His brows lowered. His gaze darkened. “Anise, I don’t love the shifters at the Hollow because they look different from humans. They are different from humans. Especially you—you’re kind, selfless, and brave.” He shuffled closer and lifted her chin to look hard into her eyes. “I keep my horns because you’re self-conscious of your tail. I do it so you think we’re the same outside and in—” He tapped her sternum. “From the moment I met you, Anise, you’ve accepted me for who I am. Unlike my family, who disowned me for wanting to protect them, you’ve always taken me as I came. I keep my horns to show you I accept you as you are.”
Anise’s mind whirled with his confession.
He kept his horns so she didn’t feel left out. So she felt less alone. He thought she was kind, selfless, and brave.
Her fingers wrapped around the smooth length of his horns and tugged until his lips came back to hers. This time, there was no hesitation. The two of them kissed as though their hearts pulled their puppet strings, directing them with passion, desire, and need. They were so lost in each other, they failed to notice their companion until she spoke.
“This is so sweet I’m getting cavities.”
They broke apart. Caraway shoved Anise behind him and bared his teeth at the intruder.
The Ice-Witch was here, and she wasn’t anything like the hag Anise had expected.
A tall, willowy female fae leaned with her shoulder against the doorway. White ringlets bounced around a pale, heart-shaped face. She had a dusky nose, flushed cheeks, and white rabbit ears that poked through an orange top hat and pointed straight up. Her outfit was a mix of black, white, and orange lace and wool. A corset squeezed abundant breasts out the top, and slick black woolen pants revealed a twitching bunny rabbit tail at the rear. When she smiled, two large front teeth touched her bottom lip.
She shifted red eyes to Anise. “I’m ready to see you now.”
When Anise moved, Caraway held her back.
The witch clicked her tongue. “Now, now, Guardian. Is that any way to behave?”
“Don’t make the deal, Anise,” he said over his shoulder. “You don’t need to change. You’re perfect the way you are.”
All humor in the witch’s face flatlined. She glared at Caraway. “You don’t get a say in her choice when you haven’t been honest about your true reason for being here.”
Anise stiffened and locked on Caraway. “What’s she talking about?”
Guilt flashed over his features.
“Caraway?” she prompted.
“I’m here on a mission,” he admitted. “For the Order.”
She stepped away from him, shocked. So... he wasn’t here to support her? It had been a ruse?
“Anise,” he reached for her, but she stepped further back and he flinched. “It doesn’t change the fact I don’t want you to make a bargain with this female. Please don’t. I’m begging you.”
“All this time,” she said, “I thought maybe you actually missed me. That’s why you came to see me after two years, but it wasn’t. You’re only using me to get to the Ice-Witch, aren’t you?”
His lack of an answer was all she needed to know.
Chapter 8
Caraway roared his anger at the ice-gargoyles from his prison, but the two beasts blocked him solidly. There was no way through.
The witch had taken Anise away before he could explain, before he could say sorry.
He punched the snowy wall until shards of stalactite ice dropped from the ceiling. One was so sharp, it cut the back of his hand as it came down. He landed heavily on the ground and dipped his head into his hands.
Damn him.
He should have been honest with Anise from the start. She would have understood, surely. Now he was stuck in an icy prison while his love was about to make the biggest mistake of her life.
He needed his sword, and he needed it now.
The gargoyles were magical creatures. They wouldn’t have touched Justice for fear of it affecting themselves. It was probably rusting on the path where he’d been poisoned.
Caraway’s head lifted.
A slow smile formed as a plan came to mind. Recently, Thorne had shown him a handy little trick. As one of the Cadre of Twelve, and Well-blessed to boot, Thorne was more adept at spell casting than Caraway could ever hope to be. The wolf-shifter had been recently imprisoned in the Ring—a gladiator type pit where differences were decided through a battle to the death. He’d been thrown in without his weapon, but years earlier he’d carved a transference rune onto his battle-ax’s handle. When he was in the Ring, all he’d needed to do was scratch that same rune onto his palm, and the spell would hunt down the weapon and bring it to him. Thorne had single-handedly won a battle against multiple mana-warped creatures because he’d had the might of his magic-cutting ax.
