Page 37 of Witch’s Ruin

He winced. That should have been the first question out of his mouth. Trust Mina to think of such things.

“No, no. I’m comfortable, I am. Just don’t stay away. Come and see me when you can.”

“We will,” he found himself saying, while Mina nodded in agreement. “Of course we will.”

They chatted for a few minutes longer before bidding her farewell. But they promised to come back and visit as much as possible. He had lost time to make up for.

“You did what you had to do,” Mina said to him, keeping her voice low, gripping his hand as they left Cora’s home and walked towards King’s Mantle. He grunted, not wanting to agree. “You did,” she insisted. “And she doesn’t fault you for it.” Still, he didn’t respond, kept his jaw tight, peering at the road ahead. “Come now, Rixon, would she want you to feel guilty?”

“Fuck, woman, you are relentless.”

Mina smiled and it was almost contagious. “I’m just saying…”

“Yes, yes. I know what you are saying. And yet, I still feel bad about it. I didn’t at the time—a little guilty, yes—but after running into Jessin, and then seeing her again, hearing about what happened.”

“That makes sense.” She squeezed his hand. “Try not to let it bother you,” she added. He nodded, knowing it would be easier said than done. A few minutes later, the inn came into view and not a moment too soon. His stomach growled with hunger, and curfew was nearly upon them.

Chapter 13

Mina

The dining room at King’s Mantle glowed with warmth. Cutlery clanked and conversation buzzed, the sounds weaving together harmoniously. The room was filled with glorious smells as dinner was served. Tonight, it was honeyed buns, a white fish in a rich cream gravy with rice, and sautéed green beans.

All the tables were full, and we’d pulled ours together. It seated all fourteen of us. With the curfew falling, there weren’t any visitors besides us, just the patrons staying within the inn.

I hadn’t stopped smiling. It was cozy, inviting…fun. Because we were surrounded by so many others, we kept conversation light and avoided discussion of demons and the Citadel. Most of it was centered around gossip circulating the city. Rixon hadn’t said a word yet, and I was content to let the others do most of the talking.

It wasn’t as if the other wielders spoke much either, in the presence of witches.

Anne and Elianna sat on my right side, their wielders across from them, and Rixon on my left. Curiosity had my gaze bouncing between them. I hadn’t seen any show of affection between them, not how Rixon and I were. But they did seem companionably comfortable.

Anne asked me about my gowns, “Have they been delivered yet?”

“Just a couple of premade options,” I explained.

They also asked how dinner the previous night had gone. My groan said enough. “You will never believe what happened.” They were shocked when I told them about Rixon’s betrothal. “The entire table toasted to their happiness, and Rixon nearly stormed from the room.”

Rixon’s face turned rock hard at my confession, so I bumped my shoulder against his, telling him to relax. It wasn’t as if I’d allow him to marry her.

“Trudy Holland? She sounds like one of the ridiculous ones. Never did care much for nobility,” Anne said, immediately looking for ways to show her solidarity towards our struggle.

Rixon’s hand tightened around his goblet. He was always so tense. I put my hand on his leg, sliding it up, up, up, to the one place I’d get a reaction. He captured my hand, pressing it in place over the bulge in his pants and simultaneously threw me a warning glare. My mouth twitched—a promise for later.

Slowly, the dining room began to clear as patrons went to find cozy spots in the common room around the fire, or retire to their rooms. “Will you be going out tonight?” Mya asked, lowering her voice for the two of us. Her wielder, Flynn, had his arm braced along the back of her chair. Of all the pairs, they seemed to have the most outwardly comfortable relationship. Perhaps age drove them to it. Flynn appeared the quiet sort—then again, all wielders appeared that way in the presence of their witches—and overly watchful of his witch. I hadn’t heard him speak, except occasionally to lean in and whisper into Mya’s ear.

“We plan to, yes.” I didn’t dare tell her my plans—that I hoped to track the demons to their source. If the witches were behind this, I wouldn’t dare tip her off.

“What about last night?” Mya probed. “Did you find anything?”

I kept my voice low, telling her of the family we’d saved. Everyone at our table leaned a bit closer, eager to hear. “We were lucky that the father had a Nebrine dagger,” I explained. “And that it was only a single demon. He was wounded pretty badly, but I patched him up. The children will likely have nightmares for days to come, but hopefully they will recover.”

We were lucky; the entire situation could have been a lot worse. The witches agreed, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

We took our leave. It was already dark, the street illuminated only by the yellow glow spilling out of buildings. “Did you enjoy yourself, Lady Witch?” Rixon asked as we walked back to the palace, his voice tight.

I linked my arm through his and smiled sweetly at him. “You’re annoyed with me, aren’t you?”

“Not terribly.”