Page 32 of Fated to the Vampire Prince
“May I come in?” the witch asked.
“Come in!” I called, the words sticking in my throat.
The woman bustled inside with a wicker basket in one hand and a tray in the other and closed the door. My heart accelerated to a galloping beat as soon as it was shut. Fear prickled along my spine and nervous sweat broke out over my skin.
I assessed her like a fox sizing up a hen, even though she was the one with teeth. Shreesa was a middle-aged woman with thick red hair and a round face. I thought she looked kind, but I knew looks could be deceiving, especially with Dark Witches.
All it took was one spell, and she’d transform.
When Shreesa saw the broken pitcher and bedpost, she clicked her tongue. “My, my. This is quite the mess. What was His Grace in a rage about this time?”
She cast me a sidelong glance. Her thin lips curling into a knowing smile. But what she knew, she didn’t say.
Extracting a slender wooden stick from her apron pocket, she chanted in a language I didn’t know. As she did, her eyes glowed red, just like a demon’s. The hair on the back of my neck stood on edge as the charge of magick reverberated through the room, and the smell of something sweet lingeredin the air. Instinct had me out of my chair. I flipped it over to shield myself, cowering behind it. Then I snatched an iron poker from beside the fireplace for good measure.
The broken items put themselves back together like a jigsaw puzzle. Then she crouched to my eye level. “Didn’t mean to scare you, Miss. I forgot His Grace told me you were from Nightfall, and Damien knows how the sisters love to spin tall tales about us.”
Her eyes stopped glowing blood red, and she shoved the thin wooden wand back into her pocket; my grip on the iron poker loosened a little. “Did they tell you we have a mouth full of sharp teeth? The better to eat disobedient children? That’s always been my favorite story.”
She thought my fear funny, did she? Slowly, I stood from behind the chair, but I didn’t drop my weapon. I’d heard the stories about Dark Witches my family allowed me to hear and those they didn’t.
Of the viciousness. Of the inhumanity.
“Sister Vera said you can grow long claws and sharp teeth. That you are just as monstrous as the demons you worship.”
Or as the vampires that protected you from justice.
Shreesa’s eyes held a hint of sadness when she said, “There’s a kernel of truth in every story.”
Righteous anger had me taking a step forward. “So you admit it. You are a monster.”
She set her tray on the dresser and offered me one of the muffins. I didn’t move. I was petrified. I was furious. I was out of my element in every way. But I stood my ground because that was what Prideaux witches did.
“All magick is monstrous if wielded by the wrong kind of witch, child.”
What a ridiculous thing to say. My family’s magick wasn’tmonstrous. It was a gift from the Moon Goddess, Diana.A blessing.
Those who had Diana’s gift, the Witches of the Light, didn’t transform into beasts. They were good. And used their magick to protect themselves. “And you think you’re the right kind of witch, do you?” I asked, clutching the fire poker like I was ready to swing it at her.
I didn’t know what I meant to do, only that I didn’t want to be defenseless when she showed her claws. But Shreesa didn’t move to attack me. She simply ran a hand down the front of her apron.
“I try to be,” she said, then cleared her throat. Looking at me like I was nothing more than an exasperating child. “Now, why don’t you sit down so I can clean those wounds? That’s what His Grace wants. That, and for you to eat.”
I didn’t want to eat her food or let her touch me, but I had to calm my anger and quiet my fears, no matter how hard it was. This was my chance to question her. To be the spy my family needed.
Setting down the fire poker would be easier if Bastien was here and I knew I was safe. But he’d left me alone, even though he’d committed to protecting me. I shouldn’t be disappointed or surprised. I was used to being alone.
Slowly, I took the muffin and lifted it to my nose. It was warm, and it smelled more delicious than anything I’d ever eaten. Cautious, I took a small bite. It was filled with autumn flavors. Pumpkin. Cinnamon. Hearty oats. Shreesa stepped around me and righted the chair I’d knocked over. I took another bite as I studied her, hating how much I liked the fluffy texture and sweetness.
The witch patted the back of the chair, encouraging me to sit down while she busied herself with little pots and bundles of herbs inside her basket. With one eye on the witch, Ilowered myself into the seat. The poker resting on my lap, just in case she got any ideas.
Shreesa hung a kettle over the fire, whistling softly as she returned to her basket and extracted a bolt of linen and cut it into strips. If I was going to ask her questions, I needed to get started. I watched her for a few more moments, then asked, “How do you know the Duke?”
Shreesa raised a brow. “Eat another bite, and I’ll tell you.”
For the sake of my curiosity, I took another bite.
She gave me a cheeky smile. “Our inn has always been a stop for those traveling between the north to Château Corbin,” she began, using a blade just as short and stubby as she was to cut needles from a bundle of rosemary, releasing its fragrant aroma.
