Page 57 of Wings of Lies (Daughter of the Seven Circles #1)

Chapter

Thirty-Four

T he further we walked into The Divide, the thicker the trees became.

“Think if I threw a stick at the princeling, he’d explode?” Oliver leaned over to whisper to me.

I held back my laughter. “Please don’t. We’ve come this far with no incidents.”

Before we were deep in the Damatha Forest, Oliver found some interesting green fruit that he swore was edible. He didn’t want to hunt and leave me with Aspen, so it would have to do. I finished the large, sour morsel before the thick canopy swallowed the sunlight and the trees became car sized.

“Think I could eat those blue mushrooms?” I asked, still hungry.

Oliver laughed. “Yeah, that’s a great idea if you want to turn into a glow-bug or die. ”

Aspen scoffed like we needed our brains reevaluated when actually we needed more food and for our lives to be simpler and not the object of everyone’s malicious desires.

A slight twitch hit the corner of my lips as we passed a batch of Celestrus. They lit up one after another like a runway guiding us to the darkness ahead. Distracted by the strange beauties, I ran right into Aspen. I jerked back, not wanting to touch him, and backed into Oliver.

“Why’d we—” I started to say until Oliver covered my mouth. Shooting him a glare, I noticed his face had paled. Confused, I side-stepped Aspen and stopped.

It was so much worse than I could’ve imagined.

The dilapidated cottage crawled with browned vines and fog. Pikes were placed in a ring around the cottage with skulls of animals and humans in different states of decomposition.

“What’d I tell ya? Ms. Decapitator,” Oliver mumbled, eyeing the skeletons with wariness.

Aspen’s jaw bounced in time with the flicker under his chin. “Uncuff me.”

“No,” Oliver and I said in unison.

“If we go in there, and it goes to hell, who will help us escape?” By his tone, it sounded like he already had an answer. So arrogant.

“Oliver’s got enough juice to take down a witch. Right, Oliver?”

I peered back at him. He nodded, but his scrunched, pained look did nothing for my nerves.

Turning back to Aspen, I hoped he didn’t see.

The last thing I needed was some posturing fight over powers and strength.

But as I watched a piece of left-over flesh plop to the ground from a freshly spiked skull and smelled the rancid scent that a swarm of flies flew to, I prayed I wasn’t making some mistake .

Staring at his chains, I contemplated. Would it be so bad? Maybe… I shook my head, snorting at my asinine thoughts.

“We can’t un-cuff you. The moment we do, I’ll just be fodder for your queen. Oliver and good old-fashioned wit will have to be enough.”

“You’ll be fodder if you go in there, as weak and useless as you are.”

I whipped around, eyes wild. So many hurtful words sat on the tip of my tongue, ready to explode in his black-runed face. I had to remember this wasn’t him. But it was hard when our relationship, or whatever you’d call it, was fragile to begin with.

I stormed toward the skin-crawling cottage like I had a death wish, hearing Oliver at my back.

“I’d be careful what you say to her, princeling. Because if that rune ever comes off, you’ll be one sorry bastard when you wake up.” His tone held an unmistakable threat.

Before I got to the first wooden step, Aspen jerked me back with jangling chains, stepping in front.

If we weren’t about to be on the porch of a flesh-eating witch, I would’ve shoved him off.

I didn’t need his protection. It was only a guise for the need to keep me whole for his queen.

Even if part of him wanted to keep me safe, he remained loyal to her.

We stepped onto the decaying threshold, the boards creaking with the shift of our weight. Aspen lifted his hand to knock, and the door swung open before his knuckles could touch, but the doorway appeared empty.

“This is starting off like every horror movie ever, and we’re the stupid people walking into the haunted witch house when we all know we’re going to die. ”

I shot Oliver a pointed look that said, shut the hell up.

He shrugged, mouthing, “It’s the truth.”

The smallest, most infinitesimal part of me had the urge to step closer to Aspen, but I dug that traitorous bit a grave. Although, I wasn’t enjoying the tension in his shoulders or the sound of scavenging flesh flies.

“Darlings, don’t worry, I only kill when there isn’t a fair exchange,” a pleasant voice called out. “Please, enter, and tell Magda what you wish to know.”

Aspen scoffed. “Don’t die.” Then, as a shot of overwhelming worry hit me, he added a strangled, “Please.”

I couldn’t help but stare at his back as the Aspen I cared for peeked through. I needed to find a way for him to stay.

He moved through the door, Oliver and I at his heels. Once through the threshold, my face went slack.

