“Let me go,” Quinn demands, her fangs bared at him in threat.
Malice lessens his forearm’s pressure on her throat but doesn’t release her.
“Where is Aerin?!” he demands again.
Quinn struggles against him, her toes barely on the ground now that she’s lost Aerin’s height. He presses down tighter once more.
Emrys is at his side, tucked under the wings that shield the scene from onlookers. Concern leaches from the Wolf into the space around them, so strong Malice could choke on it. He glances at Emrys, they share a look.
Where the hell is Aerin? And why the fuck has she given them the slip?
54
AERIN
Aerin has not been this deep in the woods in her adulthood. Heading northwest, towards the coast above Zeneith she’s looking for ruins of an old temple on the cliffside. Through Vyx’s connections, they were able to set up a meeting with a Witch, who agreed to meet Aerin here, alone.
Aerin has been to these ruins once before, at eight-years-old. An old Witch came across her outside of the walls of the Royal Village. She took Aerin’s small Faeling hand and led her away. Aerin followed. For some reason she’d been convinced she was safe with the old Witch. They’d walked for hours, until they reached the same ruins Aerin approaches now.
That Witch whispered secrets and stories in Aerin’s ears. To this day, Aerin doesn’t know what was true and what was fable. She told Aerin that she’d spoken to the Fates, who revealed Aerin would have five bond-mates. Told Aerin that she must become bonded-mates to each of them. That one of them would have to be a blood-bond. The Witch warned Aerin that without five bonded-mates, a terrible fate would come to pass. Aerin is not a superstitious Fae; she does not believe in the long dead Gods. Yet Aerinknowsthose parts of the Witch’s tales were true.
The Witch also told Aerin to find her again, when she was older, old enough to understand her truths. Whatever truths she meant to bestow upon Aerin died with the Witch when Oberyn Tolvare ruthlessly killed her.
Now, thirty years later, Aerin only has more questions and no one to answer them. Aerin doubts she’ll get much from this Witch, aside from the locket she needs for Reyna—a peace offering for her Paramyr.
Aerin hesitates on the steps of the ruins, a large marble platform with columns spaced evenly around it. The columns hold up portions of a marble roof that long ago crumbled into the dirt around her. Slabs are scattered here and there; half covered with shrubs. Cold salty air whips through the columns, carrying the sounds of the ocean crashing against the cliffside below.
Despite the empty ruins Aerin feels eyes on her. She doesn’t dare get close to the edge that overlooks the sea. It’s a very long drop.
Instead, Aerin circles back, exiting out one side of the ruins and heading back the way she came. When she’s covered the entire clearing, she turns to face the ruins again. This is when the Witch makes herself known.
Standing on the lowest step of the ruins, she is taller than Aerin expected, almost the same height as she is. It is believed that Witches originated from half-Human, half-Fae ancestors. Though Aerin was never able to confirm this through research. Still, Aerin was expecting someone similar to the aged creature who led her out here as a Faeling, singing lullaby’s while Aerin held her wrinkled hand. Instead, the Witch before her is young.
She has dark hair, the color of chocolate. It’s held in a long braid over her shoulder, reaching her waist and peppered through with black flowers. She wears black robes with a large hood thrown over her head.
“You are very brave coming here,” the Witch says.
Aerin steadies herself.
“Brave? Or stupid?” she asks, pooling power in her fingertips. Something in the Witch’s brown eyes reads like ire, like Aerin might have stepped into a trap.
“Perhaps both,” the Witch says, scanning the woods behind Aerin. Checking that she is alone.
“I came alone, and I brought what you asked,” Aerin reassures, hoping that the Witch will lower her guard and get on with it. Every minute away from Zeneith is a minute Malice is likely to discover Aerin’s lie. She isn’t exactly looking forward to that.
“If you are truly alone, then you are to die, silly Fae girl.” The grin the Witch flashes sends a chill through Aerin. Though the threat falls flat; there is no way a lone Witch can defeat Aerin.
“I don’t want to fight you; I simply need the locket to be imbued,” Aerin says, lifting her hands in a placating gesture.
The Witch’s face contorts in anger just before she blasts purple swirling magic towards Aerin. Aerin dives to her left, rolling and landing on her feet again just in time for the magic to hit a tree behind her. The explosion of wood distracts Aerin as the Witch fires again. This time she drops to the ground, the magic streaming overhead and crashing into another tree farther away. Aerin scrambles behind a slab of marble jutting from the earth.
Focusing her magic Aerin attempts to restrain the Witch, but she hits a barrier. The Witch only laughs.
“Your party tricks won’t work on me,” she shouts. Magic hurtles towards Aerin. She bolts before it shatters the marble.
“I don’t want to fight you,” Aerin replies, facing the Witch once more.
“You will die for what you’ve done!” The Witch screams, “For the sacrifices made in your name!” Aerin doesn’t get to ask whatthe hell the Witch is talking about before she’s forced to throw up a barrier to protect herself. The Witch’s purple magic slams into it, dissolving as Aerin casts the wall back down.
