Page 52 of Witch’s Heart

“That’s impossible,” cried Weiss.

“It’s not, according to our spies.”

“Lies! Why would we want to go to war when we are trying to establish new commerce between our kingdoms?!”

“You tell me,” Rixon drawled. “It could be any number of reasons, but I think it was a distraction, to make us complacent. To give us a reason to pull our troops back.”

Weiss’s eyes began to dart around before they fell on Trudy. She took a step forward and said, “Your Majesty, surely there has been a mistake.” Her father reached out and tugged on the back of her dress, making her stagger back into place. She shot her father a glare.

“I disagree, Lady Holland.”

“I had nothing to do with this, Your Majesty,” Weiss cried, looking more concerned by the minute. “I am an ambassador, nothing more. I do not make decisions for my country.”

“And what of the recent assassination attempt on my life?” Rixon asked.

Weiss’s eyes widened. “Surely you cannot…”

I watched him, eyes narrowed, looking for signs.

“It seems convenient, no? You being here in my palace, peddling your kingdom’s newest invention, distracting us all.”

“I… I had nothing to do with that. I would not betray your hospitality so.” His breaths came faster, eyes darting, like he was looking for an escape.

The back of my neck prickled. I scanned the crowd, eyes lingering over the courtiers. Their attention was rapt on the scene unfolding, hungry gazes taking in Weiss’s trembling form. My eyes snagged on one courtier whose attention was fixed on Rixon. My neck prickled again and I took a step forward.

The male was dressed in finery, the typical court clothes. He had a sword sheathed at his waist, probably ceremonial more than anything, like most of the other males in attendance.

“Please, Your Majesty.” Trudy Holland shot forward, this time breaking free of her father’s grasp. She rushed through the crowd, creating a commotion as she stopped beside Weiss. “Please. He is innocent.”

“And how might you know this?”

“I have been spending time with him. We…” She swallowed. “We are courting.”

Rixon blew out a breath.

My gaze scanned the crowd again. I looked for the male who’d caught my attention, noticing he wasn’t where he’d been. A flash in my periphery made me jerk, followed by a snick and pained cry. I whirled around. A scream built in my throat, my body immediately morphing as the dark thing inside me spilled to the surface in a rush.

Rixon slipped off the throne, a dagger protruding from the base of his throat. My gaze shot back to the crowd, looking for the assassin. A ripple formed in the courtiers as he escaped. A fury I had never known exploded from me. The darkness wanted nothing more than to destroy, to rip and shred. I took a staggering step forward, as if to give chase, then stopped myself.

“Guards!” I screamed, motioning with my hand.

I raced up the dais stairs, falling to Rixon’s side. “Rixon.” I cradled his face in my hands. He choked, then blinked, his gaze wide with surprise and even…fear. Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth. The light was fading from his eyes.

I didn’t pause to think. Pulling power from my well of magic, I poured it into the wound while dislodging the blade. A scream of anguish tore from my lips as I battled the pain, as my power flowed into him. Ophelia's words echoed in my mind—the last drop leaving a dying well. For the first time, I truly understood what it could mean to lose this ability. What would I do if my well ever ran completely dry?

Rixon’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to form words. Tears filled my eyes. Someone had tried to kill him—tried to take what was mine—right in front of me. “It’s okay, my love. I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.”

The wound closed, the skin and tissue deep inside knitting back together, reopening his airways. He took a gasping breath, lifting his hands to cling to my arms. More breaths followed. A sob tore from my chest. I dragged him against me, cradling him, rocking him.

I was aware of someone approaching in my periphery. I looked up and snarled at them, the protective thing inside me on edge. It was Andrei, Rixon’s steward. He took one look at my face, at the demon on the surface, and staggered back. That was when I noticed the entire throne room gaping at me. I didn’t care.

“Demon,” someone cried!

“She’s a demon,” came another voice.

I snarled and pinned the courtiers with my blackened gaze. “Aleksander Rixon Kozma is my wielder. Mine. He was mine before he was ever your king. I will kill anyone who tries to hurt him.”

“Mina,” Rixon was fighting my grip now, righting himself. “Mina, enough, sweetheart. Look at me. Look at me!”