Page 34 of Their Witch Bride

He hands it back to me. “You don’t believe her?”

“Witches do some freaky shit, but they don’t talk to metal. If they could, don’t you think they’d use metal in battle?”

“What about the names? We don’t know the names of all our people that have died, but there were certainly many names on the Valknut that I recognized, so I believe the names were real. How did she do that?” Rinan’s got that look. Like he’s been bewitched by Princess Tara’s spell.

I swallow hard around the lump in my throat, certain that I’ll never forget seeing my brothers’ names etched in that metal, no matter how old I grow. “I bet her bitch mom gave her a list of names for her spell. Maybe only the people who… talked,” were tortured, “before their deaths got their names added.”

But even as I say the words, I actually pray I’m wrong. I know they didn’t have enough of my brothers to bring back for the funeral, but every night of my life I begged the gods that their death was fast and painless. Anything more I couldn’t bear.

“Or maybe they’re just witches,” he says, and I know he’s trying to comfort me. “Witches who fucking know everything.”

“Maybe,” I mutter.

He seems to consider my words, and then his words come out even more gently than before. “Then why the Valknut? Specifically? How could she manipulate us with it?”

I don’t know. “Maybe she hoped knowing something about our culture would gain her some respect. Whatever her plan, it failed. We will tolerate her as long as we have to and nothing more.”

Someone’s telling another war story, but I’m focused on Rinan. He’s the softest of us. A bleeding heart. But that doesn’t work in war, and make no mistake, we’re in a war with this tiny witch. She may be beautiful, she may act the part of some innocent creature, but no witch is truly that way. All their hearts are blackened and their souls are as gray as death.

“Tolerate her?” he asks softly, glancing across from us. “Or be cruel to her?”

Following his gaze, I spot the tent on the other side of our camp. Well, not an actual tent, there's just a pile of tent parts for our dear princess to put together herself. I’d commanded our men to leave it alone. I might have had no choice about marrying her, but I’d be damned if my men did anything to make her life easier. Yes, her sleeping in the open means I’ll have to watch the snake in our midst without the comfort of my tent, but I don’t give a damn, as long as I hurt her.

Let her see she won’t make a fool of us.

“You’re waiting for her,” Rinan accuses.

“I’m not,” I lie.

The truth is that I want to see the look on her face when she realizes that every tent is up but hers. That we’re finally stopping long enough to use tents, and she won’t have one. I want to watch it dawn on her that just because she’s beautiful, we’re not going to fall all over ourselves to help our enemy. She might have married three shifter princes, but that doesn’t make her one of us. That doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten that she’s a damn witch.

“Your father wants us to do this right. All our fathers do. It’s important.”

My gaze darts to his angrily. “Yet, the three of us have a plan, because we know how flawed their fucking plan is, right?”

After a minute, he sighs, “Right.”

This peace treaty was a mistake. Those witches don't know what peace is, and I need to know why they tossed their princess to us so easily. I know it's a trap. I know she's here to hurt us, but I refuse to let that happen. Our fathers might not be thinking clearly, but I am.

“A plan that involves… being assholes?” Rinan shoots another glance at the unmade tent.

He’s soft on our symbol of the peace treaty – the fucking witch princess herself – for reasons I can’t understand. The rest of us can’t stomach her.

Astro leans over the fire, his gaze locking on me. “So, what do you think Her Highness is going to do when she spots that?” he says, gesturing toward the tent.

I smirk. “Cry.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, the over-exaggerated movements of a man who's had too many. “I’ve been fighting these bitches for years. She’ll go crazy. She’ll try to burn down the campsite, or melt all our tents, or send the fucking trees down on us.”

“And then she’ll realize there’s more of us than her,” I say.

Everyone laughs.

Flint stands. “They think they’re so powerful in battle. Let’s see her put her tail between her legs when she realizes there’s a full fucking pack to take her down!”

I take another swig of my scotch, feeling it burn its way down to my stomach. The guys are taking bets. Some think she’ll cry. Others think she’ll throw a tantrum. Still others think she’ll go ballistic and show her true colors. Frankly, I’ll enjoy any of the three. Anything that gets her to realize her place amongst us.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Rinan tells me softly.

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