The castle wards ping softly in the back of my mind during the day as she unknowingly walks through them. I always know where she is.
She may not see me every day, but I make sure Isee her. I still don’t trust that she’s not up to something.
I glance at her from the corner of my eye.
She seems too at ease.
“How familiar are you with this coven—or curses in general?” I ask lightly.
“This coven? No. I’m not familiar with the Exsecratus family,” she says. “But I know a fair bit about curses. We have a curse user at my coven.”
A hint of a smile pulls ever so slightly at her lips when she says it.
We arrive outside and climb into the carriage. As it takes off, I watch the castle pass by, sending a silent prayer to any god who will listen that this works and goes well—that it doesn’t end in disaster—because I still don’t trust her.
Millicent is alone with the king, surrounded by other witches. What better time to strike?
Why else would she cozy up to Felix? Nora manipulated me in the same way. She was warm, kind. I thought she genuinely wanted to help me—that her lessons had meaning and purpose. I won’t make that mistake again, not with her protégé sitting across from me.
I glance at her. She’s distracted by the trees flashing past the window.
Felix is right about one thing: she’s beautiful.
Her looks don’t soften my hatred for her, but I can admit she’s captivating. The most dangerous things often are.
Iris has these frogs in her lab: sleek and black-skinned, with glowing neon stripes. They’re gorgeous and mesmerizing. Touchone, and its poison absorbs through your skin. What follows is paralysis. And then the heart stops.
That’s what Millicent reminds me of: darkness cloaked in electric blue—bewitching and cold-blooded, coated in poison.
And I know what her skin feels like. I touched her before. I found her wet beneath my fingers; the poison coating her tempted me like the first waters on the horizon after days traveling in a blazing desert. After that encounter, I had to dunk my head in a bucket of ice water just to think straight.
I made my point that night; I held the upper hand. At least, I hope she hates herself for it.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hard as hell after our little encounter, however.
I scrubbed my fingers raw trying to erase the musky scent of cherries she left on me—just to clear my thoughts.
It was nothing. Just a reaction.
She’s breathtaking in a nauseating way; her pheromones are affecting me. Like any other animal in heat, it’s simple biology. Unlike other animals, my attraction to her comes from no kind or sweet longing place, nor from any urge to reproduce.
It is fatal, rousing a version of myself that remains buried unless dark hours summon it forward—unless life or death demands its arrival.
“Felix, you good?”
I realize now that I’m scowling at her.
Wiping the expression from my face, I force a wide smile. My cheeks round in a way that feels foreign; I’m still getting used to Felix’s facial structure.
“Just lost in thought,” I say smoothly. “I’m hoping everything goes well at the coven. It’s our first real lead.”
“I will assist however I can. That was the deal.” Her tone remains level and calm. “You just need to follow my lead.Don’t question me in front of them. Some will see humans as worthless. Others may be…interested that a man is present.”
She really thinks she’s in charge of this.I don’t interrupt, allowing her delusion of control to fully form.
She begins by debriefing me on the structure of a typical coven. I already know this—having grown up with the Le Strange—but I nod along.
There’s always a Head Elder—the strongest and the oldest. Sometimes two others join her, but there’s always one in charge. Below them are the sisters: skilled, specialized witches with designated roles. And, at the bottom: the witchlings.
