Page 135 of Black Sea

I felt their power engulfing me and huddling around me until I was permeated. It was cold and hissing. It was like a vine that drove its thorns into every single cell of my body.

I felt invaded without any kindness, inspected with the ruthlessness of a greedy gold prospector who dug and dug and dug until his nails broke.

The darkness within me roared, biting into the witches’ magic. They tried to resist, and the queen crushed my fingers as her voice rose an octave or two.

The next moment, I sensed them smash down the gates of my mind without any regard.

And I didn’t like it at all.

I didn’t like how they rummaged through my thoughts, how they observed every moment I’d spent with Amlach, how their power began to screech as they forced my memory to recall our first time, how their voices grew harsher and higher-pitched when they stumbled upon the memory of the violent intercourse Mornon and I had just a little while ago.

I didn’t want them to see it. I didn’t want them in my head. I thought they only wanted to verify how much evil was cruising inside me, not that they would violate me that way.

I tried to pull away from the Queen of the Witches. Made physically more powerful by the magic, she tightened her grip, her voice now so thunderous it deafened.

I wanted to say stop. I wanted to scream.

Instead, subconsciously, I found myself asking for help with my thoughts.

And he answered my call.

Keep those filthy hands off my mate, Witch Queen.

She let out a terrified cry at the same time the elderly women did, then immediately released me, recoiling as her eyes returned to normal.

I had the distinct impression that Mornon was right behind me, his warmth so tangible it enveloped me in a protective embrace. So relieved to no longer face the scrutiny of all those stares alone, I tried to lean on him, but my back met only air.

I lost my balance slightly, and Mornon’s warmth dissipated, causing me a sense of abandonment that left me furious.

Queen Aloiv stared at me as if I were the most monstrous creature she had ever seen. “He is in her mind,” she announced, her voice cracking with panic. “So deep-rooted that there is almost no line between where she ends and where he begins.”

The old witches agreed in indignant whispers, retreating in fear until they formed a second semicircle behind our druids.

“We have never seen such a connection, neither among elves nor among our kind.” The woman looked at me with contempt. “The enemy’s darkness wanders within you as if you were his abode, and you offer no resistance.”

I flushed with embarrassment and shot my family an anguished look. “That’s not true,” I said with all the resolve I had in me.

But then I recalled that my stiletto blade did not slice Mornon’s carotid artery. I remembered that I hadn’t been able to kill him.

That I hadn’t wanted to.

“You enjoy it,” the Queen of the Witches continued.

I remembered the immense pleasure of having Mornon inside me and feeling complete, the way I had moaned because of the force of his thrusts and the roughness of his hands on my body.

“You feel it yours.”

I recalled the violence of how I had kissed him as his thrusts quickened, sending me into ecstasy, and then how I’d tenderly cherished the tips of his ears with love.

“You’re its servant.”

“I am his,” I snarled abruptly, shutting her up with a threatening step forward. “And he is mine.”

The collective gasp that arose in the hall was like a bucket of freezing water, making me realize the atrocity I had just fervently stated. Scared of myself, I looked in despair at my parents and Araton. They were so dismayed that my eyes filled with burning tears.

“She is corrupted,” the elderly witches declared in unison.

I slightly shook my head, tears streaming down my horrified face.