Felix steps in beside him, beaming.
“I knew you would be!”
He reaches up, brushing a few strands of Iris’s hair out of her face.
Kalix’s attention shifts immediately, eyes narrowing on Felix.
“What, are you a hairstylist now?”
His grumbling is still audible as they finally leave the room. Felix’s smirk lingers. He knows how to get around him.
I exhale slowly, finally returning my focus to Millicent.
She stands, unbothered. “I believe I can find my room on my own.”
Her confidence doesn’t miss a beat.
I rise as well, mirroring her.
“One can only hope your brain isn’t so rotted that you’re capable of such a small task. If I had to take you everywhere, I really would truly be babysitting a grown woman, wouldn’t I?”
The irritation slips into my tone, sharper than I intended. I don’t wait for her response. Instead, I turn and leave, letting the conversation end on my own terms.
I know where she goes. I’ve warded the castle’s key points, my magic laced into every entryway, every hallway, and every room.
I don’t need to physically follow her to track her. Let her try something. I welcome the excuse to crush her under my boot—to shatter that self-righteous attitude.
I’ll wait.
Chapter 10
Millicent
THE DAYS PASS, BORING AND repetitive. Nothing entertaining happens, so I make use of the time mapping my surroundings and learning the movements and routines of those within. I feel more in control when I know where everyone is, what they do, and when they do it.
Cage, surprisingly, isn’t as ever-present as I expected. Despite his claims of “supervision,” he keeps to himself. His routine mirrors Kalix’s, with meetings, training, and more training. The only difference is that Cage operates in a warded wing, a fortress to keep intruders out. Mages slip in and out, drawing runes upon the door to pass through the barrier. I can’t help but linger nearby. Are the artifacts Nora desires hidden in those very halls?
Breaking wards tends to alert the owner unless they have a massive number running and several are disrupted, areinebriated, or are consumed in battle. Simply entering it only alerts them if the ward only allows certain people entry. Too many enter this one for it to be selective.
Right, left, half square.
Years of doing this procedure have made the mages not guard their process with their bodies, exposing the patterns they draw to me.
Iris, on the other hand, might as well be stitched to her lab. I’m half convinced she sleeps there. The fact that another witch is here—and willingly so—baffles me. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if she beds these mortals willingly.
How repulsive.
Sure, we witches always used mortal men for breeding, but we tend to kill them after. Eating the liver blesses the baby with good health, or so the tradition goes.
The cold stone beneath my fingertips grounds me. Its rough grooves leech the warmth from my skin. I savor the feeling, letting it anchor me as my thoughts spiral. The cold reminds me of dinner the other night, when Cage had the audacity to pry into my mind.
I wonder what he found: afrozen abyss? A void darker than even his own nightmares?My body may be warm, my appearance full of life, but I am something else entirely inside.
Yet, I am still confused. He didn’t even fight back. He let me push him out. Why? A trick? A test? I do not trust him; I never will. He plays with life and power like a child, teetering on a tightrope. How long has he been this way? Since we were children? Since before? I wish I had seen it sooner—if someone had—maybe he could have been stopped. Maybe Mama would still be alive. Maybe my sisters wouldn’t have perished. How many more has he killed? Cage seems to be doing great despite the blood on his hands.
He thrives while I hardly get to sleep, tormented by the nightmares he carved into me. My fingers curl, my nails scraping and ripping against the stone; I let the sharp sting ground me. I welcome it, feeding the rage simmering beneath my skin.
What is it like, I wonder, to grow up here after slaughtering those who took him in? To trade their blood for a silver spoon? To rise in a golden palace, first hand to the king, and be granted more power—more power he so clearly craved while mine was taken away.
