Commotion at the other side of the marketplace overshadowed the rest of Adira’s plea. The old woman cut her attention toward the happenings, although she made no move to release her.
Adira followed the woman’s gaze, squinting as she tried to make out the figures in the distance. How was it this woman—who moments ago Adira had thought blind—could see so far off from where they stood? What was going on over there, anyway?
Citizens rallied around…something. People shouted. Cheered. Large figures broke through the rabble, only for the crowd to reform along the path, seeming to march alongside them.
Storm clouds rolled in overhead, black and unforgiving to the light, and realization hit Adira with a punch to the gut. Her whole body clenched. The old woman’s grip tightened.
Please, not now. Don’t let the display come through now.
It was too soon. There should have been months left before the next display.
But the cheering…the sudden shift in the weather…the large figures parading toward the center of the city. It could only mean one thing: Regent High Witch Roman Dvorak had found his new victim…er…wife.
Well, possible wife, anyway. One way or another, she would wind up dead—if not today, then a few short months from now. Then Regent Dvorak would begin searching again, and with every witch that died, Adira’s odds of being caught increased.
And now, here she was, in the hold of a woman who knew she was a witch. One she had just robbed in the marketplace. Just as the man who would most love to know her secret was about to parade past.
Now was not the time for apologies. Now was the time to run.
Adira yanked herself away and took off, chancing only one glare over her shoulder to see if the old woman was following. She wasn’t. She just stared off after her with the strangest, saddest expression.
Heart aching with effort and legs weighted like lead beneath her body, Adira zigzagged through the throng, bumping shoulders and catching a few jeers along the way.
Attention was the last thing she needed. Who was she fooling? Running wouldn’t take her far. The old woman didn’t need Adira in hand to turn her over to the Guard. She could simply tell them what happened, what she saw. Let them know a small, mousy brunette had robbed her…using magic. A female witch they didn’t know existed.
The plum she’d touched—the one she’d tainted with her magic—would be all the evidence they needed to track her down.
This would not end well.
Chapter 2
There was only one thing Alec Kladivo did not like about his job, and that was the display.
The whole ordeal served to remind him—and likely everyone else—of their unfortunate situation. Everyone was a prisoner to the sector, himself included. When ravagers overtook the world, the Othala witches had created the sectors for their protection, but it didn’t change the fact no one could leave.
It didn’t change how many people would die to keep the ravagers out.
Killing the ravagers never bothered him, but he hated the sound of a doomed queen screaming.
The doomed queen.
That was how the citizens referred to the women chosen for the display. He couldn’t blame them. But they knew as well as he that this needed to be done. Their entire existence depended on it.
He shook away the unease. Dvorak did what he needed to protect their sector, the same as Alec had done what was necessary to protect his family and his village. That was how he ended up here in the first place, and that was why he would always honor his duty. At least at this post, he could keep his distance until his services were needed at the end of the ceremony.
Alec scanned the crowd to ensure no citizens rebelled against the parade. It rarely happened. The citizens wanted this, wanted to be safe, and knew their safety came at a price. Every now and then, however, there was someone, and it was his job to restore the peace.
Everything seemed in order. Some bystanders watched the parade from a safe distance, while others went about their daily business. The girl who had just bought the runestone at the regent’s dispensary was still there, too.
Alec smirked, shaking his head. Clever and headstrong, but did she really think she could hide curves like those under the ratty garb of a beggar? He wasn’t fooled. There was something about her that was unlike the other women in the sector. Almost as if she wanted to go by unseen.
He licked his lips and pressed them together. She’d felt the same connection he had back at the dispensary. He knew it. Sensed it the moment she’d looked up at him, the face of an angel obscured by smears of dirt. And yet, she’d walked away without even a second glance back in his direction.
After another quick scan of the crowd, he found his gaze gravitating back to her, the way her hips swayed when she walked. As she walked by a small child crying against his mother’s skirt, she mussed his hair. The boy peered up at her and smiled, but it was as though she didn’t even notice she’d done it.
The sudden commotion made Alec’s heart jump. What was going on over there? Someone had knocked over one of the vendor’s carts. Men cussed, women cleared away children, and the vendor began to clear the mess.
He should keep an eye on things until it settled down, but the sway of the beggar girl’s hips distracted him. But now, in one of her tiny, thin-fingered hands, she held a piece of fruit that she hadn’t before.
There was no way a transaction had taken place that quickly. Alec groaned. Of all the people in the square to steal, why did it have to be her?
He shook his head. A lot was going on. He was probably just confused. He kept trying to reason with himself in this way…up until the old woman who owned the cart chased the girl down.
Alec had work to do. As cute as the girl might be, duty always came first.
Right now, his duty pointed him toward an old woman and the sexiest beggar he’d ever seen in all his years working for the Guard. He hated this. If his life had gone differently, he could have met the same fate the beautiful young woman was about to face. Instead, his strength and bravery had afforded him this lot in life.
