Page 37 of Traitor Witch (The Deadwood #1)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

NILSA

“ A gain."

Petra's voice is like a whip.

Sweat drips down my spine, slicking my hair to my exposed skin. Magic burns icy-cold against my fingers as I pull myself into the spirit plane.

Then, just as quickly, reform in the material plane again.

"Faster."

Goddess, this woman is trying to kill me.

Spirit. Reality. Spirit. Reality.

On and on it goes. There's none of the sickness of before, thanks to the new shadow sigils which still twinge on my spine. Since they were inked into my flesh, perceiving the world in both forms has become second nature. No more nausea, just endless repetition.

Petra had to direct the sigil witch as she spread agony over my body. Alletta gave me a lot of sigils, but there are a few known only to Shadows .

And there are only ever two Shadows alive at one time. One mentor, one student.

Petra is dying. Soon it will be just me.

The sole remaining Shadow until another is born. Responsible for preserving thousands of years of lore and tradition.

In the last week, Petra's made it her mission to drive that point home at every opportunity.

She also likes to repeatedly point out that I'm the worst Shadow she's ever taught. So it's not uncommon for our sessions to end with me chucking whatever sharp and pointy objects I can find at the old hag.

They never hit her.

She might be old, but she's still as lethal as me. If I'm honest, she's more so.

That annoys me almost as much as her constant criticism. Not that I have the energy to do anything about it when she's done with me at dawn each day. She's kept me so exhausted from training that I've not even managed to badger her about Alletta, and Sophie has disappeared—doing whatever it is a Solar High Priestess does.

My curiosity is still there, but I have no other leads.

"Again!"

" Enough already." I flop down onto the floor of the terrace we're practising on, the tiles against my back and the cool night breeze on my front feel so good against my skin. "I need a break."

"You need to get back on your feet before I make you," Petra retorts. "You think the palace guards will grant you a break before they tie your limbs to a rack and rip you apart?"

"If you're so sure I'll fail, why are you even bothering to train me?"

"The Goddess demands it."

I shake my head. "There's more to it than that. Why does the Goddess want the human queen dead? Why does the Eagle of Galmere force my pirates to ferry siren scales and fae dust? What's it all for?"

Petra frowns, worrying her lip with her lower teeth. "I suppose it is time you knew. Tell me, what's the greatest gift given to humans by the Goddesses?"

Is this a trick? "Mortality. To know time is against you and feel all the wonders of the world—good and bad—more keenly for it. Never ageing into true indifference as immortals do." Every Lunar witch knows that.

"What if I told you that hundreds of years ago, the human royals discovered a potion capable of granting immortality?"

"Impossible. That's just... impossible." Yes, I know I'm repeating myself, but the idea is just mind-blowing.

Yes, the monarchy live long lives—compared to most humans, anyway—but that's supposed to be a gift of the Sun Goddess. Not a potion.

Petra smiles, but it's a grim expression. "They call it the Mortal Cure. It was first used by the Queen's mother."

"If that's true, how is she dead?" The Dowager Queen died of heartbreak after her own son tried to assassinate her and the Eagle of Galmere executed him for it. "Everyone knows the story of Prince Dorian's betrayal. It's legendary."

"It's legendary because the story has been twisted beyond recognition and made to serve the Queen," Petra snaps. "The truth is Dowager Queen Eleanor was a ruthless bitch who taught her children that in order to rule, one of them had to kill the other, promising that the child who lived would rule side by side with her for eternity."

She sighs, scrubbing a palm across her forehead and takes a seat on the balustrade which separates us from the plunging drop below. She seems even older in this moment, somehow fragile for all her snark and bluster.

"Prince Dorian was the younger of her two children," she continues. "He lived through hundreds of Catherine's attempts to kill him over the three years between the invention of their elixir and his death. He endured and even retaliated a handful of times until his wife gave birth to twin daughters. He became afraid for his girls. Parenthood has a funny way of making even the most apathetic person want to change the world for the better," the soft smile on her face makes me wonder if Petra's ever had children. "The prince planned to escape with his whole family and live in exile.

"His idea might have worked, but the idiot put his trust in the wrong people. Princess Catherine—as she was then—convinced her mother that his cowardice made him unsuitable for the throne, and together, they framed her brother. Only a few months later, when it was clear Dowager Queen Eleanor wouldn't share power as she'd promised, Catherine poisoned her own mother with the very elixir she believed made her invincible."

It's so messed up I don't want to accept it. Don't want to believe that anyone could do that to their family.

