Laurie Forest - The Black Witch

“The time is here,” Shane rasps in a harsh whisper. “The Church Seers have confirmed it. And not just them. The Seers of other races, too. They’ve all read the same message—the Icaral of Prophecy is here. A male, possessed of his wings and full powers. Every other male Icaral has been captured and stripped of its wings. Don’t you see, Elloren? It has to be my sister’s baby.”

“No.” I shake my head, desperate to refute this. It’s too awfully bizarre. How could kind, thoughtful Sage give birth to the demon of Prophecy? “It can’t be...”

But I know from his expression that it can.

Shane looks down at his punch glass, barely able to contain his misery. “Did you know he beat her?”

“Who?”

“Who do you think? Tobias. Quite the temper that one has.” He looks around at the crowd, anguish breaking through. “You know, she did everything they ever wanted her to do. All of them. He started in on her soon after she got to University. That’s why she ran off with that Kelt.” Now he’s grasping his glass so hard I fear it might shatter. “He took advantage of her,” Shane grinds out, fury swimming in his eyes. “Isn’t that just like a Kelt? He used my sister, forced his filthy self on her and now...” He breaks off, his eyes glazing over with angry tears.

I reach out for him, but he flinches away from me.

“Shane, it can’t be,” I press, undaunted. “The Prophecy isn’t just about an Icaral. There has to be a Black Witch, too, and there isn’t anyone with that level of power...”

Shane shoots me a look of wild incredulity. “Of course there is. Or there will be.” He glances pointedly across the room at the Banes.

My throat tightens. Fallon Bane. The next Black Witch. Sent to kill the demon baby of Sage Gaffney. It’s the stuff of nightmares.

I turn back to Shane, my voice weak. “Do you really think Fallon Bane could become that powerful?”

“Yes, at the rate her power’s growing.” Shane’s face closes down, his voice going hard, devoid of all hope. “There’s nothing that can be done about it, Elloren. It’s all over for my sister. Go back to your family. This isn’t your affair.”

I look toward Fallon.

She pulls out her wand and mock points it at a thin military apprentice. He freezes, and the others in her party grow silent and tense.

This isn’t allowed. Apprentices are forbidden from pulling wands on each other.

I’m stunned. There are officers dotting the entire ballroom and, again, no one rebukes Fallon for a flagrant violation of the rules.

Fallon laughs and resheathes her wand, diffusing the tension, the onlookers breaking out into nervous laughter. The young apprentice gives them all a thin, frightened smile before slinking away.

Fallon watches him leave, then fixes her eyes on me. Her smile is slow and deliberate, her message unmistakable.

Careful, Elloren Gardner. That could easily be you.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Aislinn Greer

Shane takes his leave, and in an effort to calm myself down, I walk over to the refreshment table to get something to drink.

I pour myself some punch but find that my hands are shaking, the glass ladle chattering against the crystal cup as I fill it with sweet, red liquid dotted with edible flower petals. Summoned by Sylus, Paige has reluctantly gone to join him, leaving me all alone.

Suddenly aware of someone’s eyes on me, I glance to the side.

A slight, plain young woman with intelligent green eyes is regarding me calmly from where she sits, a book open and facedown on her lap, her hands resting on it. She’s dressed like Echo Flood, in a conservative, multilayered frock with a silver Erthia sphere hanging from it. No makeup. I notice that the hands resting on her book are unmarked, like mine, and it seems incongruous. Her dress pegs her as a girl from a very conservative family, yet she’s unfasted.

“Fallon doesn’t seem to like you,” she comments as she glances over at Fallon, who’s laughing and eating with her friends. She smiles at me sympathetically, her eyes kind. “You’re brave, you know. In your choice of enemies.”

“You don’t like her, then?” I ask, surprised.

The young woman shakes her head. “Fallon? She’s mean as a snake. So are her brothers.” She shoots me a look of caution. “Mind you, if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

I raise my eyebrows, relieved to finally be meeting someone outside Fallon’s social circle. I extend my hand to her. “I’m Elloren Gardner.”

She laughs and takes my hand in hers. “That’s obvious. I’ve heard all about you.”

“Let me guess,” I say guardedly. “I’m the girl who looks exactly like my grandmother?”

“No,” she laughs, “you’re the girl who’s been living under a rock somewhere up north. But I think your real claim to fame is that you’ve never been kissed.”

My face going hot, I sigh and reach up to massage my aching forehead. “I should never have told her that.”

“Don’t worry,” she says, trying to comfort me. “I have been kissed, and it’s overrated.”

I stop rubbing my forehead. “Really?”

“Really. Two people, smushing their mouths together, tasting each other’s spit, possibly with food bits mixed into it. It’s not at all appealing, when you really think about it.”

I let out a short laugh. “You’re a dyed in the wool romantic, aren’t you?”

“I am not the least bit romantic,” she affirms, somewhat proudly. “Romance just complicates life, sets up unrealistic expectations.”

She sits there so neatly, her discreet dress perfectly pressed, her long black hair carefully brushed and pulled back off her face with two silver barrettes.

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right young man yet,” I offer.

“No, I’ve met him,” she says, matter-of-factly. “We’ll be wandfasted by the end of the year. He’s over there.” She gestures with her chin toward the entrance to the large ballroom. “The one just to the right of the door.”

He’s much like all the other young men who are milling about. Square jaw, black hair, green eyes.

I turn back to her. “So you’ve kissed him.”

“Yes, it’s expected.” She sighs with resignation. “They wait so long for...other things, our men. We’re supposed to throw them a bone every now and then, I guess.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“It’s not awful, don’t get me wrong. I mean, it’s tolerable.”

Her lack of enthusiasm makes me laugh. “You make it sound like doing chores!”

“Well, it kind of is.” She’s smiling at me good-humoredly.

“You feel this way, and you’re okay with fasting to him? With marrying him?”

She shrugs. “Oh, Randall’s all right. He’ll make a good fastmate, I suppose. My parents picked him out for me, and I trust them.”

“You mean you had no say in the matter?”

“I don’t need to have a say. I trust them. I knew they wouldn’t pick someone mean. They chose fastmates for my two older sisters, as well.”

I’m fascinated by her complete acceptance of this. “Don’t you want to choose your own fastmate?” Uncle Edwin would never just pick someone for me. Maybe he’d introduce me to someone nice, but he’d certainly leave the decision solely with me.

She shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter who chooses. Most of them are pretty interchangeable anyway. I mean, look at them.” She gestures toward a group of young men dismissively. “It’s hard to even tell them apart.”

She has a point. Looking around the room, I have to admit I’d be hard-pressed to find a memorable face, one that stands out in true contrast.

“What are you reading?” I ask, noticing her book again.

She flushes. “Oh, it’s just a book for University,” she explains, a little too innocently. “I’m getting a head start on my reading.”