Page 25 of Brutal Fae King
She pauses and then nods at me.
Begrudgingly, I may be the king, but with witches being the liaisons between mortals and gods, there’s not much I can do to stop the witch from doing what she pleases. A witch is an important ally and a powerful enemy. They are not to be angered if you know what’s good for you.
“What did she say?” I ask. “Did she tell you the future?”
“And the past…” She answers quietly.
“What did she say?”
The usurper just stares at nothing for another minute. Whatever the witch said to her, it must have been realm-shatteringly awful. And this is the woman who didn’t flinch, who didn’t bat an eye at anything I could throw at her…
I’m burning with curiosity, but one look at her, and I can tell that no amount of screaming, torture, or anything else would get the truth out of her right now; she’s just locked down.
She couldn’t tell the truth if she tried. There’s no point asking her.
“Well, you left the dungeons,” I growl at her. “You don’t have permission to leave the dungeons. You are not to leave without anyone’s knowledge ever again. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” she murmurs quietly.
That’s all she says.
For a moment, I just keep looking at her. She still stands, head hung, eyes wide.
For a moment, we just hang in silence. I can feel the beaming gazes of all the guards looking at me. They’re expecting me to do something. There are a few things I feel like I want to do, but I have too many eyes on me.
I snap my hands forward and grab ahold of her arm.
“You’re going back to the dungeons,” I tell her. “Right now.”
She doesn’t answer. I look around to the guards.
“I want no followers!” I bark. “Leave us!”
They all bow their heads and move away from us with a tinge of haste. I watch them all disperse but then extend my powers to feel their auras, just to ensure that there are no eavesdroppers. There aren’t any.
Good. They ought to know what would happen if I caught them attempting to listen in on my private business.
I look back to the usurper. She finally seems to come back to herself a little, but those large green eyes shimmer in worry as she looks up at me.
It’s happened… she’s broken.
…I don’t like this. I don’t likeherlike this.
“Are you okay?” I ask her. “Was what the witch showed you truly that awful?”
Her eyebrows raise. She’s looking at me differently.
Is it because I’m talking to her differently? Or… does she know something?
But she answers me this time:
“I… It was awful to me,” she says. “It’s not important to most, but the fate of the kingdom… it hangs in the balance.”
“I know,” I answer. “The witch told me that, too.”
Her large green eyes start to water.
“I have to stay here… I’m never going to see my sister again!” She folds over and starts sobbing. “She’s probably dead from Weeping Fever by now, and I wasn’t there for her!”