After hearing the story, Caraway had immediately carved a transference rune into Justice’s handle. Collecting a broken shard of stalactite, Caraway carved the rune into his palm and activated the spell, then he positioned himself behind the gargoyles and waited. A whooshing sound came, the air twisted and heated, and then Caraway felt a solid familiar weight land in the palm of his right hand.
Justice.
He grinned.
Anise followed the witch through a long hallway carved from clear ice. While the witch didn’t seem to feel the cold, Anise felt it through to her bones. She hugged her cape around her shoulders and forced her teeth to stop chattering.
It wasn’t only her skin that was numb, but her heart and mind. She couldn’t comprehend Caraway had only followed her on this quest to use her. Did she know him at all? It hurt to think it was all a manipulation.
Her heart didn’t want to believe it. His kiss had been real. He couldn’t fake that.
I keep my horns to show you I accept you as you are.
Anise’s chest constricted. Her eyes watered.
“Here we go,” the witch’s sickly sweet voice echoed.
Anise looked up and found they’d emerged into a large hall. Like the rest of this part of the world, it was all made from ice. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling like a sick sort of decoration. Prismatic light filtered through the ceiling from outside, making Anise realize it must still be day. As she followed the witch, Anise noticed strange shadows encased in the ice walls. The closer she got, the more she wanted to vomit.
The shadows were people, frozen with terror on their faces. Were they others like Anise, who’d come looking for answers, or were they fae who’d done the witch wrong?
Anise hugged her cape tighter.
The witch took steps up to a podium where an ice-throne sat. She sprawled into the seat and crooked her finger at Anise.
“Come closer, dear.”
Anise shuffled forward but stopped at the foot of the dais. “Where’s my bone dagger?” she asked.
“You’ll get it when you leave.” The witch slipped out the dagger from her boot and stabbed it into the arm of her throne. The hilt wobbled as it took purchase. “I couldn’t very well leave intruders in my home with weapons, could I?”
“Intruder?” Anise gasped. “I was invited.”
“The Guardian was not.”
“Nor was he excluded.”
The witch’s gaze narrowed on Anise. “He killed my troll.”
Anise tried not to let her panic show on her face. She had also killed a troll, and no matter what Caraway had done to get into this place, she didn’t want him to die for it. And she would never regret saving that baby’s life.
“What are you going to do with Caraway?” she asked.
“Well, now. That depends on you.”
Anise took a step back. “What do you mean?”
“Well, my dear. How are you planning to pay for the ability to shift?”
“I have coin. Lots of it. That’s how I plan to pay.”
The witch laughed. It was a high-pitched melodious tinkle. “What makes you think I need coin?”
“Then what do you want?”
�
�Two hundred years,” she stated and then gestured to the poor souls trapped in the ice. “After two hundred years, you pay me with a soul.”
Anise bit her lip. “But I get the power of a shifter for two hundred years?”
She could live as one of the wolves in Crescent Hollow for two centuries before she needed to lose her soul. And in that time, she could shift into a wolf, run through the forest, and feel the joy and freedom other shifters always waxed poetic about when they’d come into the tavern. For two centuries, she would hold mana within her body and cast spells without needing to resort to potions or elixirs. Wasn’t that all she’d wanted? To belong?
“You don’t need to change. You’re perfect the way you are.”
Part of her wanted to believe Caraway’s words, and part of her wanted to not need to. She hated that she yearned for his approval, the same as everyone else’s. She hated that she wanted to fit in, but the constant anxiety was a noose over her head. She’d never be rid of it if she didn’t try this.
