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Tristan scrubbed a hand down his face. “They’ll come for her.”
“Aye,” Orik agreed. “That’s my thinking. Or they’re already here.”
Tristan, catching his meaning, met his eyes before looking off into the distance.
June didn’t respond, that last detail seeming to vex her.
Finally, Edel spoke, but only to address June. “Dearling, what areyourinstincts telling you?”
June glanced at them all in turn. “That she could be an ally, not an enemy.”
“My Queen,” Orik formally replied, “forgive me, but you doona have the experience we have with witches and their deceitful ways.”
“But I do believe she is from Earth. Nothing else makes sense. You told me of the difference between the witches here on your world—”
“Ourworld,” Tristan interjected.
“—right…and the Serakian witches. That they both use magic, but the Serakians are born with magic—”
“Aye.” Orik nodded. “And the witches here kill for it.”
“You also said Serakians aren’t actuallyborn, but arefoundall over the universe and can come from any race.”
Orik sat upright, seizing the notion. “You think she could be a Serakian witchling?” A rare witch who need not kill for power? He hadn’t considered it before. It was almost too much to hope for. He felt the heat of Edel’s scrutinizing gaze and suppressed his excitement. “Still, we canna assume anything. She must remain where she is for now.”
June continued to protest, or at least tried to. “But—”
“I will no’ be swayed in this.” It was his duty to take every precaution regarding the security of the castle. Serakian or not, he’d allowed a witch to infiltrate his inner circle. That was too close for comfort. The damage she could have done sent chills through him. He could not suffer such a loss again. He wouldn’t survive it.
* * *
Curled on her side, Jessie stared at the smooth tiled wall, letting the tears dry on her lashes. Aside from all the smooth surfaces, this was like any other dungeon one might imagine resided within a medieval castle. She lay upon a lumpy mattress fitted to a platform bed frame protruding from the wall, held aloft by a set of chains on either end. The overhead lights were dim to the point of resembling firelight. The stench of BO and old urine permeated the air, peppered by hopelessness and decay. Some leaky pipe in the distance made a faint but steady drip, drip, drip. A stray cough or sniffle from the other inmates broke up the monotony. Thankfully, she couldn’t see any of them through the stone walls. Only the fronts of each cell had bars.
When Orik callously left her here, she’d paced her cell like a caged lioness. Some of the inmates had catcalled her. Others tried to engage her in conversation. She’d ignored them all, and they eventually quieted, having grown bored.
How could he have left her here in this dank place, like she was some common criminal? How long would he keep her locked up?
Throw away the key….
Already she could feel herself withering under these conditions, as though her energy were slowly slipping away.
“Psst.”
The sound came from just outside her cell. Startled, she sat up and faced forward and then blinked several times, believing she was hallucinating. A young woman with crystal-blue eyes and long, vibrant white hair stared at her from the other side of the bars. Instantly, Jessie recalled the man from forest asking if she’d encountered a white-haired witch. But this couldn’t be who he spoke of, could it? Her aura was saturated by shades of blinding whites and clear blues, the colors extending several feet before fading.
“Who are you,” she asked cautiously.
“Xanthia,” the woman replied. “And you are?”
“Jessie. Are you a witch?”
Xanthia sent her a puzzled look. “Of course. Can’t you tell?” When Jessie didn’t answer, she moved closer to the bars. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here.” Light shone from her palm, and she held it over the lock.
“Were you, like, hiding down here or something?”
Xanthia nodded. “I sensed this was where they were bringing you and watched from the shadows. How could you let yourself be captured by The Destroyer?”
“I…”I gave him part of my heart,she admitted to herself. To Xanthia, she only shrugged, then registered the name. “Wait. Aren’t you the witch who saved June’s life?”
