Treacherous Witch

—them to spare her daughter, Valerie screams. Don’t hurt us! Let them live. Please.

Soldiers cut them down. Her mother lies dead in her arms. There’s so much blood.

When the blade pierces her heart, it’s almost a blessing.

*

Avon stalked into his quarters. “Fuck!”

Valerie followed him. She’d never seen him so rattled, and that rattled her. He’d been silent on their way back, staring out of the carriage window with a strange, ferocious intensity, the air around them oppressively thick. She knew better than to disturb him then. Now... she didn't know how to react.

His manservant stepped forward with a short bow, but Avon didn’t even see him. She dismissed the man with a quiet word, then shut the door behind her, remembering that the walls had ears.

“Avon?”

“The letter!” he said. “How in the Divine’s name did he get hold of the letter?”

He rummaged through his desk as he spoke, sweeping aside a small pile of papers. Valerie didn’t know what evidence he hoped to find. The thief wasn’t likely to leave a calling card.

“What does it mean? The vote of no confidence…”

“It means,” said Avon, “that I am no longer Chancellor of Maskamere. The Senate has thirty days to reelect the position.”

She suppressed a shiver. “But the Emperor…”

He shook his head. “Father can’t do anything. It’s the Senate’s decision.”

“Does that mean you can’t go back to Maskamere?”

She was relying on him for exactly that. To protect her. To protect Maskamere. Already the Patriarch had called for her to burn. How long before the rest of the court came after her?

“Not yet,” said Avon, running a distracted hand through his hair. “I’m not barred from standing for reelection. Since I’ve been away, the Patriarch has stuffed the Senate with even more of his sycophants. I’ll have to buy some votes.”

“So… you stand for reelection, convince enough people in the Senate to vote for you, and you’ll be Chancellor again?”

“Yes, and perhaps I’ll cut the Patriarch’s balls off while I’m at it,” he muttered. “Now there’s a plan.”

“What can I do to help?”

She was all eagerness. Any other outcome would be disastrous for her. Meanwhile, having uprooted the contents of his desk, Avon began to put his papers back in order, placing every file with exacting precision.

He looked at her. “You saw how the Patriarch targeted you. Blamed you for the death of his son. Made me look like the love-struck fool for defending you.”

Her heart sank. She was a liability. That was the worst thing she could be.

“That’s why the Emperor wanted me to take the fall. He said it again, didn’t he? When he summoned you to speak with him?”

“Yes.” Avon unfolded a note, then, irritated, balled it up and tossed it into the fireplace. “I told you it was poor advice. We cannot give credence to this argument of bewitchment. And if I admit that I was wrong about you, it casts doubt over my judgement. My father is playing into the Patriarch’s hands.”

“But defending me plays into his hands too. You said it yourself, he used me against you.”

She didn’t speak her deeper fears, though she worried he might hear it in her voice. If she became a rope around Avon’s neck, how long would it take before he cast her aside?

“Because he knows those crusty old fools are afraid of change,” said Avon. “It’s not an impossible task, but it will take time. We must be patient, careful and discreet.”

She grimaced. “But we don’t have time.”

Thirty days sounded both far too long to be trapped in the capital and far too short to achieve anything meaningful. Besides, no one had ever accused her of being patient, let alone careful. Words like that made her itch.

“I know.” He collapsed into his chair. “Believe me, I know.”

“Maska,” she said. “Can’t we just… I don’t know…”

“Kill them all?” he said drily.

She approached the desk, running her hand over the dark polished wood. “If we found a way to get my magic back, I could do it. I’d kill all your enemies for you. Anyone you want.”

His mouth curved upwards, and she felt oddly pleased that she’d gotten a smile out of him after such an exhausting day.

“A most generous offer. But you forget that killing Lord Gideon is what got us into this mess.”

“No, I know.” She finished circling the desk and leaned against it instead, facing him. “What do you want me to do?”

There was a long pause. Silences were funny things, she thought. Each had their own character. This one made her breath catch. He tilted his head up at her, drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair.

“Start by finding out who filched the letter. I want to know who my enemies are. And Valerie?”

“My lord?”

“Trust no one,” Avon said. “No one, do you hear me? There’s not a person in this court without a knife behind their back.”

Right, she thought. No one seeking power played fairly. They all wanted to kill her or use her, and she’d survived this long by doing the same.

But she only had time to nod before a loud rap at the door startled them both. Avon sat up straight; Valerie jumped, turning around.

“James?”

A girlish voice, muffled but recognisable nonetheless.

Avon rose. “Enter.”

“James!” Ophelia burst into the room, petticoats aflutter. “Oh, I have the most wonderful news—”

She stopped at the sight of them. Avon gave a tight smile. “What is it?”

Ophelia held up her hand. A diamond ring sparkled on her finger. “I am to be married!”

She ran to her brother and hugged him. Valerie got out of their way, a lump rising in her throat. Avon looked over at her, and his expression did not relax.

“I take it Lord Falconer proposed.”

“Yes.” Ophelia laughed, dashing over to hug Valerie too. “Oh, he did everything perfectly! He must have taken advice from the servants, I think. We went for a turn in the gardens after luncheon, and I didn’t think anything of it at first, but he was saying the most romantic things, and then he got down on one knee and showed me the ring…”

The smaller girl practically vibrated in her arms. She tried to smile. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s Mother’s ring,” said Avon, frowning.

“That’s right.” Ophelia stepped back to show them both. “Father kept it all these years. He always said that I should have it some day.”

“Well, I’m glad one of us has Father’s blessing.”

Ophelia’s face fell. “What is it? Were you not to be at the Senate today?”

Avon only sighed.

Valerie took it upon herself to explain: “The Patriarch raised a motion of no confidence against Lord Avon as Chancellor of Maskamere. They passed the vote.”

“They removed you as Chancellor?” Ophelia shook her head furiously. “They can’t!”

“I’m afraid they can.”

“But…” Another head shake. “But this is awful. James, I am supposed to live in Maskamere. I can’t get married if you’re not there; I couldn’t bear it. And Valerie… Will you have to return alone?”

“I don’t know.”

But she’d already thought about it. If Avon failed to win back his position, she would have to find her own way home...

“That won’t happen.” Avon took his sister’s hand. “Forgive me, Ophelia. Congratulations on your engagement. Valerie and I both look forward to attending your wedding.”

“But what about…”

“You needn’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of everything. I only ask one thing of you.”

Ophelia’s eyes widened. “What is it?”

“Look out for Edrick. Valerie and I have some work to do, and we may not always be as present here as I would like. I need you to watch over him.”

“I will.”

“Chin up. It’ll be all right, I promise. I’ll always protect you.”

Ophelia buried her head into her brother’s shoulder, Avon wrapping his arm around her waist. He held out his other hand to Valerie.

“You too.”

She joined them, pressing against his shoulder in a mirror image of Ophelia. His solid weight was comforting. Avon kissed the top of her head.

She met Ophelia’s eyes, seeing her own feelings reflected in the smaller girl’s gaze. Here, then, was her shield. Him and only him.

No, she thought. No, that won’t do at all. She couldn’t forget that Avon was playing this game too. If he went down, she would not go down with him.

She had her task. Thirty days to win the election with Avon… or escape without him.

The clock was already ticking.