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She tried to crumple her fear and toss it from her mind. “Tell Xanthia I’m looking for her, and if she comes to find me, I’ll consider speaking to the Queen Mother on your behalf.” She didn’t add that it was unlikely the Queen Mother would particularly care what Jessie had to say about a prisoner in her castle.
The man glared at her form under his tightly knit brows.
“I swear it,” she added sincerely.
Down the hall, footsteps echoed. The other inmates chittered like mischievous schoolchildren who sensed a teacher approaching. Too late, she realized she was trapped. The way she had come in was her only exit.
She had a moment of indecision, twirling in place. Could she curl up in a dark corner and hope to go unnoticed? Dart into a cell and pretend to be a prisoner? The idea of entering any of them was abhorrent to her. She could easily be locked inside and left here to rot, forgotten.
It no longer mattered. The man who approached had already spotted her. She tried to think up excuses as to why she was down here.Sorry. I was just looking for the lavatory and took a wrong turn. She could be charming when necessary. Bubbly and adorable and innocent-looking.
She opened her mouth to spout the lie. “Hi, I was just—”
He interrupted her. “Finally, I found you. Jessie, isn’t it?”
“Uh, yes?” Her reply sounded like she was unsure of her own name. This stranger was throwing her off. She sensed a barely tethered urgency in his tone. Almost panic. His next words tore her open like a knife to the heart.
“Orik has been gravely injured. I’ve been instructed to take you to him immediately.”
* * *
Orik landed on the balcony to his apartment and transformed into his two-legged form. Sadly, the hunt had borne no fruit. Both he and his men were discouraged by the lack of an obvious trail. But tomorrow would bring a fresh start. He would not rest until that vile witch was eradicated from this world and Jessie was freed from his dark intentions.
He wondered if she was still angry with him. If she planned to battle him this eve or if she’d invite him into her loving embrace instead. He hoped for the latter—aside from his mission, he’d thought of nothing but being in her arms—but was prepared for the former. She wanted to explore her newly acquired magic. Didn’t see it as the malady it was.
Considering her stubbornness, she wasn’t likely to give it up without good reason. He’d just have to figure out how to convince her.
The first thing he noticed upon entering the apartment was the sparkling magic-borne plants were still pervasive throughout the apartment. She had only carved out a small walkway.
Seething, he called out her name, wondering if she was angling for another spanking. Suddenly he was eager to find his little witch. But she wasn’t in the main room. Nor was she in the bedroom. He checked the washrooms and closets next, then the balcony before retracing his steps just to be sure.
Disappointment flooded him. She was simply gone. And, so it seemed, was Phoenix.
Perhaps she’d taken it upon herself to bring the little rodent to the garden. He decided to look for her there, but the moment he stepped into the hall, he caught the faint remnants of her scent and followed it, surprised to find it led him straight into the dungeon.
Why would she have ventured down here? To remind herself what a cad he’d been? He winced, regret a gnarled hunk in his gut. When he discovered her inclination for magic, he hadn’t merely rejected her, he’d sought to incarcerate her, taking away her beloved freedom. And still she had saved him, not knowing if she’d be returned to this somber, gloomy cage for her efforts. Those imprisoned down here were murderers, thieves, and rapists, the unequivocal dredges of society devoid of honor, integrity, and basic decency. Monsters.
With his knuckle, he rapped on the bars of one such offender. The man was curled up on his bunk, facing away, but Orik suspected he wasn’t really asleep. He was blatantly ignoring him, like he used to whenever Orik came to interrogate him. They’d fought side by side once. They did no longer, and never would again.
“Khalstorm,” he snarled.
With languid movements, Khalstorm leisurely rolled onto his back and tucked his hands behind his head. “Orik.”
“A woman was here recently. Tell me, did you see her?”
“Hard to miss. Very few women are keen to explore the bowels of the castle. This has been an unusual couple of weeks.”
“Why was she here?”
He gave a noncommittal shrug. “S’pose she was looking for something.”
“And what would that be?” After a silent beat, Orik knew Khalstorm wouldn’t answer. He was not and never had been a cooperative prisoner. “Did you speak with her?”
“Oh, aye. Lovely voice, that one. Even lovelier visage.” He made an hourglass shape with his hands. “For a witch. You cozying up to witches now? How life has changed for the both of us.”
“She is human,” he protested, though he didn’t know why he bothered denying what she was. He realized that it no longer mattered. He loved her, either way.
“Smelled of magic to me.” Khalstorm gave a snide smile. “Smelled of you, too.”
