Maybe I’ve misjudged him. Maybe the stories of witches as people-eating monsters are just that.Stories. I’d never believed the tales about them before. I also hadn’t believed they werereal. Didn’t believe that anything rumored to be outside the Wall was real. I was so certain it was cooked up, a part of the narrative to keep us trapped in there. Because that’s all it was. The clothes, the Shroud, the sacred flame, the tithes and blessings we proffered, acting like glorified statues at festivities, even the Pits. All theatrics.
But just because the witches have turned out to be real doesn’t mean all the rumors about them are true. He seems like a reasonable man, somewhat short at times yet not cruel. The tiniest strand of hope takes root in me.
I sneak glimpses ofthe foliage around us as my stomach settles. The vibrancy of the green is unlike anything I’ve ever seen but it’s impossible to make out much of it at the speed we’re moving. After a time I lean forward to stretch out my legs which have gone completely numb.
“Once we clear the Dark Wood, we can take a break but I’d prefer not to stop here.”
“Why?”
“Various reasons,” he says carefully.
I marvel at how his horse can move at such a pace while keeping a steady steer on the narrow path. I periodically lean forward, run my hand along his mane, and cluck some soft words in appreciation.
The next time I do, I swear I hear him blow out a breath in amusement. “What is his name?”
“She,” he corrects. “And it’s Epona. She was my mother’s horse.”
Was. I don’t have to ask to know she’s no longer among the living either. Fullness settles in my bladder. I hold it until I’m certain I’m going to burst. “I think we’re going to have to stop.”
“You can’t wait a little longer? We’ve almost cleared it.”
I shift uncomfortably. “I’ve already been waiting.”
He sighs and slows the horse to a still. Trees curl and twist over the narrow path, threatening to swallow it completely. He remains quiet and stiff in a manner that suggests he’s searching for something.
“Are you worried there’s something in these woods?” I whisper.
“There are many things in this forest,” he says vaguely. “That I’d prefer not to interact with. But I’m not exactly worried, no.”
He shifts me forward slightly as he climbs down, and his eyes, as vibrant as the foliage, continue to skirt around the clearing. I swing a leg over the saddle, debating the best way down. I stretch my foot toward the stirrup. It never meets it as he simply grabs me around the waist and hauls me down. That is… humiliating. Our eyes meet briefly, and my cheeks flame.
He turns his back to me with his hand against Epona’s neck. “I’ll look this way.”
I blanch. “I’m not going right here beside you!”
He whirls, eyes bulging. “I told you I have no interest in you, nought. None.”
I bristle. The daemon that’s been oddly quiet since we left slithers to life, shooting a series of swift shocks that aggravate me even further. “You’ve made that abundantly clear. There’s no need to keep reiterating that point. And, just for the record, I’m not particularly interested in you either,witch,” I spit. Regret finds me shortly after. Should I really be testing the man who has so much power over my fate?
The suspense of not knowing what his intentions are for me is too much to bear. Iamtesting him, pushing at the boundaries, trying to evoke the worst out of him now so it doesn’t come as a surprise to me later. I point my chin defiantly and…wait.
His mouth twists as if he’s fighting back a grin and then he fails spectacularly as he lets out a deep, hearty laugh. I hadn’t noticed before, but now, with his full smile on display, I can see that his two front teeth are slightly crooked.
Ha! A flaw across his otherwise perfectly formed face. The longer I look, the less confident I am that it’s a flaw at all. There’s a mischievous air to his grin that makes him look younger, boyish even. Those two teeth manage to soften all of his sharp angles in a way that’s almost…endearing. I banish that thought immediately. “What?” I snap, nostrils flaring.
“If you’re going to call me an archaic word, you could at least call me something cool like sorcerer or wizard,” he says, wriggling his fingers. I stare at him blankly. He chuckles again, running a hand over his bloodshot eyes. “Don’t say that word around anyone else.”
“Why?”
“It’s Magi,” he corrects. “That’s what we call ourselves. Witch is insulting.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
“Because I doubt it’s been wielded as a serious insult in…694 years,” he says with another laugh. A nearby twig snaps, snagging his attention, and his grin fades. “Don’t go far and be quick about it.”
Oh, he’s actually giving in and allowing me this. I look around the overgrown forest and back to him. “I’ll just…” I point toward the Wood, and he raises his brows with a smug look that seems to sayyou asked for this.Oh, screw him.I turn to the right and fight my way through the shrubbery that climbs to my chest.
The underbrush tugs at my dress like eager fingers, and I have to stop several times to disentangle myself. The forest is so ghastly thick that I don’t have to go far before I’m completely eclipsed from view. I pace several more steps to a small dip in the land that is a tad bit clearer than the rest. Another snapping twig sends my heart to thumping. I search the area. Nothing. Only trees upon trees and the deep green tangle of foliage.