I glanced at Oliver, who surveyed the small cottage with a similar surprised expression.

“Wow, it’s pretty nice in here,” he said, admiring the living room.

There were no dilapidated moldy boards to be found.

The oldest thing in the cottage were the trinkets and gems lining shelves near a well-crafted fireplace.

Even then, they were well-kept. Although, they stood apart from the rest of the interior.

The rest appeared to be straight out of an interior design magazine.

Light feminine laughter pealed to our side. “The skulls and decaying wood help to keep the riffraff away.”

The voice belonged to a sensual female. She stood in her pristine kitchen under a ceiling decorated with herbs.

She looked young, which meant nothing in Elora.

But by the surprise on Oliver’s face, we were both expecting an old hag.

Not a female with long golden hair in a tight ice-blue dress with no warts, moles, wrinkles, or scars to be seen on her skinny frame.

From the sneer lifting Aspen’s lips, I think he was the only one unaffected by the unexpected appearance.

Magda smiled at his sour expression. “I’m surprised to have you back, prince, after the last time.” Her eyes flicked to me and back to his glare.

I shot him a side glance. “This is the witch that told you?—”

“That the female I’d have a guardian bond with would destroy my world.”

“What?” He never mentioned that part in all his slivers.

Magda smiled, delighted by his answer and my shock.

“Figured you wouldn’t want to know that part. But I no longer care. Soon, it won’t matter.”

It’s not Aspen talking. It’s the rune .

Magda laughed, enjoying our tension. “Well then, take a seat. Rest. Let me hear your questions.” Keeping her smile, she gestured to the cushioned chairs by her fireplace. “Would anyone like tea? Or apples?” she asked, like a doting host.

Oliver shot me a questioning glance, and we both sat across from each other. I shrugged, wincing at the movement. We were both hungry. But was her food safe? I eyed Aspen, who stood behind me, his narrowed gaze all for Magda.

“They’re not poisoned, just your average apples. And, sweetness, I have a tea to help soothe whatever ails you,” she added, bustling around in her spotless white kitchen.

I guess not much got by her .

Oliver shrugged and nodded. “We’ll have apples, and she’ll take the tea. The princeling…” he glanced at Aspen, who continued to glare. “He doesn’t matter.”

Her silky dress swayed back and forth as her dainty hand released two apples into Oliver’s lap. He handed me one. Not correcting Oliver, Aspen took nothing, hands more occupied with digging into my chair.

“So,” Magda handed me a painted teacup and gracefully sat beside Oliver. “This is how I work. You ask a question, I’ll give you a price for the information, and you accept, or you leave.”

I let the steam of lavender and herbs hit my nose and took a sip.

Its warmth spread into my skin and bones, soothing and mending.

The relief eased my tension, making me wonder why everyone considered her dangerous.

The witch was helpful, gorgeous, seemingly kind, and had a home most people would die for, at least in the interior.

“Okay, I guess I’ll start,” I said between sips.

Magda waved to my cup. “Please, finish. It’s best to drink the tincture all in one sitting to receive the full benefits. We will wait.” She smiled, gentle and encouraging. Any apprehension I had left slipped away.

They all waited patiently for me. Oliver’s obscene crunching and my twitching feet hitting the leg of the chair filled the awkward silence. Drawing out the last sip as long as possible, I thought of my questions. My stomach twisted into a knotted mess.

At the last drop of tea, I set my cup on the coffee table, ignoring how it clattered against the wood.

It was now or never.

“Is Oliver’s sister alive?” I asked .

I was such a chicken shit.

Oliver choked on his apple, caught off guard by my question. But I wasn’t ready to ask about my mom. I needed a moment to work up to it, plus we needed to understand her price.

Magda fingered a small, glowing pendant on her chest. A crystal surrounded by five other crystals in varying shades of white pulsed with light before settling back to its dim color.

“The price for that answer is your name,” she replied, still fingering her pendant between her cleavage.

Easy. I opened my mouth to respond when Aspen’s chains clamored against the back of my chair, and his hands clamped down on my shoulder.

His fingers alternated between squeezing and releasing, as if uncertain whether to offer reassurance, protection, or exert control.

Regardless of his intent, I shrugged him off.

“Lucille,” I stated.

Magda’s gentle smile widened, and another pulse of light throbbed from her pendant. “She is.”

Oliver slumped back in his chair, running a hand through his duel-colored bangs. He gave me a relieved smile and twisted to face the witch. “Did Marcus bring her to the Mother of Demons?” he asked, butting in. Not that I blamed him.