Page 91 of The Witch Queen

I pick up a vial of dark crimson liquid, then carefully pour a single drop of it onto a clear glass plate. Picking up another vial, I pour a second drop onto the plate, then close my eyes, whispering a spell. The two drops light up with an unusual glow, then slowly inch closer to one another until they combine into one large glob. The light brightens, and I smile wide…

“It’s getting stronger,” I say aloud, eyes alight with a manic and feral gleam.

Laurel

Dual channelers are rare. They typically only occur when two powerful family lines with different magics intentionally ally themselves through marriage, with the explicit purpose of producing strong heirs. Common births of dual channelers are nearly unheard of, and as such, most dual channelers are well-known across the realms.

The Unabridged History of Magical Orders, Volume I

Thorne continues tocourtme, even as we prepare for an offensive attack on the rebels. We train together. We have meals together. We go on walks just to have an excuse to talk to one another. I feel myself letting him in more and more, and it’s both terrifying and exhilarating. He told me that all I had to do was keep letting down walls for him, one brick at a time—asked me to promise to try. But what I didn’t say, what I desperately wanted to admit, is that I’mexhaustedfrom the effort of keeping those walls up for three centuries. I fear that once I crack one stone, the whole fortress will collapse, and I’m not sure if he’s ready for that outpouring of emotion from me.

One night, he insisted on bringing me to a tavern for a pint of Thayarian ale. The patrons were nervous around me at first, but after a joke from Thorne and his announcement that the next round of drinks would be on me, the mood lightened. I envy his ability to charm any room he walks into, to light up whatever he touches. And when that light focuses wholly on me, I forget everything else around me.

After Thorne extracted himself from the dozens of fae who wanted to speak to the charismaticShining Prince, we drank in a corner with Fionn and Silene, playing Skran and talking till early in the morning. Thorne’s intolerance for Thayarian ale had him stumbling to the castle, insisting I was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. I feigned smirking disinterest, but the raw compliments lit me up from the inside out.

Today, the rebels will attack the palace. Fionn and Silene are helping them sneak in and will tell them I’m in the throne room with some advisors. While they make their way to my trap, a small group of trusted soldiers led by Carex will storm the rebel stronghold in Oakton. Unfortunately, none of the planted information we strategically leaked to the Council seems to have made its way to the rebels, signaling either Nemesiawasworking alone, or her counterpart has been too smart to share anything more.

Standing in my closet, I consider my appearance for the attack. I have a part to play, so I don the dark makeup and even darker clothing of the Witch Queen. The dress I select is a two-piece black velvet number. The top is long-sleeved, with a square neckline and hem that stops just below my bust. The skirt rests at my natural waist, with a sleek line that hugs my curves before flaring out. Several inches of my stomach are on display, and I’ve braided my hair in an intricate design that circles my head.

Thayar and laurel crown resting on my head, I survey myself in the mirror. The female staring back—the Witch Queen—is becoming unfamiliar to me after the months spent with Thorne, Silene, and Fionn. Lunaria rubs against my legs, startling me from my observation. I scratch her head until she purrs deeply, then aerstep both of us to the throne room antechamber, where Thorne awaits us.

The moment he sees me, his eyes hungrily track up and down my body, lust instantly darkening his eyes.

“Aethers, Laurel. You’re going to be the death of me. The Shining Prince will be taken down by the Witch Queen after all, through tight dresses and crimson lips.” He gives me a sly smirk. I bare my teeth in mock ferociousness, and his smirk turns to a full out grin. “You look similar to the first time I met you,” he adds softly, threading his fingers through mine and bringing our foreheads together. The irony of the moment isn’t lost on me. “Are you going to bewitch the throne room in the same way?”

“Yes,” I breathe out, and the word sounds more seductive than I intend. He squeezes my hands, then releases me and pulls away.

“Don’t make it too dark, or I’ll lose the ability to stay hidden,” he reminds me as he cloaks himself with light.

I nod, then will the room beyond us to dim. I gather the water in the air in an eerie mist, then stretch the plants across the tile so that they slither in serpentine spirals. Even though Thorne hides himself with his magic, I can see him clearly. A muscle in his jaw tightens, and his hands clench and unclench. We walk through the door of the antechamber together, Lunaria close behind. Thorne stands just beside me as I sit on the throne, body angled toward me in an athletic stance, as if he’s ready to jump in front of the throne at any moment. Lunaria lays at my feet, tail swishing with interest and eyes glowing.

We wait several minutes, the anticipation building. I know that the longer they take to arrive, the more time Carex and his team will have to search the Oakton manor, but I’m anxious for the meeting to begin. Despite Thorne’s protests, there are no Royal Guards here, so the silence in the room is oppressive. While we wait, I take deep calming breaths to center myself within the aether. I need to stay in control during the attack—I cannot slip and use too much aether. After another ten minutes, Lunaria yowls, alerting us to their approach, and I subtly put up a strong shield of light magic around Thorne to keep him safe.

The rebels blow the doors open with a magical explosion, then barge in. Their leader, who I now know as Krantz, stands in the middle of the group of three dozen fae, protected by those in front of him.Coward. Several others have his bright red hair—it’s a family affair, apparently. I wait for their dust to settle before sealing the doors closed behind them with a strong gale, winding plants through the handles so they cannot escape. All at once, the group tenses, noticing that I’m here alone and there’s no exit for them. Krantz only snarls.

