Page 37 of The Fated and the Damned
“I wish I could say the same,” I muttered, but I raised my chin. “Thank you for your … assistance.”
“Use this knowledge wisely. But remember, Kitarni: all magic has a price, and the cost of that spell is a high one. Be sure you’re willing to pay it.”
He dissipated into nothingness, transporting back wherever the hell he came from. Dante and András were freed once he’d left and the former rushed towards me, taking me in his arms. I nestled my face into his chest, unable to shake the oily, slick feeling of dread in my stomach.
SIXTEEN
Dante
PortalstotheUnderWorld, cultists razing villages, humans going on witch hunts … it was shaping up to be an eventful summer. I swiped my hands through my hair, tying half of it in a knot as we approached the castle gates. The day was sweltering, my shirt sticking to my back and my leathers slick against my thighs.
The scent of lavender was thick in the air and the fields either side of the long dirt path leading to the city hummed with bees as they spread their pollen. The fields had always brought me joy, reminding me of simple times. Reminding me of Yana. A mother turned monster. I had no issue raising my sword against her now.
I rolled my neck, watching Laszlo as he bounded along, tongue lolling out, those honey brown eyes ever watchful as he surveyed the landscape. The loyal mutt had grown on me over the last few months, showering me in kisses whenever I saw him. He hadn’t left Kitarni’s side, sleeping in her chambers, guarding her whenever she roamed the castle or beyond.
I wondered if she’d remain in her quarters, or if she’d return to mine. The bed had never felt emptier over the last months, the room never hollower. She rode beside me, quieter than usual, contemplative. After Death—the fucking prick—dropped his ominous warning last night, she’d been lost to her thoughts.
Her hair was tied into a messy bun by a leather thong and I could see the beads of sweat dripping down the column of her neck, disappearing beneath the light white shirt she was wearing. I wanted to lick that neck later, then continue licking down that collar bone, her breasts, the most sensitive part of her.
When we got inside, the first thing I wanted to do was make her scream as I buried myself inside her.
But before I could do that, my father would be waiting and he’d grown impatient with us both. Our impending nuptials had been delayed, swept aside under the excuse that war was afoot. He knew better, of course, but my good standing and his respect for Kitarni only strayed so far. Duty above all things—that was his expectation.
It was just as well that Kitarni was on the same page, needing this marriage more than ever to secure goodwill and position with the other covens. As Lady of Mistvellen and co-ruler of this keep, they wouldn’t refuse her. How could they? Human villages bowed to men and men alone, but we weren’t human, and we certainly weren’t foolish enough to think so little of our women.
The lord and lady ruled equally in Mistvellen. A táltos and witch side-by-side, powerful, unbreakable. So long as Kitarni and I were together, we would stop at nothing to keep our people safe. Once we killed Sylvie, we would bring in the dawn of a new era. One where covens and clans could co-exist, families could remain together, and all kinds of magical beings could live in peace without the fear of cultists or humans.
The realisation of that goal would all depend on our next moves.
A horn blared and the portcullis opened at last, soldiers streaming out to assist the witches and lead them to their new homes. Boys ran out behind the soldiers, their eyes wide and toothy grins even wider as they spotted mothers and sisters. The latter shouted with joy, many dropping their things and charging towards their kin.
“Have you ever seen a more beautiful sight?” Kitarni asked softly, her eyes shining as she watched them all.
I laid my hand on her thigh, enraptured with the smile transforming her face into one of hope. Utterly devasting in its beauty. “This is what change looks like. These families never should have been separated in the first place.”
“And they never will be again,” she replied fiercely.
We dismounted, passing our horses’ reins to the stableboys and heading for the castle. “Come, Father will want to be debriefed and see to it that our guests are settled in.”
She slipped her hand into mine. “Not guests. Citizens. This is home now. All our homes.”
I squeezed her hand, grinning as we walked up the streets. Home. I liked that word coming from her lips.
My father strolled down the streets, the scar puckering on his cheek as he grinned, those brown eyes alight. Lukasz found me, bumping my shoulder as we approached the lord of Mistvellen.
“My sons,” Farkas’s voice boomed, his hands reaching around and clapping us both on the back. He wasn’t a very sentimental man, so this public display of affection was a little surprising. To Kitarni, his gruff face softened further as he placed a hand against her cheek. “My daughter. It does me well to see you.”
Kitarni’s cheeks flushed and I smirked to see her blush—a rare sight on her pretty face. She hugged him fiercely, not caring about the watchful eyes and he melted in her embrace. “It’s good to see you, Farkas,” she said quietly.
When they broke apart, the lord of the keep watched the procession of witches filing in, his expression turning grave. “What happened?”
Lukasz ran a hand through his short hair. “There is much to discuss. Sylvie attacked the village”—he raised a hand to stall Father’s impending outburst—“afterKitarni ensured everyone was out. All witches and táltosok are accounted for.”
The lord’s scowl deepened, turning his scar a violent shade of red. “And Caitlin?”
“Dead,” I remarked, my lips curling at the reminder of that woman. “Burned at the stake for colluding with the enemy and drawing blood from her own.”
Father spat on the ground, then stroked the stubble on his chin. “That woman deserved her punishment and worse.” His eyes shifted to Kitarni. “I take it the coven is under new advisement?”
