Silence stretches for several moments. The witches do not react. No shake of their heads. No change in eye movements. No whispering. They simply wait.
“I see,” the lead witch says. “Welcome, Candice. Of Earth, is that correct?”
I give her one nod and do my best not to show my trembling. Warm comfort flows through our bond. I breath deeper, and my jitters nearly disappear.
“Tell us why you have come,” the red-skinned witch says. She shuffles her hand around in a parchment bag and pulls out a handful of dust.
“To prove my honor,” Jarron’s demon says, wings splayed wide. “That I am not a fraud and I have earned my right to rule by earning my true chosen.”
The witch scatters the dust into the magma below. There are three flashes of light.
“We have planned for this contingency,” the black-haired witch says, “and have invited the opposition claimant to join our hearing.”
I swallow. Do they mean what I think they mean?
The black-haired witch motions to an approaching couple. They stroll beside the magma pitch toward our meeting place. One is a pale-skinned demon with veiny wings and the other… a beautiful woman with glowing skin and yellow hair.
“Liz?” I whisper, back straight, eyes wide, and heart aching but open.
“You’re familiar?” the tallest witch says casually. She’s either already aware of the connection, or she thinks it’s somehow evidence of our deception.
I meet her gaze steadily. “She is my sister,” I say before realizing no translation was made. These witches understand English, then?
My admission seems to surprise the other two. “Interesting,” one mutters.
I don’t know how Jarron reacts. I don’t particularly care. He knows he has to keep some control of how he is perceived, but there is only so much that can be done. He cares for Liz, and I love her deeply. Those things cannot be hidden.
“Candice,” Liz says in a low tone, like this is some formal meeting. My blood is suddenly cold. I am so happy to see her again, but the sight chills me to the bone.
Her eyes seem sallow, even though her skin is literally glowing.
“How, exactly, are you siblings?” the lead witch asks. “One is human, and one is decidedly not.”
“She is human, or was,” I say. “He did something to change her.” I glare at the pale demon whose hand is clasped around my sister’s elbow.
“Change?” the woman tastes the word with a frown. “How?”
“The girl is correct,” Mr. Vandozer says. “Elizabeth was born human. After we met and fell in love, she voluntarily entered a magical rite and won. Her award included a rare prize of magical blood.”
“A new form of magical being?” one witch asks.
“Not new, simply rare,” Vincent says. “I offered the other girl a chance to earn the same power as her sister. She has rejected me out of cowardice. Instead, apparently, seeking an alternative plan for power by manipulation and fraud.” His lip curls in disgust. I want to stampede, wrap my hands around his throat, and squeeze until the life leaves his eyes.
“Why?” the red-skinned witch asks me, ignoring his final accusation. “You do not wish for power?”
“No,” I admit. “I do not. I am happy as I was born. I never wanted that sort of power.Andhe is conveniently leaving out the requirements of such power.”
“Requirements?”
“To kill nine innocent, low-magic beings. The winner earns the prize. But that’s not all—”
“Nine sacrifices?” One tilts their head. “For this power?”
“She beat them in combat they willingly entered. Not sacrifices,” Vandozer says.
“It is a highly illegal competition,” I bark out.
“To your high morality police in the interdimensional courts, perhaps,” the tall witch sneers.
