Page 3 of Traitor Witch

“I just want to come home,” I mutter, following as she strides out of the room.

“I remember my own fostering,” Glenna smiles fondly. “The Solars treated me well, and I made a few friends. Have things changed?"

I grimace. "They know what I am. Many of them objected to my being chosen as a fosterling in the first place. Danika and Ophelia don’t have the same problem.”

“The Goddesses chose all of you.” Glenna pauses at the water’s edge. “The Solars’ objections mean nothing. Tomorrow you’ll come home, and the Ladies will choose three new fosterlings for each of our covens.”

She’s quiet for a second before she glances over her shoulder, looking at me with enough indecision that I just know she’s going to broach the subject we’ve been dancing around for months.

“I scried again,” she finally says.

My hands fist by my sides.Not this again.“I’ve made peace with it, Mother Lunar.”

“Even the Goddess’s dark face is surrounded by her stars.” Glenna moves closer, hands spread like she’s trying to comfort me, but it does the opposite, making me feel caged. “A coming of age ceremony without the gift of your own men…”

Why does she keep bringing this up? Talking about it isn’t going to change anything.

“I am the Shadow,” I remind her, dryly. “It’s not exactly the kind of job that complements maintaining a harem, anyway.”

“I’m going to keep trying,” she vows. “Nilsa, you deserve happiness.”

I shake my head. “Iamhappy. I don’t need a harem of humans to complete me. I have lovers when I want them, and I have the coven and my duties.”

“Perhaps they’ve just not been born yet,” Glenna continues, as if I haven’t spoken. “It has happened before; life partners being born out of sync. We live long lives, there is still plenty of time.”

She doesn’t mention the fact that in most cases, those people are few and far between, and destined for an existing harem. A Lunar witch reaching twenty-five winters and not being gifted a harem by the Goddess as she turns immortal is unheard of.

Except, apparently, for me.

“I’d better be heading back.” I pull her back into a hug and head for the door, cutting off the conversation before she can continue. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Nilsa, wait.”

I stop reluctantly and look back over my shoulder. “Please, Mother Lunar, I’d rather not talk about it.”

She must feel the begging in my tone because she purses her lips, then nods. “Alright. Then at least enjoy the party for an hour before you go.”

I hesitate, but the temptation proves too much to resist. “Alright.”

As soon as we leave the courtyard, the pulsing beat hits me once again. I draw a little moonlight down, transforming my cape and leathers into a skin-tight dress, but leave the blades strapped to my hip and thighs as they are. Glenna hands me an amphora of sweet wine and I gulp it down before making my way into the crowd and losing myself to the sway of bodies.

Now that I’m off duty, my coven sisters waste no time in drawing me into the throng of dancers with hugs and grins. We’re a tactile bunch, and the contact soothes thoughts of the future away. The hedonism of the present consumes us all and I lose myself in the beats of the drums and the undulating waves of witch bodies.

I leave long before I want to, but somehow drink enough to need the offered sobriety spell from Glenna before I’m fit to walk back to the Solar Temple.

The Solars will have a fit if they learn what I’ve been doing. Their quiet, structured existence is the opposite of the Lunars’ hedonistic one.

Fortunately, I’ve stashed several sets of the white robes I’ve been loaned across Coveton for just such an occasion. The conservative clothes slip easily over my black leather dress, hiding the truth as long as no one looks too closely.

The Solar Temple has been my foster home for the last year. It shines like a beacon of light against the night sky. The white, salt-infused bricks reflect the light from the buildings around it, giving it an otherworldly feel that never fails to impress passers-by.

But inside, everything is sterile, cold, and serious.

Just thinking about it makes me shudder.

“Out for a moonlit stroll, Nilsa?”

Danika’s scarily accurate imitation of the Solars grates onme, but I ignore it as she falls into step beside me, our white cloaks swirling in the wind as we draw closer to the door.