Ella
They follow me like baby ducks.
I’ve counted thirty-eight of them so far, though several of the witches are barely able to walk on their own. Every time I speak, thirty-eight sets of eyes light on mine, unblinking. If I stop walking abruptly, the dozen or so strongest unsheathe blades and bows and arrows we stole from the dead warriors we left in the caves.
The caves… well, the witches and I didn’t leave right away. Those strong enough to fight killed the rest of the warriors while the others went to free their sisters from the networks of cells hidden along darkened corridors. All of the strange pyres were staunched, and the walls….
I glance around at the witches setting up camp along the base of a cliff. Most of them are splattered with blood, and their hands are covered in it. They painted the walls of those caves red.
I exhale deeply and continue poking the fire in front of me. Rain rips through the camp in sheets that pass as quickly as they come. A huge storm just tore through this place, wherever we are.
“Your Highness?”
I look up from the fire as a beautiful witch who goes by the name of Giselle approaches me. She curtsies low, her tattered cloak picking up wet leaves as she rises. “Hello, Giselle.”
Her cheeks go round and pink when I call her by her first name instead of just “witch” or “sister.” “May I sit?”
“Of course.” I scooch over and pat the ground beside me. Again, she blushes but settles next to me with her back against the dark, rocky cliff face. From this vantage point, we have a full view of the camp of witches spread out before us. Several of them are hard at work building stretchers to carry the wounded while others are tending horrific wounds and comforting their sisters.
“Some of them are very young,” I say in a near whisper.
Giselle nods, exhaling through her nose. “Annalise is only twelve. She’s the youngest. Her sister Hattie is fourteen, as are Yvonne, Sioban, and Rochelle.”
Teenagers. Teenage girls who should be home with their mothers. Teenage girls who went through unimaginable horrors in those caves. I don’t even want to think about it, especially not those disgusting warriors and what they might have done to those girls.
But I know several older witches were killed for protecting them. I’ll honor that sacrifice… somehow.
“There’s a village about ten miles from here called Hannis. There’s several healers from Moonrise stationed there.” Giselle smooths her hands over the tattered dress she’s wearing that barely covers her knees. “Some of our wounded sisters won’t last the night if we don’t find real shelter and medicine. I’m afraid they might not last the night regardless, but I believe we should at least offer them the comfort of real beds before they pass on.”
“I agree,” I say with as much force as I can muster. I have no idea what I’m doing right now, I just know these women consider me their queen, and all of the training I received as a member of a royal family is being put to the ultimate test. “We’ve been resting here long enough, I believe. Has everyone eaten?”
“Yes.”
Eaten…. I wouldn’t count a stew made of a single squirrel and whatever edible plants we found during our journey from the caves, across a wide, grassy plain, and back into the woods, a full meal. But it’s more than these women have eaten in days.
I’ve been distracted, however. Too distracted to eat. During our escape from the caves, there was one person I couldn’t find. Not even his body.
Atticus, Petra’s brother, somehow got away.
That leaves a sour taste in my mouth for sure.
“Tell them to prepare to set out again. We can reach Hannis by nightfall if we’re quick,” I tell Giselle before rising and brushing wet leaves from Petra’s crimson cloak. Beneath it, I’m wearing some warrior’s pants and tunic, which I swim in, but at least I’m not naked anymore. I’m barefoot, however, having given the boots I found to one of the witches whose feet had been burned over and over.
I can’t think about that right now. I push the images of the wounds and absolute desperation in the eyes of the injured witches out of my mind. I remind myself that Petra is dead. In fact, her severed head is in the bag I lift over my shoulder as I watch Giselle tell my coven that we’re moving again.
I am their queen. Their queen. But my powers only tingle through my veins now, and my body….
I place a hand over the swell of my belly, ignoring the dull ache that echoes through every bone beneath my skin.
I’ve been cursed. Petra made it sound like it would not only render my powers useless, but it would eventually kill me.
What am I going to do?
“We’re ready, Your Highness,” Giselle calls out.
I nod, forcing a smile on my face while kicking damp dirt over the fire. “Let’s go to Hannis, ladies.”
* * *
“I’m a halfling,” Beth, the Luna of Hannis, says softly as we leave the large wooden pack house in the center of Hannis now acting as an infirmary. She pulls her hood over her head against the pattering rain. “Half-witch, half-wolf. But I have none of the gifts of my mother. I may as well be only a wolf shifter.” Her beautiful smile lights up the pitch-black night as I walk beside her toward the scattered cabins that make up the small village tucked in the woods.
Above the trees, ancient mountains tower over us, but they’re not tall enough to breach the heavy storm clouds.
