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

by A.K. Mulford

Maybe Renwick was too far from happiness to feel it either. Maybe there were too many broken pieces of each of them to ever be put back together. As the dappled sunlight strained behind the heavy clouds, she wondered if, even between the two of them, there might be enough to make one whole.

“If it were all meaningless, it would be easier to accept it. Knowing that you are important is not easy.

“I have Seen your life for a reason, Ruadora. Only those who have important destinies are shown to me.”

“You are definitely a Dammacus, child.” The witch crowed. “Your sister was too cautious, and you are too reckless, but you are two sides of the same coin.”

“I never want anyone to give me that gift.” Rua dropped her head. “I don’t want anyone dying for me.”

“Help Renwick see his path forward. Help the witches to trust him. Then you can go wherever feels most like home.” Standing, Rua swallowed the lump in her throat. Wherever feels most like home.

Rua touched her hand to Renwick’s blue, lifeless face as burning hot tears sprung to her eyes. Gods, she had killed him.

He lifted an icy hand to her face, sweeping his thumb across her cheek.

Renwick moved to her side. “Talk to me.” Her footsteps faltered as she whirled at him. “Why did you pull me behind you in Drunehan?” Renwick blanched. It was clearly not the question he was expecting, but she had to know. He had protected her, jumping between her and his own soldiers, killing them to keep her safe. “I . . .” He shook his head, eyes pleading as he looked at her. “Why?” she pushed, her words cutting sharper than a blade. Renwick’s eyes fell to his feet as he rubbed his forehead. He pressed his eyes shut as if bracing against an unseen pain. When he opened his eyes, they were steeled once more.

“I’m sorry,” he called, hustling back to her side. “I don’t . . . I don’t know how to do this. Everything I say makes you push me away.” Her eyes darted to him again. “And I’m trying to figure out why you don’t want to be pushed away.”

“Rua!” Bri shouted as the warrior booted another witch in the face. Blood sprayed across the snow. “Don’t.” Renwick spun to see what was happening, but it was too late. Rua was already jumping. She leapt to the lip of the ravine and pulled herself on top of the slick surface. “Rua!” Renwick’s voice boomed from behind her.

“You know what really broke Balorn?” Those green eyes pierced into her. “He didn’t need anyone. Not even my father could reach him.” He took a ragged breath. “Needing people doesn’t make you weak, Rua, it keeps you sane.”

“I need you,” Renwick whispered, “to keep me from being a monster.” His eyes dropped to the Immortal Blade at her hip. “And I’ll keep you from becoming one too.” Rua’s eyes flared. She didn’t know how or why, but Renwick always stopped her. His voice pulled her back,

“If I start to fade,” Rua murmured down to her feet. “If I start to lose myself in that power . . .” “I’ll hold on to you,” Renwick vowed, moving his fingers to her chin.

She lifted her eyes to meet his. Something raw and pleading was there in them. “Stay.” Rua held his stare as she revealed the horror in her own. “I could kill all of you . . .” She could do it—kill them all with her sword. Razing the entire Northern Court for vengeance. No one could stop her. The thought alone stole the breath from her lungs. She wished it felt impossible to imagine herself doing it, but it felt only one step away. And standing in between her and that last step was Renwick. He dropped his fingers from her chin. “You won’t.

“And what will make me feel safe?” Rua snarled, moving to push past him. He grabbed the crook of her arm, his face mere inches from hers. “Me.” The world stopped moving at that word. She couldn’t hear the whipping wind or far-off voices or the sound of horses; she only heard the pounding of her heart and the echo of his voice. Me.

“I will give you one chance to apologize to the Princess of the High Mountain Court.” His voice was a lethal rumble at her back. “Or I will not lift a finger to help you when she starts to flay the skin from your bones.” Rua couldn’t help but smirk at that. Renwick knew she could do it. He didn’t underestimate her.

