The Witch Hunter (The Witch Hunter #1)(6)
After the rebellions started, witch hunters became Reformist targets. It’s why Blackwell ordered us to stop wearing our uniforms, to lie about our identity, why he sent us to live at Ravenscourt to blend in with the rest of the king’s servants. And it’s why I lost focus today, why I made a mistake. Because if I’d never come back to Ravenscourt…
I squeeze my hand into my pocket again.
We turn off Westcheap onto Kingshead Alley, a dark, dank street filled with tiny shops, their shutters closed and doors shut tight. At the very end is a battered wooden door, above it a green wooden plaque that reads THE WORLD’S END in gold block lettering. Caleb pushes it open. Inside, it’s packed with people: pirates and thieves, drunks and vagrants. Most of them are already drunk, even though it’s not much past noon. There’s a loud card game in one corner, a fight breaking out in another. A trio of musicians cowers between them, trying in vain to play above the brawl and the crowd that cheers every time someone gets punched.
We spy Joe, the old, white-haired owner, pulling drinks behind the bar, and we head straight for him. As soon as we walk up, he slides each of us a foaming glass of ale and watches as we take a cautious sip.
“Well?” He folds his arms across his chest.
Caleb chokes, sputtering ale all over the counter.
“Don’t mind him.” I jab my elbow into Caleb’s side. “It’s very nice.”
Joe fancies himself an ale connoisseur, and each week he brews up different concoctions to try on his clientele, with varying results. Last week’s brew, infused with the essence of roasted pig, was the worst to date. “Why eat supper when you can drink it?” he’d asked. Today’s has a hint of rosemary—and something else I can’t quite place.
“What is that?” I say. “Licorice?”
Joe snorts. “Not quite. I hope you two don’t have much to do today.”
We spot Marcus and Linus sitting at our usual table in the back and make our way to them. Caleb reaches around me to pull out a chair, and I flush with pleasure, thinking it’s for me, until he slides past me and sits down. I stand there for a moment, feeling foolish. Then I pull out my own chair and sit down.
“What happened to you?” Marcus gestures at me with his glass.
“What are you talking about?”
“You look like the dead.” He wrinkles his nose. “You smell like it, too. Did you arrest the necromancers before or after they killed you and dug you back up?” Marcus laughs at his own bad joke, and Linus joins in.
“Maybe if you cared less about the way I look and more about catching witches, you might be half as good as me,” I snap.
Caleb laughs at this, but Marcus glares at me and mouths a filthy insult. I ignore him. But when he turns away, I quickly smooth my hair and tuck it behind my ears. I wince as a chunk of bloodied flesh falls from my hair into my lap.
“She was incredible. Her best arrest yet.” Caleb lifts his goblet in a toast to me, but the other boys don’t join in. Of course not. Linus hasn’t spoken to me since the summer, after he cornered me in the palace gardens and tried to kiss me and got a punch in the face for his efforts. And Marcus… well, Marcus has never liked me. Tall, black-haired, and brutish, he never expected to find competition in someone like me: short, blond, and girlish.
Even still, Caleb doesn’t seem to realize that the more he boasts of my success, the more the others grow to hate me. Besides, today’s arrest was hardly something to boast about. I consider joining Joe back at the bar when Linus says something that stops me.
“We were just talking about the Yuletide masque,” he says to Caleb. “Have you decided who you’re taking yet?”
Caleb smiles and takes a sip of ale. “Maybe.”
Maybe? My stomach twists into a hopeful little knot.
Marcus whoops. “Who is it?”
“I’ll tell you after I ask her.”
“It’s Cecily Mowbray, isn’t it?” Marcus says.
“No, it’s Katherine Willoughby,” Linus says. “I saw them together last weekend.”
Caleb laughs. “We’re just friends.”
Friends? I think. Since when? Cecily is the daughter of an earl, and Katherine is a viscount’s daughter. They’re both ladies-in-waiting to Queen Margaret, both terribly snobbish, both terribly beautiful. Especially Katherine. Tall, dark-haired, and sophisticated, she’s the kind of girl who wears gowns instead of trousers, jewelry instead of weaponry, who smells like roses instead of rot.
“You looked more than friends to me,” Linus replies. “Unless you go around kissing all your friends,” he adds, smirking.
I know this bit of spite is aimed at me. Right after I punched Linus, he accused me of liking Caleb. I denied it, but I guess he didn’t believe me.
“Ah.” Caleb scratches the back of his neck, and I’m shocked to see his ears turn pink. I’ve never seen Caleb blush before. “I guess my secret is out, then.”
Something inside me goes flat.
Marcus and Linus start laughing and teasing Caleb, but I don’t pay attention. Caleb and Katherine Willoughby? How is that possible? I know Caleb is ambitious, but he’s always hated people like Katherine. People who were given everything, people who never had to fight for what they wanted, as he did.
I guess he changed his mind.