Page 32 of Traitor Witch (The Deadwood #1)

Chapter Thirty-Two

NILSA

W hen I climb through the hatch onto the deck, the first thing I notice is that all my pirates are there waiting. The second is that there's a small group of black and white-robed figures on brooms by the shoreline.

A welcoming party. Well, at least I'm prepared if they turn out to be unfriendly.

I'm armed to the teeth. I've stolen a few more of Valorean's cannon balls and transformed them into knives which sit snugly in the sheaths on my thighs and forearms.

Opal is curled around my shoulders, claws out as she waits for the inevitable confrontation to come.

The men don't notice that.

No. Their eyes are glued to the black minidress and matching hooded cloak I'm wearing.

"That's not a Solar robe." Val's frown is as accusing as I knew it would be.

I take a deep breath, glance at Nos, and draw myself up to my full height.

"Because I'm not a Solar witch." I refuse to look away as I say it. "I'd apologise for the deception, but you're enough of an asshole that I don't really care about your hurt feelings."

"Dark witch," Val spits. "Should have fucking guessed."

"Lunar," I correct. "Nilsa av Coveton, Shadow of the Moon, at your service."

Elsie is beaming at me like she thinks this reveal is a good thing. Cas—still dripping with water from his earlier shift—and Kier look surprised, but not angry.

They, at least, were semi-prepared for the revelation.

Rysen's face is blank. Maybe he's still processing. His non-expression makes me feel guilty, so much so that I turn to the member of the crew whose emotions are always easier for me to face.

Val is furious.

"I've been ferrying a fucking assassin around for weeks?" He runs an agitated hand through his white hair. "Great. Just fucking perfect."

"Don't worry," I retort. "You seem to be coping just fine with ferrying siren body parts, what's an assassin compared to that?"

His glare is pure ice. "So it was you sneaking around in the hold. I suppose I should be grateful you've not stabbed any of us in the back with your shadow tricks. I bet you're behind the mage-tech I keep sensing too!"

I shake my head, but Elsie shuffles nervously on the spot.

"Got something to add?" Val demands, stalking forward, crowding Elsie against the rail. "Are you a dark witch too?"

"No! I serve the Sun Goddess," Elsie protests. "But my mage friend gave me this."

She pulls out the pendant that Cooper gave her.

It only takes a glance for Val to know what it is .

"A tracker? Just which mage has been tracking my ship since you came aboard, witch?"

Elsie shrinks back. "Cooper Castleman."

Val's face goes from angry to blank. All around him, the ropes on the deck start to writhe like angry snakes. The sails flap. The very wood of the deck starts rumbling.

In the distance, the black and white figures on brooms move closer, sensing the disturbance.

"You brought Castleman mage-tech onto my fucking ship and didn't think to tell me?!"

My eyes leave Val's, travel to Nos's and I hate the grimace on his face.

He didn't see this.

Even Cas looks grim.

"Calm down, you're scaring her." I put myself between the two of them, trying to ignore the waves behind me.

But in the time it took me to glance at Nos, Val's left furious behind. His dark eyes are flashing with death.

"GET OFF MY SHIP!"

"We're going !" I bellow back. "Just give us a boat and we'll be gone!"

Val turns on his heel and strides away from us. "Fuck that. You can swim !"

"Valorean—"

A rope flies across the deck, smacking into my stomach so hard it sends me crashing into Elsie. We topple over the side in a tangle of white and black.

"You bastard! She can't—"

But Cas's roar is cut off by the roar of the waves crashing into the cliffs.

The water hits us hard.

Elsie pushes away, kicking herself to the surface of the cold water easily.

But I can't .

I struggle against the water. Trying not to breathe. Trying just to move myself. In the murky waves beyond, I see Opal sinking too.

I can't seem to get closer to her no matter how hard my limbs flail.

No. No, no, no.

Please, Goddess.

A strong arm bands around my waist. The heat of him chasing away the ocean's chill.

His other hand flies out, grabbing Opal by the scruff of her neck.

We break the surface seconds later, immortal strength propelling us faster than a normal man would ever be capable of.

I cough up water, but my breathing is still choppy. Lungs reacting to the visceral fear of what's beneath me.

Opal curls her wet body around my neck, sandwiching herself between my spine and Cas's chest.

"Are you alright?" Cas's worried voice breaks through the fear fogging up my brain. "Nilsa. Come on. Talk to me, princess."

Rysen's voice echoes from somewhere far away, but I can't make out the words. I shiver and burrow into Cas, trying to swallow away the bile crawling up my throat.

But we're in the sea . My heart is still pounding in my ears. My throat constricting. Reacting to a threat that takes up all my senses.

Below us, the darkness of the water beckons.

"You're safe," Cas croons, that purr rumbling through me.

"Nilsa?" Elsie's voice is lulling, the warmth of Solar magic radiating from her. The Solar is swimming quite happily beside us, her eyes focused on me. "Come on, listen to my voice. "

I can feel her magic soothing my symptoms. That calm quality all Solars have magnified a thousand by her magic.

It almost works.

Then something brushes against my arm.

I gasp, my heart galloping in my chest.

"It's just kelp," Cas reassures me, holding up the slimy offender for me to see. "It's just seaweed, princess. Come on. Deep breaths for me."

"Give her to us!"

Two figures on brooms are closing in on our group. One in white, the other in black. Behind them, closer to the cliffs, more witches wait in the sky, watching the drama unfold.

The Solar dives, her hand latching onto Elsie's arm and pulling her up behind her on the broom. She returns to the sky, hovering as her Lunar counterpart tries to do the same for me.

Cas launches us out of the way as she draws close, splashing more water into my face.

