Page 14 of Witch’s Ruin

“I’m certain of it.”

He took a sip of his drink, regarding me. Silence stretched out before us. If he was hoping to intimidate me, to make me uncomfortable, he could keep trying. At last, he said, “I submitted a formal request to the Citadel to have my city cleared of demons.”

“You already have witches for that. Surely they are plenty capable.”

“Oh, certainly. And yet, there are still demons roaming my city. Killing my citizens. Why, then, is that the case?” He lifted an eyebrow, letting his words sink in. “Could it be,” he wondered aloud, “that the Citadel witches aren’t doing the job they’re here to do?”

“What are you implying, Your Majesty?”

“What do you think I’m implying, Aramina?”

“That there is some sort of conspiracy against you, Maddox, orchestrated by the Citadel’s witches.”

“You said it, not I.”

I rolled my eyes. “Your walls are Nebrine. There shouldn’t be demons in your city.” And therein lay the issue. A fact I couldn’t wrap my head around. Not unless…

A malicious grin split across Maddox Kozma’s face, stretching his thin skin. “My thoughts, exactly.” He propped his arm along the back of the sofa, rubbing his thumb against the fabric. “Tell me. Is it true that witches can draw fancy little stars and summon the creatures straight from hell?”

I hesitated, my blood running cold. Of course he would know something of our abilities. He was, after all, the king, even if the Citadel did operate as a separate entity outside of the kingdom’s hold.

“You’re suggesting that our witches are summoning demons right here in the city and using them to kill your citizens?”

He shrugged again. “I have no desire for a war with the Citadel.”

The chill creeping over me turned icy. “I do not believe the Citadel desires that either, Your Majesty.”

“Oh? Are you an expert on the matter? Privy to the council’s wishes?”

“I…”

He had me. I wasn’t—of course I wasn’t. I didn’t hold a position of merit, despite the possibility that I someday might. I had no idea what truly happened behind closed doors. For all my independence, I went where I was assigned, naive to the inner workings of the council.

Again, the king shrugged. “Anyway, it was just a thought. I’m sure with your…exceptional abilities, you’ll get to the bottom of it. I did tell them to send their best. I hear you closed an entire rift.”

It was my turn to shrug. “Your citizens will sleep more soundly at night, knowing they are less likely to get eaten while they travel.”

“How magnanimous of you, Lady Witch.”

“Indeed. You’re welcome.”

He ignored my jab, his gaze falling once more on his son. Again, that tick in his forehead appeared. Rixon had told me a little of his childhood. I knew that his mother had died in childbirth. Did he unfairly blame him? Resent him? Was it what he saw, every time he looked at his son?

“I see my son cannot be bothered to speak.”

“He speaks when I permit him to,” I snapped, some of my patience wearing thin.

“Of course. His leash. Well then, I think we’re done here. Fix my city, Lady Witch. I’d hate to inform the Citadel that its witches are incompetent. Or worse, that these demons are a product of their making.”

My skin heated, but I let the accusation drop. Never mind his earlier threat, that he’d make me wish I’d left. I rose, offering him a bow of my head. “I bid you a good evening, Your—”

“Oh, before I forget,” he said, interrupting me as we both stood. “Since you insist on staying, while you are here you are my guests. You may come and go as you wish. My son is permitted whatever requests he deems necessary, assuming he isn’t entirely mute. But you will present yourselves at dinner each night. My table, of course.” My eyes narrowed. “If my son is to be your pet, I’d like to see his face while he’s here.” His eyes darted to Rixon once more. The vein in his forehead ticked. “Now then. Good evening, Lady Witch, Aleksander.”

I didn’t bother with a response. Instead, I turned and marched from the room, Rixon on my heels. I didn’t speak again until we entered his chambers. Nor did I speak until I warded the door and walls, to ensure our conversations would be private. Then, only then, did I turn to my wielder and say, “What the actual fuck, Rixon?!”

Chapter 6

Rixon