20
A cold slap to my face
KADE
Zara stirs after the dawn, her movements sluggish as if the weight of her magic still clings to her. She slept peacefully last night, the kind of rest she hasn’t had in days, mostly thanks to the meal and bath I twisted out of the tavern owner. I can still hear the terror in his voice when I made it clear that refusing me wasn’t an option and I have fuck all regrets about using every method to intimidate him at my disposal. But I haven’t slept, kept awake by a tangled mess of thoughts about the blood weave’s vengeance and the realization that I’m trapped.
By Zara.
By forces that I cannot fight or control.
By my own goddamn arrogance and stupidity.
I’ve always been trapped, but now the web I’m caught in has more threads to it. Its strands are as strong as silk, and they’re all spun around Zara.
She doesn’t notice my stillness or the tension coiled in my frame as her eyes flicker open. For a moment, she looks innocent, her pale hair mussed and her expression soft with the haze of sleep. Then reality sharpens in her gaze, and her lips press into a thin line.
“How long was I out?” she asks, her voice rough.
“Long enough.” I push to my feet, ignoring the lingering ache in my body. “We should move soon. We’ve still got to get to Varric’s Hollow.”
The emerald of her irises flashes with suspicion and the witch senses an unspoken truth in the miserable bedroom that passes for comfort around here. But she doesn’t press. Not yet. She will do soon, but first, she pulls herself up in bed, brushing the sleep from her eyes.
“What happens when we get there?” she asks.
I swallow and try to find salvation in the pale blue sky that’s replaced by the darkness outside the tavern. We’re about to endure another kind of bleakness, and I wonder if she’s ready for it. I doubt she knows the horror that awaits her, and I have little doubt that Zara hasn’t even begun to comprehend the world I inhabit.
“How old are you?” I ask.
Her nose twitches, and it’s cute. Annoyingly so. “Twenty-one.”
“I stopped counting around four hundred, Zara. You need to start to understand the world you’ve been dragged into.”
The little color in her fades again and her mouth curls inward. Her teeth roll over her lips and I bite back the urge to snap at her. The blood weave might not take kindly to me strangling the witch it binds me to, and instead, I show restraint. Understanding. Compassion even.
“Listen carefully, Zara. Our world—the world of warlocksand witches—isn’t the chaotic mess you’re used to. It has rules, hierarchies, and power plays that you’ve only started to glimpse. Your coven shielded you from reality, and you’ve survived this long by stubbornness and luck, but that won’t be enough anymore.”
They kept her naïve to control her, and this has to end.
I have to break this to her, even if it breaks her heart.
“Enlighten me,” she demands, crossing her arms. “How does your precious society work?”
I smirk bitterly. “Precious isn’t the word I’d use. Warlocks are divided into factions—families bound by blood and ambition. Each faction vies for dominance, weaving alliances and betrayals into the fabric of our society. Magic isn’t a device; it’s a currency, a weapon, and a leash. The strongest rise, the weakest are crushed, and everyone else schemes to stay alive.”
“And the witches?” she asks, her voice colder now.
“Tools,” I admit, the word tasting like ash. “That’s how they see you. Witches channel raw power, untamed and primal, while warlocks bend it to their will. We bind covens through the sigils, as you know, but unbound witches are rare. Extremely rare, Zara. Their magic is potent. Dangerous. Intoxicating. There isn’t a warlock I know who wouldn’t hunt you. They’ll want to control you and your power.”
Her jaw tightens, and I see the spark of anger in her eyes, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“It would be easier if you would accept your place,” I continue. “If you gave yourself to me and let me control your magic. The blood weave makes the threat you pose even more potent. You’re already starting to control my powers and you could destroy everything, and everyone, around you.”
For a moment, she’s silent, processing my words. Then she tilts her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “And where do you fit into this, Kade?”
“I rule over the warlocks with my brothers. We decide who lives and dies, who gains status and power, and who loses it. We gift control of the sigils along with the territory each coven holds, and we rule by keeping the other warlocks divided. Darius, Galen, and I demand complete obedience and expect betrayal at every turn, and our justice is swift and without mercy.”
Her smirk fades, replaced by something darker. “Your world sounds like a nightmare.”
