Page 52 of The Witch and His Crow

Areason?A fuckingreason?

I closed the minimal space between us, rocks and stone falling helplessly back to the ground. I didn’t stop until our boots knocked together. My neck ached as I looked up at him, which only added to my urge to knock the smug grin off his face. ‘The single fucking reason we are together is because you held onto me like your life depended on it.’

‘You have a terrible habit of swearing, Hector.’

‘You don’t have the slightest of ideas at just how terrible I can be,’ I snapped back.

Arwyn smirked. ‘Forgive me for overstepping, but weren’t you the one who straddled me? I think I have a pretty good idea.’

My nails bit into my fists, my nails slicing crescent moons into my palm. ‘Fuck you.’

Arwyn’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you offering, because I’m more of the giver?—’

I slammed my fist into his jaw. No thought, no care. It didn’t matter if I truly believed he was the Witch Hunter or not. He irritated the life out of me.

‘Wow,’ Arwyn rocked back a step, lifting a finger to his split lip. His tongue lapped up blood, smudging it over his mouthuntil the colour looked a vibrant pink. ‘So, I take that as a retraction of your previous offer?’

Even with a mouth coated in blood, he was still goading me. Testing me. For extra emphasis on my disdain for him, I cast a small bout of energy and knocked Arwyn on his ass.

Now, it was my turn to look down on him. ‘Careful how you speak to me, Arwyn.’

‘I’m Arwyn now, not your suspected Witch Hunter?’

I cocked my head to the side. ‘I have some other names for you, if you would prefer me to use them?’

The list was certainly endless.

‘Arwyn is good. I like Arwyn.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘I don’t.’

‘Ouch.’

I extended a hand, to his surprise. Arwyn took it, wrapping those long fingers around my hand and tugging. Once I helped him up, I didn’t release him. I tugged him closer, relying on my Gift for the added strength. ‘If I find out you’re lying to me, Arwyn, I will kill you.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’

I released him. Arwyn massaged the hand I had held, whilst keeping at a sensible distance. I didn’t trust him, nor would I. But for now, I’d be cautious. Arwyn was right—we were in the middle of the second trial. Anything was possible. Discovering the Witch Hunter could wait until after we actually survived whatever we were going to face.

‘You said you knew about the wolf in the flock. So tell me.’

Arwyn looked around me. ‘I don’t know a name.’

He was lying. The lack of eye contact proved as much.

‘Which witch is it? Come on. No point acting coy now.’ It was clear to me that the Witch Hunter was, in fact, a witch. How else would they infiltrate the Witch Trials? If Jonathan was in Father Tomin’s pocket, another witch could be too. Maybe it wasArwyn, maybe not. But if not, it meant the wolf was out there. With Romy.

‘Romy,’ I gasped, concern for her slamming into me. ‘I need to find her.’

Another scan of the expansive landscape revealed no other signs of life, not even the hint of a civilisation in the distance. And our vantage point certainly gave the perfect view for miles and miles on all sides.

Arwyn attempted to calm me. ‘I’ve seen her fight. I don’t think anyone is going to mess with a witch they can’t touch without being melted.’

‘I’d suggest we start with finding some shelter. Daylight won’t last for long, and we don’t know what to expect when night falls,’ Arwyn said, stepping into my side. ‘This isn’t a trial we’ve had experience with or knowledge of before.’

I side-eyed him. ‘How would you know?’

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a stone. It was as small as his palm and had a flat surface on either side. My immediate thought went to the stone being perfect at skipping across lakes…

---