The Witch King

by H. E. Edgmon

When she sees me, she gives a warbly kind of scream and shrinks back, holding up the palms of her hands like she thinks I’m going to attack her. “Please—please don’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m—”

  “What?” What is going on? I shuffle a little closer but draw up short when she shrinks even further into herself. “Are you... Are you afraid of me?”

  “Please just—just put the fire out.” She coughs around a mouthful of smoke, and another violent sob wrenches through her body. “Fire—I can’t—Just—Please. Please.”

  “Tessa, I’m not doing this. This fire isn’t mine.”

  She doesn’t seem to hear me; she just starts crying louder. She presses her forehead against her knees again, rocking back and forth, sobs shaking her.

  I turn back to Emyr and Briar, holding my hands out. I don’t know what the fuck to do.

  “Leave her.” Emyr shakes his head. “She’ll be fine here.”

  And she probably will be. If the roles were reversed, and it was me lying in a hallway having some kind of crisis, she would leave me. It isn’t a poor suggestion. Emyr and I are the ones with targets on our heads. Briar is the one with fragile human lungs. We should go.

  And still, I find myself hesitating.

  “Goddammit,” I grumble, turning back and stomping over to her. She winces when I reach down and grip her elbows, then yank her to her feet. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says again, and she stares into my face like she’s seeing me for the first time tonight. Really seeing me, and not a ghost.

  “Whatever.”

  I drag Tessa along with us, following Emyr as we make our way into another hallway, this one even more smoke-filled than the last. And we run into another problem.

  A figure blocks our path, a fae shrouded in darkness and smog.

  I leave Tessa at Emyr’s side and move to stand in front of them, squinting to get a better look.

  “Well, well, well,” the fae drawls, feathered wings fluttering around him. “When they asked me to block this route, I didn’t think I’d run into you—”

  And then he says it. My deadname.

  My skin crawls. I could vomit from the wrongness of it, the dissociation that comes from hearing someone address me as anything other than me. It’s always like this. The feeling that my body is not my body and I am not myself.

  Behind me, Emyr snaps, “By order of the Throne, you are commanded to vacate our path.”

  The stranger laughs. “The Throne? I don’t answer to your Throne. Soon, none of Asalin will.”

  Briar makes a noise like she’s trying to speak before erupting into a fit of coughs.

  “Who the hell are you?” I snarl.

  He laughs. “What? You don’t recognize me?”

  The fae turns his head to the side and I see it, the telltale sign. One single horn, poised in the center of his head.

  He raises his hand and a bright, white light erupts from his palm, lighting the entire hallway. I can make him out clearly now. Same freckles and bright orange hair. Same smug, taunting smile.

  Moisture beads in my mouth, saliva collecting behind my teeth and against my gums. Nausea makes my insides curdle.

  Unicorn Boy’s gaze flicks behind me to Emyr and Briar and he laughs, this hateful little sound, before he comes back to me. “How does it feel, bitch? Knowing you’re the one who’s going to burn now?”

  “BY ORDER OF THE THRONE,” Emyr bellows. “YOU ARE ORDERED TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET OUT OF THE WAY.”

  Unicorn Boy is on a roll, though. He continues on as if he didn’t hear Emyr speak. “We picked the fire just for you, you know. A little present, after what you did. You psychotic little—”

  As black magic slicks across my body and drips into my eyes, a blue lasso of flame shoots from my hand and curls around his throat. It tightens, constricting his breathing and burning through his fair skin all at once. He tries to scream but he can’t. He tries to claw at the rope, but all he does is burn his hands. His own magic flares, his energy swirling as it paints across his body, desperately trying to defend himself.

  But he can’t defend himself. Not against me. Not against this fire. It comes as naturally as breathing, when I finally let it. I’m not aware of how much effort I expend pressing my magic down until I stop trying to control it. Until I let it take the reins.

  I still feel like I’m going to be sick. I sway on my feet, held up by sheer spite and rage as I watch my fire eat away at his flesh.

