Page 11 of Malicent (Seven Devils #1)

Millicent

I CANNOT BEGIN TO FATHOM who stands before me or why Nora would even align with a kingdom harboring the one responsible for killing half of our coven.

He is no longer the boy I remember. The power he once wielded was but a drop in the ocean compared to the force he is now. He has grown into something formidable. He’s handsomely broad-shouldered and muscular. His leather vest is laced tightly against his frame.

The silver eyes that haunt my dreams are sharper in reality. They penetrate me like daggers, framed by dark lashes. Black marks coil up his arms, extending over his chest and neck.

A clear display of his power. I have never seen such dark, plentiful marks.

A raw, untamed anger ignites in the pit of my stomach.

I could end him now. I should . My gaze flicks to the guards positioned behind him, then to those stationed at the rise upon the entrance to the grounds.

If I fed while fighting, I could take them all out.

I would only need to be fast. And lethal.

Then I hear Nora’s voice in my mind.

What family I have left expects more of me.

There is no room for sentimentality. I was trained for control, conditioned to suppress emotion.

Even as I sobbed over my mother’s death, Nora forbade anyone from comforting me.

Arcadia had to sneak into my room just to hold me as I grieved.

It was Ollie, of course, who carried me through it.

Isolation. Detachment. These were drilled into me until they became second nature.

Yet now, standing before my mother’s killer, detachment is slipping from my grasp.

I try focusing on the space just past him to cool my emotions.

My magic stirs and picks up in a flurry of explosive tingles along my skin.

“Le Strange,” his voice rings out, firm and commanding.

He crosses his arms. The movement makes his biceps and chest flex beneath his vest. “Living here will be simple if you make it simple. You are not to harm anyone within these walls or in the surrounding areas unless instructed. You will train under my supervision for proper handling. Today, you will meet with your king and be shown your living quarters. You are not permitted off grounds without an escort.”

His face remains unreadable, giving nothing away. Does he recognize me? Surely, he knows the coven’s name. But we were children then, and nearly two centuries have passed.

My eyes narrow slightly. Who does he think he is, commanding me?

Nora told me to behave, so I will, not because of this mage or his king. He is certainly not my king. Witches have no place for men in our world. The very idea of any man assuming authority over me makes my hands itch to claw out his eyes.

“Lovely,” I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Shall we get this show on the road?”

Cage turns without a word, motioning for me to follow. As we ascend the steps, guards fall into step around me, six behind, six ahead, and a mage at my side. The sheer number is almost laughable.

Are they truly this afraid of me?

Their unease rolls off them in waves, seeping into my awareness. I revel in it. A sick thrill runs through me at the thought of how much effort they’re putting into keeping their precious castle safe—from me.

As expected, the halls are teeming with vermin, their movements like those of ants skittering about. Yet something unexpected catches my eye. They’re bowing to the mage .

Interesting. Someone is of high rank.

So he’s more than a glorified guard.

I almost want to provoke him, just to see what power keeps these people in line. To know what, exactly, I will face at the end of all this.

But I am not here for them.

I’m here for the North.

I’m no stranger to crowds—the coven life is also full of movement and energy—but the sheer luxury of this place is unfamiliar.

The castle halls gleam with wealth, their walls lined with intricate carvings and polished stone.

Above us, massive golden chandeliers hang like suspended suns that cast a warm glow across the corridor.

Unlike the chandeliers, the rest of the décor is more restrained, giving my eyes a break from the overwhelming shine of gold.

That reprieve ends the moment we reach what I can only assume is the throne room.

The towering golden doors swing open. My gaze glides over the soaring white stone pillars, rising from floor to ceiling, before settling on the thrones. Two massive chairs of gilded opulence. The king sits atop one.

Younger than I expected.

His features are striking, as are his sharp, sky-blue eyes. He’s the kind that artists would immortalize in paintings of the sun gods. Golden curls frame his face, catching the light in a way that makes his sun-kissed skin glow.

The guards bow. So does Cage.

I do not.

Hands clasped in front of me, I stand my ground.

The king smiles at my defiance, seemingly amused rather than insulted.

Cage straightens, turning to face me. “Bow.” His tone is absolute, leaving no room for argument.

I like to argue.

“I do not bow before vermin,” I say plainly, locking eyes with him. A challenge. A dare.

Make me.

Cage’s jaw tightens. He moves.

Marching toward me, his hands twitching at his sides. He wants to strike me.

And I—I would welcome it. This is a perfect excuse to lay the bastard out—right now. Nora never said I couldn’t defend myself.

“Cage, enough.”

The king’s voice slices through the tension, filling the throne room. “I do not expect something raised in the woods to bow to me. No offense, Miss Le Strange.”

His words drip with amusement, but I hear the arrogance spewing beneath them.

Cage halts. His jaw is clenched so tight I half expect his teeth to crack. He exhales sharply, spinning away from me, retreating up the steps to stand beside his king.

King Tyran leans forward, propping an elbow on his throne, resting his chin against his fist. “I assume Elanora has told you why you are here?” he muses.

“The threat in the North. You want the expertise that a witch of my blood can offer in dealing with it.” My voice is monotone, betraying nothing. I refuse to let my thoughts show.

