Page 42 of Witch’s Ruin

“What about a rift? Could there be a rift down here somewhere?”

“That’s more likely,” he said. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, contemplating. “Your call, Lady Witch. Do we continue, or turn back?”

“Is there someone in the city, a master builder or city planner, who might have a map?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Hmm, perhaps. This city was built long ago. If a map exists, it might be hard to find.” Her expression tightened into frustration. “We could certainly try,” he added.

She nodded. “Then let’s turn back. I don’t fancy getting lost down here in the middle of the night. This place…” She shuddered. “It gives me the creeps.”

He moved closer. “It will be all right,” he said, his voice softening, taking her hand, lacing their fingers together. Her eyes, dancing with shadows from the torch, found his face. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, comforting her, then led her back the way they’d come.

* * *

Dawn split the sky open with hues of pink and orange. The city was already rich with sounds of the morning. Rixon led Mina from the rooftop where they’d taken up their overnight watch. It was positioned across the street from the King’s Mantle. To watch the inn in case anyone slipped out during the night.

Not a single person had.

Not until dawn, just as they’d claimed. They emerged in pairs, wielders thumbing their weapons, to sweep through the city and catch any remaining demons, their witches following behind, ready with their magic. All appeared as it ought.

Taking Mina’s hand, Rixon led her back towards the palace.

“I’m going to kill your father,” she muttered under her breath, scowling as they traipsed up the main thoroughfare.

She was tired and cranky, and they were both filthy. Any minute, the guards would open the portcullis into the palace. He intended to be there the moment that happened.

Not to punish them, even though Mina had wanted that. It wasn’t their fault he’d been locked out, out maneuvered by his father. But, the thought certainly crossed his mind.

When they arrived, the palace was open, people already coming and going on business. He ignored everyone, striding through with his shoulders back, looking like hell. He kept a tight hold of Mina’s hand.

They tracked a trail of mud through the corridors. It felt mildly satisfying. Though, it was a shame the servants would suffer for it and not his father. The king would never see a single grain of dirt.

They reached his quarters and removed their boots. Mina warded the door, sagging against it when she finished.

“Come, Lady Witch. You are a sight for sore eyes. Let’s get you cleaned up.” She grumbled something incoherent. He couldn’t help the twitch of his lips.

Her midnight black hair was falling free of its bun, wispy tendrils framing her face. She had a few streaks of mud on her neck and cheek. He wished it was something edible, like chocolate, so he might lick it off. Their clothes were dastardly, and would need a thorough wash.

He began undressing her right here, in the entryway. She hummed as his hands lingered over her skin, soothing. When he began on his own clothes, fingers making quick work of the buckles and his weapons, she offered to help. Then he scooped her up and carried her naked body straight into the bath.

Neither had the energy to do more than sit and soak for long minutes until he finally began washing her. “Somehow,” she managed, “it always feels a thousand times better when you do it.” A huge yawn followed her words. His lungs expanded to their deepest.

He wanted to carry her to their bed, make love to her slowly, languidly, before they both fell asleep. In reality, she wasn’t going to last that long. So he made quick work of their clean up, then lifted her from the pool, dried her, and settled her in bed.

A knock sounded, signaling breakfast. He sent the servant away, not wanting to disturb Mina with the wards, then tumbled into bed beside her, drifting off to sleep.

It was only a few hours before a loud pounding beat against his skull. Beside him, Mina groaned, flopping over against him, nuzzling his skin. The pounding continued—someone at his door—before he let loose a string of fucks and staggered, naked, to his feet.

“What the fuck do you want?!” he growled at the door, silencing the fist on the other side.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but your father said to wake you at whatever cost. Council convenes in one hour, and he expects you to be present, as you are his heir, and thus, a member of the council.”

“Huh. Is that so? You can tell my father to fuck off.” He turned, striding back towards the bed.

“With all due respect, Your Highness,” the voice called after him, “he thought you might say that. Said that if you did, he’d have you forcibly removed from the palace, your chambers allotted for another purpose. Your inheritance withdrawn. His words, not mine.”

Anger flashed raw and hot, surging through his blood.

Mina appeared beside him, frowning. He rounded on her, trying not to let his irritation get the better of him. “I bet you didn’t account for this, in your grand plan against my father?”