The witch squinted at her. “I can see you have doubts, and I know it’s because of the male who followed you. Let me give you a piece of free advice.” She leaned forward in her throne until her orange top hat tilted on her head. If it weren’t for her rabbit ears poking through cutout holes, the hat may have fallen right off. “Males, of any species, are not to be trusted. They take what they want, but they’ll never give you what you need. It’s in their nature. They're the hunters, not the nurturers. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better.”
That’s when Anise realized every frozen body in the ice was male.
The witch stood and stepped down the dais. With wistful eyes, she trailed her fingers along the icy walls of her macabre museum.
“I wasn’t always like this.” She gestured to her ears. “I used to shift into a rabbit. And like you, I came looking for a way to become more than less. But then I found him.” She stopped at a particular shadowed figure trapped in the ice. A tall fae, handsome and ominous in his expression, even as he was petrified. “He seduced me, and he stole my mana. He harvested it for his own use. But you see, he made a mistake. He believed that those lesser fae were beneath him.” She snarled at the shadow. “He should have killed me when he had the chance.”
“Caraway’s stolen nothing from me,” Anise said. Her experience wasn’t the same as this female’s.
The witch’s eyes snapped toward Anise. “All males are the same.”
Anise shook her head. Perhaps the witch’s story was meant to convince her to give up on Caraway, but it only made her realize he wasn’t Anise’s enemy. He’d never believed she was beneath him. No, she loved him. She wouldn’t involve him in this.
“I just want the ability to shift.”
The witch held out her hand. “So we have a deal?”
Anise paused, but two hundred years of fulfillment was a long time. She could be happy.
She nodded and shook the witch’s hand. “Yes, we have a deal.”
Thunder cracked through the hall. The walls shook. Tiny icicles showered from the ceiling. Anise thought, perhaps, that it was because of the bargain they’d just struck, but the witch’s facial expression was as surprised as Anise’s.
They disengaged and Anise repeated. “You give me the ability to shift into a wolf for two hundred years, and I give you my soul after that.”
“Oh, little wolf. It’s too late to add specifics.” The witch’s peach lips curved into a wicked grin. “Now, I didn’t say whose soul was payment.”
Then she laughed a big cackling sound that shriveled Anise’s resolve. What could she mean? Not Anise’s soul? Then whose—
Caraway burst into the room, his face contorted in fury, his fist around his long broadsword. Long legs strode into the center of the hall.
“What did you do?” he demanded to the witch.
He stormed toward where she had retreated to her throne. He raised his sword high above his head, but before he could arc his swing downward, the witch flicked her wrist and ice shot out of the ground beneath his feet. Water sprung like a geyser to surround Caraway’s body. It only took seconds, and his sword was knocked from his hands. It clattered loudly to the ground.
“No!” Anise shouted. “Leave him alone.”
But the witch just laughed as the water slithered up Caraway’s body and turned to ice. His doe-eyed gaze flicked to Anise, and then to his fallen sword with a forlorn finality before he became completely encased—frozen.
Anise hissed at the witch. “No! I don’t agree to give him. Let him go.”
The witch clicked her tongue and then pouted. “Yes, you did agree.”
“He’s not mine to give,” Anise insisted.
“His heart is yours, therefore it is yours to give.”
Anise snarled and ran toward the throne, aiming for her dagger. The witch flicked her hand, and Anise went flying backward. She landed hard and skidded across the icy floor, groaning in pain. But if she couldn’t get close to the witch, how could she defeat her?
Gaining the ability to shift wasn’t worth Caraway’s life. It wasn’t worth his soul. She couldn’t do this to him. Groaning, Anise clutched her side where the ice had bruised. She rolled and faced the ground then tried to crawl away from the witch, but only managed to get to the base of Caraway’s icy tomb. She used the column to drag herself into a sitting position, then scowled at the witch.
“You tricked me,” she accused. “You never said it had to be another’s soul.”
