The Witches' Blade (Five Crowns of Okrith, #2)

by A.K. Mulford

“A common sickness amongst men who were raised to believe they were owed the world.”

“Careful,” he warned. “You keep beating him up and he might fall in love with you.”

She welcomed the horror now, let it break her into so many pieces she could never be put back together. The terror she saw all around her was like a final release from the pent-up feelings that existed deep in her belly all these years. Finally, the world around her matched the world inside her.

“You think I am still whole?” His shoulders tensed. “I am not a good person, Rua.” The low timbre of her name on his lips echoed through her mind. “The only good left in me is in little, fragmented pieces.”

“I’m sorry I almost killed you,” she whispered into the darkness. For a moment she wasn’t sure if her lips formed the words or if it was merely a thought in her mind. A warm breath skittered across her neck. “Why do I have the feeling this won’t be the last time you make that apology to me?”

“Needing people doesn’t make you weak, Rua, it keeps you sane.”

“I know what that darkness whispers, and how the lies begin to sound like truth. We wear those lies like armor, thinking they will protect us.

Death didn’t care what title she had. It would come to claim her all the same.

“It doesn’t make the anger any easier to bear,” she said. “What doesn’t?” The blue witch looked up at her, eyes filling with a shared pain. “Having no one to direct it toward.”

“Abhorred by witches and fae alike.” She grinned conspiratorially to Aneryn. “We should make badges,” Aneryn said as she chuckled.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” the blue witch said, steadying Rua with her hands on her forearms. “I thought I’d spare you getting lost on the way to the kitchens.” Aneryn paused, looking over Rua’s attire. “Though I did not spare you from selecting that outfit.”

“I don’t know,” Aneryn muttered back. “I can See through the future, not through walls.”

“I want every part of you.” There was no hesitation in his voice this time, nothing holding him back. “I want every beautiful dark corner of your soul.”

“How do you do it? How do you survive it?” Rua sniffed, swallowing back her tears. “Being without him.” “I don’t know how to be without him.” Bern’s normally cavalier expression cracked as he came to stand next to Rua. “All I know is he is gone and I’m still here, and I’ve chosen to make something of that, if I can.”

She had said it out loud: she was Mhenissa. The Mhenbic word meant sword, protector, defender of the witches. Her sword an extension of their magic, her will and theirs enmeshed. She was the Witches’ Blade.

“I see you, all of your dark corners, just as you see mine. And I love you.”

“I would tear down the sky for you,”

The dance of two sisters, Remy moved the wagons into barricades while Rua sliced down soldiers with her sword. The blood of their people sang in their veins as the two Queens wielded their magical talismans. It was no longer a wounded song; it was power personified.

“I’m a terrible hypocrite, Ru. You should know by now to listen to my advice, not follow my actions.” Bri gave her a wink.