  “Enough! We have to go,” Emyr warns. I look over my shoulder to see he’s holding Briar one-handed now, his other hand around her throat. Soft golden light emanates from his fingertips into her skin. He’s healing her, helping to keep her breathing through the smoke. “He’ll get what’s coming to him soon.”

  Next to him, Tessa’s eyes have glazed over. She’s staring at me, but again she doesn’t seem to really see me. I recognize the dissociation. She needs to get out of here as badly as Briar does, for entirely different reasons.

  I look back down at the fae’s body, now crumpled on the ground. His throat is red, bloodied and burned under my flame. He can barely raise his hands anymore.

  Finally, I tug the lasso back. It recedes into my palms, disappearing back into my body.

  “Someone should teach you some manners,” I whisper on a rasp, voice roughened from breathing in soot for too long. “Let’s go.”

  We move around him and after a few steps I can make out light at the end of the hallway. We’re almost outside. The smoke begins to dissipate and Emyr lowers Briar to her feet.

  But I can hear shuffling behind me. When I turn, I find Unicorn Boy has somehow stood, blood dripping from the burned, bubbling skin of his throat. He stumbles toward us, his white magic dripping from his body to leave a trail behind him.

  “You will die,” he whispers, and I can barely make out the words, garbled and twisted as they are. A bubble on his neck bursts, spewing blood from the open wound. “And your human will die, and your bodies will nourish the earth for the fae.”

  “That’s a cool story,” I offer coldly, masking the way my gut churns at his ominous warning.

  “Cocky, two-faced little girl.” He spits out a gob of blood mingled with black soot. “Playing at a game you can’t understand. You should have stayed dead.”

  His hand shoots out, the white light in his palm returning. It blazes brighter and brighter until it feels like the sun has been trapped in this hallway with us.

  Briar screams, and Emyr slaps his hand over her eyes. “Close your eyes! He’s trying to blind you!”

  Unicorn Boy’s mouth warps into a smile, teeth coated in ash. Black ribbons of burned flesh flutter against his neck as he drags his twisted body closer. The light dancing in his fingers grows brighter until it illuminates every inch of him like a broken, unholy angel.

  “The truth is always pulled into the light eventually,” he whispers. Bile, blood, and white magic drip from the corners of his mouth across his chin.

  We are going to die here.

  My eyes burn, but I can’t look away. Emyr grabs my arm, trying to drag me back against him. Briar gives a terrified cry. I can feel the way the light in Unicorn Boy’s palm begins to burn away at my skin, can feel blood rushing from my face, my eyes aching as if they’re going to turn to ash in my head.

  Unfamiliar fingers wrap around my other arm, Tessa’s soft hand trying to pull me to her. “Wyatt,” she whispers in that voice that could almost be my own.

  She raises her other hand, purple energy radiating out and yanking stones from the very walls of the castle. They plummet in Unicorn Boy’s direction, assailing him, but he sidesteps each one.

  She’s trying, but she’s not really here. And he’s stronger than she is.

  I’m going to die here. And Emyr is going to die here, and Briar is
going to die here, and Tessa is going to die here.

  And then... Then I’m not entirely sure what happens. One moment everything is shrouded in too-bright light, and the next we’re blanketed in darkness. The world is pitch-black around me, and my heart plummets into my stomach.

  Did it work? For the briefest moment, panic seizes my chest. Did the fae blind me?

  But no. No, I don’t think so. Because in the darkness, I hear him give one gurgling scream...and then nothing. Total silence settles among the blackness, interrupted only by the sounds of our breathing.

  Slowly, the black begins to fade—and I realize it came from me. It draws itself up against my body and glides against my skin, disappearing under the surface just like my fire does.

  With the moonlight glinting in from outside, I can make out Unicorn Boy again. Or at least, I can make out what’s left of him. I struggle to breathe. His body looks like it’s gone through a blender, scraps of skin torn asunder and decorating the walls of the castle. Blood, muscle tissue, and bone shrapnel lie in puddles across the floor. His single stupid horn glints at my feet.

