Page 38 of Malicent (Seven Devils #1)

Cage

I RAISE MY FIST AND knock politely on Millicent’s door.

It opens moments later, and the sight that greets me knocks me slightly off balance.

Her witch marks shimmer under the chandelier’s light, exposed by the gown.

The deep-red satin clings to her frame, the straps hanging loose off her shoulders.

It frames a plunging sweetheart neckline.

A corset-style bodice, detailed with black beading, hugs her waist. The fabric then flows into a fuller skirt that flares around her ankles.

A slit comes high up her left leg, revealing a golden snake cuff coiled around her thigh.

The gown is regal and expensive. The sight causes a sharp intake of breath before I quickly loosen it. I know, without a doubt, it’s Tyran’s doing.

“Well, at least you dressed up too. I could’ve just worn my coven garb,” she says casually—too casually for how she usually speaks to me. She’s talking to Felix, not me.

“We must make a statement. Besides, your coven gown is boring,” I reply, slipping effortlessly into Felix’s personality as I offer my arm.

“Rude,” she says, rolling her eyes. But she still slips her arm into mine, closing the door behind her.

“I figured you like the truth. Shall I begin lying?” I tease.

“I bet you’re a great liar,” she murmurs, her voice hushed. “You sneaky thing.”

Sneaky?

Did she run into Felix earlier? Did she go with him?

Did she know where he went?

Changing the subject—before I say the wrong thing—I slip back into character. “We’ll take one of the carriages and be escorted by my knights. It’s about a four-hour ride. Roads should be clear. Their coven has a gated road leading in. Seems they’ve built their own network of mansions.”

“I’m not surprised,” she replies, eyes drifting over the artwork we pass. “Curse users are the most emotionally stable. They don’t need humans for sacrifice, so I imagine they’ve embraced a more civilized lifestyle—especially living so near to humans.”

She continues toward the front of the castle where the carriage waits.

She often studies art in the halls. I’ve seen her do it before: pausing and tilting her head inquisitively.

I never interrupt. I keep to the shadows, watching without being seen.

It’s safer that way; I enjoy watching her sometimes, a feeling I don’t quite understand yet.

It almost feels nostalgic at times before the reality of what and who she is sours my mood, dismissing me from her presence.

The castle wards ping softly in the back of my mind during the day as she unknowingly walks through them. I always know where she is.

She may not see me every day, but I make sure I see her. I still don’t trust that she’s not up to something.

I glance at her from the corner of my eye.

She seems too at ease.

“How familiar are you with this coven—or curses in general?” I ask lightly.

“This coven? No. I’m not familiar with the Exsecratus family,” she says. “But I know a fair bit about curses. We have a curse user at my coven.”

A hint of a smile pulls ever so slightly at her lips when she says it.

We arrive outside and climb into the carriage. As it takes off, I watch the castle pass by, sending a silent prayer to any god who will listen that this works and goes well—that it doesn’t end in disaster—because I still don’t trust her.

Millicent is alone with the king, surrounded by other witches. What better time to strike?

Why else would she cozy up to Felix? Nora manipulated me in the same way. She was warm, kind. I thought she genuinely wanted to help me—that her lessons had meaning and purpose. I won’t make that mistake again, not with her protégé sitting across from me.

I glance at her. She’s distracted by the trees flashing past the window.

Felix is right about one thing: she’s beautiful.

Her looks don’t soften my hatred for her, but I can admit she’s captivating. The most dangerous things often are.

Iris has these frogs in her lab: sleek and black-skinned, with glowing neon stripes. They’re gorgeous and mesmerizing. Touch one, and its poison absorbs through your skin. What follows is paralysis. And then the heart stops.

That’s what Millicent reminds me of: darkness cloaked in electric blue—bewitching and cold-blooded, coated in poison.

And I know what her skin feels like. I touched her before.

I found her wet beneath my fingers; the poison coating her tempted me like the first waters on the horizon after days traveling in a blazing desert.

After that encounter, I had to dunk my head in a bucket of ice water just to think straight.

I made my point that night; I held the upper hand. At least, I hope she hates herself for it.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hard as hell after our little encounter, however.

I scrubbed my fingers raw trying to erase the musky scent of cherries she left on me—just to clear my thoughts.

It was nothing. Just a reaction.

