Page 4 of Traitor Witch
Like me, Danika is a Lunar witch, fostered for a year with the Solars to improve relations between our two covens. The Solar High Priestess, Felicity, requested us both—along with Ophelia—and in turn, Glenna took the Moon Goddess’s choices from their coven.
“Danika,” I acknowledge, keeping my voice purposefully level so as not to wake the Solars. “I must have missed you at the celebration. Did you leave early with someone?”
It’s no secret that Danika struggles with the idea of a year of celibacy more than Ophelia and I do. While tonight was my first chance to let my hair down in a full year, Danika sneaks out of the Solar Temple on a weekly basis to get the action she craves. Of the three Lunar fosterlings, she’s the one who’s usually in the most trouble with the Solars, and it doesn’t bother her one bit.
Which is probably why her blonde hair has a distinctly just-fucked look to it, and her lipstick is smudged.
I wish I could afford to walk into the Solar Tower with such an obvious disregard for their rules.
But I’m the Shadow of the Moon, the High Priestess’s left hand. If I pretend to be anything other than the perfect fosterling, the Solars will grow even colder toward me than they already are. Everyone believes that when I sneak out of their temple, it’s for a more sinister reason.
Something Danika knows, and delights in.
She may be flaunting the Solars’ celibacy vows but I’m the antithesis of everything they stand for.
The eunuch guards nod at us as we pass them. Like us, they’re covered from neck to toe in shapeless white fabric, but they also wear furs against the cold. We Lunar witches just don’t feel the chill as keenly.
“There were plenty of sailors in port who came to theparty for a little fun,” Danika confirms, just before we’re out of the guards’ earshot. “I was going to have a last-minute snack, care to join me?”
I’m already shaking my head. “I’ve had a long night. I’m going to catch as many hours of sleep as I can before they get us up at dawn again.”
“Sisters!” Annalise’s shrill voice echoes down the halls. “Where have you been?”
I can’t help my groan. Annalise is the self-appointed busybody of the Solar witches. For all the centuries she’s been alive, nothing seems to entertain her as much as keeping tabs on the Lunar fosterlings. Her desperate need to be the one to catch our every slip up makes me her favourite target.
I raise a brow at Danika. “Two silvers if you deal with her.”
“Make it four and I’ll give you a convincing alibi.”
I nod, slipping the triangular coins out of my pouch and into her pocket.
Danika finger combs her locks before twirling with the grace of a born actress. “Oh, Sister Annalise, how lovely to see you.” Her fawning tone makes me smirk as I keep walking.
I manage to make it back to my room undisturbed, a small miracle considering how nosy the Solars are. I check the privacy sigils I etched on the door as I enter, then the ones at the window, only truly relaxing once I’ve reassured myself that they’re undisturbed.
With nothing left to distract me, the enormity of the situation finally catches up with me.
Tomorrow we’ve survived a year here and I finally get to go home. New fosterlings will be exchanged and we can leave the Solar Temple for good.
Tomorrow we’ll be immortal, our transition complete as soon as the Moon rises on our twenty-fifth winter solstice.
Danika and Ophelia will receive their human harems and settle down with Glenna’s blessing. I’ll receive a new target and continue my existence as the Shadow of the Moon. The assassin of the Lunar Goddess.
This whole charade will finally be over. Peace between both covens will be ensured and I’ll go back to late nights and even later mornings and doing whatever the fuck I want without a eunuch or a Solar glaring over my shoulder.
Goddess, that sounds like bliss after a year of living here.
I sigh as I start to pull together my things, stuffing them into the bag I’d come here with in no real order. Opal reappears silently midway through the packing and chooses to sit in the centre of the pile with a smug look on her face.
“The High Priestess says she scried again with no results.”The unexpected softness in my familiar’s voice is the one thing I don’t need to hear.
“I know my fate,” I growl, shoving a miniskirt into what little space she’s not taking up. “She doesn’t need to keep trying.”
“Glenna knew you’d say that.”
Flopping down on the single cot, I abandon my haphazard packing in favour of staring at my familiar.
“I’ve made peace with it,” I lie. “The Goddess hasn’t shown her anyone for my harem because I’m okay without one. I don’t need a bunch of human men worshipping me and getting in the way of my work.”
