Page 155 of A War of Crowns

Within the light, it was easy enough to see that while she was undoubtedly a witch, she was alsoutterly beautiful—a creature wrought from obsidian and clothed all in red.

She was glorious.

She was breathtaking.

But not even her beauty could distract him from the sight of that dagger clasped in her hand.

“To the Underworld they’re not.” Edmund tossed out another shout of, “Guards! Guards! I demand you come atonce!”

But his blood soon ran cold as, yet again, no one came to his aid. The doors remained shut fast. There was naught but silence from the corridor beyond. Not even so much as a shuffle of footsteps could be heard.

The witch smiled.

“Stay away from me,” Edmund commanded. He continued his retreat, though he was swiftly running out of room. His mind raced. His eyes darted about the space. When he looked back to thewitch to track her approach, it was to find she was now frowning his way.

“Do you not find me pretty?” she demanded, and Edmund’s steps stuttered to a stop of their own accord. His brow furrowed at the question.

“What?”

“Do you notlikeme?”

“I…” Edmund knew the look written on the witch’s features right at that moment. He understood women well enough to recognize when they were fishing for a compliment.

But he wasn’t about to indulge a witch’s vanity.

“You are a witch,” he reminded the woman as he edged closer to the fireplace. He had just remembered where he'd left his rapier, deposited upon a chaise lounge near there.

Perhaps he could make it in time.

But clearly that was not what the witch wanted to hear, given the way her pretty features twisted themselves into a scowl. “I am yourwife,” she snarled back. She rushed toward him, forcing him to dive the rest of the way toward the chaise lounge and the gleam of his weapon lying there.

He lunged for the rapier at the same moment the witch lunged for him.

His fingers closed about the hilt. He wrenched the slender sword free.

When he spun back to face the crimson dervish coming straight for him, he swiped the tip of his blade through the air. The creatureshrieked and flung herself backward to keep from impaling herself upon his sword.

His lips pulled back into a sneer. “Mariana?” Edmund hissed into the silence that fell between them. “Youare Princess Mariana?”

The witch arched a single, dark eyebrow. “I am a Princess ofArath,” she countered at once, her tone far more amused than he would have liked it to be. “What did youexpect?”

“Decorum, perhaps?” Edmund bit back. “Or perhaps simply someone who is not a witch? Lord Naari reassured me you were a member of the Lord’s Faithful…”

The words sounded utterly ridiculous now, even to his own ears.

“And you believed him?” the witch taunted before she flung back her head and let loose with a maddening little laugh.

Edmund tightened his jaw and pressed the opportunity presented to him. Suddenly on the offensive, he lunged toward the witch.

But her laughter swiftly died within her throat when she snapped her attention back his way and lifted her own smaller blade to defend herself.

It was easy enough to drive the princess backward with his weapon’s longer reach, though she was certainly holding her own, even armed with a mere dagger as she was.

She danced with all the grace and speed of the wind itself, always staying one step away from the end of his rapier while he pursued her across the room.

“This is not exactly going the way I had initially envisioned, dear husband,” the witch admitted with another of her smiles.

Edmund wrinkled his nose. “I amnotyour husband.”

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