Golden armbands linked up her toned arms like armor and flared over her shoulders like tiny wings. Weapons were strapped to her thighs and back, and I bet her red leather boots were rigged with hidden daggers as well.
She pursed her lips at me. She hated it when I winked at her. Which is precisely why I do it.
“Did you talk to the witch?” Aria asked, not wasting any time.
“Not yet. She is in Theo’s tent. He and Dedra are interrogating her now,” I replied, and as if his name summoned him, Theo walked through the tent flaps.
Theo was shirtless. His sculpted bronze chest was damp with sweat, and he wore nothing but simple black leather pants. Twin double-edged axes were strapped across his back, the blades peaking over his shoulders. He scratched the back of his closely shaved blonde head. The movement shifted the jagged pink scar on his exposed neck as he ground his teeth. The scar ran from the middle of his neck, across his collarbone, and over his right breast.
“Dedra is going to need another moment,” he said sheepishly.
Dedra was Theo’s twin sister. They shared the same round, dark brown eyes and tanned golden skin. Theo had a very laid-back demeanor, while Dedra had an uncontrollable temper. They were my generals and my closest friends.
“What happened?” I sighed, swinging my legs off the cot where they had been propped, and stood. I grabbed my weapon belt from the bed, strapping it across my chest and adjusting it as I did.
“The witch might have gotten on her nerves.” Theo chuckled lightly, but he looked nervous.
“Let’s go then,” I said, and we made our way toward Theo’s tent. It was on the far side of the camp, so it took a minute to reach. Around us, men and women huddled around simmering fires, the spring air still crisp in the shadow of the sun. Food was being shared, and laughter floated from tents. It was a comforting sound, but also one that made me grimace. They were here because of the Daka, because of the witches. Away from their loved one's having to serve and protect because I can’t find that damn book.
A scream pierced the air, snapping me out of my thoughts. Theo’s tent was just ahead, and the screams were coming from there.
“Shit,” I muttered, just as the scream was abruptly cut off. We all broke into a run, rushing into the tent.
Dedra stood towering over a limp body tied to a chair in the middle of the tent. She had meticulously braided her strawberry blonde hair into a tight bun atop her head, and blood coated her face as she glowered down at the witch bound to the chair.
The unconscious witch wore a black cloak and dark green pants, now soaked with crimson blood. Her matted black hair stuck to her scalp, and her blood-soaked face made it difficult to distinguish any features.
Dedra wore an outfit similar to Aria’s, which wasn’t surprising. The two of them were as thick as thieves. Her outfit, however, was black, and she had silver armbands lining her arms rather than gold. Scattered around her feet were a few blades, tossed aside with evident frustration.
“Dammit, Dedra, we needed her alive,” I growled as I approached the unconscious witch, crouching down at her side.
“She is alive, just passed out,” Dedra said, her head snapping towards the door where Aria and Theo stood. “I told you to tell them I needed a minute,” she bit out irritably toward Theo, who only shrugged back in response.
“I’m well aware of what a minute of your time can do,” I retorted, feeling a surge of relief as I detected a steady pulse beneath my fingers at the witch’s neck.
“Did you get any information from her before she passed out?” Aria asked, coming to Dedra’s side and handing her a cloth to wipe her face.
“Nothing useful,” Dedra said, spitting a bit of blood onto the floor before wiping her face.
I stood up from my crouched position and ran a hand through my hair. I gave her a pointed look and folded my arms across my chest.
She sighed heavily, handing Aria back her handkerchief. Aria shoved her hand away in disgust, not wanting the now blood-soaked rag.
Dedra smirked and pocketed it, turning back towards me. “More nonsense.” She sighed. “Morgana is back. Morgana will make us pay for the centuries of rot they had to endure; they will get revenge. Same old rumor-mill bullshit,” Dedra rattled off.
My jaw ticked. In our kingdom, witches were, to some, considereda lesser species—weak.
They were a type of Fae that needed blood to amplify their magic. Compared to other Fae, their power levels were significantly lower, and consuming blood was their only way to boost their magic reserves.
The problem for them was that other Fae didn’t want to give it to them willingly. Their lack of magic put them in lower positions in all aspects of our world, and theyhad been treated differently because of it for as long as I knew.
When alive, Morgana resented how she and the other witches were treated, so she started a rebellion that eventually escalated into a full-blown war. It wasn't just about seeking justice; Morgana was driven by an insatiable hunger for power. Herdescent into dark magic only intensified her cravings, driving her to pursue greater control and influence.
She led her followers into villages, using her dark magic to overpower the other Fae. Many of her followers sought their revenge on those who had treated them poorly, while others kidnapped men, women, and children to use as personal slaves to fuel their blood lust.
The witches didn’t need blood to survive, but they craved it like a drug. They enjoyed the rush of power it provided them with—the power she offered them.
After the war, we prohibited witches from drinking blood, cast them from their lands, and integrated them into the other territories where we could keep a better eye on them.
