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

by A.K. Mulford

She thought to the note his mother had written to his little brother in that book. She had called Eadwin, mea raga, my precious little one, in Mhenbic. Mother Moon, what was a fae Queen doing using Mhenbic sayings? It didn’t make any sense. She threw open the heavy curtains and stormed into Renwick’s office. “Is it true?” “Rua,” Renwick said, looking up, startled, from his desk. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Is it true?” Her voice rose in her chest like a roaring wave. Renwick narrowed his green eyes at her. “Where have you just come from?” “Baba Airu’s tent,” Rua snarled. Renwick’s body stilled in that telltale way, the muscle in his jaw popping out. She slammed her hand down hard on the desk, making him jolt, finally breaking that frozen visage. “Are you part witch?” “My mother was half blue witch, yes,” he gritted out, rubbing his forehead methodically.

“You mean that we are Fated?” Rua snarled. “Yes,” he whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Renwick’s eyes finally shot back to hers, wide and practically glowing. They flickered blue, she realized. Gods, how had she not seen it before? As his control slipped, the emerald turned to turquoise for a brief flash before returning to green. “How could I tell you?” Renwick growled. He stared at the uncorked bottle on his desk, tempting him. Rua noted the bottle was still full. The pain elixir remained. But she knew from the look in his eyes that he was warring with himself whether to drink it or not. “How could I tell you that your soul is shackled to mine when you looked at me like I was a monster?” “I don’t care that you’re a monster, Renwick! In that, we are the same,” Rua hissed, her voice raising into a shout once more. “I care that you lied to me!”

Renwick’s fingers reached out for the blue bottle at her words, but Rua was faster. She snatched the bottle off the table and brought it to her lips, sculling the bitter fluid back with a grimace. Renwick leapt up from behind his desk. “No!” In a split second, he was around the desk. Grabbing the empty bottle from her hand, he stared at it in horror. “You drank it all?” Terror filled his face. “It’s too much Rua. It’s nearly too much for me, and I am used to it.” Renwick bolted to the curtains and shouted at his guards, “Fetch a brown witch healer. Now!” Rushing back to her, Renwick stood a hair’s breadth in front of her, searching her eyes. “Why did you do that?” “You are not the only one who gets to poison the pain away,” she whispered.

No wonder Renwick drank this stuff. Her eyes started to roll back as sweeping waves of warmth coursed through her. “No!” She was snapped out of it by two strong hands grabbing either side of her face. Renwick’s eyes blazed at her. “You have to fight it, Rua. It will pull you under too quickly.” His voice dropped into a worried whisper as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Stay awake, please.” That delicious tingling warmth spread down her body. Her lips parted and her eyes cl...

“It feels like everything breaks me, but I have been through nothing compared to you.” “You really think you’ve been through nothing? Except having your whole family killed at a young age, being displaced by war, being ignored and resented your whole childhood, being abducted and nearly killed . . .” The normally frozen face of the Northern King was now riddled with anger and fear as if he would battle back the darkness for her. “Shall I go on?” Her heart thundered in her chest even as that warming sensation made her limbs feel heavy. “It is nothing compared to your suffering,” she said, lifting a limp hand to his cheek. “You say that only to deny that what you feel is equally real.”

The smell of cloves and freshly fallen snow amongst evergreen trees wrapped around her. She felt the crisp winter air, even in the warmth of her bed. But it wasn’t her bed. The sheets felt softer. The pillows felt different, and that scent was not the bergamot and tea aroma of her own tent.

Beside the bed sat Renwick in a crushed velvet chair. His crumpled clothes and tousled hair denoted he had been in the chair for a long time. But his eyes were clear and bright as he stared at her, his lips slowly pulling up into a smile. “You’re alive.” He swept his hair off his face. “I’m not so easily killed,” Rua whispered, sizing up the scratch marks down his face. She didn’t remember doing it, but as she opened her mouth to speak, Renwick cut her off. “I deserved it,” he murmured. “I deserved it and a lot more, Rua. I should have told you the first moment I saw you, I just . . .” his eyes desolately searched hers. “I couldn’t bear you hating me for it.”

