Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(86)

Mother’s gaze turned hard, like the hell-forged steel in Lucia’s hand. “When I’m through with the demons, I’ll make sure no witch ever falls for their lies. And they will hate us in return, so passionately they wouldn’t deign to fall in love with a witch again. That I vow on my life’s blood, daughter.” She whispered a summoning spell, and within moments another witch appeared. Lucia vaguely recognized her from one of the more powerful covens. “Maria, I have an assignment for you. You’re living in the Shifting Isles’ version of Palermo, correct?”

While Mother plotted with Maria, Lucia read over the spell. It was nothing more than an herbal tea blend, really. It would be easy to make. Even when she forgot why she was making it, she’d be able to pull the ingredients together. As she set the spell aside and picked up the roughened crystal, a steaming mug appeared before her. She glanced up, meeting the other witch’s kind eyes.

“Drink. It will help ease the pain, bambina.”

Lucia knew it was the first dose of the spelled tea. Knew that once she brought the porcelain to her lips, things would truly be over between her and Pride. Her mother didn’t speak, but Lucia felt her attention shift to her, almost in challenge. Lucia picked up the cup, pausing before she took that fateful first sip that would signal both the end and a new beginning for her.

“I want a new name. A new family. I want to forget everything except that I am a witch.” Lucia finally brought her focus to her mother’s. “And I do not wish to see you until I ask for you.”

There was a flash of what looked to be hurt in her mother’s face, there and gone in an instant. “Very well. Maria will monitor the situation from afar and will set you up with a family in a dark coven.”

The other witch nodded. “You’ll be well cared for.”

“Good.” Lucia nodded back—a quick jerk of her chin, then gulped the tea down in one, scalding shot. It took a few moments, but the heavy pressure on her chest lessened. Her muscles loosened. The sadness and despair lightened. If there had been something troubling her a moment ago, Lucia couldn’t recall what it was. Perhaps it had been a bad dream. She blinked at the crystal in her hand and the dagger on the table before her, her brow creasing. “What are these for?”

Maria gave her a sad smile. “You must never show this dagger to anyone. Never speak of it. It’s only to be used on the Wicked.”

“The Wicked?” Lucia’s heart pounded furiously. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think someone was manipulating her emotions. But that sort of power was supposed to be forbidden. “Who are they?”

An unfamiliar witch with strange starlight eyes slowly moved around the small wooden table. Power radiated off her, and Lucia fought a shudder. “The Wicked are bloodthirsty creatures known as princes of Hell. They seek to destroy you. To destroy all witches.”

“If you see one,” Maria added, “you must hide. And if they come for you…”

Lucia glanced down at the deadly-looking blade. “I must protect myself.” She inhaled deeply, feeling the truth settle inside her. The Wicked. Her mortal enemies. She prayed to the goddess she’d never encounter one but was thankful for the dagger just in case. Lucia picked up the rare blue crystal. “Is this a memory stone?”

The witch with starlight eyes nodded. “For your safety, you must purge your memories of this night now. I’ll give you a sleeping draught, and when you awake, Maria will have taken you home.”

“Am I in danger?” Lucia asked the witch, hating the edge of fear in her voice.

“Not anymore.”

As Lucia held the magic crystal and started feeding her memories of the night to it, the stone took something she couldn’t recall if she wanted to lose or not. She drew her brows together again as the stone heated up, taking more and more of her thoughts from the last few hours. “Who… what is my name?”

Starlight eyes didn’t seem to think her lack of memory in that area was a surprise, which indicated she had wanted it gone. At least, that’s what the witch without a name thought. “Your name is Claudia. You’re from Palermo. You’re a powerful witch with an affinity for dark magic and have been blessed with Sight. You are talented with a blade and aren’t squeamish around the dead. And your family is waiting for your arrival.”

Claudia. She nodded; the name seemed to fit. Though the rest of the story didn’t ring as true. Claudia noticed the witch hadn’t said her family was waiting for her return. Only her arrival. Claudia didn’t remember taking the sleeping draught, but her lids suddenly felt too heavy to keep open. She managed to ask one more question before sleep claimed her. “Who are you?”

“A powerful ally to some. A nightmare to others.”

As Claudia drifted off to a troubled sleep, she prayed to never see the witch with strange eyes again.





TWENTY-THREE


Back in the Well of Memory, I stared at the roughened crystal in my palm. For the first time since I’d become immortal again, I swore I felt the phantom beating of a human heart I no longer possessed. I couldn’t believe it. I’d found what I’d been searching for, but collecting the blade would not be easy. Claudia, my dearest friend, was the First Witch’s daughter. Lucia. Pride’s missing wife who was presumed dead, even by Wrath. And Claudia did not remember any of it.