Page 46 of A Weave of Lies
It had been true; she hadn’t wanted him to die. He’d only been there so she could bury her coven sister after all. Her feelings had changed now, muddied by his violence and prejudice. Now, she wanted … she wanted …
No, he wouldn’t make a killer out of her, even if she hated him for all he was.
Even if he hated her for all she was.
“Exchanging our lifeforce was all I could think of,” Semras murmured. “I know how much it hurt you … I-I felt it when I took on your pain. But I had to lend you my strength before you fell. I had no time to be delicate about it.”
Velten grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. His fingers dug into her jaw like claws, and she shrugged to dislodge them.
Wide-eyed, he released her face. “You transferredvigour to me? You did not attempt to steal itfromme?”
“No!” Her mind reeled from shock. “No, why would I even think to—?”
Horror dawned on his face, mirroring hers. The blank mask over his expression, the violence of his reaction, his accusations—it all made sense now.
“You thought I tried to kill you?” she asked. “Drain your life to bolster mine?”
“I … I thought—”
“I didn’t fail my weave, Inquisitor. I succeeded,” she said, seething. “And I’m weak now, incapable of fending you off because you wieldmystrength along with yours. Not because your threads slipped from my hands before I could steal them.”
The glade smelled of burnt wood, and fresh blood, and comforting petrichor. Stones of times immemorial loomed over them, a silent jury to witness the Trial of Semras of Yore. They waited for the final ruling.
Pinned to the forest floor, the witch stayed still. Soil and pebbles and blades of grass pressed against her back. She kept her breathing even, calm.
She could barely feel her heartbeat.
The inquisitor stared silently, then shut his eyes in a grimace of pain, dropping his face into the crook of her neck. A warm, shuddering breath blew against her ear.
Then a soft, nearly imperceptible voice whispered, “Lie to me.”
Semras shivered. “What did you—?”
He retreated to loom over her once more. “Have you …” He paused, throat bobbing. “… ever used mind control on a human?”
“No! Never! Do you really believe I could do such a thing?”
Estevan drew her into a tight embrace. Shaking arms held her against his blood-drenched chest. One hand buried in her hair, while another circled her waist to press her closer against him.
Semras let him have whatever he sought in her. She could feel his heart beating so, so fast.
Perhaps it was hers.
“I do not …” His hoarse voice trailed into a whisper. “I do not believe you would.”
Relief washed over her as stress receded from her body in a waning wave. A dam opened within her, and all the feelings she’d bottled until now poured out of control. Unbidden, tears fell down her cheeks freely.
Old Crone take her; he had seen her cry now. She had no dignity left. He had utterly shredded it to pieces and now watched the rest of it drip out of her puffy eyes.
Estevan cradled her face. He dared look concerned; it reignited her rage.
“What,” she said flatly.
“Did I scare you?”
“You’re cruel.”
He brushed away her tears. The warmth of his fingers sent a shiver down her spine.
