Page 37 of Traitor Witch
Most witches can sense when they're being scried on. It feels a lot like having someone breathe down the back of your neck, so it isn’t something we tend to use on each other unless we want to communicate. I wait as Danika fetches a black mirror and, within moments, I see my own face in the glass.
She covers the image, hiding me from her harem, mumbles a quick excuse, and ducks into her bedroom.
“Nilsa!” she whispers at the glass, “This is too risky, you’re supposed to be lying low.”
I shake my head. “I’ve left the island. They won’t find me now.”
“Unless you do stupid things like contact me!”
“I need to know what’s going on over there. Have theynamed a new Mother Lunar yet? Have there been any other deaths?”
“Not yet,” Danika shifts, her lips down-turned. “Ceres is a favourite, as are Iras and Philippa. But the Goddess will pick who she picks. The Lady of the Sun chose Rachel as the new Mother Solar yesterday at noon, so everyone expects the Lady of the Moon to choose by midnight tonight.”
“The Lady will choose whenever she wants to.” I grimace. “Or no one, if that is her whim.”
It’s happened before.
If the Goddess refuses to name a high priestess from amongst her witches, it inevitably destroys the coven. Being leaderless is the one fate no one wants to think about. In most cases, that’s the end of the coven. Most witches leave the area and try to join a different temple, and infighting destroys the rest from within.
That’s why Port Evert no longer has a witch presence besides Alletta.
“At least we’ll have an answer soon if Iras is chosen.” Danika smooths imaginary wrinkles out of her dress. “She’s vowed to summon Glenna’s spirit back from the endless night to discover the truth of what happened to her.”
I feel my eyes go comically wide. “But it’s forbidden.”
“She made the vow before the Goddess. If the Goddess makes her the new high priestess, we know she approves.”
“At least Iras speaks her mind.”
“But her brand of bluntness might not work to win the Solars back into an alliance…” Danika ponders. “They’re considering stopping the fosterings, did you know that?”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“Ceres agrees. She’d rather pin the whole thing on one deranged individual, struggling under the burden of being chosen to become the Goddess’s Shadow at such a young and delicate age.”
Her voice changes to a high-pitched sleaze at the last part, and I snort at how good her imitation is. Even if the words are poison.
“Anyway, what—”
The door bursts open behind Danika, and I only catch a glimpse of a flurry of bodies piling into the room before Danika's image disappears.
“Shit!” I hurry to the window and chuck the whole bowl out of it. “Opal!”
My familiar is already on it, lending me magic to power up the sigil marks on my spine.
“They might still trace the—”
“Got it.”
More prayers tumble from my lips, summoning the sea water through the window and into the bathroom where it splashes into the tub. I don't wait for it to settle before jumping in fully clothed.
I scrub at my skin, making sure every part of me is soaked.
“Mother Moon let this water wash the traces of your magic…” My prayer falls flat as the hairs on the back of my neck rise in warning.
Shit.
Too late.
