Treacherous Witch

—he shudders and goes still.

The war has only just begun.

*

She froze. Dread swooped through her stomach and snatched her breath. For a moment, words escaped her.

Avon stood up, and she quickly closed the door. “I needed some air—”

“Don’t lie.” He stalked towards her. “You visited another man—my rival, no less—in secret. You were with him in his house alone. Do you have any idea what kind of scandal that will cause?”

“It can’t be any worse than being a witch.”

His eyes flashed. In a moment, he had closed the few feet between them. He grabbed her by the shoulders, shoving her up against the wall.

She cried out in shock. “What are you doing?”

He hadn’t manhandled her like this since Maskamere. His hand curled around her throat and she shuddered, heart rate spiking. But he hadn’t yet squeezed; she could still breathe. In fact, she realised, he was far more controlled than he had initially seemed, staring at her with icy intent.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing happened,” she gasped. “I know it’s hard to believe, but not every man wants me.”

“Then what happened to your back?”

She blinked, nonplussed. Oh. Slamming her into the wall should have hurt.

“Nothing—”

“Nothing,” he said, twisting her around. “Really.”

A green-winged bird with a fan tail met her eyes; she breathed in the faint scent of wallpaper. Meanwhile his fingers worked at the lacing of her corset, and a shiver ran through her.

“Okay! I healed it, but I can explain, please—”

His fingers stopped. “How?”

“I’ll tell you. Just… let me catch my breath.”

A long moment passed. She couldn’t see him, but she felt his hand on her shoulder blade, sensed the shadow of his presence. Then the hand lifted and the shadow retreated. She turned to face him.

“I didn’t deserve that,” she said, voice shaking. “I visited Titus for you. I’ve been helping you. Your father’s enough of a brute without you being one too.”

“You’ve yet to see any brutality from me.”

The way he said it, quiet and matter-of-fact, did little to calm her nerves.

She cleared her throat. “Titus has a silvertree hidden in his garden. He wanted me to give him the blessing. I told him no, but I did get the chance to heal myself.”

“You used magic?”

She nodded.

One of her sleeves had slipped down from her shoulder; she pushed it back up, controlling her breathing. Avon stared at her. She could see his chest rising up and down too, his hands clenched into fists.

“I would have triggered the curse already,” she added, “if I still had access to it.”

He nodded slowly. The intensity of his gaze faded; he retreated to her bed, sitting down. She felt the tension between them ease and swallowed a sigh of relief.

“Do you remember when we were at the Baron’s house?” she asked. “There were things I didn’t get to say then. I said I would tell you when I was ready.”

He looked at her. “Are you ready now?”

She rolled her shoulders, collecting herself. This might be the biggest mistake of her life. Something she couldn’t undo, might never be able to undo. But she needed Avon to trust her. And he had information that she needed about the war.

Avon made room for her, Valerie sitting down next to him. There she rearranged the folds of her skirt, wondering how to begin.

“Titus wanted to see me. I wanted to find out what he was up to.”

She told him as much of the conversation as she could remember. How Titus had asked for her support, how he had used the letter to discredit Avon and strengthen his own position, how he had promised to take her home. Then she told him about the glyph, how Titus had been unknowingly primed as a sorcerer’s vessel.

Avon frowned. “A pawn?”

“But not a loyal one. He acted like he was on my side, but he’s not. He was a traitor during the war.”

“A traitor to who?”

“To Maskamere. He gave away our secrets to the Empire. Didn’t you know?”

“No, but that does explain his privileged position. How do you know? He didn’t tell you that, did he?”

“No,” she said. “The queen did.”

This part of the story took much longer. She went back to that night at the temple: her discovery of the goldentree, how Queen Shikra had appeared and showed her that the silvertrees were portals into the past, how her silvertree, the silvertree at St. Maia, was key to saving the realm.

Avon listened to all of this without a word. When she had finished, the silence stretched on. He stared at his lap, face ashen. She couldn’t blame him.

“I know it’s a lot,” she said quietly. “It…”

“It changes everything.”

“Yeah.”

He must have a hundred questions. She knew she did. Valerie waited, letting him process.

Finally, he looked at her for a long moment. “She wants the sword. And she wants to persuade my father not to invade Maskamere. But to do that requires travelling back to the past.”

Valerie nodded. “Yeah… That… that’s about the gist of it.”

“If she can reverse time, then why hasn’t she already done it?”

“She has. But she’s stuck this time. That’s why she needs me to go back to the past. I have a body; she doesn’t.”

“Then why didn’t you do it? You could have gone back that night in the temple.”

Valerie swallowed. “I… I didn’t trust her.”

He fell silent. She could almost hear the cogs whirring in his head. “But now you’ve promised to help her. Should I take it that you intend to go back?”

“I have to. She killed Markus. She’ll keep killing people I care about until I do what she wants.”

“And what about Titus?” he asked. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s her back-up plan.”

A second body to possess, another escape route. Maybe Avon would think of some other explanation. She couldn’t think of one. She was conscious of his proximity, the way his gaze burned into her. Please believe me, she thought. I need your help.

“Look,” she said, “I’m thinking maybe we should do what she wants, at least until we figure out how to stop her. Do you think you could persuade your father not to invade? We could go back and…”

“And what?” he said. “I never objected to the war, Val. Why would I?”

His face was hard. He’d told her this already when she’d asked him whether he would have stopped the war if he could, but she still felt the cold trickle of disappointment.

“Don’t you feel any regret?” She stood up. “You destroyed my home. You destroyed my people. My family is dead because of you. Markus is dead—”

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

“How would you feel if it was your family? Your sister? Your—”

“Is that a threat?” he asked, in a soft but dangerous tone.

