Page 22 of The Witch and His Crow

‘We should get inside,’ Romy said, ‘see if we can find some supplies and a room to barricade ourselves into?’

‘You keep saying these things as if we are sticking together.’

Romy, before I could stop her, threaded her arm in with mine. ‘Hector, you are so smart. That’sexactlywhat I’m planning.’

‘I don’t work with?—’

‘Yeah, yeah. I hardly need to be told you’re more comfortable being a solitary witch. But if you were really familiar with the history of the Trials, you’d know those witches who stay alone usually end up dead first.’

Romy wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean I felt comfortable. Either way, a target was on my back. If anything, me being with Romy only risked her life…

Although…

No. I was wrong. Because whoever the champion was had been commanded to spare her. Romy was likely the most protected witch out of everyone here. Me sticking to her side would complicate the Witch Hunter’s attempts to kill me, given that he had to protect her life. So I kept my arm threaded with hers, offered a smile, and walked, arm in arm, inside the castle’s entrance.

The castle’s interior was almost as cold as its exterior. Dark furnishings and plum-coloured walls with gold-leafed details and designs gave it the impression that it hadn’t been lived in since the fifteenth century. The fires roaring in the hearths let off both heat and light, casting an inviting glow into the very uninviting space even if they didn’t do much to warm the air.

Dust itched my nose with each inhale. There was a musty scent to the air, mixed with notes of sandalwood, charred wood and… ‘Can you smell food?’

My stomach rumbled at the thought, my cheeks pricking and my mouth salivating.

‘I hardly imagine Hekate would let us go hungry for a month. Samhain is weeks away.’ Romy scanned the entrance hall, gaze fixing on the sweeping staircase before us. It took up the middle of the space, then branched both left and right. A walkway was above us, highlighted beneath the warm glow of the elaborate crystal chandelier. ‘Nor will she want us sleeping on the floor. We should find a room, secure it, and then follow our noses to the welcome feast.’

We both knew there was nothing welcoming about the feast. ‘Oh, can’t wait. Ilovebreaking bread with people who’d delight in seeing me dead.’

‘Not everyone has such nasty intentions.’ Romy said, squeezing me to her side.

‘I wish I had such a rosy outlook on life,’ I said as we walked beneath the chandelier, the worn carpet softening our footfall. As the silver glow bathed us, the back of my neck tingled. It was a feeling I knew well, the familiar scratch of eyes looking at me.

I drew back as dread clawed its way down my spine.

‘What’s wrong?’ Romy asked, as I surveyed the space, searching for the answer.

‘I don’t—’ Crystal clinked together melodically. I looked up, watching the drooping designs of the chandelier dance, my reflection starring back at me in each glass droplet. Then it was falling, directly upon me.

Without thought, I pushed Romy to the side. Her body smacked the ground a second before my hands flew upwards. My gift stretched out, forcing itself against the weight of the chandelier. It hung above me, suspended only by my power.

Just as Jonathan warned, someone had tried to kill me not even a minute after entering the arena.

There was an odd silence to the castle as even Romy held her breath. Everything felt like it was in slow motion, all but the trembling in my arms and the strain of my power, spreading a deep-rooted ache across my skull.

My knees buckled, my body pressing down to the ground until I was kneeling beneath the weight of the chandelier.

I had to act before I was crushed. I thrust the chandelier to the side. Crystal and glass exploded beside me, casting shards across my body like rain. My Gift withdrew, scurrying back into my body, weakened.

Pain was everywhere. Painted over my exposed skin, bouncing within my skull.

I could barely turn my head, shards of crystal pinching at my skin. The noise of the chandelier exploding against the groundbroke the seemingly endless silence. What followed was Romy shouting my name, her arms lifting beneath my armpits as she dragged me to the side of the entrance.

‘What the fuck!’ Romy was shouting, holding me up, her body over mine as though she could act as a shield.

Warm blood dripped down my cheek. I didn’t need to touch it to know the glass has cut me. Instead, my gaze snapped directly to the floor above, to find a man grinning down at me.

I couldn’t make out his face, but his eyes glowed with a circlet of blue. A water-witch. Witch Hunter or not, he’d tried to kill me.

‘What did you say about not everyone having nasty intentions?’ I asked Romy, wincing as I sat up. So many people were gawping at us—too many people to see me in a moment of weakness. I would be damned if I stayed on the floor, covered in blood and riddled with pain. So I gritted my teeth and stood.

If this witch thought he could get away with this, he was wrong. I drew in a breath, encouraging my strained power to rise to the surface. There was no doubt my eyes were spinning with silver. But before I could loop my power around the witch’s body and drag him over the balcony, another person acted first.

---