Page 33 of Witch’s Ruin

A lump formed in my throat. “I don’t—I am not sure I ever will. I was raised by loving parents, Rix. I wish you had been too. Speaking of…when am I going to meet your other mother? Coralayne?” I batted my eyelashes, teasing.

“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d forgotten, in this blur of court drama, he’d completely forgotten about his wet nurse—Jessin’s mother.

“We can go this afternoon, after you’re finished with your courtly duties,” I suggested. He nodded. “Now, are you certain you want my control for this?”

“Yes.”

I sighed, then gave him the order, phrasing it so he wouldn’t misbehave. He finished preparing, making sure his attire was just so, and then I saw him off. I waited until he was gone before slipping out of his room and finding my own way through the palace. I wasn’t sure where I was going, content to explore, to follow corridors, check unlocked doors, and span staircases. Most of the palace was occupied by servants—no small surprise, since it required an army to keep a place like this clean—rushing about with arms full of linens, baskets of brushes and other cleaners, carpentry tools, and more.

I wandered until my feet took me all the way to the top of a tower. A staircase spat me out on a flat roof where I looked out over the city. Here, I could see all the way to the sea. That the morning fog and overcast clouds had cleared up. Overhead, gulls and other sea birds swooped and cawed, calling out to one another.

What’s happening to you? I wondered, wishing the city below could simply tell me the answer.

My eyes lingered on the shipping yards, where we’d been earlier. Even at this distance, the cranes were obnoxiously large, ever in motion. Rixon had told me that the workers kept long hours, often late into the night, until it got too dark and their lanterns made the work too hazardous.

It was peaceful up here, removed from the chaos below; I could almost believe that bad things weren’t happening, that people weren’t dying. I shut my eyes, inhaling deep. In my chest, the constant pressure I’d felt thrummed with the pace of my heart.

What was it? I hadn’t voiced my worry to Rixon. Hadn’t wanted to add to his burdens. But…I was afraid.

It reminded me of the same pressure I’d felt near the rift. So similar…and yet, it wasn’t exactly the same. I pressed my sternum with both my palms, one over the other, as if pushing against myself might ease it—

The hairs on the back of my neck lifted. I had the immediate sensation of being watched. As if someone or something lurked just behind me.

I whirled and caught sight of a large, dark blur in my periphery. Heart fluttering, I searched. The roof was empty, silent except for the faint sound of flapping wings.

No—it was just my imagination.

I took a deep breath and let it out in a loud rush. It was a leftover from my nightmares. From the flapping wings in my dreams each night when I fell asleep. I turned back to the city, spread below me in blocky levels.

“The king has been very naughty…” said a voice in my mind, but not my voice.

I screeched and spun in a full circle, eyes darting over the empty stones behind me, then up at the sky. Nothing.

My breath hitched. I looked towards the door on the roof and considered bolting for safety. But…

It was the same voice—I’d heard it a few times in my dreams, too. Broken fragments. Leftovers.

“Get out of my head!” I hissed, rubbing my temples.

The only answer was a dark, rumbling laugh, fading, fading, fading into nothing. My gaze darted over every segment of the palace rooftop, every level, every exposed window. There was no sign of it. No sign of the demon that felt more a part of my imagination than ever.

Sometimes, if I tried hard enough, I could convince myself that I’d been mistaken. I’d been mistaken that day I’d seen it emerge from the rift. It had happened so quickly, and I’d been under immense duress. If I tried hard enough, I could convince myself that it was entirely my imagination. That this was the price of the thing festering inside me.

“With blood we shed… With blood we keep…”

I shivered, turning on my heel, retreating. I reached for the door and threw myself over the threshold, back into the dimness of the palace.

“With blood we guard the blackness deep…” The words repeated, an echo in my mind. “With blood…with blood…”

I took the stairs two at a time, then strode through the place, trying to escape the words. When I found my way back to Rixon’s room, I slammed the door behind me, leaning against it, breathing hard. Only then did the chanting end. Only then did my mind become my own, once more.

Chapter 12

Rixon

Rixon gritted his teeth and kept his mouth closed, nodding only when prompted. Somehow, his compliance dragged him through the next hour and a half in his father’s company. A wedding date was set, some four weeks from today. It was decided that Rixon and Trudy would preside over the particulars of the wedding. Dowry was discussed. Title conferment assured. And…that was that.

Mina’s control had been useful for the first twenty minutes, when he wanted to shove a knife through his father’s eye sockets. After that, he resigned himself to indifference, tuning out the majority of it. He’d spoken a couple of one word responses, but could not be bothered for more.