“Who else could handle you, hmm?” Balorn’s smugness could be heard all the way from the Western Court border. “Who could take on all that darkness inside of you?” The words punched into her, stealing the breath from her lungs. The sticky tar of shame burned across her neck and cheeks.

When Renwick spoke, her panic ebbed, the sound of his voice soothing the torrent inside of her.

that she had been granted a seat at the table, whether she liked it or not. She could balk from that responsibility, or view it as a burden, but the people who scrambled for that power were not the ones who should be wielding it. She thought about Remy. Her sister didn’t want her crown at first, but she had accepted it. Better that she had to battle with that decision than to step into it eagerly. That hesitancy would make her evaluate her choices better. She wouldn’t take her power for granted in the same way people like Balorn did. Balorn was born into every sort of privilege, and now he’d come to expect it. “You are not owed anything,” Rua said, drawing Renwick’s gaze. “The world has moved on without you.”

“I belong to no one.” Rua met Renwick’s stare, her words from that moment in his tent flooding her mind. I can’t care about you.

Baba Morganna’s eyes saddened even as she smiled. “We tried to be a home for you, Little Starling.” Rua’s eyes snapped up, staring at the High Priestess. “I’m sorry we failed you. We were foxes trying to raise a wolf.” Her eyes crinkled. “I hope with time it won’t feel so painful to visit here.”

Rua stared at the book in front of her with unseeing eyes, the memories of her childhood flashing through her mind. More than any image, she felt the constant sting of loneliness, of otherness—the bud of that darkness that bloomed within her now. She was a wolf raised by foxes.

“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.”

She wanted her own life, one she carved out for herself, one she chose.

She knew she would feel it, the impact of seeing him, when she turned around, but still it felt like a punch to her chest as she looked up into those shining eyes. “May I have this dance?” Renwick whispered, the muscle in his cheek flickering as that memory of them smiling at each other from the ceremony played over in Rua’s mind. She already felt pulled under his spell. The impact of his stare was far greater than being tumbled in a torrent of snow.

“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.” Rua stopped breathing.

He thought her darkness was beautiful? That it wasn’t a void to be filled or gotten rid of? She swallowed the lump in her throat, shaking her head, refusing to hear it. He took a ragged breath. “I will wait for all of you.” Rua steeled her gaze as she said, “You will be waiting forever.”

Renwick held her gaze, promising the truth in his next words: “Forever then, so long as I’m beside you.”

“I am a bad person, Rua. No amount of time or good deeds will change what I have done.” He hung his head, hair slipping from the knot at the nape of his neck to frame his face. She saw the shame burning hot across his cheeks. “I’m sorry.” Were they both beyond forgiveness for all their wicked deeds? He turned to leave, but she placed a hand on his shoulder, making him pause. “We are as wicked as each other, remember?” She forced a smile, even though she felt all his sadness. It was the thing that linked them together more than anything else: the shame of their actions, the feeling that they would never be who they wanted to be. Rua felt it in him as acutely as she felt it in herself.

Renwick’s face softened. Cupping her cheek, he softly kissed her forehead. “I don’t deserve your kindness.” Rua laughed gently, resting her forehead back against Renwick’s lips. “Nor I yours.”

The look of his happiness reminded Rua, once again, to release that tightness in her chest.

She wondered if she could do it—the promise she made herself to try at Raffiel’s memorial.

“You are meant to lead our people. The witches have chosen you.”

“We have Seen it, Ruadora: a Dammacus leader on our throne . . . alongside her Fated.” Rua’s heart stopped beating. Fated.

“He killed a lot of people to keep his secret . . . your secret,”

“Because blue witches can’t See the Fates of other blue witches.”

!!!!!! Whattttttttt

“I would tear down the sky for you,” he promised, leaving her with one last kiss.

“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 toward his. “I love every part of you, mea raga fede.”

“I love you, every part of you in this life and the next, my Fated, my Queen.”