Page 81 of Traitor Witch

They’re formed of emotion and magic and—while they can be read like traditional sigils—it’s far quicker to just touch them and get the short version.

I start with the silver chains of warning, the ‘why’ of his curse.

The second my palm grazes the icy skin over his pectoral, I shudder.

Heartbreak. Agony. Betrayal.

The three emotions blast into me like a shock-wave. Despite their age, time seems to have matured and strengthened the curse rather than diminish it. It’s so strong that it takes a second before I can summon enough magic to tease the three threads apart.

The moment I do, the story starts to play out beneath my fingertips.

Young, hopeful love. Excitement and butterfly wings of hope. The leap, the rush of breaking all the rules. Then the sting of cold, unfeeling rejection. The pain of betrayal. The agony of loss.

Kier broke a witch’s heart. For fun. Because he wanted to win a bet. He sweet-talked her for months, convincing her of his affection until she agreed to leave her coven and join him in the fae courts.

She gave up her coven, her family, her world.

Everything and anything for love.

I suppose some people might call it romantic, but all I can think is how naïve it seems. If stupidity is a symptom of romance, maybe my lack of a harem is a blessing.

Once she’d crossed into the fae realm, Kier rejected her in front of his court. But not before she’d given him her fullname, enabling him to command her to do whatever he wished. Her pain sings extra sweet as I ‘read’ that part of the history. It’s almost overwhelming, but I fight through and finish learning the tragedy on Kier’s skin.

In shock, covenless, and humiliated. She grew depressed as a slave in the winter court. In the end, death seemed a kinder fate.

But not before casting this curse, intended to protect other witches from his lies.

I glance up at him in shock, snatching away my hand instinctively. This wasn’t what I was expecting from the silent fae.

My own desire wars with another woman's heartbreak, leaving my mind a hot mess. It takes several seconds to separate the two.

Without saying anything, he takes my palm in gentle fingers and draws it up to his throat.

The details of the curse slam into me.

Every time he speaks, he feels unimaginable pain.

“You deserve it,” I mutter. “What you did…”

I can see exactly how his curse can be broken.

Kier has to find a witch who knows everything about his curse, yet loves and trusts him enough to willingly exchange full names with him, regardless.

I step back, shaking my head. Now I can see why Glenna refused the two requests I saw. Reading a curse is like experiencing the trauma of the witch who cast it for yourself.

It’s like I’ve bonded with the witch who cursed him. Like her pain is mine. It takes me a long second to work through and separate her from me.

“You already know what they say.” He has to if I wasn’t the first to read them. “The only possible reason you could want me to read them, is either to tell your crew…” He shakes his head sadly. “Or because you want me to break the curse for you.”

I take a deep breath. “My best friend is now the high priestess of our coven. If I survive my mission, I will put in a good word for you.” His frown makes me pause, considering. “If you were hoping I might be able to break it myself… you’re mistaken. The curse is quite clear; the witch who breaks it must love you, and my Goddess has made it quite clear that love is not in my future.”

My fists clench by my sides at the reminder.

I read the question in his eyes but choose not to answer as I stride to the door. Feeling like the world’s most awful bitch, I swing it open, glue my eyes to my shoes, and wait.

“I need to dry off,”

Kier doesn’t object, shrugging his shirt back on with a calm swiftness that belies the tension lingering beneath his muscles.