Page 2 of Traitor Witch (The Deadwood #1)

Chapter Two

NILSA

A nnalise has a very distinctive knock. Two taps, a pause, then another three. It’s a polite, formal knock that never fails to drag me out of bed in a foul mood. Add to that the fact that I’ve barely managed to steal four hours sleep, and I’m just about ready to stab her when I answer the door in my borrowed robes.

“I hope you’ve recovered from your moon pains,” she coos before I can say anything, and I make a mental note to hex Danika for her shitty excuse.

Yes, every single Lunar knows my monthlies are a thing of dread, but I’ve been trying my best to keep that weakness a secret from the Solars.

“If you’re feeling up to it, the High Priestess wishes to speak with you before you leave us.”

“I’ll be right there,” I promise, shutting the door in her face before I give into the temptation to stab her.

I've always made a point to remain unarmed in the Solar Temple as a sign of goodwill, but Annalise makes me rethink my idea every time I have to speak to her.

Technically, fosterlings are supposed to be devoted to making lifelong friendships in their foster coven, but in the first week all I managed to do was piss all of them off.

It turns out that having a holy assassin in a tower full of witches devoted to the study of saving lives isn’t a good idea—who knew?

A few balding hexes and a trip to the Mother Solar to apologise later cemented my decision to leave the diplomacy side of things to Ophelia and Danika. The Solar High Priestess, Felicity, isn’t so bad. She fostered in the Lunar coven back in her youth and understands how alien everything feels to the fosterlings.

But even she only meets with me during the daylight hours. That alone speaks volumes of her unvoiced fear of me.

It didn't take the other Solars long to notice, which is why they give me a wide berth as I hike up the millions of stairs to the top of the tower.

There’s no railing around the top of the flat tower roof. Nothing to catch us if we fall or obstruct the snowy view of Coveton and the grey sea of Hardhearth Bay beyond. The roof gardens make the town appear a beautiful, snow-dappled green from above. Almost like an oasis in the form of an urban jungle that spreads from the richest houses by the bay to the poor farmers and miners beneath the protective salt wall.

The Solars spend hours in the gardens, enchanting seeds and saplings to withstand the cold climate of Eldcrest. They're almost single-handedly responsible for keeping the people fed through winters that can freeze the bay solid on a bad year.

Even I have to respect that kind of dedication.

I pull my gaze back from the view and towards the golden sun mosaic which takes up most of the space on the tower roof. The witch praying with her arms outstretched in the centre is Glenna’s mirror opposite. Felicity is dark where Glenna is pale, her power is warm and soft rather than cold and playful.

“Mother Solar,” I say, kneeling. “You requested me?”

Felicity finishes her prayer, the gold beads of her long dress tinkling as she lowers her arms. The Solars traditionally wear white, but the High Priestess wears gold—the colour of the Sun Goddess. Lunars are the same except we wear black while Glenna wears silver.

The gold contrasts beautifully with the richness of Felicity’s skin and—not for the first time—I’m struck by the beauty of the witch before me. Even covered from head to toe in conservative robes, she manages to light up the space. She has the same delicate features which are a trademark of any witch, but her eyes are an enchanting deep brown that radiates warmth.

How she’s remained so open and compassionate despite centuries of seeing the worst the world has to offer is beyond me. It’s one of the many reasons why—to my surprise—I like her.

It’s easy to see why she was chosen as the Sun Goddess’s High Priestess.

“Nilsa,” her lips quirk into a genuine smile. “Happy name-day.”

I nod, hoping she didn’t call me all the way up those stairs just to say that.

“Are you looking forward to going home?”

“It’ll be easier,” I admit, then shut my mouth quickly.

She just chuckles, eyes sparkling with mirth. “I understand. Would you fly with me before you leave us?”

I know I’m gaping at her as she stretches out her arm and summons her broom. It’s a thing of springtime beauty, the golden handle engraved with flowers and ornamented with colourful gems.

A long time ago, when covens were poorer, witches flew on actual brooms, but metals take to enchantments better than wood. Modern brooms are shaped like a single twig as a nod to the past, but they’re much more comfortable than they once were. Most brooms have a saddle for sitting on and hooks for baskets or bags to be fitted just behind and spindly ‘branches’ flaring out from the back.

My broom isn’t anything like Felicity’s. I hold out my hand and borrow some magic from Opal to summon it from the Lunar temple. It’s plain, black, and more than a little dented, but it works. As an orphan ward of the coven, I’ve never had anything but hand-me-down equipment, but I’ve never felt like I was lacking until I see the two brooms side by side.

The Mother Solar doesn’t let me wallow for long; she mounts hers and kicks into the sky the moment I’m in the saddle. She keeps a leisurely pace, which is the only reason my broom can stay close as we soar over the town. In the streets below, mortals and immortals mingle, chatting as they head towards the market on the seafront.

