Page 3 of A Bolt of Magic

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Kian

There has to be a witch who is willing to do what it takes to escape. Surely? I need someone with enough magic. Someone willing to take a risk. Why is this so difficult? I thought I would be able to take my pick of willing individuals who are sick of this place.

I sigh, looking down the dimly lit hallway. Candles flicker in lanterns hanging at intervals along the wall. I turn the corner and watch as the woman I nearly bashed heads with walks into her quarters and slams the door in the face of the guard, who scowls as he turns back in my direction.

He walks toward me, giving me a filthy look as he gets closer. “What are you still doing here? I thought I told you to leave. You lost or something?” He pushes me against the wall, pressing one hand to my chest, his flinty gaze on mine. We’re eye to eye. I’m tall for a human. Strong, too.

I don’t want trouble.

I let him dominate me. I know I can take a lone fae, but now is not the time. Not when I’m about to escape. Iwillget out ofhere. I must. I just need to convince someone with power to help me. As a last resort, I will make the attempt on my own, but my chances will be greatly diminished.

I need a witch.

I put up my hands in a show of submission. “I don’t want any trouble. I heard that the witches are…” I look down the hallway, first to the left and then to the right. “Are good in bed,” I whisper, like I’m letting him in on a secret. “I wanted to test the theory.”

He grins at me, letting me go. “You would be right. I’ve heard the same, but they also think they’re better than us. That one especially.” He points toward Rhiannon’s door. “Actually, they all think they’re better. They wouldn’t lower themselves to the likes of us. And you thought you’d what? Knock on the door and show them your member, and they’d let you in.” He laughs, slapping his thigh. “You look like you’re plumb out of luck.” He lifts his brows, his grin growing wider by the second.

“You might be right.” I sigh deeply, smoothing my tunic. “No luck at all,” I grumble, pretending to be upset.

“You don’t stand a chance,” he snorts, looking in the direction he just came from. “They all think that the sun shines out of their—”

I snort. “Typical.”

“You should go to the brothel. You would have your pick of women. There are even a few fae females, if you’re looking for adventure.”

I grin back at him. “I’ll do that.” I nod.

“You’d better hurry, or you won’t make curfew. I take it you have coin?”

“I do, indeed. I don’t need very long,” I lie.

The guard sniggers, nodding a few times. “Off you go, then.” He starts walking away but turns back. “Make sure you don’t get caught in this section of the servants’ quarters again. Next time,you might not get away so lightly. The overseer is protective of the witches and won’t tolerate it. Like it or not, we need them to make quota.”

I nod. “I know, it’s just…” I shrug. “I was trying my luck. I meant no harm. Thank you for your help.”

“Okay, then.” He turns and walks away. I make as if to follow, but once he is out of sight, I turn back. I’m not going to be so easily deterred.

I need a witch if my plan is going to work. Ideally, a powerful one. If I’m going to risk my life, it needs to be worthwhile. The more powerful the witch, the better my odds, provided I can trust her.

Witches have been known to stick to their own.

The stable hand gave me the names and locations of a few of the more powerful witches staying at the Emptyfae Court. Or should I say, witches who are prisoners at the Court.

Same as me.

Same as most of us non-fae.

I’ve learned a lot living in the fae Court over the last few weeks. It seems that the fae themselves, although they have it better, are prisoners, too. We all serveher. I wish the kings would come back. That wrongs could be set right. I feel a prickle in the back of my mind. It’s like my subconscious is trying to tell me something, but I ignore it. It happens to me more often than I’d like.

There is one left I haven’t spoken to yet, and time is running out. I make my way down the hallway until I reach door number eighteen.

I rap on the wood, looking left and right. I half expect the guard to return. I’ll be in trouble if he does.

I knock again, and the door opens.

“What do you want?” the witch asks. She looks at me with wary eyes, her face a mask of irritation. Her hair is gleamingblack. It falls in waves around her shoulders. She leans against the door frame, one hand clutching a small, worn book tightly to her chest. “I don’t have all day.”

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