“Now, now, there was no need for that,” I coo. “The doors were unlocked, and I was waiting here to greet you.” Three dozen apprehensive eyes glance around the room, though Krantz only pulls back his shoulders in arrogance. “Did you think I wouldn’t know when you breached my palace?” I ask, mock pity in my voice. “Oh, you did. How unfortunate for you.” I smile, wide and feral, as I let loose a wave of energy that shakes the room. Bits of rock and debris fall from the ceiling, not enough to hurt them but enough to make them duck out of the way and break their tight formation.

Krantz snarls, stepping to the front of the group. “It doesn’t matter. There are dozens of us and you’re alone,” he spits, clearly trying to rally his team after my magic rattled them. He takes another step toward me, and Lunaria hisses.

“I’d be careful not to get too close to the cat. She’s got a temper. And very big claws,” I mock. Krantz sends at least a dozen hidden daggers whipping toward me, and I will them to break apart into tiny pieces. “I believe that is now thethirdtime you’ve tried that on me. Hopefully third time’s the charm, and you’ve finally learned you won’t get a blow in that way.” Krantz’s eyes widen, and his jaw opens slightly, realization dawning across his features. “Ah, yes, I see you’re realizing that the Prince did not hide you as well as you thought during that little attack on the thayar tower. If only he were as powerful as me, but alas, you allied yourself with someone whose magic is as apparent to me as your fear.” I hate mocking Thorne’s incredible magical strength like this, but I need to keep his cover in case we need to use him with the rebels again.

Krantz bares his teeth at me, and the other rebels with him fan out in a semicircle around me with practiced movements, like they’ve drilled this repeatedly. From the corner of my eye, I notice Thorne’s body tense as he watches Krantz with predatory intent. The posture matches Lunaria, who now stands, her graceful body angled and on alert.

“It’s only fair that I trick you,” I continue, “after you put on such a good performance when I had you in my cells. Here I thought you were a farmer, just trying to protect his family. I won’t let you out of my clutches again.”

“Iamtrying to protect my family, and all of Thayaria, from your wickedblood magic,” he jeers. “Witch!” He spits at my feet, but the ire in his voice doesn’t match his eyes, confirming my suspicion that he’s using a convenient narrative rather than possessing any real belief that I’m a witch. All the rebels with him spit at my feet and hiss, raising swords over their heads in a pitiful semblance of a battle cry.

I only smirk, then will all of their swords to fly out of their hands in an instant. All but Krantz cower back in fear. When I stand, they back up, inching farther away with every lazy step I take down the dais. I’m eager for a fight with the bastard who’s slipped from my clutches not once, but twice. Vines inch along the ground with me as I delicately make my way across the marble floor, my steps echoing loudly. A foot away from Krantz, I stop, though he doesn’t flinch when my vines reach him and crawl up his legs.

“Your arrogance will be what brings you down,” Krantz says with a quiet fury. With those words, the rebels snap into action, despite their fear, and magic of all kinds whips around me. The swords were clearly a distraction, and this is their code phrase, but my surprise only lasts for a beat before I spring into action, blocking their attacks with light shields that Thorne taught me to use.

Water honed into blades whip toward me, guided by currents of air. Daggers pulled from hidden locations spin end over end, guided by magic that ensures they’ll hit their mark—me. I could halt the rebels where they stand, make them unable to move. I could make their hearts stop beating in their chests, but I don’t. Centuries of keeping my magic secret prevents me from taking the easy way out, not to mention my fear that any large expenditures of aether will disrupt the balance of magic in Thayaria.

Instead, I block and dodge, sending elemental, conduit-based magic hurling toward them. Tiny discs of light, water blades, and reclaimed daggers fly from my hands. Thirty plus fae fight me alone, and I hate to admit it, but I might not have been able to keep up had it not been for Thorne’s training. I move easily between shields and weapons of light, adding in other elemental magic as I dance across the throne room. Vines catch five of the attackers unaware, stealthily wrapping up their legs and bringing them down. Their screams fade to muffled cries as the sprigs lock them in place and wrap around their mouths.

When a large, hook-nosed male nearly the size of Fionn gets too close, I’m forced to turn my back on him to get away, and a small female uses the opportunity to trip me. I fall to the ground but jump back up quickly, cursing my long velvet skirt. The hook-nosed fae pulls me into a headlock. I slam my elbow into his groin, then spin when his grip loosens. I kick him in the chest into Lunaria, who pounces on him, gouging his eyes out with a single swipe.

The closeness of the encounter rattles me. I use the brief respite to rip off my skirt at my knees, giving me more freedom of movement. When another fae nearly pulls me into his grip, I unleash the ruthlessness lurking just below my skin. I choke those trapped by plants by sending vines down their throats and up their noses. I rip air from the lungs of the three fae closest to me, but one of them is an air channeler and reverses my magic quickly. In normal circumstances, they wouldn’t be able to overpower me, but between maintaining the shield protecting Thorne, the vines pinning down a dozen rebels, and the magic I’m using for hand-to-hand fighting, my magic is being pulled in too many directions.

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