Page 58 of The Witch who Trades with Death

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Khana packed her things. She hadn’t accumulated much: her lute, her spare clothes, the moose-fur blanket Heimili and Amati had given her. She considered her armor and weapons but decided to leave them. The armor was Amati’s, a family heirloom – not that Heimili had much of a family left. The shield, spear, axe, and knife belonged to Pahuuda. They’d need it.

Within minutes, her room was as bare and impersonal as when she’d first arrived almost a year ago. She took a trembling breath. Better get used to this , she thought. She should’ve left this place months ago. Should have just stolen what she needed and been on her way, until she reached the coast. Or until she found a boat to take her to another land. Or until she got to the other coast of that land.

This would be her life now. Always moving. Always alone. Always chased by a monster.

She told herself this was the right thing to do. The smart thing. She’d always planned on running. Half of these people didn’t even like her.

She tightened her grip on her lute case. Could she even justify bringing it with her? Her friends had given it to her out of kindness, and here she was abandoning them to their fate.

She set the lute by the shield, biting her lip to keep from crying. Musician and soldier. If she could leave her witchcraft behind, she’d do that, too. Those powers had brought her nothing but trouble.

She removed the necklace of her tokens of war, running her fingers over the nightmare tooth, an arrowhead from the battle with Antallo that Neta had gotten for her, and obsidian frog, no longer a Ghuran soldier.

She’d never liked killing people. Had barely enjoyed using her magic. But her unit had always been there, watched her back, teased and encouraged her to pursue Sava, made her feel a little less scared.

And Yamueto was going to kill them all. If she ever made more friends down the road, he’d kill them, too. On and on until he was stopped.

No one would be able to stop him. No one else had a chance.

She clutched her necklace so hard the tooth cut through her skin. A drop of blood hit the stone floor.

Fuck Yamueto.

He’d taken one home from her. He wasn’t going to take another.

She put her necklace back on and ran out of the inn, almost running over Heimili.

“Khana?” he asked.

“Back later!” she hollered, boots hitting the muddy streets.

A few people gave her odd looks as she ran but she darted past them, almost leaped up the stone steps of the town hall, and latched onto the first person she recognized.

Sava was talking to another midya in the hall. He jumped when he saw her. “Khana! What are you–”

She grabbed his wolf cloak. “Where’s your mother?”

“You should be–”

“ Where ?”

He pointed down the hall. “Throne room. She’s still in a meeting with the other Families.”

She kissed his cheek – needing to get up on her toes – and ran down the hall. Sava hurried after her. “Khana, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

She said the words when she reached the doorway, in sight of the seven thrones and heads of families: “I know how to beat Yamueto.”

All talking in the room stopped.

“Or at least, I know our best chance,” she amended.

Chief Phramanka raised an eyebrow and beckoned her forward. “This should be good.”

“We need to give me up,” Khana said.

“What?” Sava demanded.

Master Pinnsviri pointed to her with a gnarled finger. “See? Even she agrees!”

“You really think he’ll spare the town and the rest of the kingdom for one girl?” Master Bhalu asked dubiously.

“Oh, not at all,” Khana said, before anyone else could. “Not for more than a fortnight. But I can get close enough to cut off his head. Not even magic will heal that.”

Sava sucked in a breath. Phramanka’s mouth flattened into a line. “You want to use yourself as bait. You?”

Khana swallowed, her fingers brushing against the arrowhead on her necklace. “Their rock trap would have worked much better if they’d lured us into that crevasse with a fake retreat. If they had done that, instead of catering to Prince Antallo’s ego, all of us would’ve been crushed. That’s what I’m suggesting: a fake defeat.”

Master Phaska grinned, looking like a true fox. “I like it.”

Master Hyrjorna shook her head, signing. Sava translated: “Witch or not, she’s one person.”

“And a frog,” Master Cituva grumbled. “She could join him.”

“He’ll be more interested in torturing me than recruiting me,” Khana corrected. “I’ve caused him too much trouble.”

He grunted, clearly doubting it.

Sava ran a hand down his face. “Assuming this works and you kill him, how do you plan on getting out of there?”

She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Drain whoever I can and walk?”

“Seriously?”

“That’s how I got here the first time.”

“What if there are other witches?” he demanded.

“There will be. His descendants are his generals, and the illegitimate ones are his bodyguards.”

“Yamueto made life force from nothing . He has centuries of battle experience. How can you possibly–”

“Sava!” she snapped. “I can’t run from him anymore. I just… I can’t do it.”

He shut his mouth with a snap .

Chief Phramanka broke the silence: “So you understand that you’re essentially undertaking a suicide mission.”

The fear that was a constant presence in Khana’s life was still there. But it was squashed down by a calm, cold rage. A love for this town and the community she’d built for herself here, and a determination to keep it. Or die defending it.

“Yes, chief,” she said.

Phramanka quietly sighed, suddenly a decade older. “All in favor?”

There was a beat. Then all other Old Families raised their hands.