She stopped. Swallowed. “No, my lord. But whatever victory you think you’re holding on to here, it’s not going to last. Even if you beat the Patriarch, there’s still the queen. You won’t have defeated Maskamere until you’ve defeated her.”

“True,” he said, and he rose to his feet as well, reminding her that he was taller than her, bigger, stronger. “You promised that you would help me in return for killing your queen. You promised Titus Steward that you would help him become Chancellor in return for helping you escape. And you promised the queen that you would bring her back to life in return for your own freedom. You can’t keep all those promises. It appears to me that you’ve been helping yourself. Conspiring behind my back.”

“It’s not behind your back if I tell you, is it, my lord?”

“Do you think your transparent duplicity makes you any less duplicitous?”

“No,” she said, “but it doesn’t make what I said any less true either.”

He stared down at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching. In that moment, she wished that she had done more to gain his trust and less to betray it. He liked her despite her nature or even because of it, but he knew she was a scorpion. She’d told him that many times over.

And so the thought became ever more tempting, of wiping the slate clean, meeting Avon all over again… He’d never have to know. She’d wrap him around her finger in no time and make him hers.

“What am I supposed to do with you,” he asked, “when at every turn you prove your lack of loyalty?”

“You can do what you’ve always done. Try to control me.” She shrugged. “Or you could do something better. You could earn it.”

“Has anyone ever earned your loyalty?”

“You could be the first.”

He snorted. “Spoken like a true witch.”

“I am a witch,” she said. “You know that. Don’t act like you didn’t want me dependent on you. You know what the real problem is? You’ve never wanted me to choose you. You’ve always wanted me to have no choice.”

“Well, perhaps if you didn’t try to flee at every opportunity, I would be more inclined to allow you some freedom—”

“Well, maybe if I had my freedom, I’d be less inclined to flee!”

“Would you?”

She could stand it no longer. Her impatience burst; she shoved at his chest, eyes blazing. “I just told you everything. What more do you want from me? What more can you possibly take and still give me nothing in return?”

“Nothing?” He stood motionless, a granite slab impervious to her anger. “After everything I’ve done for you, after all I’ve done to defend you—you call that nothing?”

“You haven’t given me what I want. I want to go home, Avon, I want the silvertrees restored. I want my family back. And it’s safe to go back now—I made a deal with Shikra, we can—”

“No.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “Are you going to force me to work against you?”

“I don’t want you as my enemy, Val. I’ve made that very clear.”

“Then give me something! Anything. Tell me that you care. Tell me that you want to help.”

It hurt, it honestly hurt, to have put so much faith in him, to have revealed all these secrets, only to get a stone wall in return. He could put her on a ship bound for Maskamere tomorrow if he chose to. And yet there he stood, unmoved.

She searched his face. His furrowed brow, the tense line of his jaw. Had his gaze softened, even a little?

“I need to think,” he said quietly. “This is not a time for hasty decisions—from either of us, do you understand? We’ll talk again in the morning.”

She folded her arms. “Fine. Go.”

“Wait,” he said. “Your back.”

She frowned. “What about it?”

“You cannot have miraculously healed yourself. If any rumour of you using magic in Drakon is allowed to spread, it will discredit me and inflame fear and hatred of you.”

“So? I’ll pretend it’s still healing.”

He looked at her, and she backed away, shaking her head. He couldn’t be serious.

“Come on. There’s no need.”

“You couldn’t hide it from me,” he said, “and any of the servants may notice.”

“Priska won’t say anything—”

She stopped. Actually, she didn’t trust Priska. After the way the girl had screwed her over earlier and now finding out that her brother was a traitor, Avon’s warning to trust no one seemed more and more apropos. Besides, how had he known that she’d visited Titus? Assuming that Rufus had kept his mouth shut, he’d probably gotten it out of Priska.

So maybe Avon had a point. Still, she doubted his motives were that pure.

“You want to punish me, don’t you?”

“Turn around,” he said.

Fine.

She obeyed, bracing her hands against the wall. Another exotic bird perched at her eye level, this one a golden oriole. The artwork was delicate, beautiful. Ophelia’s quarters were the nearest thing to pretty she could find in this villa, and she focused on that rather than the shadow moving behind her.

“I get it,” she said. “You and your father, I get it. The second I step out of place, you can’t bear it.”

Avon’s footsteps closed in. Then the sound of something rustling; she guessed his belt undoing. She tensed.

The belt struck. She yelped, tears springing to her eyes.

“You know,” she gasped, “this is why we don’t have fathers in Maskamere. Imagine doing this to your own child.”

He struck again. She gritted her teeth.

“Imagine growing up like this. Did he hit you often? How old were you? Did he leave a scar?” She paused, waiting for a blow that didn’t come. “That’s it?”

Her back smarted. She’d have to get another round of tinctures to soothe it, but she’d endured far worse.

She turned to face him. He looked as pale as she’d ever seen him, shoulders tense, mouth a grim line.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“Enough!” he snapped. “You were already healing. Your injuries shouldn’t be worse.”

Had she misjudged him? He was always so… rigid, caught up in his own ideals of how a nobleman should behave. A lord wouldn’t hesitate to discipline an unruly charge. How had Titus described it?

The Empire is a bully with a very big stick.

Then she’d have to find a bigger one.

“You can leave now,” she said. “Fetch Priska for me.”

He opened his mouth, and she felt sure that he was going to reprimand her for failing to address him as my lord, but then he pressed his lips together, turned on his heel and swept out of the chamber. Before he closed the door, he turned back, and his gaze pierced her across the room.

“I’m not my father.”

The door slammed shut. Valerie sank down to the floor and let out a long breath.

Maska help me.