“Do you ever glow?” “Once,” he said, hanging his head in his hands again, his muscles coiled like he was readying for battle. “When I was eighteen. I went to a brown witch apothecary in Murreneir. I thought I was going to die and she gave me the potion . . . poison,” he corrected, dragging his hands down his face. He looked so raw in that moment, so unlike the rigid posture and fine clothes he normally disguised himself

“Most of my visions are feelings, things I just somehow come to know, like I know that Thador is riding back from Drunehan, though he has not told me it is so.” He licked his bottom lip and pressed them together as if debating whether to say his next words or not. “I’ve had one clear recurring vision in all of my life.” “Of what?” she asked, her heart stuttering as those piercing eyes found hers again. “You.” She knew he would say it, but it still made the whole world stop, as if she were free-falling through time.

In that moment, looking at the Northern King, they didn’t feel like royalty to Rua, they felt like two lonely people who had always struggled to hide themselves from the people who were meant to love them.

“You were there that night, when Hennen tried to kill us all?” “I was.” His voice trembled. “I saw a witch grabbed you and fled. She practically flung you from the flames. I got Raffiel out, covered for him while he scaled a window ledge. I tried to make it look like I was fighting his own guards. I’ve been playing both sides for a long time.”

“Why would you help us before you knew who I was to you?” His lip trembled as his voice cracked. “Because I never wanted anyone to die.” Their eyes dropped to each other’s and a thick tear slid down Renwick’s cheek. “I may be a monster for all the things I have done to survive these many years, but I am not my father.” The sight of his tear made the dam behind Rua’s eyes release, and the flood came thick and fast, tears streaming down her cheeks. He had been helping her family before he even knew they were Fated. It wasn’t some magical bond that had made him do the right thing. It had been his will all along.

Renwick moved from the chair as if possessed by the sound. He cupped Rua’s face and pressed his forehead to hers. “I am sorry,” he whispered as she reached up and brushed her salty lips over his. “I am so sorry for all the pain I have caused you.” “No,” she said, reaching her hand up and bracketing his hard jawline. “You are not a bad person, Renwick.” He tried to pull away, but she pulled his forehead back to hers, holding him there, forcing him to hear her confession. “I know you don’t believe it, but it’s true. You did terrible things, and you did courageo...

“I see you, all of your dark corners, just as you see mine. And I love you.” His face crumpled as his lips collided with hers. How desperately they both needed it—to love someone, to be loved, to permit themselves the truth that had been raging inside of them. Her arms wrapped around him tighter, pulling him onto the bed, needing to feel his chest pressed against hers. He propped himself up by one straining arm as he smothered the blankets between them, kissing her like it might be his only chance.

He paused, sniffing as the tears on his cheeks dried, seemingly debating whether he should leave her after such a life-altering confession. “I promise I’m not fleeing Lyrei Basin anytime soon,” Rua said with a half-smile, wiping his lingering tear with her thumb. She saw it on his face—how much those words meant to him—the child who was abandoned by his mother. He looked at her like she was the golden dawn. “I would tear down the sky for you,” he promised, leaving her with one last kiss.

She had barely been able to stomach a piece of bread. Renwick Vostemur, King of the Northern Court, was her Fated. Not only that, but he was part blue witch. No one had ever known she even had a Fated… and she had been glad for it. But now, knowing the truth validated every betrayed feeling she had ever had for him. He had been secretly helping her family since before he even knew they were Fated. He was not the monster everyone thought he was. All the pieces were coming together in her mind, and it made her want to laugh and cry and scream all at once.

“So, you know then.” The giant fae leaned against the stable gate as he laughed. His riding clothes were caked in thick snow. A scarf tied tightly at his neck accompanied his fur hat and woolen gloves. “Know what?” Rua hedged, eyeing him. Thador guffawed. “That you are his Fated.” Her stomach dropped. “You knew?” “He didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Thador said, turning to lean his forearms against the stable gate, looking weary from being out in the cold for so long. “But it doesn’t take a blue witch to see the two of you together. He is a different person when he looks at you . . . and you him.”