The king nods. “I am unsure of their exact plans. Strange events keep occurring. Something is not right. And so far, the signs link them to it.” He pauses, “The seer here has foreseen their involvement. Her visions only confirm what we are already discovering.”

They have a seer—here? Most interesting.

Seers are rare, but most are useless frauds. If the king puts faith in her words, she must be good. She must have proven herself.

“I believe you may understand what we have uncovered,” he continues, his boyish features hardening. “And when the time comes, I believe we will need you to win.”

My curiosity is piqued. “What exactly have you been finding?”

The king’s expression darkens. With a flick of the wrist, he dismisses his guards.

I raise a brow, watching as they stride past me. They close the heavy doors behind them.

Cage remains still, watching me like a hawk, as if expecting me to make a move. He’s prepared to strike if I so much as flinch in the king’s direction.

The king meets Cage’s gaze. A silent conversation passes between them before Cage speaks.

His voice is rough, deeper than the king’s.

“We’ve found traces of some darker magic, both known and unknown.

Sites where unnatural creatures have appeared.

The disturbances are spreading. And something is…

changing.” He exhales. “We’ve seen an increase in what we’re calling possessions though we don’t yet understand the source.

It’s evolving—into what, we don’t know.”

I listen intently, my mind turning over the possibilities. Darkness is afoot.

And it is far worse than I expected.

“People accused of ties to the North are disappearing. And when we go to confront those who remain, we find…something else.” Cage’s voice is steady. “Magic I can’t explain. A presence warping them, birthing new entities I’ve never encountered before.”

New entities?

I tilt my head. “And the seer?”

The king sighs, shaking his head. “She is limited—or she refuses to share more. Fates and balances and all that.” His voice carries a thread of disappointment, convincing me he isn’t lying.

My gaze flicks toward him as I extend my mind into his, brush it, testing the edges of his thoughts.

I hit a wall.

My breath stills for half a second. My eyes widen.

He did not notice my attempt.

I wonder who taught him.

Slowly, my gaze drifts to Cage.

Does he have an ability like mine ?

I race through the possibilities, and instinct pulls my defenses up. If Cage can read minds, I will need to ward my room and my subconscious against every crack that could be used against me.

I will not allow myself to be exposed.

“Cage will explain the arrangements to you,” Felix says smoothly. “You are a guest here, Millicent, and my kingdom needs your help. There are rules, of course. History has made them necessary. But you are no prisoner.”

His smile is warm, disarmingly so.

“If you need anything else, please come to me. I am king Tyran, but you may also call me Felix,”

I meet his gaze, unmoved. “Noted,” I say flatly.

A guest? As if I would ever subjugate myself to their hospitality. Do they truly believe I would walk in and submit?

Cage descends the steps, pausing only to offer Felix a brief bow.

Felix chuckles at my dismissal. He’s unfazed. “I think having a new witch around will really stir things up!” He claps his hands, pushing himself to his feet.

A new witch?

My spine stiffens. Was one already here? His words are casual. I did not expect this.

Why would a witch live amongst vermin and mages?

This I have to see.

Felix sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he steps down from the throne. “Cage will show you the rest. Being king unfortunately means I am needed elsewhere.” He exhales heavily, clearly unenthused by the prospect of whatever duty awaits him.

With a snap of Cage’s fingers, guards reenter the room, falling into formation around their king. I watch as they escort him from the chamber. His golden curls disappear through the towering doors.

I turn to leave, but Cage moves to block my path.

He steps in close, lowering his voice so only I can hear.

“I know who and what you are,” he murmurs. His silver eyes darken. “He thinks it’s a good idea to have you here. I disagree.” His breath, steady, controlled. “Prove me right and you will be disposed of.”

A threat.

I whip my head toward him. My glare is sharp enough to cut. “Lay a finger on me, and I will shatter you—along with anything you hold dear.” My voice is like venom, hate lacing my words. “You clearly do not know who or what I am to threaten me so openly. Your insolence is noted.”

Cage’s breath deepens. His eyes gleam with anticipation.

“I will welcome the day, little witch.”

His tone is calm. Too calm.

He strides past me toward the door.

“Come.”

The single command cracks through the space like a whip, as if I were nothing more than a dog.

I grind my teeth. My nails dig into my palms, the sting keeping me from unleashing my magic and blasting him through the wall.

“And here I thought mages were well mannered and pampered.” I sneer, stepping in behind him.

The rhythmic click of my swords against my back fills the silence. Let him hear it. Let him remember that even without my magic, I am still a threat.

Cage doesn’t turn, doesn’t even slow his pace.

“You are inhuman,” he says, his voice as cold as the steel on my back. “An insult to life. You deserve to sleep in the dungeons and eat scraps. Manners should be the least of your concerns.”

I stare at his back, fantasizing about impaling him on a row of shadowed lances.

Hell, I would mount his head on a spike outside my door as a trophy.

Instead, I smile.

A slow, sharp curve forms on my lips.

“Ah, and yet, here I am. A guest.” I let my voice drip with malice. An insult wrapped in truth.

Cage doesn’t respond.

I feel the shift in his posture, the flicker of restrained rage that coils beneath his skin.

Lovely.

We continue down the hall, our steps echoing in silence.