Page 128 of Traitor Witch

"So it's true?" I ask. "I have a mate?"

Petra snorts. "One? I thought you'd have figured it out by now. You have a harem, just like all Lunar witches."

"But witches havehumanconsorts."

"Most witches do." Petra nods, lighting the last candle. "But the Goddess gifts her Shadows immortal consorts. Makes them a little more durable. Glenna knew this, but I assume she never told you. Having a harem would give you other priorities and she probably couldn't risk an outside influence who might not approve of her."

"She was always so careful to specify that the Moon Mother hadn't chosen anyhumansfor you."Opal grumbles."I knew. I bloody knew something felt wrong about it."

"How many?" My voice is shredded by the emotion clogging up my throat. "How many are supposed to be in my harem?"

Petra frowns at me, but still answers me, anyway, "I thought you'd have realised by now. You have six consorts. No matter what Glenna did, the Goddess would have brought them to you as you turned immortal."

Six.

Oh my Goddess.

The pirates are mine. I even met them on my twenty-fifth winter solstice. Five of them, plus Klaus.

Six immortal males, meant for me all along.

This explains so much.

Why I couldn't keep my mind out of the gutter around them. How they could keep me calm enough that I survived being on a ship for so long without a full breakdown.

Petra lets me have my moment, slowly lowering herself tosit on the edge of the pool while I process. From the tensing of her jaw and the awkwardness of the motion, it must be painful for her, but she doesn't stop until her feet are tracing circles in the water.

When she speaks again, she continues her story as though she hasn't just turned my world upside down.

"Glenna found you wandering on a beach, that much is true. And Glenna, who had always wanted a child, decided to take you in. Perhaps then, she didn't know what you were. Maybe she just thought you were an ordinary witchling. I don't know. But I suspect she had an idea, because she announced the Goddess had chosen you as her Shadow not three years later." Petra's eyes harden. "Shadow children are never told who they'll become until they're old enough to handle it. To announce you so young was cruel. It exposed you to ridicule and fear from your peers and isolated you from them in ways a child would not possibly be expected to deal with. Then, to start your training before you were even fully capable of wielding the gifts shadows are given?"

Her outrage is palpable. Magic fills the air with a cold burn that puts me on edge.

I don't want to believe what she's saying. But it all fits.

Opal stands, twining her body around me in a display of comfort. I stroke her on autopilot, glad that I have something to keep my hands busy while my mind tries to wrap itself around all the information being thrown my way.

"Glenna loved me."

I feel like my world is crumbling, but IknowGlenna loved me. She raised me. Cared for me. Spoiled me. Treated me like a daughter.

"Yes," Petra admits. "She did. In the end, that love for you became twisted like everything else in her life."

"She was a good high priestess," I argue. "The Covetoncovens remained at peace while she was their leader. We had no troubles with the mages, unlike Ilyani—"

"And why do you think that was?"

I think about it for a second. "Because the fosterings made witches a stronger united front?" I hate that it comes out like a question.

"Because Glenna made a deal with the Eagle of Galmere to stay out of the affairs of witches in Coveton in exchange for sending you after her enemies. You've been doing the bidding of the Queen, not the Goddess."

"No." Just no. The rest, I can believe... but this... "They were sent in visions from the Goddess. The Moon Mother heard the prayers of her people and passed them on to me through Glenna."

"They were delivered by raven from the palace in Galmere," she retorts. "The only target that the Goddess has given to any of her shadows in the last five hundred years is the Eagle of Galmere herself."

"You have no proof."

I know it's the wrong thing to say the moment the words leave my mouth. Petra arches a single brow, reaches into the pouch at her waist and pulls out a stack of papers.