Page 29 of Their Witch Bride

“All of you seem to like smelling me a lot. So, is it me? Or do you guys do that with everyone?”

He shifts back from me, shaking his head. “We don’t.” Then he spins on his heel and rushes away.

What the hell? I don’t understand any of my husbands, but Prince Drogo probably most of all. He radiates anger and seems to want to pick fights with me, yet we’re married. Shouldn’t he be trying to get along with me at least?

Heading away from the shifters, I continue along the passage, needing a break from the testosterone. The further I walk, the more carnage I see. There are bones and bodies in various states of decomposition, although none too recent. Most look like someone covered them, but then animals, or time, uncovered them once more.

A chill rolls down my spine. So much death.

Looking away from the bodies, I stare at the sides of the mountain. To my surprise, there are glints of steel as far as the eye can see. And the weapons, so many weapons, call out to me. There’s so much metal begging to be repurposed and beautiful again.

After a little while, I come across an absolutely destroyed carriage. It’s ripped to shreds. But no normal animal did that.

My heart races. Are my husbands capable of that? I wonder how lethal they are. And how they look when they shift. Probably exactly as awful as I’m imagining.

I shake my head and keep walking. More carriages and bodies litter the path. I come across a skeleton with a sword sticking through its chest and peer down at it. Whoever this is is no longer recognizable, but I can see where her blood still stains the ground.

Although, I don’t know that it’s a woman or a witch. I’m just assuming. Technically, shifters use both sword and claw in battle, but our men go to battle with swords too in order to protect the women while they use magic, so it could be a man or woman. Either way, it’s sad.

The Deadly Passage is the saddest gravesite I’ve ever seen. All these people died here with no burial, no glory, no honor, just a bitter end and the disrespect of their bodies decomposing in broad daylight for passersby to gawk at.

This peace treaty I’ve been traded for needs to work because this can’t keep going on. People can’t keep dying over a fight we don’t even understand. The purpose of this rivalry was forgotten a long time ago, though both sides were just too used to fighting each other to stop.

Is this what I was sold for? Maybe my mother was right. Maybe it’ll be worth it.

I close my eyes and try to tune out everything, trying to regain my composure, but my awareness of the metal breaks through. It’s all around me. It pleads with me to renew it. The metal has a purpose. It’s not meant to be marred and bloody, rusting and broken.

Please, it whispers to me.

Shape us. Bend us. Change us. Make us.

The voices are overwhelming. I pull in a sharp, shuddering breath. My magic wells up inside of me, and I have to get it out; I have to create.

What do you want to be? I ask, and the words in my mind hum with magic.

My hands begin to move. Pulling and finding. Heating and melting. Moving and changing. My hands swirl in circles, over and over again. I focus my energy, knowing the metal won’t be content until it becomes what it’s meant to be.

My arms grow tired, but it has to be perfect, so I take my time. Next are the straight lines. I don’t know what I'm making, but my body and my magic do what the metal requests. My arms slash sharp lines up and down. The heat fades. The metal settles.

There.

My magic feels so strong, more powerful than I’ve ever known it to be. My arms fall to my side, and my magic recedes. The world around me is silent. The metal is silent. I open my eyes and see what I created, and my jaw drops.

I expected a sword. Maybe several swords. Not this.

It’s a towering sculpture of metal. Three interlocking triangles encompassed in a large circle stands before me. It’s easily bigger than the carriage I’ve been riding. It’s been melted into the wall of the mountain, fused with the stones.

My breath hitches at the sight of it. My magic made that. It answered the metal’s call and made something so strange and beautiful.

“What the fuck?” someone gasps behind me.

I whip around and see Prince Arlys, Prince Drogo, and Prince Rinan standing behind me. Their jaws are hanging open as they stare at my creation. Fear awakens within me. Shifters don’t like magic and they don’t like witches, so chances are they won’t like this.

“What did you do?” Prince Arlys asks, not taking his eyes from the sculpture. But his words aren’t quite an accusation, they’re something I can’t read.

For a minute, I’m not sure if I should lie, but I decide that it’s better to be honest. I guess I’ll see what kind of men I’ve married now. “I listened to the metal. I don’t know what that shape is, but it’s what the metal wanted to be.”

I still don’t know if he’s upset. I think his face just always looks a little angry or tense. Or maybe I’m completely wrong and things are about to go very wrong.

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