Page 65 of The Powerless Witch

“Keep going,” he rasped.

“I deserve to be whole.”

The orgasm rippled through me with a power that stole my vision and as I felt Malakai grip my hips harder before coming himself, I whispered those words again. And this time, I meant them.

Chapter 29

Malakai

Love is an ineffable thing.

That was all I could think as I lay in the grass with the starry sky above us, Celeste sleeping in my arms. I wasn’t entirely sure when she dozed off, but she had grown quiet after we spent hours talking, snuggled against each other. The night was pleasant, and I had commanded the wind away, but there was something oddly comforting in feeling her warmth seeping into my body.

Her face looked so serene, the deep lines that formed on her forehead during her nightmares now nowhere in sight. Her breathing was softer and her hands weren’t balled into fists, but most important of all—she was leaking magic in waves. I wasn’t planning on indulging in her body tonight, but with so much power trying to get out, I was afraid she might get hurt.

Pushing a strand of hair out of her face, I smiled when she let out a low, pleased sound.

How could Roman and Isaac not fall for her? My mind could not fathom how anyone would want to betray this powerful woman with such a fragile heart. I’d hardly known her until recently, and already, I felt the urge to love her, protect her,shield her, and give her anything she desired. She had been through such pain and suffering already; the world had robbed her of so much.

So I wanted to help her, return at least one thing that was taken.

A twig snapped nearby, and I looked in the direction of the noise, frowning. I had ordered the guards to keep watch from a distance so as not to disturb us, so if one of them approached, there had to be some problem—or danger.

I adjusted Celeste on the blanket, making sure not to wake her, then I got up. By the time I reached the trees, I had fixed my robe, and I was running a hand through my hair to untangle the knots her hands had made there.

Myra appeared on silent feet, her face solemn.

“What is it?” I whispered, glancing back to make sure Celeste hadn’t woken.

“You’ve been summoned by Her Majesty,” Myra said in a grave voice. “Now.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed in frustration. “Do you think they’ll attack the moment you head there? Do we need more people?”

I licked my lips. I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect anymore, but I didn’t think my family would do the same thing twice. And that was what worried me.

“No, not with Amantha’s wedding just a few days away. They will try to avoid bloodshed so as not to upset the grove.” I shook my head, hoping I was right. “Take Celeste back and stay with her. She is unstable, so you need to keep her calm.”

“Her magic…?” Myra’s eyes widened, and she looked past me, toward the witch, as if expecting to see the difference from such a distance.

“...is coming back, but she must not use it yet. If she does, all of it might erupt at once and kill her. She needs a catalyst. I was planning to contain her after the wedding but at this rate…” I looked back, gritting my teeth. I hadn’t expected her to progress so quickly, but her emotions were like a dented dam—moments away from wreaking havoc on anything around her. I was glad, of course, but also concerned. It was all happening too fast.

“You should go,” Myra said, moving to sidestep me. I blocked her path without thinking, and she raised an eyebrow. “There is an escort waiting for you and they are getting impatient. I will carry her back personally. I’ll take her to your room and stay with her. You can trust me.”

Myra gave me a small, understanding smile, then strode to where Celeste was still sleeping. Kneeling, she slid her arms under the witch and picked her up gently, throwing me a look over her shoulder before heading in the direction of my palace. Ilooked at the trees around us, sensing the rest of my guards watching. I motioned for them to follow Myra, and the soft crunching of the earth told me they obeyed.

I strode in the opposite direction, until I found Helio, Amantha’s intended, waiting for me along with two of her guards. Helio looked around awkwardly, biting on the inside of his lips until he noticed me. He wasn’t a particularly strong warrior, nor was he ambitious or cunning. His magic was average at best. That made him a perfect fit for Amantha, since even before our brother died, she didn’t like competition. And while Helio was supposed to share her throne, I doubted he’d care much for the power that came with it. He had been besotted with my sister since they were children. I suspected his mild personality and convenient lineage weren’t the only reasons for her choice.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, bowing his head. The two guards behind him followed, albeit more stiffly. “If you’d be so kind, Her Majesty wishes to see you.”

We didn’t speak on the way and once we were inside my mother’s palace, the Guards disappeared, leaving the nervous future consort to lead me. I had grown up in those halls, but it didn’t escape my notice that I was never allowed to wander alone when I visited anymore. One of the many reasons why I stayed at my own abode most of the time.

Helio stopped in front of my mother’s private chambers, and I raised an eyebrow in surprise. I was usually received in the throne room or my sister’s quarters—my mother was still too cross with me to give me the time of day, even after all these years, so this change made me tense.

“I’ll leave you here, Your Highness. Don’t hesitate to call for me if you need an escort back.” He bowed at the waist and left before I could say anything. The guards outside dutifully ignored me, moving only to close the doors.

There were several servants and more guards stationed in the antechambers, all of them bowing as I made my way toward the parlor. Once I neared the wide-open doors to the queen’s favorite leisure room, I heard the voices. When I stepped into the spacious atrium with a high, domed ceiling and massive pillars running in a circle around the center, I found my sister and my mother waiting for me.

My mother lay reclined in a dozen velvety cushions, her frail shoulders draped with a heavily ornamented purple dress that made her eyes stand out even more. She wore her crown despite the late hour, her long blonde hair neatly arranged into heavy curls. She was a stunning woman, even though the centuries had carved lines into herface, but the light in her gaze had dimmed. Even now, she seemed tired, weak, and fragile.

My sister sat across from her, her armor gone in favor of a thin, intricate dress and even a pair of slippers. Her hair was bound and her eyes were painted with coal and colors, like she was prepared for a ball. I was so used to seeing her running around in pants and a sword in hand, trying to look more like our brother, that seeing her like this only reminded me how much she looked like our mother.

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