AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her gaze drops to my hand just as I feel Jesse’s palm slide against mine. Our fingers entwine, and I hold onto him tightly as the witch’s eyes move back up to study my face. Some new emotion twists her features, but it’s not the repulsion I expected.
No. It’s something else.
It’s pure fear.
“You should move on and leave us be,” Erik calls out, speaking for the first time. “The king and queen have business to attend to.”
I know he’s only dropping our titles for shock value, and it works. On me. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to being referred to as “queen.”
But the witches before us don’t react. They continue to stare, and the shimmer in the air around them intensifies. I try to see past it, to view their true selves, but I don’t know the spell for that kind of thing. I focus on the apparent leader’s face as I push my power toward her blindly, and she gasps before stumbling back a step. The others mimic her reaction, and confused, I rein my power back in.
“Guinevere.”
One of the male witches murmurs the name, and the leader shakes her head again. She must be Guinevere.
“No,” she breathes. “It’s impossible.”
Why are they having such a hard time accepting my dual nature? The Windmere and Sabledown witches seemed to accept it readily enough even though they were shocked and appalled by the fact.
“I assure you, it’s possible,” I say. “You should go before you find out what I’m capable of.”
I’m exuding some serious false bravado. Their strange reaction is really starting to freak me out. And my gut is telling me there is something else going on here.
Guinevere recovers first, squaring her shoulders and planting her feet firmly beneath her. The others follow suit, their expressions tight with fear and disbelief. But despite that fear, they stand tall next to their leader.
“What is your name?” she calls out, breaking the silence.
“Don’t tell them,” Steph hisses from the corner of her mouth.
My gaze is locked with Guinevere’s as I search my gut for the right choice. Nothing screams at me to keep my identity a secret. In fact, I feel a distinct urge to tell the truth.
“Eden Walsh,” I call back, my voice ringing out firm and true.
The witches perform one of those collective gasps before simultaneously whispering my first name. A lump forms in my throat, and I try to swallow it down as they repeat the word “Eden” over and over again as one.
“Stop it,” Steph shouts, raising her palms like she might blast them with power if they don’t obey.
Erik moves, stepping forward and over to put one shoulder in front of her. She doesn’t seem to notice, so intent on the Brimmwise coven as her body swells with power.
“Steph,” I say, warning lacing my voice.
The power emanating from her lessens to the slightest degree, but she remains steeled and ready as the witches’ chants stop with the sound of my voice.
“Eden is a Grundelier name,” Guinevere shouts, and my attention snaps back to her. “You exhibit Grundelier power and carry the name of one of its most powerful leaders.”
“The line died with Bethany,” one of the other witches who hasn’t spoken before now calls out. “This isn’t possible.”
“Yet here she stands,” Guinevere murmurs.
Oh, shit. They aren’t shocked because I’m a hybrid. They’re shocked because they recognized my power.
But how is that even possible? Even if these witches are much older than they appear, they had to have been born decades after Bethany, the supposed last of my line, died. How can they distinguish my magic as that of the Grundelier coven?
And what will they do, now that they know the truth?
21
DON’T STOP