  Briar loses the contents of her stomach.

  Emyr and I are silent, taking in the carnage. Finally, he raises his hand to heal the burn marks on Briar’s body, a flash of gold before her deep brown skin is left unmarred once more. He reaches for me next but I push him away, even as my face aches from the attack. I don’t know if it’s a good idea for anyone to be touching me right now.

  Finally, as Emyr heals himself instead, Briar asks, “Wyatt, what did you do?”

  I meet Tessa’s eyes. She looks as afraid as she should be.

  We both know what I did. I just killed my third victim.

  But how?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  POLITICS AS USUAL

  Outside in the fresh air, Tessa hits the ground again, this time leaning forward to press her face to the earth, fingers digging into the grass. She is clearly going through it, but I don’t think she wants comfort from me. Not that I have much to offer.

  This is not the first time I’ve been up close and personal with gruesome, ugly death. Not the first time I’ve watched my magic mangle someone’s body right in front of my eyes. The only thing I can do to survive it is to feel nothing at all, to detach myself completely.

  Besides, Emyr, Briar, and I have a date with a cabin.

  Before we can make our escape into the woods, Jin’s voice calls out, “Emyr!”

  Emyr turns in the direction of their voice. The crowd outside isn’t so bad anymore. It looks like most people have either invaded the palace or fled to the village. On this side of the palace, it appears to only be us, and Jin, a few yards away.

  “Please help me.” Jin’s voice is choked, like they’re trying to talk through a mouthful of cotton. Or on the brink of having a serious breakdown. “It’s Clarke.”

  Emyr moves toward them. I have every intention of staying the course and heading to the cabin, finding Boom, and bunking down for the night. But Briar hastens after him, leaving me no choice but to follow.

  Clarke doesn’t look much better off than Unicorn Boy back there. She’s unconscious and spread across her girlfriend’s lap. Organ meat and bone are visible beneath flaps of torn skin, her stomach ripped open. Bubblegum-pink magic drips pathetically from the corners of her eyes, her cracked lips, beneath the sharp edges of her white claws, as her body struggles to fight against death.

  I know I should feel something about this. The sight of her, this gruesome display of gore, should have me retching the same way Briar did back there. But I can’t seem to summon any feeling at all. It’s like I’m here, but I’m not. This is real, but it isn’t. It’s like I’m watching my life happen through a screen.

  Emyr hits his knees next to her and presses his palms against her chest. Immediately, gold slicks across his skin and his hands begin to glow.

  Nothing happens.

  Briar sinks down behind a sobbing Jin, wrapping her arms around them. She kisses the side of their face, their hair, holding them tight.

  Emyr whispers, “Come on. Come on.”

  Only the most powerful Healing magic in the world can bring someone back from the dead. Clarke isn’t dead yet, but she’s getting there. And it looks like Emyr isn’t strong enough.

  “Should I try and find help?” I ask, hanging back from the others. I don’t know how to be helpful in this moment. I barely know how to be, period.

  Jin’s cries grow harder, more frantic. A bead of sweat trickles down Emyr’s forehead. He’s so focused on what he’s doing I don’t think he heard me.

  Briar meets my eyes over Clarke’s body. She nods. I don’t think she’s going to make it. But hurry, find someone just in case.

  I nod back, turning to do just that. I don’t get more than ten feet away before I hear Emyr say, too quiet, “No. You don’t need to do that.”

  Shit.

  She’s too far gone. I knew she was. Everyone else knows it, too. Nothing’s going to bring her back. Clarke is going to die here tonight. I move back to them, expecting to see the last spark of light fading from Clarke’s body.

  Instead, I get there just in time to see the skin of her abdomen stitching itself back together.

  “Oh, shit.” The words come tumbling out before I can stop them. “You’re doing it.”

  Emyr doesn’t give much of a reaction to my words. But I think I see a hint of a smile.

