Page 101 of The Unbound Witch

“That’ll work for me,” I said, moving to my feet.

Bastian stood as well, pulling me behind a tree so we wouldn’t be spotted from the direction of the other land masses. “How long should I give you?”

“I don’t know. I think you’re going to have to wait it out. If I’m not back by nightfall, then there’s a big problem.”

“I’m not laying on a floating rock all day while you risk your life for a goddamn book.”

I pressed my hand to his chest, feeling his racing heart below my palm. Closing my eyes, I took a few long breaths, willing him to calm. It wasn’t magic of any kind, only the love between us as our souls recognized each other.

“You have to let me do this. Give me until sunset. If anything happens, I’ll come right back. Can you watch me? Like you could in the castle?”

He shook his head. “I only watched you through the shadows. I won’t be able to cast them that far away.”

“Then I guess you’re going to have to have an ounce of faith and a heaping pile of self-control, King.”

He moved his hands up my neck, stopping to lift my chin until our eyes met. “If you die, I’ll shred this world to pieces. I’ll burn it. I’ll dig a fucking grave and send it straight to hell.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” I teased.

His face fell. “I’m serious, Raven. You die, I die. That’s it.”

Pressing my lips to his, I grabbed his buttoned shirt, closing the final few inches between us. “I will come back to you. I swear it.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Little Witch,”

Casting, I pulled the boulder to me, stepping away to lift my hood. “I’ll see you before the sun touches the horizon.”

He held a hand out to help me onto the boulder. “You’d better see me long before that.”

I looked over at Torryn, who lay on the ground staring at the comings and goings of the other witches. “Don’t let him come after me until sunset.”

“You have my word,” he said, dipping his chin. And I knew I did.

39

RAVEN

Steadying myself on a boulder as I pushed it across the open expanse of floating isles with vicious drafts of wind and dirt wafting from the bottom of them was less than ideal. I’d learned quickly not to get too close to the underbelly nor to look down at the angry ocean below. They looked as if they’d been dug from the ground with a spade, the cone shape of the bottom full of long growing roots from the trees that pressed through the upper side. The dangling roots were treacherous, and they would reach for anything that got too close.

I wondered if they would save someone if they fell off the edge of the isle. But then I remembered all the horror stories my grandmother had told me as a child, warning me to never wander the isles. If only she could see me now. She was probably cursing my name from the heavens.

I couldn’t grip the edge of the stone to hold on because it was too smooth, too worn down by years and years of ferocious wind. Instead, I had to do my best to hold the boulder steady while still being quick about it. I could feel Bastian’s eyes on me, and I didn’t want to give him cause for concern. He would have preferred to fly me himself, I’m sure. But that would have lasted two seconds until every witch from here to the farthest isle was on top of us.

Pinching the edge of my cloak to hold the hood up, I approached the first large isle and crested the line of trees. My heart dropped into my belly as I accidentally looked down and realized just how high I was. Any higher and I could have disappeared into the cloud bank.

Lowering myself to the ground, I stepped off the boulder, leaving it buried in the line of trees along the edge of the isle. Standing here felt a lot like how I’d imagine standing in a frying pan must feel. The walls were too high to escape by normal means, and each second that passed pulled me closer to my own demise.

I wasn’t sure what I expected the homes to look like. The witches here were ruthless, but the dwellings were simple cottages placed on a grid-like structure with rock paths between them. Nothing seemed sinister or menacing, even as I peered out over the small vineyard, picked clean for the winter. The tangle of gnarled branches placed in clean rows, the trees nearly bare of leaves, the grass mostly dead … The Whisper Coven wasn’t a mystery. It was beautiful.

I could feel the proximity of two Grimoires as if they called to me. But I also needed to know exactly where the coven leaders were and what was happening here before I went back for Bash and Tor. Knowing where the books were didn’t mean a thing if they were surrounded by three hundred witches.

I walked with purpose toward the center of the isle, my black cloak billowing behind me as I stepped closer to three witches moving in the same direction. It felt so strange to be alone, surrounded by people. I wasn’t sure if any witches hid in their homes. Instead, they gathered in clusters, moving this way and that. I wondered what all the commotion was about and hoped it had something to do with Endora’s presence.

“Clara had her baby two Saturdays ago and she says he’s already sleeping through the night,” the witch closest to me whispered.

“He’ll be a lazy bum, just like his father,” another answered, waving to someone across the row with a smile that didn’t look genuine.

She peered over her shoulder in my direction, and I quickly turned, stepping easily to the side as if I’d not been eavesdropping. I waited a second to see if she would call out to me, but they were too submerged in their own gossip to give a damn about that.