After everything she risked for him? After everything she had sacrificed and endured and given up forhim?
“Yes,” he said, venom dripping from his voice. “Your ‘meddling.’ You ruined every single part of my plan. It should never have become this complicated, nor involved you this much. You were never supposed to be this—to be … never mind. Just … just go. I left quietly so that you would not follow me. So please donot.”
“… What was I supposed to be like?”
Groaning in frustration, the inquisitor raked his fingers through his hair. “A tool. A pawn in my plan. Just a safety net in case the worst-case scenario happened! But then, the worst-case scenario became even worse, and now I have to stop my own damn brother. I will do anything—do you understand?—anything to prevent the war he wants. And,” he said, looking to the forest path sprawling in front of him, “it will be without you. Leave. Now. Go back to camp; go back to Sir Themas. You are no longer needed, witch.”
No longerneeded.
They were wyrdtwined to one another. It meant nothing to him. He had used her all along.
On her quivering lips, grief mixed with rage. “A tool … I see,” she said quietly. “I should have known that these were the only words of yours I could trust.” A high-pitched, self-deridinglaughter bubbled out of her. “How I wish we had never met, Inquisitor.”
At least his horrendous attitude eased her guilt. Now, she had no reason to hesitate anymore.
She would poison him and then trail him to the witch’s home. He’d live if she gave him the antidote in time but would be incapacitated for long enough to let her and her brethren flee back to the Coven.
Then she’d tell the Elders of Yore about Callum’s plan, and they’d find a way to avoid the war. She should never have relied on an inquisitor to save a witch anyway. That had been her mistake from the very start—trustinghim.
That was the plan. Save her witch sister, save the Coven, and then forget Inquisitor Velten ever existed. Easy, simple, uncomplicated.
Andimpossiblewith his threads woven around her heart.
Sitting atop his steed, Velten looked surprisingly blurry. It confused her. Then she felt them—the tears falling silently down her cheeks, each one a traitor she felt no strength to wipe away. Yet wipe them, she did.
He told her once that no one else would.
“I won’t leave without my due, Estevan. You promised me your heart.”
He flinched. “… I-I did.” He dismounted, let a breath shudder out of him, and then turned to her.
His horse wandered a few steps off, ears twitching as it looked in Pagan’s general direction.
The witch approached the inquisitor. Head tilted down, she rolled the seed beneath her tongue as she gathered the resolve to slip it between his lips. She’d have to kiss him to do that—she had no other choice. And only one chance.
Semras lifted her eyes to Inquisitor Velten. His face had twisted into the semblance of a smile, betrayed by eyes filledwith a storm of emotions—anguish, yearning, misery … and helplessness.
“Well,” he said with a pained smile. “Take it then. Rip it out.”
He looked like a man ready to die.
Semras cupped his face. Standing on her toes, she brushed her lips over his tentatively as she slid her hands down to his chest.
Velten’s body responded like a spark to a flame. His hands flew to clutch her back, then dragged her into his embrace. Pressed together, their bodies feltright, as if they each were the broken parts of a single entity.
Broken by who they were, by who they couldn’t help being.
His knuckles caressed her jaw, while his other hand trailed up and down her back. Their lips still teased each other, hovering yet not touching. Estevan crossed the line first; he trailed his mouth over her skin, then left a fleeting kiss against her jaw.
Her breath hitched at his delirious touch.
Then he gave her another on the cheek and on the chin, and then Semras whined. Her body shivered. Her heart beat too fast; her skin burned too hot. She couldn’t do this anymore.
She wasn’t sure if she meant the poison or the teasing—or if the distinction even mattered anymore.
Chasing all her thoughts and doubts away, Semras grabbed the back of Estevan’s head and captured his lips with hers. He would deny her no more.
Yielding to her, he parted his mouth, and she deepened their kiss, drawing from him a sinful groan. Beneath her tongue, the seed of wolfsbane felt as sharp as a blade against her throat.Later, she thought,later. One more kiss, she took, and one more. His hand trailed down from her hair to her chest, and Semras pressed herself against his touch.
