Page 58 of The Powerless Witch

She attacked before I had even switched to a defensive position, no doubt hoping to catch me off balance. Myra wasn’t wrong—Amantha was impossibly fast and agile, and the grace that oozed out of her with every single breath was present in the way she fought too. Her feet were hard to follow without getting dizzy and her hands were moving in perfect sync with them. Each of her strikes sent jolts of pain up my arm, making me wonder how much the wood could take.

I met her blow for blow, getting used to her speed and looking for the little tells of her body. Her fighting was honed to perfection, but her reactions were not. And she sure was not in control of her emotions like Roman was.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I asked, parrying the edge of her stick before it broke my jaw. I took a step back, moving my weapon diagonally to meet another powerful blow. “Your older brother was a dick, anyway. You should be thanking me. I’m the reason you are first in line for the throne now.”

Amantha seethed, swiping at my feet with her weapon. I jumped over it, almost twisting my ankle when I landed on the edge of my skirt and slipped on the fabric. Kicking it back, I retreated a couple of steps as I watched her pant with rage.

“You have no right to speak about him, you wretched bitch! He was ten times the person you’ll ever be!” she snarled, charging at me again. I deflected her blow, movingout of the way of her next attack. With her anger taking over, her ticks got obvious too. A dart of the eyes, a twitch of her finger, a shift in her stance.

I silently thanked Roman for all those tiring, tedious sessions he insisted on. He deserved a reward for it when I saw him. Right after I slapped him for being a selfish prick.

“He tried to kill your baby brother because he was afraid of his power,” I said coldly, gritting my teeth when she landed another blow. The strength behind it made my bones groan. Swallowing down the pain, I met her eyes between our crossed weapons, giving her a taunting smile. “I don’t have a soul. What was his excuse?”

“You will pay!” Amantha snarled through gritted teeth.

I was just opening my mouth to reply when something slammed into my chest, making me stagger back. I managed to keep my stick, but I lost my balance, so I was not ready when she attacked again. Her weapon caught me in the shoulder and pain exploded upon impact. I raised mine to protect my head, and, as expected, she used the opportunity to jab hers in my abdomen, sending me tumbling back.

I rolled to a stop, coughing while dust rose around me and invaded my mouth. Through my blurry vision, I watched her step closer, pointing her stick at my face.

“Last chance, you soulless abomination. Leave with your life or—”

“You used magic. You broke your word,” I croaked, pushing myself to my knees. I let the stick fall to the ground. If she cheated once, she was going to do it again and a piece of wood wasn’t going to save me.

“Did I?” she smiled innocently, shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t believe I did. Maybe that vampire of yours didn’t teach you as well as you think he did. The Fae cannot lie.”

I smiled even though my face hurt.

God, she looked so much like her older brother. I’d give half of the magic I didn’t have just to punch her in the face.

“But you didn’t lie.” I forced my chin up. “You didn’t technically say you won’t use your magic, you said you didn’t need to. I wasn’t born yesterday, princess. I wanted to see if you’d do it.” Amantha’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. “A Fae that breaks their word has no honor,” I said, watching her smile turn into a snarl. “And an heir without honor is not fit to be a queen.” My eyes darted to the faces that had gathered around, not even pretending to be hiding anymore. “It’s a good thing I saved yourother brother. Now, at least your people can have a choice. And we both know who would win if you ever faced him.”

The anger she had wielded before paled in comparison with the fire that roared in her beautiful purple eyes—the exact same hue as Malakai’s, but devoid of the kindness and care I had grown to seek and enjoy.

The attack came without warning. The tree that had given up its branches earlier leaned forward, swinging again even as the first blow sent me flying with speed that made my ears pop. I was still gasping for air when my back collided with the stone wall of the garden. Pain exploded everywhere at once, stealing my strength and any control I had over my limbs.

I slid down, dropping to my knees and tilting forward. Just before I fell on my face, another branch shot toward me and I winced, expecting it to drive straight through my stomach. To my surprise, instead of disemboweling me, it gently wrapped around my middle, stopping me from crashing face-first into the earth.

I realized there were voices now, shouts and screaming, but as much as I tried to lift my head to check what was going on, my body refused to comply. My mind was already drifting away when a warm hand brushed my cheek, holding my head back while the tree twisted me over so I was sitting on the ground. A pair of strong arms wrapped around me, picking me up with ease, while a lovely male voice whispered in my ear.

“You are safe. I am here.”

Chapter 26

Malakai

“How did this happen?” I asked through gritted teeth, glaring at Myra over my shoulder. She shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze for the first time in a long while. I wasn’t sure what prompted it—the anger I couldn’t hide, or the blood smeared on my hands and clothes.

A soft groan made me look down at where Celeste was resting in my bed. I had healed most of her broken bones, but the wound on her head worried me—the human brain was a delicate thing, and tampering with it, especially in her condition, could end up doing more harm than good.

“Your sister showed up and tried to banish her,” Myra replied, moving to the edge of the bed. “Celeste refused. She goaded the princess into fighting her.”

“Foolish woman.” I sighed, pushing a strand of hair out of the witch’s pale face. “She should have known she couldn’t win against my sister. Not without her powers.” Myra shifted again, keeping suspiciously quiet. When I looked at her, she was biting her lips, her eyes burning with anger.

“I thought so as well, but I was wrong. She did beat yoursister.”

I looked down at the unconscious witch, at the blood from the cuts and the gashes on her body that had finally dried up. At the fading bruises and the tattered dress.

“We have a very different understanding of victory, I think,” I said humorlessly.

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