Page 14 of The Witch and His Crow

‘Uh, hi. I hope you don’t mind a visitor.’

I looked up to find Romy. All curly hair, her chestnut eyes no longer flashing the band of flaming gold. Her smile was soft and welcoming, one of those smiles that reached the eyes until they practically beamed.

Although her smile faltered at my reply.

‘Actually, I do mind.’ I lay myself back down, staring at the ceiling in silent protest.

Not to my surprise, that didn’t deter her.

‘But I come with gifts.’ I rolled my head to the side. Before Romy’s body entered the door, she threaded her hands through the opening and flashed two green glass bottles. They clinkedpleasingly together, causing a spout of white foam to explode over the bottlenecks.

‘Beer?’ I set up, scrutinising her offer. We both knew why alcohol was an odd gift, given the thistlebane racing through my veins…

‘Or what is left of it,’ she hissed, noticing the stream of foam now running across her fingers. ‘Shit.’

‘Is it common for you to give presents to your captives?’ I asked, sensing Caym’s intrigue pique in the back of my mind. My familiar shared in my disbelief.

Alcohol and thistlebane didnotmix. It wasn’t like a spirit and a chaser. Alcohol neutralised thistlebane’s gift-dampening abilities. Which meant Romy had just entered my cell, offering the one thing that would give me the chance to fight my way out of here.

‘Just you,’ Romy replied, kicking the door closed behind her. ‘Special treatment after all. Consider it a thank you for your help with the Hunters. Or a peace offering, considering I feel a sense of responsibility getting you stuck in this mess.’

I didn’t miss the way she winced as she tilted her head towards the now-closed door.

‘So you’re not going to bother attempting to combat my accusation that I’m your captive?’ I asked, eyes fixed on the bottles of beer.

‘No.’ She shook her head, curls falling before sorrowful eyes. ‘What would be the point? You are what you are. But you’re not our enemy, hence the beer and the unguarded company.’

I got the impression that out of all the witches in the White Tower, Romy was capable of looking after herself.

‘She is far too happy,’ Caym chirped into my mind.

I couldn’t fight a grin of my own, although I didn’t risk responding to my familiar aloud.‘Go away, you’re distracting.’

Romy offered the bottle out, and I found myself shying away. She noticed, pulling a face and recoiling as though she was embarrassed at herself. ‘Sorry, I forgot the whole ‘melting peoples skin off’ part. Promise, I’m in control.’

‘My reluctance isn’t born from knowing what your hands can do,’ I added, forcing myself to reach out and take the bottle. I show good faith by brushing my finger against her knuckles, proving I wasn’t scared of her. From her widening eyes, it was clear she wasn’t expecting it. ‘My reluctance actually has everything to do with knowing every drink and meal I’ve been given, has been spiked with thistlebane.’

It was a test. I waited, patiently, to see if Romy was going to step into it, or manoeuvre herself around the obvious. Romy didn’t step into the trap or walk around it. She recognised it for what it was and dove straight into it.

‘We both know that isn’t the case.’ A flash of a grin passed over her face. Romy quickly sat beside me, the bed barely shifting. ‘Between me and you,’ she whispered out the corner of her mouth, ‘alcohol dilutes the weed. If anything, I’m offering you a reprieve from the drug my father has had pumped into you. The beer looks like a perfect ‘I’m sorry’, but my real apology is what it will offer you.’

‘Jonathan is your father?’ I asked, stuck on the revelation.

‘Adoptive, now drink up.’

‘I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t confused.’ My blood chilled, a single bead of sweat rolling down my temple. ‘Isn’t this considered as conspiring with my escape? And isn’t conspiring with the enemy a punishable offence in the eyes of the Coven?’

I held the mouth of the bottle before my lips, obscuring anyone from reading them. There was no doubt the six cameras I’d counted in the room were studying my every move.

Romy noticed my wary glance and put my worries at ease. ‘They don’t work.’ She took a deep swig, downing half the bottle.When she was finished, partially breathless and rosy cheeked, she added. ‘It isn’t just skin my power melts, but wires too. That, and I’ve just left the technician watching you fast asleep across the control board.’

Caym was flying in seconds, his anticipation etched into my very bones. I could barely steady my breathing, nor take the first sip of beer. ‘Why?’

‘Consider it a debt paid. Now we don’t have long. Bottoms up, Hector. Your window is short if you’re hoping to get out.’

An inferno sparked in my belly, and it had nothing to do with the fire-witch beside me.

Escape. Run.

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