“Maybe they knew you were both haunted by death and the guilt of your decisions,” Thador mused. “Maybe they paired you together because you saw each other beyond the crowns and titles.” Another unanswered question sprung into her mind. “Is that why they call me Mhenissa? Because I am his Fated?” “You have earned that title all on your own, Princess.” Ehiris called from the skies. “Though I know the witches are glad that you are tied to him. They believe you will make him a better ruler . . . I believe so too.”

“I’m glad he has you too,” she whispered. “I serve you too now, you know,” he said in that brusque voice that seemed like he was grumbling even when his words were kind. He glanced over to her, giving her a smirk. Rua blinked at him. It was true—she was the Fated of his King. Her throat tightened under an invisible grip as a realization struck her: she would one day be Queen. Thador’s grin turned foxlike as the understanding crossed her face.

but it wasn’t the forces of the world she feared, it was her own will that terrified her. She wanted to be here with him. She wanted things so fiercely she scarcely knew existed in her . . . and finally wanting something—someone—was the most frightening feeling of all.

think we both know what gave them the strength to return,” he said, his magnetizing gaze pulling on her again. “It was you, Rua.” His admiration rolled through her, but she shook her head, summoning the strength to reach up and touch his face. “It was us, Renwick.” His eyes closed at the sound of his name, as if savoring her words. He turned his face into her hand, his lips brushing her palm.

Renwick’s eyes widened as she stretched up on her toes and brushed her lips to his. She held for a moment, waiting for his lips to respond, but he held perfectly still. Dropping back to her heels, she searched his face. She saw it all—joy, sorrow, awe, terror—all the things battling within her own chest. And she suddenly knew, even in this, she was not alone. She saw the second that frozen facade broke, the ice fissuring and then splintering apart as he grabbed her by the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his. Every kiss was a promise—that this was real—it was new and raw and terrifying, but it was real. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her against his hard chest as he kissed her. A groan erupted from him as she snaked her fingers up into his hair.

But he needed to know who he was to her. Not Witchslayer. Not King. As she fused her body with his, she branded his name upon her heart. “Renwick, Fated,” she whispered. “Look at me.” His eyes flew open, flaring the most brilliant aquamarine. She stared at him in wonder. Even with him buried deep inside her, she was still mystified that this feeling between them was real. A lifetime passed between one breath and the next, two souls turning into one. “I love you,” he vowed, confirming every racing thought in her mind. He thrust into her, claiming her body as he claimed her with his words. “I love you,” Rua cried out, moving her hips to match his pace until the whole bed shook.

She blinked her eyes open, scanning the room for a pitcher of water. She propped herself up on her elbow as she spotted one sitting on the table across the room. As she moved to shuffle off the bed, a hand snaked around her stomach and hauled her back against a warm, hard chest. “Stay,” Renwick whispered in a sleep addled voice. A smile tugged up the corners of Rua’s lips. “I was just going to get a glass of water.” “Use your magic to bring it to you,” Renwick murmured into her hair.

“Maybe we should get breakfast,” Renwick said, even as his hands traced down her bare sides to settle on her hips. He looked up to the ceiling, the beams of sunlight coming in around the chimney. “Or perhaps it’s time for lunch.” “I am not hungry for food,” Rua pouted, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his chest back against hers. “Gods.” Renwick’s eyes blazed at her. “If you keep looking at me like that, I don’t think we will ever leave this tent.” “Good.” Renwick gave a wicked smile as he bent to kiss her neck.

“I could tell you she won’t suspect anything . . .” he murmured, “but we both know that’s a lie.” “Do I tell her?” Rua wondered. Renwick propped his chin up on her stomach and looked up at her. “That is up to you,” he said. “I would like to shout it from the rooftops.” Rua grinned down at him as she traced the lines of his face. “There are no rooftops to stand on in the Lyrei Basin, only tents.” “I’m sure I can work something out.” He winked at her. She loved this playful side of him, so loose, so himself. It was a side only she got to see. Rua took another slow breath. “Okay, wish me luck.”

lights of the campsite disappeared around the bend. Rua tucked her head into Renwick’s shoulder, the warmth of his skin heating her face. She knew exactly how that skin would feel under her lips. She leaned up and planted a slow kiss to his pulse, making the King smile. She trailed kisses up toward his ear, nibbling the lobe in a way that made him choke out a cough. He chuckled. “That is not why I brought you up here, but I can’t say that I mind.” “Why did you bring me here?” Rua looked up through an opening in the canopy of evergreens, stars flickering to life in the twilight. Renwick smiled. “Patience.” Rua pressed her lips to his ear again and whispered, “I have none of that.”

