Page 60 of The Witch and His Crow

Caym released a clicking shrill from his throat and then left, flying out of the gap in the straw roof.

I broke the skin on my lower lip, sinking my teeth in just to stop myself from clawing back my initial command. I hadn’t contemplated if it was safe for him out beyond the village. I still had no idea how Hekate had even made this trial possible. It was conjured, no doubt, but it felt so real. I wouldn’t put it past Hekate to haveactuallydropped us in 1563.

What I did know, as I turned back around to Arwyn, was that the only endurance Hekate was possibly testing was my ability to be in the same room with him with both of us being conscious.

‘So,’ I said, breaking the awkward silence. ‘Do you have a plan?’

‘Nope.’

Getting information out of Arwyn was like getting blood from a stone. ‘We’re just going to hide out here until the bell tolls?’

‘I’ll tell you what.’ He scrunched his nose up, eyeing me from head to foot. ‘If you sit down and let me see to your back, then we can discuss plans.’

‘Now you’re ignoring my question?’

‘It’s impossible to ignore you,’ Arwyn rebuked, yet again twisting my words. ‘Sit, Hector.’

I did as he asked, because frankly encouraging more conversation would only infuriate me further. I perched myself upon the edge of a stack of hay. Focusing on the wooden-slatted wall, I tried not to pay mind to Arwyn as he took position behind me.

That became impossible when gentle hands began to trace the skin of my shoulders.

A cold breeze brushed against my skin, making the hairs stand on end and my flesh prickle. I couldn’t see Arwyn, but his touch certainly painted a picture of him as he inspected my back. Since I’d woken, the stable hadn’t been so quiet. Only our breathing could be heard, and the soft brush of his fingers across my skin.

‘Impressive,’ Arwyn concluded, patting me on the shoulder before tugging my shirt back over my skin. ‘Whatever is in Eleanor’s salve is certainly working. Besides the scars, the redness is fading, so clearly the infection is also being dealt with.’

‘I’ll be sure to thank her when she visits,’ I said, trying my damn hardest not to show just how debilitating Arwyn’s touch was. Luckily, a ruckus distracted us, drawing our attention.

It came from outside, a chorus of shouts. We both paused, taking it in. My initial thought was that the demonic creatures had chased us. Had they found their way through the circle of stones? If so, my Gift had not yet returned, and we were without weapons.

‘Put this on,’ Arwyn commanded, handing me my ripped, bloodied black top from the castle. I did as he asked, glad for at least some coverage. He moved to the door and peered cautiously outside. Whatever he saw made him fumble back a step, concern etched into the lines across his forehead.

I stood, panicked, ready for anything. ‘What is it?’

‘Witch Hunters,’ he growled, holding the door open enough for me to see what he did. I couldn’t begin to believe we hadWitch Hunters to face, on top of everything else. But Arwyn was right. Because outside the stable, on the distant road that led to this small village, were a group of horses ridden by people holding a banner with a familiar symbol.

‘When did the original witch hunts start again?’ I asked, slowly closing the door, aware of just how much my hands shook.

Arwyn took a moment to reply, but I knew he was aware of the answer. Every witch was. It just hadn’t clocked in my mind until I saw the cavalry riding towards us.

‘1563,’ Arwyn finally answered, the feral growl still lingering in his tone. ‘Or there about.’

‘Shit,’ I stammered.

‘My thoughts exactly,’ Arwyn answered, not an ounce of humour on his face.

I’d never seen him look so worried, borderline terrified.

The trial was beginning to make sense, and quickly. Hekate had planted us in the midst of the dark and bloodyactualwitch trials. Suddenly, what we had to endure became painfully clear.

Hands clamped down on my shoulders and spun me around. Arwyn drank me in with wide eyes before giving me a command I knew I couldn’t refuse. ‘Hide.’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Shouts rose from outside. Deep voices carried over to the stable as Witch Hunters demand for the witch to show themselves. I couldn’t comprehend if the Witch Hunters knew that me and Arwyn were here, or if they spoke about the mysterious Eleanor. Suddenly, her name and the mention of the trials, conjured something like an itch in the back of my mind.

Like a story I already knew…

Even if we were not on the Witch Hunters’ radar, the moment they found us hiding out in a stable, dressed in clothes that didn’t belong to the era, we’d be accused of witchcraft.

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