The captain makes an unhappy noise under his breath. “You should at least wear something else. There are more than enough females your size on the boat. We can find something that will conceal you more. How far do you have to travel for your fate? Let me send some guards with you.”
I have never forgotten the kindness this man showed two humble witches with no money and no clue how bad the War of the Witches had gotten when we first sailed north. When I approached him to return home, I did so with a large bag of gold. He tried to refuse it, his pride strong, but times have been very hard.
Not many people want to leave the Northern Lands now that it’s safe there, and there aren't many people left to leave the Southern Lands. Importing and exporting has slowed down significantly as well, the relations between the Seelie Court and the Unseelie Court more fraught than ever before, thanks to the Unseelie persecuting witches and the Seelie welcoming them to live in the north. Not Kharl, of course—the Sol King wouldn’t offer sanctuary to such a male—but the witches who were forced to flee their forests and their homes, hunted by the high fae and their ruthless laws.
I've never been reckless with my life, having always been one to overthink the consequences of my actions, but there’s a hollowness within my chest where my heart once beat that no longer cares what will become of me due to my fate. My only regret is leaving my brother behind in the Northern Lands, but Pemba had no choice but to stay. I suppose it's better that he’s not here for the next part of my journey. His overprotective nature would struggle hard with what I’m about to do, and I’ve already had to talk my way around a million questions about my fate during our two centuries in the Seelie Court.
While I was able to convince all those I left behind that the Fates are guiding my journey, I’m not so certain about how much damage I’ll endure along the way.
“Don't worry so much, Captain. I know the path ahead of me, and I have no doubt that the Fates will see me through safely. I'm not the naïve little witch who left the forest anymore.”
The corners of his mouth turn down, and he nods slowly. “There's no doubting the Fates when they call on us, but I'm not sure you understand what you're walking into. Things were bad when you left, but not as bad as they are now. When we drop anchor at port, it will be treason for me to even speak to you—treason for you to be on this ship. Your life will be forfeit the moment your foot hits the dirt. If we can conceal you a bit, it would be easier on us all. A larger cloak with a hood, to start, and perhaps we can find you a dress.”
That changes things.
I have no doubt that the Fates will get me where I need to be unharmed, but even the idea of risking the captain and his crew merely because I’m not ashamed of being a witch is unconscionable.
“I'll wear a cloak and hood until I'm away from the port and you're no longer at risk. No need for a dress—these robes are all I know, and I’ll be sure to cover them carefully in the village.”
The scowl on his face deepens. “I wasn't saying it for me. I have more than enough gold in my possession to get out of an accusation of treason. The regent’s guards are easy enough to convince of such things, but there's no amount of gold in the world that can make them forget what you are. They don't care whether or not you side with the witches here. All they care about is eliminating your kind.”
Eliminating.
I suppose that's a kinder expression thanmass genocideto describe murdering people for nothing more than the species to which they were born, but I understand the motives of the high fae, if not their unyielding resolution.
My own family was massacred by the same witches. Anyone who didn’t join Kharl’s ranks was considered a traitor to all. My family, the Ravenswyrd Coven, was always neutral, but neutrality in a time of war is seen by both sides as nothing more than an act of aggression.
We were damned either way.
The captain leads me down to the cabins under the deck, barking out orders until one of his crew appears with an armful of fabric. The thick, hooded cloak lined with fur is big enough to be pulled over my head to obscure my black tresses and the silver hue of my eyes.
I should count myself lucky that I don't have any obvious witch markings to hide—apart from my eyes, the only signs of my magic are small marks on the insides of my elbows, and my sleeves take care of those. But it’s a fact that pierces my heart even through my numb state, because my mother died before she could give me the markings of the Ravenswyrd Coven. I could have been marked by another witch; Pemba offered a hundred times over the years. My best friend, Hanede, the last Brindlewyrd witch and the only male in the history of the covens to hold and wield a relic, offered to mark me as well, but my grief wouldn’t let anyone bestow such an honor in my mother’s stead.
The shipmate fumbles as she hands me the cloak and then ducks her head and apologizes profusely. I can smell her fear of me, or perhaps of the consequences of aiding one of my kind, but she does as her captain orders nonetheless. With the green hue of her skin, there's no mistaking that she’s a part-blood goblin, but there’s a distinct void inside of her where magic could be.
Half-human, as well.
The world would not have been kind to this young female.
I place my hand over hers and thank her quietly, then turn her hand over and slip a piece of gold into it. Her eyes widen in shock, and her fingers clasp it desperately.
The captain pays his staff well, but money is tight no matter where you come from, and there’s every chance this piece of gold is the first she's ever held.
“Thank you for giving me your cloak. I hope this covers replacing it in the ports.”
She nods profusely. “This will more than cover it. You do not need to give me this. The captain already said he would pay for it. Here, take it back!”
Her hand shakes, and I can see how hard it is for her to open her fingers and offer me back the money.
With a smile I close her fingers back around the coin. “Where I'm going, I have no need for gold anymore. I would rather you have it for showing me such kindness, even at the risk of being accused of treason.”
She startles as though I've reminded her of the peril, but a determined look falls over her features as she nods. “The captain told me where you've come from and what you've done. Fighting that war…we all know the Ureen would’ve come to the Southern Lands once they wiped out everyone and everything in the north. All the stories say they’re mindless monsters who want nothing but to consume. I would never have been able to run off to a war as a young girl like you did. I don't believe you're evil just because you're a witch.”
It’s treason, I'm sure, to say such a thing, but I simply smile at her and pull the cloak tighter around my body before climbing back up the steps to the deck as I hear the captain yell, “Land, ahoy!”
I step back into the sunlight, and my breath is taken from me as I see, for the first time in two hundred years, the Southern Lands of the Unseelie high fae. The place I ran from so desperately.
The one I have no choice but to return to, the Fates calling me home as surely as the forest sings in my heart.
