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“Innocent?” Rayu scoffed, having his own reasons for disliking witches. “No’ a single one of you is innocent. Witches live to inflict pain on others.”
Eyes flashing, Xanthia raised her chin. “Your assessment is incorrect. Most of us wish only to live in peace and harmony with nature. We keep to ourselves unless provoked.”
He snorted. “I’ve never met a witch who didn’t try to kill me.”
Xanthia countered, “Let no hypocrite loose the first arrow.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rayu grumbled.
Khalstorm decided this was the perfect time to interject. “She’s calling you a hypocrite, you ding-dong.”
Rayu glared at him.
Xanthia replied. “Judging by how quickly you pulled a sword on me, I’m inclined to think you attack first, forcing any witch to defend themselves?”
“Funny thing. It sets me on edge whenever a witch sneaks up behind me.”
“I did not sneak up—”
“You have been trespassing in this castle for weeks, skulking around like a ghoul—”
“Skulking? Might I remind you that I saved the life of your new queen.”
“Aye, you did that, but only because our king threatened you if you did no’.”
“Exactly!Hethreatenedme. When he could have just asked. Not all dragons are the perfect, honorable, saints you’d like everyone to believe.” She gestured to the many cells. “If they were, there’d be no need for this prison, would there?”
“Every race has miscreants. Dragons are no different.” Rayu defended. “But at leastweonly imprison those who deserve it—”
“I might object to that.” Khalstorm scratched at his grizzled beard.When was the last time I was allowed to shave?
Rayu sent him a withering glare and continued his tirade. “Witches live to inflict pain on others—”
“Untrue. Like you said, every race has their share of miscreants—”
“—I’m willing to wager your sister’s crimes are grave indeed, if even your own kind has locked her away.”
“My sister has committed no crime.” She insisted, then lost a bit of her heat. “But knowing the coven with which she is inextricably bound, that, in itself, could be the reason for her punishment.”
Rayu cocked his head while Orik and Jessie exchanged confused looks. Even Khalstorm was lost. Ah, but his interest was waning. With the prospect of a fight diminished, he returned to his cot, folded his arms behind his head, and focused on ignoring the remainder of the conversation. An endeavor he’d soon find impossible.
Xanthia went on. “As I said before, most witches wish only to live in peace. But my sister’s coven is . . . antagonistic. They wanted her to do something terrible. I believe she refused and is being punished for it.”
“Youbelieveshe refused,” Orik said dubiously. “You donna sound sure.”
“I . . . know my sister. She would never have done what my mother and Rathmort asked of her.”
“Rathmort?” Jessie replied, astonished. The others tensed as well. “He’s the one who gave me this mark.”
Xanthia returned solemnly, “I know. It’s why I retreated from you that night. When I saw it, I thought you were one of his followers. Now I realized you were meant to be another of his victims. There are two ways to remove the mark. I can neutralize it with a reversal spell—”
“Then do it,” Orik demanded eagerly, clearly concerned for his mate.
“I’ll be happy to . . . once you help me save my sister . . . Celeste.”
Khalstorm hissed in a breath. It had been years since he’d heard that name uttered, and it sent shockwaves of raw emotion through him. Rage and desire crashed his system: blurring his vision, heating his blood, and mixing into a bolt of sizzling hatred.
Could Xanthia be speaking of the same woman he’d once known? The same woman he’d once lovingly nuzzled? The one who had ripped his world apart in a single chaotic night and sent him to this prison? How common was that name among her kind? For all he knew, every coven had its own Celeste.