"And no one noticed? Not one person knew the truth in a palace full of servants and courtiers?"

"They might have. But who would dare go against the Eagle of Galmere? The shifters? They were decimated by the wraiths. Only a few remain, and most of them are small, non-predatory species. Most of the vampire queens spend their time squabbling between themselves and care nothing for the affairs of their food as long as it's readily available. The fae have their own realms, far away where the Queen has no interest in going. The sirens put up a fight in the beginning, but they've always been isolated. Their numbers have been decimated over the years, they're too weakened to be of any help now."

"And the elixir, it just grants humans immortality?"

"If you can get in and out of the spirit world before I can blink I'll tell you more about it. "

I grimace, but she has me hooked.

It takes several attempts, and I'm sweating even worse when I finally manage it, but Petra finally nods.

"It's only temporary but, when taken regularly, it grants humans immortality. Along with some of the perks. Imagine a creature with the speed of a vampire, the strength of a shifter, and even a siren's ability to breathe underwater. There are reports that the Eagle of Galmere even has some basic mage powers and the truth-telling ability of a fae. Though she didn't use either of those against me when we fought. But to create such a potion requires heinous sacrifices. Parts of each immortal."

"Like siren scales and fae dust," I finish. "What do they take from the others? Does the Deadwood smuggle all of the ingredients?"

Petra just cocks her head to one side.

I sigh and get back to stepping into the spirit plane.

When I step out this time, I fling a dagger at her for good measure.

Petra part-steps into the spirit realm, the spot where my dagger would have made contact flashing between planes. Letting the blade sail straight through her body.

Damn. I still wish I could master that.

"If you're so eager to get to stabbing things..." Petra becomes fully corporeal again and makes a fist.

When she opens her hand, a small throwing knife glows in the centre of her palm.

Not the silver of moonlight, or the gold of sunlight.

The pure darkness that surrounds the metal is not of this realm.

"Spirit blades." Petra tosses it into the air and catches it easily. "The slightest scratch will kill, a stab to the heart will turn your enemy to dust. It's possible to bind the same kind of power to an athame, but summoning them is faster and less cumbersome. Useful, should you find yourself weaponless or needing to dispose of a body."

She flicks the knife at me. No warning. Not even a subtle tensing of her muscles to indicate what she's about to do.

I dodge—barely—cursing as I roll out of the way. When the blade clatters to the ground behind me I grab for it.

The unearthly darkness is gone. The knife with it.

"They return to the spirit realm once used. Now. Summon one."

I don't comply immediately. Petra always does this: demonstrates, and then expects me to figure things out for myself.

It prolongs the torture.

Thankfully, this one seems pretty simple. The sigil witch inked a sigil for blades among the handful of sigils on my spine.

So I send power into it.

A blade materialises, but I can't hold it. It clatters straight to the floor and disappears.

Petra snorts.

Shit.

It takes a few more attempts, playing with multiple combinations of sigils to figure out what I have to do.

By the time I manage to throw it back at Petra, she's gotten so bored that she's sitting on the railing overlooking the sea. She catches the blade and throws it aside without even looking.

"You're not ready," she huffs, watching as her black cat familiar approaches her with soft mewing sounds. "It takes decades to become a true Shadow and Glenna has taught you a lifetime of bad habits."

"Does it matter? We have time."

She strokes her familiar's head once, then turns away from the sea to scowl at me. "The Deadwood delivers to the Queen four times a year. That's hundreds of immortal deaths every decade. If you are trained traditionally, the sirens will be wiped out by the time you're ready. Even if, by some miracle, you manage to learn it all in a year, I am being called to the stars. There will be no one else to teach you in a matter of months. Maybe less."

She says it so simply, she might as well have been discussing the weather. She's so calm about her own death, and there's a strange wistfulness in her eyes when she mentions it. Almost a fondness that doesn't just seem to be an acceptance born of her extreme age.

"Your best way into the palace is through the Deadwood 's delivery," Petra continues. "That means your only course of action is to learn fast and fly faster to catch up with them. The cargo is normally delivered discreetly, with the smallest number of guards to avoid drawing attention. That is your best way in and your one advantage over the dozens of others who went before you."

I stop dead. "You want me to use my pirates to get to her?"

"The Goddess wants the Queen dead. That's all that matters."

"But they're mine," I hiss. "They're stuck in a bargain with no way out. If I'm discovered, they'll be killed."

"They chose their path. This is yours. What's worth more, your petty harem drama or hundreds of lives and the balance of our world?"

"Fuck you. If you treated your harem this way, it's no wonder they left you."

