Page 3 of Malicent (Seven Devils #1)

Pushing open the door, I quickly take inventory of Nora’s office. Pristine and orderly as always, not a book out of place on the shelves lining the walls. Even the quills on her dark oaken desk are precisely arranged. She sits behind her desk, her hands clasped, expecting me , of course.

I close the door behind me and step toward the small green leather chair across from her. The morning sun filters through the large green-paned window behind her, tinting the room in an eerie emerald glow.

In the corner, her owl familiar perches motionless. Its unblinking eyes are locked on me. Its unbreaking gaze is unsettling, like a second Nora, always watching. They say familiars represent some part of their witches, and in her owl, I can see it—the cold precision, the endless vigilance.

The thought makes me wonder about Ollie. Am I so depraved that the very darkness in me is reflected in his hellion existence?

“Millicent, I have a new assignment for you.” Her sharp features remain almost motionless as she speaks.

Her long white hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, accentuating the severe angles of her face.

She looks ancient, though her appearance betrays little of her true age.

A few faint crow’s feet frame her eyes, and her face has a more mature set to it.

If you squint and stand close, you might catch a faint line or two on her forehead.

Even as she speaks, her face barely moves, her expressions restrained. It’s almost unnatural.

Witches age the way Felix’s prized mead collection does. Their features only refining and ripening with the passing of centuries. By the time a witch appears truly old, she could easily be two thousand years old.

“You will travel to the Southern Continent, to the kingdom of Galderia under the rule of king Felix Tyran.”

I stare at her. It is all I can do. We never interact with mortals unless it’s for sacrificial purposes. Why would I work with vermin?

“What is the purpose of this?” I ask, working to keep my tone steady and mask the irritation rising within me at the idea of helping mere mortals.

Nora doesn’t so much as blink at my question.

Her voice, already cold, hardens further, like steel cutting through the air like a blade.

I am reminded of my place. “The purpose is for me to know and for you to follow the order given by your superior. Questioning an elder? You have been raised far better than this, Millicent Le Strange.”

Her sharp correction scrapes against my pride, leaving a sting that spreads across my skin. Shame and stupidity rise, pushing to the forefront of my mind. I shouldn’t have questioned her.

“There are things in that castle containing great power, artifacts you will inquire into. The king will also allow us to move about without persecution. I’ve been informed that the seer there, Luna, has foreseen the North, awakening something dark. Tyran wants our involvement for protection.”

A devious smirk pulls at her lips, betraying the true nature of the “protection” she’s offering, protection that serves only her interests.

“Didn’t know you cared so much about protecting mere vermin,” I snap. My tone sharpens as my irritation flares again at the thought of being paired with mortals.

She chuckles, the sound light and artificial. “Come now, you’re smart. I don’t care for the king and his petty issues, but if the North uncovers new power…the Le Strange coven will be the ones to claim it.”

Of course, she wants a front-row seat and hands-on access to any power Tyran is foolish enough to hand her. I don’t bother asking why. I already know. This is what I’m trained for, what I was born for.

I am rare. To mortals, I am cursed, diseased, a blight that only death can cure. To my coven, I am a weapon, lethal and deadly, the one who will deliver death.

“When am I to leave?” I ask, not bothering to ask for how long. She wouldn’t care about the duration of my absence. She wouldn’t care how long I was gone, so long as she got what she desired.

“Tomorrow. Tyran will send transport, but it will meet you in town. They do not dare enter the woods.”

So the mortals had some sense. I rise, bowing slightly out of respect. The movement is second nature after nearly 200 years of practice.

As I turn to leave, her voice stops me mid-step.

“Do not disappoint me. You are to be perfect. Less than perfection is not tolerated. You will report to my familiar and follow all instructions. Do not disobey the king. I will know if you do.”

Her words hang heavy in the air. The unspoken threat of failure and disobedience presses down like a weight on my chest. I’m not surprised she wants constant reports.

I’m not foolish enough to think she trusts me.

Nora knows what lingers inside me. She’s the one who put it there in the name of power. And gods, am I powerful.

“Understood,” I say coldly before leaving her office.

I descend the winding stairs, step by step, until I finally breach the open air. Stopping outside, I take in the view of my home, the coven I had never left for more than a day, let alone overnight. Well, not when I was aware of it. Now I would be living somewhere else.

I inhale deeply, letting the smell of moss and grass fill my lungs, committing it to memory. The breeze shifts, carrying the scent away.

With a final glance at the world I’ve always known, I make my descent downhill, heading to visit my mother’s grave one last time.