However, the law was absolute, and it appeared the beggar girl had stolen a piece of fruit. But that meant death, which made him pause. It wasn’t as though he would be the one to carry out her punishment. He only needed to bring the girl in.
Constantine, Alec’s comrade, stepped to Alec’s side. “You see that?”
Alec nodded.
“Want me to handle it?” Constantine asked.
Alec clenched his jaw. This was outrageous. His hesitation nearly had him shown up by his best friend and second in command. Alec never skirted the rules. Never looked the other way. Never so much as paused before taking action. He wasn’t about to let some peasant get under his skin. Why should he? Because she was pretty? Good looks did not change the facts. She needed to be collected.
Alec held out his hand to stave off his comrade. “I’ll see to it,” he said coolly before storming off into the crowd.
He would not feel bad for a thief. Male, female, mother, child—it mattered not. He’d done what he needed not to be a beggar. It wasn’t fortune. It was a choice. Anyone could choose the same or accept what life gave them.
He shouldered past those not wise enough to clear from his path. Within a few moments, he could close the distance, capture the girl, and head back toward the Guard with her in tow. If all went well, he would miss the display, as he always tried to do. Afterward, he would be able to return in enough time to finish the ceremony, which would at least keep his comrades out of harm’s way. No sense in more people dying than necessary.
With each step closer to the pair of women, the pit in his stomach grew. This shouldn’t bother him. This was his job. It was her—the thief—who had shaken him.
He pulled his sword from his scabbard and clenched the handle. If beauty that caused confliction to the beholder were enough to convict someone of sorcery, this woman would have a lot more than thievery to worry about.
The old
woman and the beggar appeared to be in some kind of standoff. The merchant had the young woman by the wrists. The beggar’s posture went rigid. Her face paled.
Guilt. Fear. He could practically smell it from here.
Her pleading expression scraped through his insides, but the approaching parade struck him back into line. Horse hooves clattered against cobblestone. Ravager cages rattled. Sobs from the doomed queen along with the clink of her chains edged closer.
Alec hastened his step. Get the girl. Take her to the Guard.
She would be their problem, on their conscience. Not his. He protected the sector as a whole…not the single life of a criminal.
Alec was still a few yards away when the beggar pulled free of the old woman’s grasp and bolted into the crowd.
No.
She was heading toward the arena, toward the display he had so hoped to avoid. Of course she would go in the one direction he did not want to follow.
That wouldn’t stop him, though. He acted for his father. His mother and his sister. For all of Sector One. There was no room for weakness in this world. Especially for the last surviving member of his family.
Alec sprinted after the young woman. The crowd grew denser. He glanced at the old woman, who stared after him. When he advanced on her, he asked, “What happened?”
The old woman stared at the procession: Regent. Doomed queen. Ravager.
Alec grabbed her arm. “You let her go!”
Slowly, the old woman turned her white eyes toward him. “I did not let her go. She left.”
The hunter gave her a shake, looking over her head into the crowd. Now he’d lost the beggar. “Do you know her? Do you know who she is?”
“She wanted some fruit,” the woman said.
He stepped closer to her, his chest heaving with frustration. Sweat beaded on his brow. “You’re protecting her. Why?”
The woman raised her eyebrows. “I believe she dropped the švestka.”
She was lying. He’d seen the way that old woman had grabbed the girl. She knew something. But she wasn’t going to give it up, and he didn’t have time to question her. If that were the best help this woman could give, he would take it.
He released her arm and scanned the ground for the evidence of a discarded plum. Nothing.
When he looked up again, the woman was gone. Trickster. He slammed a closed fist against a brick wall behind one of the vendor stands and cursed under his breath. Damn it!
Was this the best he could do? Alec, leader of the witch hunters—the regent’s most-trusted guard—tricked by a merchant?
He scoured the crowd again for sign of either woman. Vanished. The market was too busy. Everyone was gathering for the display that was already beginning to assemble in the square.
Constantine came to his side once more. “Did you get the girl?”
Alec glowered at his friend. “Does it look like I got the girl?”
His comrade placed a hand on his shoulder. “She’ll show up again.” He handed Alec the plum with a wry smile. “Where else can she go?”
Alec huffed through his nose and re-sheathed his sword. “I will find her,” he said, gripping the small fruit tight in his fist. “And I will make her wish she never ran.”
Chapter 3
Adira ducked into another alley and hid behind a wooden barrel pressed to the side of someone’s home. A peasant—judging by the location and the threadbare sheets passing for curtains on the windows. The rich would never live so close to the arena.
From here, Adira could see the square. If she were right—if this were the display—she would soon know how much time she had left. Months…or minutes.
She wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve, cursing the need for long layers and the early autumn heat at the same time. What she wouldn’t give for the cooler autumn months to hasten their arrival.
The large figures in the concession thundered into the square, though Adira could barely make out anything through the density of the crowd aside from the imposing shadows. She pressed up onto her toes, trying to peek over the heads of people much taller than herself.
This wasn’t going to work. She would draw more attention there than she would if she blended in with the crowd. So long as she kept a clear path for escape, she would be fine.