“I said a soul, dearie, not your soul. You clearly weren’t listening hard enough. How do you think you’ll gain the ability to shift? It has to come from somewhere.”
“Still, why his? Why not someone else’s?”
“Because he’s the only one who belongs to you. He’s the only one you have a right to give.” The witch's brows rose. “Don’t you see? My ability was stolen from me, but I took it back, plus more! You can finally be powerful. You can have them all whimpering at your feet. You can take what you want, just like they do.”
Anise squeezed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them, her gaze landed on Caraway’s sword. Her mind blanked.
His sword.
Caraway had glanced at it before he’d frozen. Thinking back, it had been a purposeful glance. A message?
Take the weapon and use it.
But the sword was metal. Metal was forbidden because it halted the flow of mana through the earth, air, water, and through bodies of any fae. The sword would cut through any magic the witch threw Anise’s way. It would cut through the witch. But just as the thoughts formed in her head, Anise felt disappointment crush her breath. Guardians were the only fae alive who could use metal weapons, and not disrupt their own flow of mana. Anyone else would experience extreme pain when using it.
But… she wasn’t just anyone else.
She already had no mana. She couldn’t shift. There was nothing in her body for the sword’s metal to disrupt.
Caraway had known that. The look he’d given the sword was a message.
Hope flared. Anise licked her lips and glanced at the witch. There was no way Anise could reach for the sword without the witch noticing. She would blast her with magic before Anise’s fingers closed around the hilt. She had to trick her. She had to take a hit and fall within the range. The sword wasn’t far, only a few feet to her right.
She steeled her resolve, hardened her gut, and growled before climbing to her feet, charging ahead but veering right. The witch threw out another hand of hard power. It knocked Anise senseless, and true to expectations, her body went flying backward again. The solid floor connected with Anise’s shoulder. She cried out in pain, but went sliding backward, right within reach of the sword.
“When will you learn, little she-wolf?” the witch snarled.
Anise clutched her middle and feigned crawling away. Her body almost shielded her from view. As she reached for the giant sword, she had a moment of clarity. Caraway had been right. She didn’t need the abi
lity to shift. She was perfect the way she was. The very thing she’d cursed as lacking in her body was now the thing saving her life. It was all about perspective. No mana meant that when her fingers curled around the hilt of the magic-killing sword, she felt nothing but the overwhelming urge to protect what was hers.
She came to her feet, snarling and baring her teeth. Moving the sword to hold in two hands, she charged the dais using the sword as a shield. The witch tried to throw magic at Anise, but the sword cut it in half. The witch tried to send ice through the ground, like she had Caraway, but he’d been taken by surprise. Anise didn’t make the same mistake. She sliced and cut her way until she made it to the dais and launched up, taking the steps in two giant leaps. She aimed the tip of the sword straight forward and kept running as though carrying a lance. It pierced the witch through the heart, pinning her to her ice throne. Blood welled from the witch’s mouth and she tried to scream. Only a gurgle came out.
“I’ll learn when you’re dead,” Anise said and twisted the blade deep.
The witch’s last gaze was at the fae she’d first encased in the ice, and it was a look of longing and regret. The pain froze in her expression as the light left her eyes, and Anise knew she’d made the right decision. If she’d accepted the bargain, Anise would have lived a life as lonely as the witch’s. What were two hundred years if it was spent alone?
Sniffing, she wiped her nose on her sleeve, then yanked the sword out of the witch. The witch’s body slumped down the throne and tumbled to the ground. Then Anise set to chipping away Caraway’s tomb, praying to the Well that he would survive. It took long, drawn-out minutes, but she chipped enough for Caraway to break through. His big, powerful body exploded through the ice and he staggered to his knees with big, ragged breaths.
“Car,” she said and fell to the ground with him.
He lifted his frost-covered chin and met her eyes. “You did it,” he rasped. “I knew you would.”
Warlords, Witches and Wolves: A Fantasy Realms Anthology Page 13