Page 46 of The Powerless Witch

I tried not to gawk at the female—I was pretty sure she wasn’t there before, so she must have come along with Malakai. Her skin was pale blue, her eyes slanted like a cat’s, and the most gorgeous orange-yellow color I had ever seen. Pointy ears, a tiny nose, and dark lips was what I noted before she turned to the prince.

“Have someone bring…” Malakai glanced at the teapot thoughtfully, then looked back at her. “...something to drink, please.”

The guard—she had to be a guard considering she had a bow strung across her back and a short sword hanging from her waist—nodded, then disappeared without a word. There was something familiar about her, about those strange eyes, and the memory was just there, but I couldn’t quite catch it.

She had to be a Lower Fae. The High Fae had a very human-like appearance and could glamor their features to fit into the human world; all most Lower Fae knew was the grove and its immortal inhabitants. They were often guards, servants, workers. But she was young, way too young to have been one when I last visited.

“Remember her?” Malakai asked, and I returned my attention to the prince. “She was a child when you last saw her. She had such beautiful wings.”

A gasp escaped my lips when the words hit me, knocking that memory right off the shelf where I had left it. A little girl, thin and weak, with her wings brutally cut off, blue blood ceaselessly seeping from the ugly wounds the hunters had barely cared to bandage. She had been almost gone when I carried her body here. I wasn’t even allowed to stay long enough to make sure she made it.

“She survived,” I whispered, staring at the trees where she had disappeared. “Her name was…Myra.”

“She didn’t think you’d remember her,” Malakai beamed. “She was beside herself when she found out you were here. I’m not the only one delighted to see you again.”

I fought not to roll my eyes and offered him a polite smile. His faltered a bit, but he quickly adjusted his expression before leaning his chin on his hand and boring those dreamy eyes into mine. He stared for a long minute and just as I was going to ask what was so interesting, he spoke again.

“You really are lovely like a rose. When I first met you, you were in full bloom with your power and your beauty, wild and vibrant. Now you are like a bud, ready to flourish in the brightest colors.” I rolled my eyes now, preparing to tell him he was drunk, but his gaze looked so clear, so honest, the words never made it past my lips. “I didn’t realize you aged. Do you always come back at the same age when you awake?”

“Yes,” I replied, copying his posture and meeting his gaze again. “I wake the same age I died. And I age like any other witch. I would probably die like one if I was ever allowed to live that long.”

Sorrow flashed into his eyes, and before I could react, he was running a tentative finger over my cheek. I froze, wondering if I should pull back, but before I could decide, he dropped his hand on the table between us.

“It is a ghastly thing, what you have endured. It breaks my heart and yet…it warms it to see that even after everything, you have preserved the good in you.” I studied his face, listening to his unfaltering voice and watching his unblinking eyes. Was he mocking me or complimenting me? The world considered me a monster without a shred of humanity, a menace to be avoided or exterminated—even his own family did. Yet he sounded so sincere.

Malakai cleared his throat, running his hand through that lush blond hair.

“So Roman and Isaac? How did that happen?” he asked, his grin turning amused. “I can’t imagine those two sharing anything.”

I accepted the topic change with relief, even if it filled me with annoyance.

“Me neither. The only thing those two have in common is overflowing disregard for a woman’s free will.”

Malakai grinned. “There are benefits, though, of having them both tied to you. More pleasure, of course, and with your bonds, I am sure you can teach them a lesson about disregarding your opinion.”

The playful twinkle in his eyes made me grin back. “Do you have any lessons in mind, Your Majesty?”

Malakai’s only reply was a wink.

Before I felt the need to change the subject again as images of both Isaac, Roman, and me sprung to mind, Myra returned with a tray in hand. Aside from the tea, there were several trays of fruit, both safe for humans and not, water, wine, and a pastry that suspiciously looked like apple pie. My stomach grumbled.

Silent as the wind, she set everything on the table between us, turning to leave.

“Myra,” I called, and she froze, looking at me with wide eyes. “I’m glad to see you again.”

She didn’t respond for a heartbeat, then she bowed so low that her hair brushed the edge of the stone table.

“I wish to convey my sincerest gratitude for saving my life, Ancient one,” she said in a formal tone. “If it wasn’t for your kindness, I would have long returned to the earth. My life is yours.”

“Your life is yours alone, Myra. And you don’t need to be so formal with me. Join us.”

The Fae girl hesitated, glancing toward Malakai, but he was already moving aside to make space for her on the bench. The color on her face grew darker, and I realized she was blushing as she sat stiffly, locking her eyes on the steaming pot.

“Tea?” I suggested.

I felt the urge to smile while I looked between the two of them. The silence was gone and so were the dark thoughts, and I planned to enjoy this moment for as long as it lasted. Talking to people without threats or tension was rare. I hadn’t felt this light since…the Martens. I hoped Lily and her family were fine—no, I knew they were, since I was sure Roman took care of them. He would likely step out into the sun before admitting it, but he was like an overbearing father when he started caring for someone.

Before I could pick up the teapot, Myra was already pouring some into the cups. A quick glance at Malakai had her setting it down and preparing him Fae wine instead, and with a grace that I could never achieve, she placed the cups in front of each of us before taking her seat.

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