Page 67 of Witch’s Heart

“I…that’s impossible.” My eyes flew open. Besides the stacks of parchment pressed between my body and the desk, which would get shuffled if I scooted even an inch, there were several other stacks to the right and left of my hands. I wrapped my fingers around the far edge of the desk, to keep them firmly in place.

“I suppose you had better not move so much as a muscle, then.” With that, he devoured me until I was shaking and moaning.

In the end, I managed to keep myself firmly in place through sheer willpower alone. He rewarded it for me when I came on his tongue. By the time I righted my skirts and left his study, I was plenty pleased with how our negotiations had turned out.

Chapter 23

Mina

Somewhere down the hall, a muffled click sounded. I set my journal aside and used my magic to extinguish the single candle burning beside me, plunging my surroundings into darkness. While I could see perfectly in the dark thanks to my demon abilities, it felt strange sketching in a pitch black cell. My back was flush to the stone wall. Already, my rump ached from sitting for so many hours on end.

I strained my ears, listening. Moments later, I was rewarded with the quiet sound of footsteps. Adrenaline shot through me. Calming my breaths, I slowly came to my feet. My cell door was open just a crack. Next door, I had Reginald Weiss bound and gagged, anchored to the wall in one of the palace dungeon’s torture chambers. I’d spent several hours earlier that afternoon setting everything up.

There came a loud click—the sound of Weiss’s cell door opening. I moved to the opening of my own, peering out through the slit. I caught movement just as a cloaked figure slipped into Weiss’s room. Otherwise, the shadowy corridor was empty.

I frowned. Whoever this was, they couldn’t possibly be acting alone. Perhaps their accomplices were keeping an eye out down the corridor. I’d made it easy for them, dosing both guards with a sleeping sedative that would make them look less threatening.

Whispers sounded as I quickly followed the cloaked figure into the cell. It was the largest in the palace dungeons, conveniently so. It was nearly pitch black, a single candle burning near Weiss. Blackened shadows gaped with open maws, many cast by the various torture devices, some shoved against the walls.

Weiss pulled against his restraints, his eyes wide and frantic. They flicked towards me briefly, the whites visible. He tried to speak, garbled, unintelligible words falling from his mouth. Words of warning for his rescuer, but it was too late.

“There now, I’m here. Everything is going to be all right,” said the voice from beneath the cloak, trying to sooth him.

I barked a laugh. “Trudy?! Trudy Holland?”

The figure sucked in a breath and whipped around, dislodging the hood of their cloak. Fiery red hair was the first thing I saw before Trudy’s face was visible. Her expression morphed into fury. “You!” she hissed.

I lifted my dagger, lazily examining the tip. “You seem surprised.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that.” I studied her, wondering what she had under her cloak. A weapon, perhaps? “So, you’re the one who tried to have Rixon killed. I guess it makes sense after he humiliated you.”

She stepped back and lifted her chin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. I heard you earlier. Was it your father you were speaking to, or your brother?”

“You’re mistaken.”

“Oh?” Gods, I couldn’t stand her. I crossed my arms, studying her. All this time, and it had been Trudy fucking Holland trying to have Rixon killed. “So…I imagined your words in the hallway? That you hired Santos to oversee the king’s death? That you planned to free Weiss tonight? To flee the city?”

“Why would I do something so reckless?”

I stifled a chuckle, my shoulders relaxing. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

“So?” she said, a look of defiance settling over her features. “I was just…I was just checking on him. The king refused my request to have him freed and I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“Yes, because I asked him to. All I had to do was spread my legs and he willingly granted my wishes.”

“Whore,” she hissed.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I snorted. “You never could have satisfied him in bed—the depraved things he likes to do. I am a whore for him.”

“You’re disgusting.”

I shook my head, looking at her—really looking at her. Trudy fucking Holland. I should have seen it.

My mistake.