"She's mine !" Turquoise flashes across the shifter's gaze, his arms squeezing me so tightly that it's impossible to breathe.

"Casimir!" Elsie screeches from above. "You're hurting her."

"Release her to us." This time, the Lunar's words are laced with compulsion.

But it's not moonrise yet; her power is weaker and Cas visibly struggles against it. "You're not taking our mate. She stays with us."

The Lunar dives. "Let. Her. Go."

The second compulsion-laced sentence does its job. Cas's arms spasm around me, giving just enough that the Lunar can pluck me out of the water and onto the broom in front of her .

The golden sparks of his transformation follow us as the Lunar turns her broom and races vertically into the sky.

Opal hisses in indignation, digging her claws into my shoulders.

An animalistic roar shakes the broom. The leviathan's head reaching out of the water.

His turquoise eyes are full of anguish as he stretches his full length from the water to try and reach me. But we're already over the cliffs. Out of reach.

"Whoooooohoooo!" The Lunar cheers, short dark hair whipping wildly around her face as she turns her broom, following the coast. "That was epic."

"We haven't made it home yet," the Solar, who somehow kept up with us during that insane flight, mutters as the rest of the group of witches catch up with us.

"We got the Shadow, though."

My body pitches forwards, and I vomit seawater over the side of the broom.

"Ugh, I thought the Nilsa would have a stronger stomach." The Lunar shifts back, trying to get away from me.

I barely notice.

My eyes are fixed on the shrinking sails of the ship behind us.

My mind is still repeating Cas's last words.

You're not taking our mate.

Our mate.

Mate.

Goddess. How was I so stupid?

The way they seemed to fit me so perfectly. Kier's certainty that I could break his curse. Rysen's reaction to my blood. Cas's beast's acceptance of me. Nos's certainty that they'd want me to stay. Even Valorean's fucking boner.

They all think I'm their mate .

They must have known for weeks. Which means they must have purposefully kept it from me.

And now I've left them behind so I can't even yell at them for it.

I'm riding on a broomstick with a witch who may or may not have been involved in Glenna and Felicity's assassinations. On my way to a sanctuary for witches run by the woman whose ring was found at the scene of my High Priestess's murder.

I'm not ready for this. My emotions are a wreck, my body is still recovering from my earlier panic attack, and my mind is all over the place. Flicking between pirates and duty.

I don't have a choice. So I close my eyes, take three, long breaths, and pray to the Moon for strength.

When I open them again, I don't feel much better. Not that I expected to.

Fate rarely waits until we're at our strongest to throw hard choices our way.

We follow the cliffs, staying just out of sight of the sea until finally, Petra's sanctuary comes into view.

It's built into a sheer cliff side, hidden inside a cove that curves away from the coastline, making it harder for ships to see if they're sailing close to the island.

Hundreds of homes are carved into the solid rock with magic. The architecture is stunning. Ornate in a way that Coveton and Ilyani can only dream of achieving, yet just as practical. Idos's warm climate allows for larger windows and airier designs. Public gardens, filled with edible plants, are interspersed with houses and shops, with stairs and bridges carved between them for access.

The witches have made this place their own, with mosaics set into the steps and colourful, sigil embroidered curtains waving in the ocean breeze. The homes stretch all the way from a few feet above the sea, right up to the tops of the cliffs, where a few, more traditional houses are perched.

At the base, wooden, floating docks stretch outwards, small sailing boats moored tightly to the arms. At the top, cattle roam across miles of craggy grassland.

All of this radiates out from a single, central point.

A three-headed woman's likeness stares out from the middle. The head on the left wears a crown of sunbeams and the right head wears a crown of stars, but the head in the middle is the most surprising.

Many people struggle to remember that Fate is the third goddess, given the fact that she has no temples or witches to serve her. The only evidence of her existence is the Seers, whose eyes cloud over at her touch. Yet here, her blindfolded face stares out from between the Moon and the Sun.

She may not have a crown, but there is no doubting she's their equal when they all share the same stone body.

Atop the Moon and Sun Goddesses’ chiselled hair, a mosaic-lined pool waits for a high priestess. The stonework of the crowns grants enough privacy that only those approaching from above, as we are, would be able to see inside.

It really is a temple to all three goddesses.

Unheard of.

But it's right in front of my eyes.

Stairs are carved around the single body the goddess statue shares, disappearing behind it and reappearing on the other side until they reach the collarbones, where the stairs split into two, climbing up each side of the statue until they reach the crowns.

Around the statue's feet there's a large balcony-type space, overflowing with plants and black, white, and grey fabrics. There are benches dotted around, but the gathered crowd is standing, leaving only a single, clear space for us to land in.

My knees shake as I dismount the broom, but I refuse to let it show until I know who I'm dealing with. The moment we reach the ground, Opal dismounts, shaking her fur out grumpily while giving me, and everyone else, a look of death.

We're surrounded by witches, both Lunars and Solars, and even a few white-eyed Seers. All of them staring at Elsie and me. The crowd is silent, leaving only the sound of the damned ocean and my own ragged breathing.

"Nilsa Dunn av Coveton, Shadow of the Moon," a voice echoes from the base of the statue. "And Elsie Fadden av Ilyani. Welcome to Sanctum."

A Mother Solar and a Mother Lunar. Standing side by side like best friends. Both smiling at us like they've been expecting us for a long time.

But the Mother Lunar looks...old.

It's so strange that I'm caught off guard and actually end up bowing to her. My body on autopilot while my mind tries to catch up.

She's definitely a witch—the sigils across her weathered skin attest to that—but her hair is grey, the skin around her silver eyes crinkled with age.

Immortals don't age.

This is not a woman who looks capable of killing a high priestess in her prime. Let alone two.