They stayed like that for several breaths, foreheads pressed together, muscles still twitching, until their pulses slowed and Renwick smiled. They both laughed, that mischievous lover’s laugh of two people so in love they didn’t care about anything other than being joined together. This was the kind of reckless she wanted to be. “Now, what did you want to show me?” Rua asked, delighting in Renwick’s stunning smile that so few got to see. “Everything,” he said, his swollen lips tenderly meeting hers.

She cupped his face, brushing her hand down his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you more.” He smiled. Rua shook her head, “Impossible.” She couldn’t begin to tell him all the ways that he had saved her. She knew she had rescued him in just as many ways. They were flawed and healing, but at least together it was okay. At least here with him, she was allowed to reveal whatever feelings whispered from her soul. “Where are we going?” she murmured against his lips. Renwick brushed her wavy hair absently off her face. “To see the stars.”

“Run back to the sleigh,” Renwick said. “Take the horses, it’ll be faster. Warn the camp.” “And leave you here to fight them alone?” Rua asked incredulously. “You are the King. If anything, it is you who shouldn’t be putting your neck on the line.” “And you are the future Queen,” Renwick said. Rua gaped at him. “If that was your proposal, it was terrible.” Renwick huffed a laugh, grabbing her cloak in his fist and hauling her to him. “Go get your sword and come back,” he said, his mouth colliding with hers in a scalding kiss. “I’d rather you fight by my side, anyway.”

She pressed her lips to the hole and took a hungry drag of sweet air. The rising panic in her wavered to the cold. Even with the breath, she needed to get out of the ice quickly. Splashing echoed as she peered over the body that plummeted into the water: Renwick. His eyes scanned desperately for her. There was the entry point. Taking one more sip through the hole in the ice, she swam across the lake’s thick crust, battling the weight of her sword with every kick of her legs. She reached the opening, face breaking the surface as she gasped in the cold air. Renwick let out a panicked sob, “Thank the fucking Gods.”

He bent over her, eyes scanning her frantically for injures that she couldn’t feel. Her whole body numbed, even as it trembled violently. “Hang on.” Renwick pleaded, cupping her face with icy fingers. “We’ve got to get you back to the camp.” Rua’s eyes fluttered shut as Renwick pulled her limp body up. “No! No, stay with me,” he begged her as Rua forced her eyes open again. “How quaint.” A voice called from across the ice. Renwick lifted his head as he clutched Rua to him. His eyes narrowed at the figure beyond her. “You,” he said as the darkness claimed her.

“Rua,” a voice called. Tilting her head backward, she looked to her right and saw Renwick shackled to the stone wall. His shirt was stripped off but he still wore his crumpled trousers from when they fell through the ice. Gods, Rua remembered it now. His hair and clothes seemed dried. Urgently scanning him for injuries, she saw no bruises marring his skin. “Where are we?” she murmured, looking down at the black silk slip she wore with horror—the same nightdress that the suraash wore in the Temple of Hunasht.

The chains from behind her rattled as a deep growl rumbled from Renwick’s chest. Balorn looked up to his nephew, sliding his hand up Rua’s side, skirting over her hip, belly, breast and up to her mouth, swiping his thumb across her bottom lip as Renwick snarled again. “She really is your Fated, isn’t she?” His dark forest-green eyes crinkled in delight. Renwick’s voice was a menacing hiss. “Don’t. Touch. Her.” “Oh, I think I will.” Balorn smiled, eyes skimming her body as he pulled the dagger from his hip. “Such beautiful, smooth skin.” “Don’t!” Renwick shouted as Balorn ran the blade across Rua’s thigh. She felt the blade push against her, but it did not slice open her flesh.

Renwick’s screams echoed in the small room, but the dagger froze as if Rua’s skin was made of steel. “Even separated from the Immortal Blade, it still protects you.” “It is bound to my blood.” Rua spat, saliva trailing down Balorn’s pristine white sleeve.

