The front doors automatically swing open the moment we step onto a stone carved with a simple activation sigil.Handy.I’ll have to remember that one.
My gaze lifts from the stone and sweeps into the coven’s luxurious interior. Floating lanterns illuminate the space brightly, casting a warm glow across richly colored red carpets. The red theme carries through the curtains, drapes, and plush furnishings; deep, wine-red hues are everywhere.
Witches move gracefully about, dressed as if attending an elegant ball. Millicent’s gown fits perfectly into the scene, blending seamlessly into the crimson sea of fabric.
“Who are you lot?” A curious voice echoes down the main corridor. A tall, red-headed witch approaches, her hair pulled into a tight, disciplined bun. She looks older than most here but not quite elderly.
“Millicent Le Strange,” Millicent answers firmly, “and this is King Tyran of the Southern continent. We request an audience with your elder…or someone knowledgeable about curses. We’ve encountered an unusual one.”
The witch tilts her head slightly, fixing me with an intense stare; it’s hard to ignore. I hold her gaze, but Felix’s soft eyes aren’t particularly intimidating. Her attention slides to Millicent.
“A king and a witch?” she muses, her expression openly curious. “Are you breeding him?”
I cough out a startled laugh and then immediately realize she’s completely serious, without a hint of humor in her expression. Glancing up, I see more witches gathering along the second-floor railing to peer down at me.
It hits me then: I’m being examined like a piece of candy.
“I am,” Millicent responds confidently, firmly staking her claim over me.
Anger riles up inside me, fueled by an unwanted image of Felix tangled in bed with her.
Felix must sense the spike in my emotions because his curiosity instantly intrudes.Everything all right over there? Don’t tell me it’s already going badly, he whines.
The witch has announced to the entire coven you two are sleeping together,I snap back mentally.
His response is colored with amused delight.Oh? How scandalous! Are women going to fight over me? Do send me mental images; I’d hate to miss the show.
Of course, the egotistical bastard relishes the thought of witches pining after him. He’s like a brightly wrapped present at a birthday party, set on a table, with everyone eagerly waiting their turn to unwrap him.
The witches’ lustful gazes only grow sharper after Millicent’s claim. It must be jealousy—wanting what another has. And that someone, in this case, is Millicent, the only witch alive who commands two distinct magics.
“How intriguing!” the witch exclaims. “We are friends with the Le Strange coven. We certainly won’t refuse the heir. Come withme.” She pivots sharply, heading down the corridor and leaving me momentarily stunned.
I turn sharply to Millicent, narrowing my eyes. “Heir?” I grind out. Her clear confusion only irritates me further.
Hells,I mentally curse. I inform Tyran of our new development.It appears we have the bloody heir of the Le Strange coven with us.Blindsided by such valuable information, irritation bleeds into my voice. I know everything about anyone within a few seconds after reading their mind. And, of course, I can’t read Millicent’s: the one person whose mind is the most vital to ensuring the safety of this kingdom and my friends. She proves yet again that she’s capable of holding great secrets.
His excitement pulses instantly through our bond.A princess! Wow! Finally, someone else of royal blood around here.I swear, his enthusiasm is relentless and irritatingly genuine.
I soften my voice, forcibly reigning in my agitation at this revelation she’s kept hidden. “Well, it seems I finally have company worthy of royal blood. Lead on,princess.”
Millicent’s eyebrows lift slightly, unimpressed. “Royal blood? Little human king, witch heirs aren’t crowned by birth; they’re made through power. The blood making me heir is blood I willingly spilled. I had to bleed for it. You were merely born into yours.” She quickens her pace, catching up with our guide.
I easily close the distance, matching her stride. “That seems rather dreary. If I so much as get a paper cut, guards come running. No one allows my blood to spill, but your coven demands it?”
“A paper cut? You truly are pampered,” she says, a slight grin tugging her lips. “I’ve never been coddled over an injury. I can’t imagine anyone running to my aid over something so trivial. I’ve bled until I’ve passed out and placed myself into stasis for threedays to recover. And even when I woke, I was alone. I rarely recall anyone there when my consciousness faded.”
“That sounds…dark,” I reply carefully, still maintaining Felix’s casual charm. “If you’d been raised in a house that fussed over every tiny scrape, do you think you’d be different?”
She pauses thoughtfully before answering with unwavering certainty. “I’d be weak. In this life, you’re either a lamb or a wolf. Coddling creates lambs, and I refuse to be one. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
I wonder how much of her conviction is genuine—whether she even knows the truth herself. I remember Millicent as a child, before Nora ever set her eyes on her. She’d been argumentative too, but there was a wild kindness in her. She’d been my first and only friend, my lifeline in all my dark days. She’d been the one to smile and remind me I was a living, real person whenever my mind began to leave me. Would she have grown into a fierce but compassionate woman had she escaped the coven?
Or was it always her nature—her baser instincts—that shaped her into this ruthless creature beside me now?
We arrive at a large, three-story library filled with rows of red-tinted wooden shelves and scattered desks piled high with books and parchment.
“Sit here. I’ll fetch the elder,” our escort announces before leaving us alone.
