Page 52 of Break Her Heart
“Witches are now free to practice.”
A collective gasp broke through the hush like glass shattering.
“You will be welcoming of the witches,” August said, raising his voice. “The Legion is now in the service of protecting witches. And if they get word of any unkindness, they will handle you in the way they handle things.”
Whispers rippled through the crowd. Cloaked figures leaned into one another, trading hurried words as the weight of the decree sank in.
“But your majesty, they are monsters!”
That voice—I knew it instantly. Lydia Reeves. Lowen’s mother.
Slowly, I removed the hood of my cloak, revealing my face and the crown. Her eyes met mine, and she recoiled like she’d seen a ghost.
“Are you calling your queen a monster?” I asked, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
August smiled.
“I suggest you choose your next words carefully,” he said. “Your queen tends to not be as kind as I am.”
Lydia’s eyes darted between us, her expression crumpling as she bowed her head and stepped back into the crowd, silence trailing her like a shadow.
And that’s when I saw him.
Adar, tucked into the corner of the crowd, his eyes wide. I expected comfort. Instead, I felt sick. What did he see when he looked at me now? His sister? A puppet queen? August’s favorite weapon?
August, meanwhile, had stepped forward. His expression was almost serene now, the corner of his mouth lifting like this was all unfolding exactly as he had imagined. “I understand your hesitation,” he said to the crowd. “You were taught to fear them. You were told witches bring ruin, that they are unclean, unnatural. But you were wrong.”
The crowd held its breath.
August’s voice dropped lower, but somehow it carried further. “This is your queen. You will not just accept her. You willrevereher. You will understand that what runs through her is not something to fear. It is something to kneel for.”
He let the silence stretch. Let the words sink in.
“Those who cannot live with this new law,” he said, “are welcome to leave. Today. But if you choose to stay and harm a witch, an example will be made out of you. And I promise that example will not be quick.”
A sudden movement caught my eye.
Adar.
He stepped forward—no, he surged forward, breaking through the edge of the crowd like something inside him had snapped. His eyes locked on mine, wild with urgency. I couldsee the moment his restraint crumbled, the moment he stopped caring about being recognized or what might happen.
“Bronwen!”
But he didn’t make it far.
Legion soldiers moved fast. Three of them stepped between us, drawing their swords in one unified, metallic hiss. The crowd stumbled back, startled gasps breaking the tension. Adar skidded to a halt, hands raised.
My heart lurched.
“Let him through,” I commanded. “He’s my brother.”
Without any hesitation, the soldiers moved. And I didn’t like how much I enjoyed that.
Adar didn’t wait. He rushed past them the second their swords lowered, pushing through the final space between us. And then his arms were around me, crushing and warm and desperate.
His familiarity hit me so hard I nearly collapsed. It had been so long. Too long. He didn’t speak. He just held me tighter, like he was afraid I’d vanish. My arms moved on their own, curling around him. The burn behind my eyes was sharp, sudden, and I blinked hard against it.
For the first time in days, I let myself feel safe. Just for a moment.
