“No. Our War-Father wants you to keep him alive.”
I whirl on her.
“Why? He’s theirking.He’s the worst of them.”
“Don’t ask me. Go on. Test the enchantment.”
My hands curl into fists.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Make him do whatever you’d like,” Harfor shrugs. “So long as you keep him in one piece.”
The clouds over us are heavy with rain, thick enough to hide an army of witches.
Harfor and the Governor wait expectantly while the prisonerglares at me. The sailors are arrayed between us and the ship, and behind me are some of the Bluff’s other inhabitants, and I know I need to saysomething, I just can’t think what.
Rage pounds in my veins. This witch ruined everything.
“Bow,” I growl.
He lifts his chin and stares at me, proud and defiant, without moving.
Harfor’s eyebrows raise. I bet she thinks I’ve lost my skill with wielding enchantment. I draw a deep breath and reach for the familiar feel of the magic coursing beneath his skin. The enchantment hums gleefully when my mind touches against the power. I have it now, and I’m keyed into him like I’m supposed to be.
“Bow,”I order again.
With his jaw clenched so tight I can see a sharp line of muscle, he jerks down and back up like a piece of wood bobbing on the ocean.
Harfor’s nostrils flare and she stands straighter, one foot moving back an inch.
The witch is trying to make a fool of me. He may be a king to his own people, but he's worth less than anybody else on this isle.
I take a step closer to him, glaring up into his face. I’ll prove I still have all my skill with enchantment.
“A real bow. A proper one. The type you’d give to your betters.”
Slowly, he bends at the waist again, his dark hair spilling down on either side of his face. He stays that way for a moment, and slowly straightens.
Then he takes a step closer to me, until he looms over me, staring down with an unspoken threat in his gaze. The burning look in his eyes doesn’t leave my face. My skin crawls. Every inch of me feels the weight of his attention.
But there’s a part of me that feels alive for the first time in two years. Like the Bluff was a dream and now my body is waking up, buzzing with anger.
The wind blusters through our group, tearing at our clothes. It smells like a storm.
“You said he can’t hurt us?” I don’t dare take my eyes off him.
“Not directly,” Harfor agrees stiffly. “But he’s a tricky bastard. He’ll do whatever he can to not obey.” She won’t meet my eyes.
Enchantment needs a power source. Every time I give him a command, it will drain his life a little bit more. But it’s hard to care, when I already want him dead.
“Kiss the ground, witch,” I add.
I watch his lips press tight, his eyes still fixed on me. And then he takes a smooth step back and sinks to his knees. Something low in my gut clenches tight at the sight of him kneeling before me. The witch bends forward and touches his lips to the Bluff’s filthy wooden docks, and then he straightens, and rises effortlessly back to his feet. My skin prickles.
I’d rather he be kneeling at swordpoint than kneeling because the magic forced him to. It sours the victory.
“The War-Father should have just killed him,” I tell Harfor.