Gritting her teeth, she slunk out into the throng and wove between just enough citizens to blend in, but not so many that she couldn’t dash back into the alley if need be. Again, she pressed onto her toes. Still unable to see anything, she dug her fingernails into her palms to stop the itch of wanting to use magic.
One little spell, and she could see everything.
One little spell, and the regent could see her.
Fine. She would get closer. Immerse deeper.
She weaseled her way a little farther into the crowd, her attention over her shoulder instead of focused on where she was going. More distance than she would like from her escape, but she needed to see this. And not for the same reason everyone else gathered around did.
Outside of the caged arena, Regent Dvorak stood with a young woman dressed in the customary white gown and gold belt. Her long, blonde hair fell in loose waves past her breasts and down to her hips, her wrists chained at the small of her back. Dvorak gripped the metal links that ran from one cuff to the other, a smug grin twisting his lips.
In the sky above, slate-gray clouds crackled with electricity. Dvorak’s magic. The very magic that kept the ravagers out…except for when they brought them in.
Like today.
The scene confirmed Adira’s darkest fears. This was, in fact, the display. Deep down, she’d known as much, but the confirmation still stuck needles into her stomach.
She shifted her attention to the other side of the caged arena. Inside the pen, on the other side of the gate, was a ravager. One glance at its gray, almost-translucent skin was enough. Adira averted her gaze, unable to look at its eyeless face, unwilling to confront its razor-edged teeth and deformed body that could almost pass for human if not so grotesque and alien-like.
Eventually, Adira would be caught. Eventually, she would have to stare down such a vicious beast. But she would fight fate with every fiber of her being until that day came.
Perhaps she was a coward, though no more so than anyone else in this town. Or perhaps she was just smart. No one said bravery and a death wish were the same thing, just as no one admitted to being a witch in Sector One unless out of desperation. Someone’s whole family—if they still had one—could live out the rest of their existence comfortably at the mere suggestion one might have what it took to keep the sector safe.
Dvorak raised his arms. Thunder rumbled, and bolts of electricity spit from the sky in the distance, cracking down against the earth in the forest beyond the boundaries.
No announcement need be made. Everyone in Sector One knew what this meant. But that never stopped Dvorak.
“People of Sector One,” he said, his voice firm. Proud. “I stand before you today, your regent and protector, to carry forth the will of The Sixteen. Two centuries ago, when ravagers infested Othala, the sixteen high witches came together to save the human race. Each of them created a sector with their own magic for your protection, becoming the first regents in our revered history. Let us take a moment to honor The Sixteen!”
“All hail The Sixteen!” the crowd cheered.
The speech always made Adira’s stomach twist. Hail The Sixteen? The Sixteen were long gone, and she often wondered if they would even approve of what Regent Dvorak was doing with Sector One.
“The survival of the human race is now our responsibility. It is us who must preserve the magic and the tradition of our sector, to keep us safe from the ravagers and to sustain life for all who reside here. Let us not betray The Sixteen. Let us uphold their vision for our future.”
“In perfect love and perfect trust,” the crowd crooned.
What a joke. Nothing Dvorak did was out of love. Certainly, nothing he said was deserving
of trust. Were these people driven by fear, or were they simply brainwashed?
“To accomplish this, every regent must bring forth an heir. It is the responsibility of any suitable witch to step forth and claim her place in the hierarchy, to bear a witch of the same bloodline of the original sixteen, to maintain the enchantment that protects this land.”
The part he always left out was how if the witch failed to bear his child, he would have her killed.
Okay, that wasn’t exactly true, except that it was. It was always the same, after all. Every “witch” was subject to two displays. The first one, she was to face a ravager to prove her worth. Most died on the first display because many subjected to it were not actually witches.
However, if they were, and if they defeated the ravager, they would have the duty to marry the regent and produce an heir. And that was where things got ugly. If not for the very idea of someone’s “duty” being to make a child, the problem was that no one had actually ever accomplished the task.
In the second display, the boundaries were opened and the doomed queen was sent out into the world beyond. Into the ravager’s land. Banishment.
The regent said on more than one occasion, “If a witch cannot bear an heir, the least she can do is use her magic to protect our borders from the outside.”
Everyone knew that not even a witch could survive that. It was certain death. It was why the witches who were banished were never seen again.
And now, here they were, Adira having lived long enough to see two, nearly three, decades of these displays—including her own mother’s.
The more time that passed, the worse things got. Time was running out for Dvorak to bring forth a child in enough time to train it up to be a great leader and practitioner. He had already burned through every witch born of direct lineage. That was a bit harder to hide—everyone knew who they were from the moment they were born, and under Dvorak’s rule, fewer witches were having children in fear for their future.
That left the human-born witches, like Adira. The anomalies. A witch born of two human parents. Some said that was how the original sixteen came to be in the first place. And now, here they were. Hunted by their own regent. The poor woman at Dvorak’s side would be the next victim.
Origin: an Adult Paranormal Witch Romance: Othala Witch Collection (Sector 1) Page 2