  A few minutes later, the four of sit around Clarke as she slowly starts coming back to herself, now without a single organ on the wrong side of her skin. She blinks her blue eyes open and stares up into Jin’s face, a little pout settling across her rosebud mouth.

  “What happened?”

  “I think you finally got tired of all my bad jokes and decided you’d had enough,” Jin mumbles, swiping at their eyes and making a face down at Clarke. “Well, guess what, sucker? It didn’t work and you’re stuck with me forever.”

  “Hmm,” Clarke sighs, nuzzling her cheek into Jin’s knee. “That’s okay.”

  “What did happen, Jin?” Emyr asks.

  Jin sighs. “I don’t know. I was helping a group of servant kids escape out one of the back entrances. Clarke and I got separated. I found her like this. She—” Their eyes widen, head snapping back over her shoulder. “She wasn’t alone. There was a body. Another body.”

  Briar pushes herself to her feet and moves in the direction of Jin’s stare, disappearing behind one of the castle walls. A moment later, she returns, round face gray, mouth open.

  “Did you find someone?”

  “It’s, um. It was.” She swallows. “Lavender. It’s Lavender.”

  The old witch whose home the meeting was held in.

  Jin gives a startled scream and folds themself in half over Clarke’s body, pressing their face into her bloodied blond hair. Clarke simply stares, unseeing, at the night sky overhead.

  Near-silence settles over us, the only sound Jin’s quiet sobs and the ongoing clash in the distance. No one seems sure of what to say, so no one says anything at all.

  After a while, I notice Emyr staring at me.

  “The wounds on your face will scar if you don’t let me heal them.”

  I shrug, reaching up to brush the tips of my fingers against the charred burns along my nose and cheeks. “I’ll probably look pretty badass.”

  Emyr’s gaze doesn’t waver, though he does turn his attention downward. It takes me a second before I realize what he’s looking at. Scars. Ugly, mottled, twisted scars where my flesh was burned away from my bone, covering both of my arms from wrist to elbow. In all the chaos of the evening, I forgot I’m not wearing my hoodie anymore, that I’m laid bare for everyone to see.

  There is a reason I don’t walk around in public like this.

  As if reading my mind, Briar drops the hoodie back into my lap. I
yank it on, disappearing under the black fabric, oversized enough it’s practically a tent on me.

  Emyr is still staring. I meet his gaze and hold it.

  Finally, having regained some control of their weeping, Jin looks back up at us. “Are you three okay? The first blast was practically a direct hit to your room, Wyatt. It looked like Derek’s groupies were trying to blow you right off the map.”

  “They did their best.” I shrug. “But I’m better.”

  Briar leans her head on my shoulder. I twist my neck to brush a kiss into the tangles of her hair, closing my eyes to take a deep breath. To breathe in the smell of her. Cocoa butter and fresh air. The only good thing in the world.

  It centers me just enough to finally ask myself: What the hell happened tonight?

  Not the protests, the rioting, the attack on the castle. The death. I get that part. That seems like politics as usual. Humans and fae don’t differ much in that area.

  But what did I do? And more importantly, how did I do it? I’ve only ever seen anything like it once before. The way the blackness took over, suffusing everything around it, engulfing us all in darkness and claiming its victim.

  The same thing happened the night I killed my parents. In my memories of that night, I’ve always focused so much on the fire that the moment everything went dark has never stood out to me as much. Until tonight.

  Tonight, I’d felt helpless, dependent on Emyr in a way I didn’t know how to deal with. And then seeing that kid. Bigger and older, a man now instead of a child, but the same hateful, evil little brat he’d been the night he’d pushed me into the dirt and shoved his hand up my skirt. I could have killed him with the fire. I could have lost control, could have let my rage and bitterness eat me up inside until it took his life. The same way it took my parents’ lives.

  But I didn’t. I knew I had to get Briar away from the smoke. Taking care of my best friend took precedence over getting revenge. I’d found control and managed to walk away in order to save the people I cared about.

  It didn’t matter, in the end. Because I killed him, anyway.

  But how?