Page 47 of The Powerless Witch

“So what do you do around here all day except for drinking and fucking?” I asked. Malakai didn’t even flinch as he brought his glass to his lips, but Myra choked, pouring half of her drink over her hand. She hissed, setting the cup down and wiping her palm while her face turned two shades darker.

“It’s a strenuous activity, so we do sleep a lot,” Malakai grinned back. “But if you are not inclined to participate, I can have some books delivered to your room. Anything you require to make your stay here more comfortable, I shall provide.”

I hemmed, holding back a retort about how I just wanted to be healed and be on my way, and brought the tea to my lips. The strong, calming smell of lavender tickled my nose before I tipped the cup to my lips. Taking a small sip in order not to burn my tongue, I watched as Myra sniffed her burned fingers, her eyes suddenly going wide.

“No, don’t drink it!” she shouted, just when the liquid sloshed into my mouth. I swallowed from the shock, pulling the cup away as she shot to her feet. Even before she circled the table, I felt it—the growing tingle in my throat, moving to my chest and then lower. Like prickling needles, it spread, dragging its nails along the trachea and making it hard to breathe.

Poison.

My vision blurred, and I felt my body tumble off the table, but a pair of blue arms caught me before I hit the ground. The lump in my throat grew, stopping my airflow completely while my ears rang.

How did I miss it? I knew most poisons by smell or taste. It had to be something subtle, something hidden beneath the strong lavender smell. Something Fae.

Myra shook me, then turned me to the side. Her face came in and out of focus, her mouth moving as if she was saying something, but I couldn’t make out the words. She pried my mouth open and shoved her fingers inside, pushing further and further until I gagged. Bile rose in my throat and I threw up, retching helplessly while she held me on my side.

A second pair of hands touched my shoulders, sliding to my face and cupping my cheek. Golden hair flew into my vision and warmth spread through me, soothing the prickles inside of my body. The tight grip on my throat loosened and as seconds trickled by, I felt it release me. I sucked in a deep breath on instinct, falling into a coughing fit when I choked on it. Once my lungs were full and my sight wasn’t so blurry, I heard them, the words now clear enough to understand.

“Someone must have put it in the tea while I went to gather the food. They didn’t expect me to drink it and they know you don’t drink anything but wine. If she had ingested any more and you didn’t react quick enough…” Myra was saying. The cold look she gave Malakai—and the way the shine in his eyes dulled—told me she wasn’t happy with him. “If you don’t plan to look after her and protect her properly, send heraway. She came to you in time of need, just like when you needed her. You owe her more than this, Your Highness.”

Malakai looked down at me with eyes full of worry and regret. So did Myra.

“Let’s get her back to the palace,” he whispered, sliding his arms under me. I didn’t resist when he picked me up, adjusting me against his chest. Myra followed as he strode toward the trees, but before disappearing into the green, I noticed the ground where I had been lying—the blackened soil and dead flowers, the death circle left where he must have channeled its magic to heal me.

“Tonight,” Malakai said and switched my attention to him. His smile was gone. “We’ll start your healing tonight.”

Chapter 20

Malakai

“It’s beautiful.”

I nodded, allowing myself a smile as I watched Celeste stand at the edge of the pond and gawk at the last of the daylight reflecting on its rippling surface. The wind wasn’t strong enough to bring the cold of the human world, but it raised tiny waves over the water, making the leaves and grass sing such a lovely melody that even the birds stopped to listen.

Basking in the golden light, Celeste smiled at the sky, almost like she had forgotten I was there. It was so raw and unguarded, unlike the expression she gave everyone when she tried to appear amiable.

She seemed serene and happy and immensely beautiful. Not a soulless witch, not a powerless one, and definitely not a monster feared by so many. Just a woman who had been through unspeakable challenges and who still managed to keep a small piece of the person she was before darkness filled her days.

Clearing her throat, Celeste turned and crossed her arms. She hadn’t said anything when I collected her from her room; she didn’t even bother asking where we were going. She trusted me—as much as she could trust anyone—and followed without hesitation.

Myra was right. I had failed her even before we started. She had barely been here for a few days, and she had been attacked twice. She was the reason I was alive today, even if being so felt like too much sometimes. Especially when I wasn’t drinking or distracting myself with pleasures that left my mind blissfully empty.

“Well?” she said, raising her eyebrows impatiently. “What are we doing? Or is watching the sunset what I need to do to get my magic back?”

“If only things were that simple,” I chuckled, and I could swear I saw the edge of her mouth rise. “But alas, they are not. Please disrobe and step into the water.”

She blinked in surprise, looking down at the flowing dress she was wearing. The fabric was light and sheer, so it exposed most of her skin, revealing both the ugly past she suffered through and the beauty that hid it from the eye. I had caught myself studying her in the last few days, memorizing the way she moved and the way she reacted. At first, it was because she didn’t seem to say what she really meant, so I had to surmise it from her actions; later, it became a fun game of trying to peek into her head and figure her out. Before long, I was fascinated by every little expression, every carefully chosen word, every sound she made. I went out of my way to make her smile, laugh, even sigh. I even let myself wonder what she would sound like if she moaned or screamed or said my name with longing in her voice.

The moment I sensed my mind drifting in that direction again, I shut out the thought. She was already pushing the garment off her shoulders and letting it pool around her feet. I needed to focus on the real reason I brought her here, not the desires of my body.

The wind picked up, tasting her scent and carrying it toward me—a light, gentle mix of flowers, scented oils, and mortality. There was a sweet undertone to it and since her magic was sealed inside of her, it made me wonder what it was. Goosebumps covered her skin as she shuddered, but once she was wading through the water, her body relaxed.

Stripping my robe and hanging it on the low branch that moved to assist me, I followed after her. She didn’t turn when she heard me step in, almost like she was giving me privacy. Or avoiding my eyes.

I stood behind her, watching her crack her neck and rub the bite mark on her nape. Witches were confident creatures, both in their powers and their bodies, so I hadn’t met one to shy away from an appreciative eye. If anything, they liked attention; they basked in it. So why was she suddenly avoiding my gaze?

I gathered her long hair in my grasp, twisting it on top of her head. She froze when my finger brushed against her neck, but didn’t protest even as I plucked one of the pins from my hair and secured hers in place.

“So, is there a reason we are here, or is this your way of telling me I smell?” she scoffed, finally turning to look at me. Her eyes remained on my face, not faltering even for a second. I had no illusions I was the most attractive man she had ever seen, not with Roman and Isaac in her life, but having her show absolutely no interest in me pricked my pride a little.

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