Cova knew about my gift but had never spoken of any magic of her own. She wouldn’t have risked her reputation. I’d had my suspicions about Lydia. There was something about being near her—even as infrequent as our visits were—that made the constant hum of magic within me feel safe around her. Like it had permission to exist. Cova, on the other hand, sent the thrum into hiding, sometimes silencing it altogether.
“They havenothingto offer you,” I warned in a harsh whisper.
The Traveler’s hood threatened to fall as he tipped his head side to side. “That remains to be seen. Then again, the Hive would not need either of them if you agree to come with me.”
He was still playing games, but I’d reached a threshold.
No more.
A jolt lashed within my chest, and I clenched my hands into fists. Time to think had run out.
“No.” My voice cracked as helplessness swarmed me.
“Hmm? What was that, lovely?” His nose delicately brushed my cheek as he antagonized me.
His woodsy scent unfurled fantasies of the Traveler waist deep in a forest stream. Glistening rivulets of water trickled down his broad shoulders as he beckoned for me to join.
Compose yourself.
I shook my head and cleared my throat, still trying to determine if this was a strong bluff or an actual threat. I wanted—no, needed—my death to be of my own choosing. In a life where my choices were taken, I had power in this.
“Safe travels to you then,” venom dripped from my whisper.
“Dommik.” He placed a hand on his chest as he introduced himself with a sinister, close-lipped smile, as if his name would matter.
“Lord Traveler.” A final nod and I turned to face my death. An amused chuckle rolled behind me. Our game was done. My life, forfeit.
Even if Dommik’s words were true, I had one chance to warn Cova, and I must take it.
As confidently as I could, I pushed forward. The nearly poetic light at the end of the tunnel guided me to the impatient crowd. Murmurs crystallized as I approached the door to the courtyard.
Royal guards, brandished in Illica’s stately gold, lined the corridor. They stood at the ready in case the dangerous criminal sorceress tried to attack or escape. I wondered how I’d earned such a terrifying reputation when I had to clasp my hands to stop them from shaking.
The plump magistrate stood as wide as the wooden door.
“I’m ready to dictate my final words,” I said, mentally rewriting my practiced message to something Cova would understand as a warning.
“Oh dear, no. There’s no time. We’ve taken long enough waiting for you as it is.” The magistrate’s thick fingers stumbled as they sorted a pile of papers.
“But—” No final words?
“You’ll have a moment to speak if you wish, but that is all.”
No. A verbal warning to Cova would be too obvious. It had to be written.
“Sir, I must insist.”
His violent gaze collided with mine. “You have no grounds to insist on anything, witch.”
I clenched my teeth, frustrated that I was being silenced and ignored one final time before exiting this life.
The magistrate turned his back and signaled to the guard to open the door to the courtyard.
The sunset overseeing my execution must have sensed there would be blood tonight. The fading yellow light gave way to a smattering of pinks and reds, a prelude to the blood-drenched earth that would soon match the sky.
A hush came over the crowd as they noticed the alleged sorceress emerging from the keep. I’m sure they expected gray, unkempt hair, a hideous face, warts plaguing my body. But no, maybe what stood before them was even more terrifying. That my normality could be relatable…and they could be next.
I heard a mother in the front row instruct her child not to look me directly in the eyes before shielding them with her hands. A man holding a torch—presumably a farmer by the dirt on his sun-stained skin and clothing—didn’t hold back leering at each curve of my body. Another voice, somewhere in the sea of strangers, called, “Give me ‘er ‘ead once it’s off. I’ve got a job for those lips!”