Rua’s chest cracked as she let out a shuddering sob. “Rua,” Renwick whispered in that soft, comforting tone that only made her tears fall faster. She looked up to him, her Fated, with watery eyes. “If we’re not going to make it—” “Don’t say that,” Renwick bit out, but Rua shook her head as hot tears slipped down her cold cheeks. “If we’re not going to make it—” “We will,” Renwick growled. “I need you to know . . . I love you.” Her lips trembled as she spoke, leaning forward from her bindings, her body straining towards his. “I love every part of you, mea raga fede.”

Renwick jerked forward at that. My precious Fated one. Yanking on his binding, he lurched his head forward, still just a hair’s breadth from her face. “I love you, every part of you in this life and the next, my Fated, my Queen.”

Someone was breaking the lock. With one final blow, the wagon doors creaked open. A little head popped up to the wagon, braided hair and obsidian skin. Nymph-like eyes peered back at them as the flickering blue hands pulled open the wagon door. “You two always leave me behind.” Aneryn smirked at them even as she hastened into the wagon.

Rua looked out at the melee. Soldiers in shining new Northern crests battled against soldiers wearing Eastern and old Northern insignia. But it was not the fae warriors who caught Rua’s eye. Dozens of blue cloaks whorled through the battle, brandishing swords, daggers, bows and arrows: the blue witches. She spotted the flash of Onyx Mallor’s silver hair. Rua knew in that moment that the blue witches had not come for Renwick—they had come for Mhenissa. They had come for her.

Renwick’s firm hands grabbed Rua’s waist and placed her down on the rocky road. The uneven stones bit into her bare feet. It was as cold as ice, but only small scatterings of leftover snow remained on the hard ground. “You two need to get out of here,” Aneryn ordered. “You have no weapons and you’re practically naked—” Rua bowled into Aneryn, knocking the air out of her friend as she grabbed her in a tight hug. “You saved us,” Rua whispered. “The witches will always come for you, Mhenissa,” Aneryn said, giving Rua one last squeeze before pulling away, tears streaking her cheeks, and Rua finally saw the fear in her eyes.

Renwick gripped Rua’s chin, pulling her gaze back to his mesmerizing eyes. “I would tell you to hide and wait for me to return.” His voice was edged with sorrow as he glanced over Rua’s shoulder to the three witches behind her. “But I know you will protect your people.” Rua nodded, grasping the hilt of the dagger tighter. “I will protect our people,” she pledged, as if taking her royal vow. If they were not going to survive this battle, she was not going to be cut down cowering under a wagon. Renwick’s lips collided with hers as he pulled her into a desperate, blistering kiss. “Go kill Norwood,” Rua said as Renwick pulled away. “And get the Witches’ Glass. You remember the words of the spell?” Renwick nodded. He could end this curse and the battle would be won.

He opened his mouth to speak when a whistle sounded in the wind. Balorn fell backwards, tumbling into the leaves, an arrow protruding from his throat. Rua gaped at the arrow tied with crimson fletching. Tilting her head uphill, she saw the archer clad in shining black leathers, bow still held aloft, a golden circlet holding back the cascade of flowing black curls. The warrior Queen’s eyes filled with vengeance as she watched Balorn gurgle his last breaths. Her sister. Remy.

homelands. Rua’s eyes landed on the group of four warriors fighting off a dozen soldiers. Hale, Carys, and the Eagles moved in a lethal dance, their backs to each other, making an impenetrable ring around a group of injured witches and soldiers. They protected their fallen comrades with a practiced ease, each charging soldier easily cut down by one of their blades.

Hale looked up at the Queen beside Rua and winked. Rua turned to see the amulet of Aelusien glowing around Remy’s neck. “What?” Remy looked sideways at Rua. “I . . . you’re just vicious, that’s all.” Rua laughed with surprise. “You thought I just wanted to sit around and embroider cushions together?” Remy smirked, making Rua snort. This sister she could get to know more of. This person felt like her family. Remy nodded to Rua as if she felt the same way, as if they were finally seeing each other for the first time. “Let’s end this.”

Rua gripped the Immortal Blade tighter, and they charged downhill. 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.