For a few minutes, we fly aimlessly over it all, enjoying the cool breeze and the feeling of freedom that comes with flight.

I’m not expecting Felicity to speak so, when she does, I almost miss her first words.

“I’ve struggled with how to broach this for a long time," she begins, brushing a windswept tendril of hair out of her face and revealing the furrow in her brow. “I know you’ll probably turn me down and I won’t take it personally if you do, but I want to offer you the chance to stay at the Solar Temple.”

I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again .

Nothing comes out. But that’s okay, because Felicity isn’t done speaking.

“I know you have a home at the Lunar Temple, and your work for Glenna takes up a lot of your time. But you have the option to take vows and remain with us if you want to. There’s no harem waiting for you and perhaps, in time they’ll be born, and the Goddess will direct Glenna’s sight to them, but I think we both know that she benefits more from having you alone.”

“You sound like my familiar,” I mutter, before I can help myself.

“Our familiars are often right when we are too blind to see the truth for ourselves. You’re a bright and loyal witch, you have a gift with spells and potions, and I can offer you a future with less death where you can help people.”

I sigh, long and loud. Felicity is coming from a place of kindness, but I’m no Solar. I don’t even have to consider her words to know what my answer will be.

“I’m a Lunar witch.”

It’s the only truth I have. The upturned crescent mark at my hairline and the Lunar pendant I was wearing when I washed up on Coveton beach as a child are the only remaining links I have to my mother and fathers. If I give that up and take vows to the Sun Goddess, then who am I?

The Mother Solar just nods. “I understand. The invitation is an open one. It doesn’t matter if it’s now, or a hundred years in the future, there will always be a place for you among us if you want it.”

We don’t say anything more as our brooms drift away from the rich houses by the bay and over to the ramshackle buildings by the wall. Felicity pulls potions and charms from her bag as we fly, dropping them towards different homes. They float down as if they’re feathers rather than glass bottles and I stay quiet as I watch her work .

People leave their homes, waving and yelling blessings up to her. Their faces light up when they see whatever gifts she’s given them.

It’s a far cry from the response Lunar witches get and it’s easy to see the appeal of being a Solar. Life as a bringer of peace and healing must be fulfilling, and they’re almost universally loved.

But I’ve seen Glenna and other Lunars channel a loved one’s last goodbye to a grieving family. I’ve been there when my coven sisters exorcised tormented spirits which were making the living’s lives unbearable. We grant painless death to the suffering who ask for it and send on the souls of those who are trapped.

Solar witches might be beloved, but Lunar witches are just as necessary.

Then there are the cultural differences. I may not be the most active Lunar, but I have the option of taking a lover if I want to. The Solars’ quiet, stuffy rooms filled with dusty scrolls and disapproving glares are a great deal less appealing than the crazy parties and tactile ways of the Lunars.

Goddess, the number of times I’ve gone insane during my fostering, just needing a hug, a touch, any kind of intimacy to stave off the loneliness.

No, despite the kindness of Felicity’s offer, I can’t wait to go home.

We keep going towards the wall until we can see the skeletons of civilisation beyond it. Whole villages lie burnt out, destroyed and reclaimed by nature; their past occupants killed by the wraiths. Their eerie white mist lies across the ground, constantly reaching for the salt wall, only to be rebuffed. The wall stands ten men tall, the solid barrier the only thing between the farmers whose homes abut it and the death on the other side.

Every town and village that survived the wraiths' appearance has a similar wall. The salt is the only thing that keeps them at bay, which is why everyone who survived the awakening of the ghostly mist lived along the coast with its salty air.

The population of our world was decimated overnight, and the survivors were left to pick up the pieces.

But all of that was over five hundred years before I was even born. The wall is all I’ve ever known, and I can’t imagine a world without it.

Felicity drops another charm down to one of the houses by the wall and starts to turn back.

Her golden broom jerks to a stop.

I pull up, waiting for her to say something else, but she looks as confused as I am.

I frown, flying back for her. “Are you—”

Her broom is yanked backwards, and Felicity has no choice but to hang on. The gleaming golden metal doesn’t stop, heading straight for the wall.

Without thinking, I speed after her. My broom is ancient—nowhere near fast enough—and I know I won’t catch up.

That doesn’t stop me urging it forward.

Before I know it, we’re over the wall and slamming through the canopy of trees on the other side. Felicity crashes into the ground in the distance, but I can still hear the snap as her broom shatters on impact.

She’s sprawled, unmoving in the snow, red blood covering the white powder as one of her legs sticks out at completely the wrong angle. She only starts to stir as I draw closer, but I’m still too far away.

“Mother Solar!” I push my broom harder.

I’m not as fast as the mist.

White tendrils catch her as she starts to come around. I’m still not close enough to tell her expression, but her body tenses and she starts dragging herself backwards .

She’s not going to make it.

