Page 190 of The Black Witch

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My hands hurt when I finally leave my kitchen shift, my fingers sore from peeling so many potatoes, my chest a tight ball of despair. The sun has set, and night is firmly settled in the sky. The world is starless and dark as I move away from the lantern light by the kitchen’s back entrance.

I take a deep, steadying breath, the cold air bracing. I’m halfway across the small field at the kitchen’s back end, edged by a small stand of forest, the shadows tonight an inky, bottomless black, my steps dragging.

“Stay away from our men.”

I halt, heart speeding, and look toward the shadows, my eyes searching for the source of the vicious words.

I can just make Iris out in the dark, cloudy night. She’s leaning back against a tree trunk, arms confrontationally crossed, tall Bleddyn next to her, looking incensed.

My eyes dart toward a thinly populated path not far from here. Gauging whether or not Iris and Bleddyn can get away with attacking me again.

Iris stalks toward me, and I take a step back.

“I see the way you look at him,” she grinds out, getting up near my face.

A hot flush prickles all over my cheeks, my neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about...”

“You Roaches want to own everything,” Bleddyn sneers, her voice deep and throaty, her eyes narrowed to furious slits.

“He’s mine,” Iris insists, the anger cracking open to reveal a pained vulnerability, her lips trembling. She gathers herself, her mouth tightening into an angry line, the hatred in her glare flaring. “Go back to Lukas Grey.” She looks me over with disgust. “Where youbelong. Stay away from Yvan.”

Every muscle in my body tenses, and my hands clench into fists as I let my fear fall away and glower at her openly.

Bleddyn spits out a laugh. “He doesn’t want her,” she sneers, looking me over with contempt. “How could he? With her pretending to be a Kelt one day and a Roach the next?” She blows a disdainful breath. “She doesn’t even know what skin she’s in.”

Iris looks to Bleddyn, vulnerable again, but infuriatingly heartened by her friend’s cruel words. Iris shoots me one last look of pure hostility, then walks off with Bleddyn, the Urisk girl hissing out,“Roach bitch!”as she passes.

* * *

Rafe and Trystan are in the hallway waiting for me when I return to the North Tower. They’re lit by lamplight, framed in black by the window behind them.

I swallow and fight back a swelling nausea as I take in their somber expressions, livid thoughts about Iris and Bleddyn whisked clear away.

Without comment, Rafe holds out a stiff, folded parchment, defiance in his eyes.

I unfold it, the sense of dread hardening in my gut.

Ancient One, no.It’s a notice of impending draft.

“It’s so quick,” I say, staring at the notice with disbelief. “Vogel only took power this morning.”

“It’s like he was ready for this,” Rafe says, his voice hard with suspicion.

“What?” I question, rattled. “You think Vogel knew this was coming? That our High Mage would die?”

Rafe’s dark stare doesn’t waver. “It makes you wonder. It’s so wellplanned.”

I remember Vogel’s terrible presence, the black void, the dead tree. I stare back at Rafe, alarm rising.

Trystan is uncharacteristically on edge, his eyes haunted. Looking aimlessly around the cold hallway, he takes a seat on the stone bench, his head dropping into his hands, his fingers clenching his hair.

“It’s a notice ofimpendingdraft,” I say, trying to reassure them both, trying to reassure myself. “The draft might not happen for a while.”

“This summer,” Trystan says, not lifting his head, his tone devoid of hope. “He’ll call us in this summer. There’s a weapons shipment that’s to go out just before that.”

My heart is hammering against my chest. I look up to Rafe. “Where would they send you?” I breathe.

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