nivan Desert. Silas caught us and killed her on the spot.”

“How old were you?” I ask, afraid of the answer.

“Twelve.” Indignation fills my chest on her behalf. How dare her uncle murder the only parent she ever had right in front of her? If I ever meet the male, I may not have the willpower to bite my tongue. Or quell my magic. My shoulders tense with rage, but Genevieve strokes my shoulder and turns a small smile my way. “Don’t be sad, Nemesia. She would have been so happy I found someone to share this secret place with. And she wouldn’t have cared that you were Thayarian.” She smirks, and I can’t help returning the smile. “Is there somewhere like this in Thayaria? A secret place you’d show me if we were there instead of here?” I consider the question for a moment, knowing any answer I could give would inevitably be tainted by some trauma I’ve experienced.

“My favorite place in the palace is the archives, but they would underwhelm you after a lifetime spent in Velmara’s archives.” She starts to protest, but I laugh and cut her off. “They would. Velmara’s archives are a hundred times what Thayaria has. Maybe more.” I look down at my hands, deciding to open up and tell her about myrealfavorite place. “My family kept a cabin deep in the mountains to the east of the capital. Even after my parents died, I would go there every few months just to sit with the quiet. It’s very different from here. You can barely see for all the trees that cover the landscape. It’s eerie to some, but I love the feeling of being surrounded by the wild. Where you feel like you’re in the middle of the sky here, I feel like I’m just another tree there, part of a larger ecosystem that’s bigger than any of my problems. Part of a forest that will remain long after I’m gone.”

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