The moans herald the wraiths’ arrival; a horrible, tearing sound, like nails raking along my eardrums.

Felicity looks up at me, then back at the mist. A golden shield of pure Solar light bursts to light above her, her sigils glowing through the fabric of her robes as she calls on her Goddess to defend herself.

It won't work. No magic works against the wraith. No weapon has ever harmed them. Even salt only drives them away.

Not that I have any weapons.

My own policy of remaining unarmed to stop the Solars seeing me as a threat has come full-circle to bite me in the ass. Opal is too far away right now for me to call on the small piece of Moon's magic I have stored with her.

All I can do is pray my broom is fast enough to reach Felicity before the wraiths do.

“Fly!” Her voice hits me like a whip. “Get back over the wall.”

Claws form beside her, raking straight through the shield like it isn't there and into her remaining good leg.

Her scream is harrowing. Her shield flickers, but glows brighter a second later as she heals her own wounds. If Felicity can just heal and dodge their attacks until I get there...

Come on , I urge my useless broom.

Too late.

The spectral face of the wraith materialises fully beside her, red eyes glowing. It's a horrible, skeletal nightmare, formed of mist and savagery.

My breath leaves my lungs in a silent scream as it lunges forward, buries its fangs into her neck and snaps viciously.

The golden shield snaps out of existence but I barely notice as I reach out, trying to snatch Felicity away .

My hands dig into her hair and pull, trying to separate the two of them as I yank my broom up as fast as I can.

What follows is the slightest resistance, a sickening crunch, and the disturbing knowledge that what I hold in my hand isn’t heavy enough to be Felicity’s whole weight.

A glance down confirms what I already know.

The soft, curling locks that my fingers are digging into are still attached to her skull, her eyes frozen open in fright. But her neck is a bleeding mess of destroyed flesh. The wraith’s bite has cleaved her head from her body.

Below me, another of the spectral beasts joins the first. All I can see is red flying across the snow as they gorge on their kill, destroying any hope of recovering the rest of Felicity.

I’m used to death. I see it almost daily and worship its patron Goddess.

This isn’t death.

Death is the peace at the end of a long life. Mercy at the end of suffering. A quick end for the unlucky or a tired last breath for the old.

What these wraiths are doing is desecration. They’re not killing to eat, they’re killing for fun, and it shows in the way they don’t even consume Felicity’s body. They just shred it.

I’ve never seen wraiths in real life before, and this… This will be etched into my nightmares forever.

Horror makes my fingers go slack and I almost drop her head back into the slaughter below. I fumble and catch her again just before she would have fallen, cradling her skull against my chest with one arm as I fly straight back over the wall and towards the Solar Temple.

At least one piece of Felicity deserves to rest in peace.

Unfortunately, I’m not alone when I arrive back.

“Nilsa?” Teresa is at the head of the group. “Where is the Mother Solar? ”

I’m so numb I can’t answer as I woodenly dismount my broom.

I don’t know who sees Felicity’s head first, but the scream that echoes over the tower alerts everyone to the fact that something is wrong.

“What did you do to her?” Gabrielle, one of the older Solars, demands, yanking what remains of her High Priestess away from me.

“I didn’t do anything,” I protest. “Her broom malfunctioned, and she went straight over the wall. I tried to save her.”

Annalise scoffs, snatching the broom from my hand. “The Shadow of the Moon trying to save a life? For all we know, you lured her over there and hexed her broom to make it look like an accident.”

“I wouldn’t!” I argue.

They're not going to listen to me.

This can’t be happening. They've never trusted me, but they can’t seriously think I’d do this ? The Solars press forward, the dry heat of their magic making the air crackle.

A boom shakes the top of the tower.

“Nilsa, run!” I know it’s Danika’s voice, but the dark purple smoke that envelops us makes it impossible to see her.

I almost linger. The urge to protest my innocence, to try to make them believe me is overwhelming, but my survival instincts are stronger.

With the threat of magic still in the air, I leap for the edge of the roof, praying that Opal is close enough to take magic from.

My frantic grasping along our familiar bond is answered with a rush of power. I direct all of it at my legs, straight into the agility sigils inked there.

I have no idea if that will be enough to save me as I plummet towards the ground .

I land on my feet and roll, but the wind is still knocked out of me and I lie on the ground for several precious seconds trying to catalogue my injuries.

The icy burn of magic in my limbs softened my landing enough that I haven’t sprained anything, which is good. My body still aches as I push myself to my feet and try to gather my bearings.

I take three steps towards the Lunar Temple, then turn ninety degrees and head for the market instead. The Solars will expect me to take the quickest route to safety. I can outwit them and lose my pursuers in the crowds by the water’s edge.

I have to get to Glenna. She’s the only one with a chance of sorting this out.

Even then, she’ll be pissed.

All I can do is pray that she’s not hungover when I get to her.