Page 54 of Witch’s Ruin

“Never mind that your Lagara collided with mine and caused an ankle sprain,” I continued, ignoring the fact that Rixon tried to intervene.

The king took several deep, calming breaths, assessing the situation. Earlier, he’d been in a good mood. I’d almost allowed myself to think this would end well. And perhaps it might have, had that fucking demon not shown itself.

“I want a rematch,” the king insisted, but his voice was no longer jovial as it had been earlier. It was brittle and accusing.

“Jarrow’s ankle is sprained. I’m not letting him do a single thing until I heal it.”

“I think that’s enough for one day,” Rixon said, voice firm.

The king continued to regard me, suspicion in his eyes. Before, there’d been only excitement. My nostrils flared. I didn’t deserve his accusations. I wasn’t going to sit here and pleadingly defend myself against something I hadn’t done. But fine. He wanted to make me the villain? Fine.

“My horses were in the lead,” the king said, as if it needed to be known.

I pulled my shoulders back. “Yes? And? They lost. Need I remind you, Your Majesty, this race was your idea, not mine.” And already, I regretted agreeing to it.

The king regarded me, expression cold. “See to your horse, Lady Witch.” He turned on his heel and strode from the arena, his attendants rushing after him. He’d lost this round—whatever game he was playing. I couldn’t help but think he didn’t intend to lose the next. Whatever that might be, I needed to tread extra carefully henceforth.

Moments later, the other two horses departed. I simply stood there, watching everyone go their separate ways. Rixon planted himself before me, hands on his hips, eying me.

“What happened?”

“A demon.” That was all I gave him—hardly an explanation. I clenched my jaw, trying to settle my anger. Jarrow’s head nudged me. I turned to him. “Shi kek, lekke roy,” I said. I know, pretty boy.

I knelt down, assessing his leg, his ankle. He tensed, muscles going taut when I moved it, but at least it wasn’t broken. I closed my eyes, pulling from my magic, and set about healing him. I’d healed flesh injuries for Jarrow, but never something like this. I wasn’t as familiar with horse anatomy as I was with human anatomy, but my knowledge of horses in general helped. I worked on the inflammation and mended the torn tissue.

“They’re now,” I said. “Try that.” I released his leg. Jarrow placed his foot gently at first, then leaned his full weight on it. “How’s that?” I asked, standing up. He took a few tentative steps forward, neighed, then began prancing in a circle.

My foul mood evaporated. A barked laugh fell from my lips. “Yes, all better, hmm?” Jarrow tossed his head. “You were perfect, you know.”

My horse preened.

Even as I said those words, a certain truth settled upon me. The Legaras had pulled ahead, right before the demon had appeared. “He would have won,” I admitted, turning to Rixon. “Your father, the Lagaras. They were bred for this. I almost wanted them to—because of my father.”

Jarrow was never meant to be a quarter horse, even if he was special.

“They are your father’s legacy,” Rixon said, his voice low. He took my face in his hands, running his thumbs over my cheeks. His own was full of understanding. “Now, do you want to talk about why they didn’t?”

“That stupid, fucking demon,” I hissed, mood darkening.

“So it’s here then? In the city?”

I took a deep, steadying breath, then nodded and said, “Come, let’s get Jarrow settled first. Then I’ll tell you.”

Rixon eyed me, like he was going to argue. Finally, he motioned me forward with his head. We were silent for a time, making our way from the arena, walking Jarrow through the city, back to the royal stables.

“It’s here in the city. I’m pretty certain of it. It’s been saying things to me. Strange things, about blood and sacrifice, and darkness. None of it makes any sense. And laughter—always this smug, chilly laugher.”

Rixon hid his surprise, but I noticed the way his body tensed, the way his jaw tightened. “This has been going on since we arrived?”

“A couple of days, yes,” I admitted, needled with guilt that I hadn’t told him sooner. “It’s why I looked so distraught the other day.”

He gave a curt nod, running a hand over his hair, which was pulled back into a warrior knot today. Ready to get it off my chest, I told him everything. The fluttering wings, the way the demon was always just outside of my periphery, and the way it made my skin crawl.

Rixon’s expression darkened with each word.“You should have told me.”

My stomach dropped at his reprimand. It was rare for him to do it, which meant my actions had thoroughly angered him. I hated the thought of him angry with me.

While there were times we kept things from each other, this was something that concerned us both. Demons were common ground. He had every right to know, especially because it concerned my safety.