Page 38 of The Witch and His Crow

‘Hells below, the tension there was so thick I don’t think an athame would cut it,’ Romy said, eyes trailing me as I moved for the bed.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I replied, trying to steel my expression.

‘You and Arwyn.’

I wrinkled my nose. ‘There is no me and Arwyn.’

Romy rolled her eyes. ‘Of course not. Anyway, forget him. We should really plan for the next trial. It could be weeks away, or days. Maybe hours. I think the best thing we could do is…’

‘Do you know your father is working with the Witch Hunters?’ I interrupted, silencing Romy before she could continue.

‘Excuse me?’

I studied her reaction. The way her ever-present smile dropped, and her eyes went from warm and inviting to cold. Romy might be a sunshine personality, but in that moment, I was reminded that her rays could burn.

‘Romy. If we are really to trust each other, we’re going to need to be very honest with one another. So I’ll ask you again. Are you aware that your father is currently in cahoots with Tomin Hopkin? Do you know that he has helped, somehow, withsneaking a Witch Hunter into the Witch Trials and plans for them to win?’

There was a lot you could tell about a person when putting them on the spot. And from the emotion across Romy’s face, I knew the answer almost immediately.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘Iknow about Jonathan’s plans, yes.’ Romy refused to look anywhere but at me when she replied. She also refused to refer to her father as, well, her father. Interesting. ‘But not because he trusted me enough to tell me. He, amongst many things, is sloppy because of pride. He thinks he’s so clever, but it really didn’t take much to uncover. However, the question I have is how doyouknow?’

There was something cathartic about Romy’s truth. She could have easily lied, and I may have even believed her. She looked at me, dead into my soul, and told me the truth.

‘After you gave me my chance to escape. My familiar, Caym?—’

‘It has a name?’ Romy interrupted.

‘Yes, Caym has a name. But that’s beside the point. We were just about to leave when I overheard a certain conversation between your father and Tomin.’

The mere mention of the head Witch Hunter’s name caused Romy’s mouth to screw up in disgust. I wondered how similar our reasonings were.Adoptive fatherwas how she’d referred to Jonathan—suggesting she had biological parents, but they eithercouldn’t care for her, had abandoned her by choice, or were no longer here.

I guessed the latter.

‘And you wonder why I didn’t want you to partake. I couldn’t possibly focus on rooting out the Witch Hunter whilst worrying about you.’

And…Iactuallybelieved her. Romy, as she had been the night I met her, was playing a role, and playing it well. I only uncovered her deception because I knew Jonathan’s truth myself—otherwise I never would have guessed.

‘Then our goal is shared,’ I said.

Romy expelled a long breath, tension ebbing from the set of her shoulders. ‘Ok, this is good. No more secrets.’

‘I’m still not past the part where you already knew of your father’s involvement with our enemies.’Or past the part where you worry enough about me, a total stranger, that you’re distracted from your mission.

‘Please, Hector. Call him by his name. Calling him that makes me sick.’

‘Reading between the lines, I gather you don’t like him?’

‘Does a duck swim? Does a bear shit in the woods? No, I don’t like him. Can you blame me?’

I shrugged. ‘Family is family. Sometimes you don’t have to like them, they still belong to us.’

I said it as if I had the practice. I didn’t. At least Romy had someone to call a father, even if that person was a conniving, twisted, power-hungry twat who was in bed with the man who ruined my life.

‘If I had a drink, I’d raise it in toast to that.’ Romy walked to the other side of the room, retrieving the book she’d been reading. She lifted it between us, flashing the leather-bound cover with the embossed but faded gold leaf design on its face. ‘What’s odd is that since the Witch Trials have begun, I hardlyknow the true definition of an enemy. Is it other witches? Is it my own family? Perhaps both. Here.’ She handed the book over. ‘Behold the very reason I know of my father’s… infidelity to witch-kind.’

It wasn’t the dimensions of a normal book, like the kind I’d left back in my studio flat in Oxford. This was smaller, only slightly bigger than my hand. I imagined it would fit Arwyn’s large hand perfectly, but quickly forced thoughts of him down.

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