She’s breathtaking in a nauseating way; her pheromones are affecting me. Like any other animal in heat, it’s simple biology. Unlike other animals, my attraction to her comes from no kind or sweet longing place, nor from any urge to reproduce.

It is fatal, rousing a version of myself that remains buried unless dark hours summon it forward—unless life or death demands its arrival.

“Felix, you good?”

I realize now that I’m scowling at her.

Wiping the expression from my face, I force a wide smile. My cheeks round in a way that feels foreign; I’m still getting used to Felix’s facial structure.

“Just lost in thought,” I say smoothly. “I’m hoping everything goes well at the coven. It’s our first real lead.”

“I will assist however I can. That was the deal.” Her tone remains level and calm. “You just need to follow my lead. Don’t question me in front of them. Some will see humans as worthless. Others may be…interested that a man is present.”

She really thinks she’s in charge of this. I don’t interrupt, allowing her delusion of control to fully form.

She begins by debriefing me on the structure of a typical coven. I already know this—having grown up with the Le Strange—but I nod along.

There’s always a Head Elder—the strongest and the oldest. Sometimes two others join her, but there’s always one in charge. Below them are the sisters: skilled, specialized witches with designated roles. And, at the bottom: the witchlings.

These are young girls who haven’t bled yet, their magic still dormant.

They’re heavily guarded. Witch fertility is fragile, and many never conceive.

Because witches aren’t created like humans, conception is rare.

When a pregnancy does occur, the coven treats it as sacred.

The child is raised communally and treasured like royalty.

The carriage ride is quiet for a while, but I remember how odd this is, as Felix never shuts up.

“Have you ever been to another coven? You know, outside your own?”

She shakes her head. “I have not.”

I already knew that. Her little imp-fueled meltdown told me as much. I’m still curious. “Why not? Witches not very social?”

“We’re not,” she says simply. “Not with anyone outside our covens. It’s been that way since the days of creation…when we were hunted—young and vulnerable. Or so the old texts say. Trust kept us alive. Over time, we grew stronger.”

She pauses. There’s something more behind her silence. I feel it.

A temptation rises in me.

Right now, I’m Felix. She won’t have her guard up the same way she would around me. I could slip into her mind, quietly. I’ll pull at the answers I want.

I don’t, but not because I don’t want to. I do— so badly it burns.

If I go digging, I won’t stop. I know that. I’ll strip her thoughts raw, clawing at every buried truth until I find what I want: why they tortured a child.

I want to know if they still did it to others.

Violating her would feel like justice. Like revenge.

She’s not Nora.

I remind myself of that, even as my thoughts twist and warp to make her into the woman who haunts me. Millicent moves, and I see Nora in her. She speaks, and I hear Nora’s venom. My mind finds patterns—just enough to justify the hatred, to make it feel right.

I want to be right.

I want to end Millicent just to take something from Nora and make her feel what I felt. I want to strip her of the only witch in history with two magics coursing through her blood.

Felix said he never pried. So, I don’t. Instead, I ask her everything else I can think of.

Did she like the palace? The food? Her room?

She answers, polite and composed. I learn she’s been spending a lot of time in Iris’s lab, assisting her. Her only complaint is the lack of training.

“Kalix or Cage would train with you. I can easily command it,” I say casually, knowing Felix would do whatever he could to meet her needs, as he does for everyone.

She chews on her bottom lip in contemplation, and my eyes flick to the movement before I can stop them, the sight causing my jaw to tense slightly.

When she finally releases it, swollen from the pressure, she looks out the window and murmurs, “I’ll think about it. Thank you.”

Thank you? So, she does have manners. Maybe all I need is golden hair and a king’s smile to earn a little respect around here.

We were just children when those deaths occurred at her coven that night. It wasn’t something I did on purpose. It was self-defense. A loss of control, yes, but not malice.

I buried the guilt a long time ago. Can’t she let it die too?

She should accept her coven’s failings, as well as her own, and maybe—just maybe—treat me like I deserve a sliver of decency.

I catch myself pouting and quickly glance away, fixing my eyes on the landscape outside the window, hoping the passing trees will distract me from the ache still buried in my chest.

She can make me her monster.

I am what they created after all. My sympathies slithered from gaping wounds long ago, until there was nothing left—until the world was black—and I didn’t even think I had any blood left.

But you can always bleed more.