Page 61 of Bloodwitch

“No.” She traced her finger over a stone with lines coiling around it. Beneath it, in a script that looked like old Arithuanian, were the wordsArlenni Loop.“These will have thread wrapped around them, or perhaps yarn.”

“Why do you need them?”

Her eyes thinned, and for half a breath, Merik feared he had gone too far. His muscles tensed for pain. The chain scratched against the stones.

But then a smile rippled over Esme’s cheeks, and she sighed—a contented sound. “Youarefun, Prince. No one has ever asked about my magic before. Only Iseult, but she so rarely visits anymore.”

Iseult?Surely Esme could not mean the same girl Merik knew. There was no time to ask, though, nor time to wonder, for Esme had launched into a detailed explanation of Threads. She poked at pictures on the page, clearly expecting Merik to listen and observe.

“Threads,” she declared, “are everywhere. They hum in the stone.” She patted the floor. “In the clouds.” She waved to the window. “In the trees, in the birds, in your heart.” A sly smile and she mimicked stabbing him in the chest again. “All magic is nothing more than manipulation of Threads, Prince, and once upon a time, it was only the Paladins who could do so.

“Except in the Fareast, where my people first lived.”

Merik frowned. “The ’Matsis?”

Her lips curled back. Her chin thrust forward. “Thatis a hurtful word, Prince.”

Merik recoiled, bracing for the fire. For the pain.

“It is offensive. Dismissive of who we are. Is it really so hard for you to say the whole word?No-matsi. Or, as we were long ago,No’A-matsi.”

“I am sorry,” he tried to say. “I did not know—”

“You mean you did not care.”

“No!” His hands rose in apology. Flames, flames, at any moment the cleaving fire would consume him. “I’ve never heard that before—I’m sorry.”

“Youhaveheard it, but you chose not to listen. All men in the Witchlands are the same.” Her nostrils flared. “Say it.”

For a moment, he did not know what she meant. Then he realized. “Nomatsi.”

“The right way.”

Noden hang him, what had she just told him? Shit, shit. He had not listened, and she was right. In his holiest of conceit, he had chosen not to hear—

“No’Amatsi!” The word burst from his throat, surprising him and Esme too. She flinched. Then straightened, her fingers tightening to fists upon her knees. He was certain she would attack. With magic, with claws, with blades to slice open his heart.

Except she did not. The seconds trickled past with the rain, and a slow smile spread across her mouth. Then, almost lazily, she tipped her head sideways. “Good boy, little Prince. Perhaps if you can learn your lessons, then some hope yet remains for the Witchlands. Now where was I?” She cleared her throat expectantly.

And Merik’s mind raced back. “You… you said that in the Fareast, magic is different.”

“Onga.Yes. In the Fareast, anyone with training can touch the Threads of power, and long ago, the No’Amatsi people spent their lives devoted to such training.”

“Why,” Merik asked warily, hoping she wanted questions, “is magic different there?”

Shedidwant questions. Her smile widened, and this time it reached her eyes. “It is a different goddess who sleeps inside their land, and Her will is different than our Sleeper’s. Oh, I see from yourThreads that you are confused. In your mind, there is no goddess—only a god, because ofcourseNubrevnans would turn a woman into a man. The very concept of a woman with power is too much for your feeble minds to comprehend.”

Esme leaned forward, bracing on her hands and drawing her face close to his. “You see a strong woman and deem her evil. You see a quiet woman… Oh wait; you do not see them at all. Tell me truly: what did you think of me when you first spied me?”

Merik’s lips pressed tight. He stared down at the stone, knowing he could not argue. The Merik of a month ago would have denied her words. Vehemently. Angrily, with his Nihar rage to spiral loose on winds he claimed he could not control.

Now, he had no winds. Now, he had no lies he could tell himself. Cam had said as much two weeks ago.You only see what you want to see.

Just thinking of the boy made Merik’s heart shrivel. His chest suctioned inward with shame. Cam had stayed beside him, even though Merik had done nothing to deserve such loyalty. He prayed to Noden… or… or to whatever power reigned over the Witchlands, that Cam and Ryber were all right.

Esme sighed, a bored sound. “We can continue our lesson later, Prince. For now, the rain has stopped.” She twirled a hand toward the window. “So it is time that you travel to the next shrine.”

She withdrew a key from her pocket and with deft fingers, released the chain from Merik’s collar. “My Cleaved will lead you most of the way, so follow the lines as you did last night. And Prince.” She smiled again, dimple winking. “Do not try to run. You know what will happen if you do.”