The past hour has been awful. Even as we put distance between us and the infirmary, the keening cries of the witches tremble in my ears as they mourn the three who died shortly after we reached the village.
One of them, Rochelle, was only fourteen.
“This was not your fault,” Beth says.
I tilt my chin up, letting the rain touch my cheeks to blur the tears now spilling over my lashes. “I’m responsible for them now. Their grief and pain is my own.”
Beth’s hazel eyes crease as she lays a gentle hand in the crook of my elbow. “I’ve heard whispers of you, Queen Ella. The firestone witch from beyond the veil…. I believed it was just a legend for a long time. The coven is lucky to have you.”
I want to tell her I have no idea what I’m doing, but we reach the inn. She ushers me inside and sits me down at a table near a window while she approaches the bar. I sink into a cushioned seat and rest my chin in my hand. Exhaustion washes over me, but I keep my eyes on Beth as she orders what sounds like a feast and begins walking toward me again.
“You have a room upstairs, all right? A hot bath will be waiting for you once you’ve eaten. I have to return to the Alpha to fill him in on the situation, but you’re safe here. Rest, please.”
I nod, unable to form the words I need to thank her, but I do reach under the table and hand her the heavy bag I’ve been carrying all day.
“What is this?” she asks.
“It's a head.”
She raises her brows but nods her understanding as she peeks inside. “I knew Petra’s mother, unfortunately. She was just as terrible as her daughter.”
“Did you know her brother?”
“Atticus?”
“Yes.”
“He died very young, I’m afraid. I’ll take this to the Alpha, we’ll keep it… safe.” She winces a bit but hikes the bag over her shoulder.
She says goodnight, but my mind is reeling over what she said before. Atticus died young… But he couldn’t have. I saw him. He was there, in the caves, and his resemblance to Petra was uncanny.
I let my mind rake over everything that happened while I eat from a plate piled high with meat and potatoes, all while a pudgy, kind-faced inn keeper watches me take each bite, nodding her approval at my appetite. I don’t taste the food. The tea the innkeeper sets in front of me, stirring in copious amounts of sugar and thick cream, tastes like stale water to me.
Eventually, my empty plate and teacup are taken away, and I’m helped upstairs by a maid. My room is sparse but clean and warm. A copper bathtub sits next to the hearth, where a fire is crackling and spreading dry, warm air over my skin as I undress and lower myself into the fragrant bath.
The maid leaves me to bathe in privacy. I scrub my skin raw with the rough rag she provided. I’m digging dirt and blood from under my nails when I hear a commotion downstairs.
Someone is shouting, and then heavy footsteps are rushing upstairs to the rooms along the second floor.
I sigh heavily, ignoring it. I really don’t want to kill anyone else today. I’d really like to just go to bed.
I hear doors opening and closing, and several voices protesting whatever intruder is making a scene along the hallway.
But then the doorknob to my room rattles violently.
“Go away,” I grumble, sinking down into the water until I’m submerged to my chin.
The rattling stops, and a few seconds pass before the door bursts open like someone kicked it in. The doorknob itself flies across the room and lodges itself in the wall above my bed.
I peek over the rim of the tub, see who it is, and sink back into the water.
“Hi, Ryatt.”
He shuts the door more gently than he’d opened it, but I can feel the electric tension crackling through the room as he walks toward the tub. He casts me in his shadow, and I finally look up at him.
“Hi, Ryatt? Is that really all you have to say to me?” He’s sopping wet, covered in mud, and looks like he’s seen some shit over the past few days. But there’s a flicker of amusement in his silver eyes as he starts taking off his mud covered leather vest.
“You’re not getting in this bathtub. You’re filthy.”
“Where the fuck have you been, Ella?” His vest drops to the ground with a wet, slurping sound. He starts taking off his arm guards.
“You’re not getting in, Ryatt!” I sit up and glare at him.
“I was just in a cave system, Princess.” He rips off his wet shirt and tosses it in a heap across the room. “I’ve never seen so much blood in my life.” He clasps his belt, raising his brows. “Did you have something to do with that?”
I purse my lips as he steps out of his pants, his skin glowing in the dusty amber firelight. Goddess, I missed him.
“Petra’s head is in a bag. I just gave it to the Luna of Hannis.”
He steps into the tub and sinks into a seated position on the opposite end from me, stretching out his legs.
We stare at each other for several minutes, not speaking.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I blink, and I feel the tears beginning to well again. He reaches out a hand and takes mine, pulling me toward him.
I settle my back against his chest and close my eyes as his strong arms wrap around me, clutching to him. He dips his head, brushing his lips over my shoulder.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find you. I tried,” he whispers.
I burst into tears.