Page 7 of Witch’s Ruin

“Only at night then?”

“Mostly. There been a few during the day, but night seems more frequent. Your father’s been blaming the witches. Says they ain’t doing their job.”

Rixon stilled. Interesting, very interesting. He and Mina shared a furtive glance.

“Something tells me that ain’t the case?” Kam asked. “Reckon you’re here to sort everything out?”

“Something like that,” Mina said, wiping her hands, stepping away from Jarrow.

“Well, be careful, the both of you. King Maddox likes his games, and you know how he feels about you, boy.”

Rixon nodded.

“Either of you need anything—anything at all, and you let me know.”

“Thank you, Kam,” Mina said, reaching for one of his grizzled hands, taking it in both of hers and shaking it warmly.

“Know it ain’t his job, but I’ll send Al up to check on you both periodically.”

Rixon took hold of Kam’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze, before grabbing their saddlebags, hoisting them over his shoulder, and leading Mina out of the stables. He could no longer put off what he’d been dreading. It was time to face the life he’d run from.

Chapter 3

Mina

Being in the stables eased a measure of my tension, but not enough. I could sense the ominous press of demons, an itching pressure against my chest. Not to mention whatever was going on between Rixon and I.

Kam was an easy presence, paired with the smell of hay, and Aleck’s excited eyes when he’d seen Jarrow, and my mood was improved. I always turned into a hopeless ball of goo when someone admired my horse. Knowing Jarrow was well cared for gave me one less thing to worry about.

We were silent as we strode through the palace. I opened my mouth several times—to ask about an archway, or a fountain, or a statue—only to think better of it. Rixon didn’t want to discuss his childhood. He’d made that clear. I didn’t fault him for it. I tried not to take it personally, despite the heaviness in my chest. He’d talk about it when he was ready. And if he never was? Well, I would need to accept that.

Servants spotted us and either gazed curiously at our passing, or fumbled and gasped, rushing to bow. Rixon had been gone a long time, but those who’d worked here long enough recognized him. A pair of males in black and gold livery rounded the corner, conversing in low voices.

“You there,” Rixon said, getting their attention. The pair froze, then immediately dropped into bows. His authoritative voice gave them reason enough, even if they didn’t recognize him. His appearance was a little rough around the edges. “Have dinner prepared and brought to my chambers.”

“Your…your chambers, my…my…lord?” the taller of the two said.

“That’s the crown prince, you idiot,” the shorter, darker skinned male hissed, elbowing his comrade, whose eyes widened.

“At-at once, Your Highness,” they both echoed.

Rixon nodded and set off again. I watched the entire exchange with a frown, then hurried to catch up. I didn’t comment on the incident. I distracted myself by taking in my surroundings, noting walkways and corridors, various doors, courtyards, and other features of the king’s palace. It reminded me of the Citadel, but grander. Far, far grander. Portions of the corridors were wide, arched hallways, lined with statues of military—knights in armor, soldiers holding spears, and the like. There were elaborate wooden doors leading…who could say where. Other hallways were closed in with glass windows, boasting plush carpeting and displays of art—statues, sculptures, framed landscapes, portraits.

We traversed several sets of stairs until I was hopelessly lost. Rixon ignored everyone we passed, nobles and servants alike. His stride exuded an air of superiority. I found myself stealing glances in his direction. I’d never seen him walk quite like this. Shocking, that there could be any difference, since he was always so confident.

We entered another overly opulent corridor, this one hosting very few doors. I strode along, taking in the dark views from each of the glittering windows, the orange city lights spread below in neat rows and blocks. We were several floors above, and the view by day would be staggering. Between the windows, there were giant bouquets of flowers, each in an elegant vase, resting on pedestals. They were fresh and expertly arranged—

“Here, Lady Witch.”

I jumped, glancing beside me. Rixon had stopped somewhere behind me. I spun and found him at a set of double doors, hands clenched on the knobs. Others might not have noticed the whites of his knuckles. I rushed over, feeling my cheeks heat. Had he noticed my distraction—how captivated I’d become?

Rixon turned the knobs and pushed the doors inward. They gave without hesitation, swinging open silently on well oiled hinges. Even with the scarce light, what little spilled inside from the corridor, I could tell it was the grandest suite I’d ever seen. I took a step forward, only to have Rixon’s arm snake around my waist, pulling me back against him. “No, Lady Witch. Stay here,” he commanded, breath tickling my ear.

My lips parted. I felt my eyes blackening at the command, at the way I craved it. I relaxed against him just before he released me.

Witches of the Citadel were supposed to give the commands. That’s how it had always been. I was an exception, because I so desperately enjoyed submitting to him. Even if it was only done in the bedroom, where I willingly gave it all to him.

He strode forward, checking the space, his shadow moving through the darkness. I saw a spark flash before wall sconces blazed to life. Soon, the chamber was glowing.