Page 1 of Traitor Witch

Chapter One

NILSA

Freezing, salty sea air slices through me as I perch on the edge of a rooftop garden, overlooking my mark’s study. It’s a posh room, better than most in Coveton, with a huge window that makes this job all too easy. The whole townhouse glows with the light of crystal-powered lamps, making it obvious why someone put a price on his head.

Who isn't jealous of that kind of wealth?

Most families have one crystal per house—if that—and this human has five in a single room. The mage-tech is ridiculously expensive, even more so in Coveton—where so few mages live.

Glenna mentioned the mark was supposedly some minor noble when she gave me the order to take his life. He's not important enough for his own title, but still one of only three people trusted by the Queen to oversee the city's crystal mine.

Not that I care.

The Goddess accepted the contract, so here I am.

The door to his study opens, revealing my mark in all his balding, middle-aged glory. My hand goes to my pouch, ready to get this over with, but the sight of a tiny blonde head in the doorway stops me.

The mark’s kid doesn’t need to see this.

I settle in to wait a little longer.

“You’re too soft,”Opal scoffs, twining her fluffy tail around my crouched body.

“No child should have to watch their parent’s murder,” I whisper back.

My familiar doesn’t answer, but her blue eyes meet mine for a brief second. It’s been a dozen years since she chose my scrawny, awkward thirteen-year-old self as her witch and I’ve still not figured out if she likes me or just tolerates me.

At times like this, I’m certain it’s the latter.

My mark bends, kisses his kid’s forehead, then ushers him out of the study. I wait until I’m certain the child is gone before withdrawing the poppet from my pouch. My sewing skills aren’t brilliant, but the doll is a close enough approximation of the mark. Besides, it’s the lock of his hair hidden inside that matters most.

“Goddess of the Last Sleep, lend your power to my work,” I whisper, feeling the Moon's answering throb as I lift the poppet into Her light.

Her magic cocoons me, feeling my intention, and flowing straight into the doll where it’s needed. Power swells and I don’t have to wait long for it to tether the man in the study to the doll in my hand.

Getting the hair was the hard part.

Killing him is as easy as clenching my hand around the doll.

On the other side of the window, my mark stumbles,clutching his chest. The poppet pulses in my hand, but I don’t let go.

The human collapses and the coolness of the Moon’s magic leaves me.

The whole thing only takes ten seconds.

I sigh, hold up the doll, and watch as it flakes away into ashes.

My work is done.

I catch a single flake of ash on the tip of my finger, take a tiny envelope from my pouch with my other hand, and smear the ash inside. Another swipe of my finger activates the magical seal, and the sigils covering the paper flare to life. Within seconds, the entire thing is a single piece of glass, just smaller than the palm of my hand, the ash preserved perfectly in the middle as a magical record of the death.

I take one final glance, confirming I’m still alone, before tucking it into my pouch and stepping off the edge of the roof.

I land as light as a feather in the alley three storeys below, unharmed thanks to a last-minute burst of power directed at the agility sigils on my legs. A last look up at the roof, confirms what I already know. Opal remains on the ledge, grooming herself like we have all the time in the world.

That cat has no sense of urgency.

“We need to get going,” I hiss up at her. “The Solars will notice if we’re gone much longer.”