Page 36 of King of Pride and Talons

Hannai was one of the witches who was a part of the divination that located Breya as the king’s fated mate. Cassia had summoned her skillset and spoke of her highly. She was renowned in the witch community for her bountiful red hair and stunning appearance, as well as a general unbothered nature that appealed to many of those in power.

Thorne had trusted her because he had trusted Cassia’s opinion. How could she have been so easily fooled?

The king traveled alone to Hannai’s hut. Like many of the witches in the shifter portion of Wildwoods, she thrived in nature and being on her own. There wasn’t much societal pressure for witches and sorcerers to marry and reproduce. Many of them lived independent, quiet lives, relying solely on the comforts of the environment and their selected sisterly covens.

On that particular day, the heat had subsided. There wasn't much forest in Savanna, but a small collection that had been maintained belonged to the witches on the council. Thorne was sure there was some kind of sorcery involved, given the soft blankets of moss and tepid coolness among the canopy that really didn't coordinate with the Savanna climate.

He was draped in all black when he knocked on the door of the hut. It was slightly damp, too, a mist floating in the air. When Hannai answered, she was adorned in medieval-style attire that clung to her shapely figure. Her energy was lively.

Her eyes were blue sapphires, glistening and earnest, a joyful smile charming her lips.

Thorne was not fooled.

“My King, dear King!” she exclaimed. “What did I do to earn such a blessed visit?"

He cut a hand through the air and pushed against the door, forcing himself inside. Hannai did not panic but took a large step backward, her mouth twisted in feigned disorientation.

“I know she’s here, Hannai,” he growled at her. “Don’t feed me any more of your lies. I know you have Breya. Hand her over now and your sentence will be softened."

Hannai was cooking something thick with garlic and black pepper spice. Thorne could see it out of the corner of his eye, simmering in a pastel green pot over the fireplace. The hut was rich with the scent of wild herbs, saffron, sandalwood, and incense, and his shifter nose picked up every smell. A twinge of doubt pricked through his mind.

“My King,” she said, smiling. “I am not aware of what you speak of. Here, maybe sit and we…"

The king glowered, thinking Hannai was putting on some kind of performance. He took a step toward her, and she stumbled, falling awkwardly into the batwing chair that sat before the fireplace.

Out of instinct, he grabbed hold of the chair before it toppled over, then glanced down at the witch.

The sapphires had been extinguished. A gray milkiness took them over.

“Hannai? Tell me what's going on. I know you have Breya, so give up on this nonsense."

The witch's rosy countenance had gone ashen, reminding the king of the undead warriors he had squabbled with near the sorcerer's lair. Thorne was still holding onto the wings of the chair, an unsteadiness plaguing him, when Hannai lifted her head to meet his gaze.

He jumped backward, nearly tripping into the fireplace. He grabbed hold of the brick wall and caught his breath, unable to tear himself from the petrifying sight.

All of the blue in Hannai’s eyes had disappeared. Her indifferent stare at him felt like looking into the eyes of a blind person.

Her expression remained inscrutable as she spoke a dry and lengthy soliloquy.

“You have been deceived, my dear King. The longer you darken my door, the more time Queen Cassia has to see her plans through. She has fooled you, and she has fooled you well. For she has been plotting against you, you see. She has used the sorcerer against you.”

All scraps of uncertainty were squashed as Hannai, possessed by some unseen cosmic force, revealed the true colors of the Queen of Wyeberry. He listened closely, still standing cumbersomely against the wall of the hut. His heart was drumming into his ears.

“They left the feather to frame me,” she said vacantly. “But it was Nyfain who took your beloved on the instruction of Cassia. They want you to look in the wrong direction. And here you are."

Whatever was wearing Hannai’s face tried to smile. It was like trying to pull back the skin of a corpse long past the state of rigor mortis.

“Why?” he snapped back, settling himself against the wall. “Why would Cassia want Breya? And what does Nyfain get out of it?"

She continued talking, not having blinked in nearly a full minute.

“Nyfain was promised Breya’s powers. He is drunk with the idea of control. And you see, Cassia isn't what she seems.”

Thorne waited in the creepy silence, feeling one of his eyesstart to twitch.

“…Not what she seems?” he said carefully.

“Her kingdom is faltering, my dear Thorne. She has managed to conceal it from you and the rest of the Wildwoods, but the veil is starting to fall. The best solution in her mind is to unite the kingdoms, yours and hers. You see, though, Breya got in the way. Now she has her."

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