Fire flashes in Petra's eyes and I know I've hit my mark a second before a dagger nails me in the thigh.

"Understand this." She stands from her position on the rail and takes a menacing step closer, her familiar trailing beside her. "My harem was everything to me. They gave everything to rid our world of the Eagle of Galmere. Served our Goddess with more devotion than you or I ever could. You will never mention them again." She flicks her eyes toward her familiar and I take advantage of the distraction, yanking the blade out of my leg and sending it flying back at her.

As always, it never touches her.

Before meeting Petra, it had been years since I missed a target. Now failing to hit her on an hourly basis is beginning to give me a complex.

"Get that healed," the old witch grumbles. "You leave tonight."

"Tonight?" I gape at her.

"Get a move on. Unless you plan to whine some more." She turns to face the sea, effectively dismissing me. "I suppose the Goddess wants me to watch one last student get sent to their death before I go."

Those words are so quiet I might have missed them if the sea air wasn't blowing towards the cliff, carrying them further than Petra intended.

Her melancholy voice softens my attitude slightly.

"Maybe I'll surprise you."

Petra snorts. "Keep hoping, girl. I'm sure it will make all the difference."

I hesitate a moment longer, but limp past her to the stairs. My blood leaves a trail as I wander towards the Solar's healing rooms.

"Nilsa!" The shout greets me as soon as I enter the building.

Oh, Goddess. Not now.

Elsie is sweet. Well-meaning and a little immature in an occasionally endearing way. But she's also irritating in a way that seems to be unique to her.

Maybe she'll grow out of it , I pray for the hundredth time.

"I can heal that." She grabs my hand and tugs me over to a bed before I can object. "This looks painful. Training must be really hard on you, huh?"

"No harder than anything else," I murmur.

Looking around the room, it's strangely devoid of people. The beds are empty, and there aren't any other Solars lingering. How long has Elsie been sitting in here, alone?

That is not sympathy I'm feeling. No. Solar witches like solitude and meditating and stuff. Elsie was probably having the time of her life before I showed up.

"Where is everyone?" I ask.

Elsie shrugs as she grabs a handful of herbs from her pouch and smears the mix into the wound. A sigil on the back of her hand glows as she works, infusing the wound with a heat that's almost uncomfortable.

"I'm sure they're around somewhere. I had some studying to do, anyway, and Milo keeps me company."

I hiss as her magic hits a particularly tender spot.

"Sorry, sorry," she sing-songs, not sounding particularly apologetic at all. "Apparently I'm way ahead of all the healers in my new circle, so I think the older Solars are just leaving me to it."

Yup. That twinge of fire in my leg definitely screams top of her class.

I shouldn't be so cynical, but pain has a way of making me crabby.

When I look down, there isn't even a scar.

Okay, so maybe she's not awful at healing.

Didn't mean it didn't hurt, though.

I stare at the empty room again, more irked by it that I want to admit.

"Are you happy here?"

Elsie looks up, startled by the question. "Of course, why wouldn't I be? "

"Because you're alone."

She snorts. "I was alone in Ilyani. Even on the Deadwood, those pirates had eyes only for you. Now, I have Milo and a Mother Solar who isn't scared to venture beyond the walls of her temple. I miss Coop, but I've got his necklace. If it's a tracker, maybe that means he'll visit me some day. Or, who knows, perhaps I'll end up back in Ilyani."

"You've not made any other friends?"

Her whole face lights up. "You're worried about me!"

I try to shrug it off. "I'm being sent on a mission, I'd rather you weren't miserable—"

And she's hugging me again. I'm being crushed by a Solar teenager. Lunars are tactile, but this is less of a hug and more death by squeezing.

"That's so sweet of you!"

I pat her back awkwardly. "Elsie?"

"Yes?"

"Can't breathe."

"Oh. Right, sorry!" She releases me, and I rub my arms to try to restore circulation to the muscles. "Don't worry about me! I'll be fine. You go do whatever it is Lady Lunar Petra needs you to do. I'm going to learn to be the best healer ever. I mean, have you seen the library? I could spend two centuries in there and not get bored. Did you know there are books there that document the wraiths' first appearances?"

"Books aren't really my—"

"They're so fascinating and five hundred years old." She turns her back to me, tending to the mess she made with the herbs. "Their first attacks cut us off from most of the crystal mines, meaning we had no way to power a lot of the mage tech. It took years to reclaim the few mines which remain and that's why crystals are so valuable..."

She's still babbling on as I slip into the spirit realm and out of the door.