Page 6 of The Blood Witch

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, love,” she called, her voice easily carrying across the small shop. “My last two shipments of flour were light—your sister on the council, Alice, maybe she could bring it up with them, yeah? Find out what’s going on with?—”

The bell above the door chimed, interrupting Regina and announcing another customer. Fey turned from the bakery case to watch them enter—a young couple with their child, maybe three years old. Witches, even. It warmed something in Fey’s chest to see it. Withthe establishment of the council, Alice insisted the city was slowly but surely becoming less segregated. And here was proof.

Fey tried to offer the couple a smile. But when the woman caught sight of her, she stopped in her tracks, gripping her child tight to her chest.

“The Queen…” she whispered, sounding dazed. The smile slipped from Fey’s face, and her lips curled into a sneer.

“No,” Fey said in a dark voice. That warmth in her chest didn’t die, but instead morphed into something hotter and more dangerous. “You’re mistaken.”

“It is you,” the Witch’s partner insisted, eyes going wide as he stepped forward. “You’re the Broken Blade. Our true queen.” He stared at her in awe, gaze roaming over her from the top of her blood-red hair all the way to her boots. And it didn’t matter that Fey wasn’t wearing her Queen’s Blades uniform—hadn’t worn it since that bloody night she’d overthrown her own queen—that’s what he was picturing when he looked at her.

It’s how they all pictured her.

“No,” Fey repeated, voice hardening. The heat in her chest grew a little more, threatening to become an inferno. She took a step away from them, wanting more space to find a semblance of calm, only to find the glass of the bakery counter against her back, trapping her there. “I’m not?—”

The man stepped forward. And with horror, Fey watched as he knelt, coming to one knee before her on the spotless floor of Regina’s shop.

“Your Grace,” he murmured in deference. At his side, his partner lowered her head and repeated the words, bowing slightly at her waist.

In an instance, that heat in Fey’s chest roared to life, threatening to overtake her.

LET ME OUT.

Fire. It feasted on her rage, happily licking against her skin from the inside. Fire danced at her fingers, Fire burned behind her eyes, and in her mind she no longer saw the family in front of her, she saw every Witch who had looked at her like that for the last two years all at once.Everyone who had called herqueen, who called her “Your Grace,” and the Fire wantedout,wanted to destroy them all.

She could do it, Fey knew, feeling the flames lick over her skin and dance up her arm. She could take the whole shop down, and everyone in it. She could take down the whole damn block…

“That’s enough of all that!” Regina said, coming out from behind the counter, waving a flour-speckled dishcloth at the couple. Fey hadn’t noticed her return. She was lost in the flames, consumed by her rage.

Rising from his knees, the man frowned, confused, unaware of the offense he may have caused. Unaware of how close he was to death.

Let me out,the fire screamed inside of her, burning hotter and hotter and hotter.

And she wanted to. She wanted to let it out, wanted to let it take over her and give in to it.

This is why she held it so tight, why she pushed it down inside herself and leashed it. This is why she did everything she could to swallow this power down.

Because it felt sogoodto burn.

“We’re closed!” Regina snapped, shooing the couple out the door. “Closed for the day, out, out, out!”

The couple put up a minor protest but were no match for Regina’s sheer size and determination. She had them out the door in seconds, slamming it shut behind them and flipping the sign fromopentoclosed.

“Take a deep breath,” Regina ordered, glancing back at Fey. She engaged the lock as well and pulled the blinds closed, hiding them from the busy street. “They’re gone, Witch. Take a breath and control yourself, damn you.”

But Fey couldn’t breathe. Rage swirled inside of her, hot and deadly as an inferno. It didn’t want to go back inside, didn’t want to be held back anymore.

Fey could take down the whole city with power like this, couldn’t she? Burn the whole damn realm to ashes, and there was nothing that could stop her. Noonewho could stop her.

Regina turned back to her, her eyes showing just a flash of fear before she swallowed it down and spoke. “Your bag, Fey. Look at your bag.”

Through the haze of rage and pleasure, Fey glanced down, Fire flickering in her vision as it danced in her eyes, over her arms. The long-handled canvas bag she used to hold her shopping was gone. Only a scrap of fabric remained, still smoldering and charred at her feet. She opened her hand, where she had been clutching the handle, and found nothing there but ash.

Fire coated her hands. Bright blue and white flames danced over the skin of her palms, over her fingers.

It was beautiful.

“Breathe,” Regina snarled. Not the voice of the friendly shopkeeper Fey knew, but that of a Lioness. An apex predator accustomed to being obeyed.

---