Page 79 of The Dark Prince
“She took them!” I cried out. “The witch took the king and Aella and they disappeared with everyone who had turned!” I paused, confused. “Why? Why haven’t all of you turned?”
Maddeus and Arne shared a look, then Maddeus and Leif rallied Rolf and his men and went off in search of them. Arne kneeled down next to me, laying a hand on Tyr’s still form. “I will tell you later.”
Fine. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anyone else. Even if Aella or the king or the witch orwhoeverhad broken the curse on the kingdom, none of it would matter if it changed Tyr forever.
“What would it take to change him back? Name your price! I know you can do magick!” I blubbered desperately.
I was beyond caring about myself. I’d set myself on fire at this point if it meant ending everything. How I wished to be back in that quaint village, sitting on Tyr’s lap by the fire as he listened to some outlandish story told by the Puth’s men. The firelight would reflect off his white mask, and I’d convince myself the ghost of a smile lingered on his face.
“Witches are not evil beings. Magick is not evil,” he stressed, pain in the lines of his face. “Covens are important. They ground us and remind us not to get caught up in our magick. This witch has lost her way. Do not form your opinions of all of us based on her. I recognize magick as one trained in the art from birth,” Arne continued, drawing a knife and making precise cuts all over his body. “There is old magick this far north. It is magick I have not heard of, and yet is more powerful than anything I’ve seen before.”
I shook my head, not understanding. “This right here is evil. How do we make it stop?”
Arne sighed. “Is your love for him more powerful than his hatred for himself?” he asked plainly. “He has killed just as many people. Not all of them were guilty. Magick demands balance.”
I clutched at Tyr’s lifeless body, clutching his dark fur in my hands. At least he was still warm, like he’d always been. “I don’t know anything about him or you or magick. But I know this isn’t fair.”
Arne spoke slowly. “Perhaps you could bargain for a new curse,” he suggested.
I wiped my eyes and sat up.
The price was too high. Magick demands balance.
“Tyr is dead,” I whispered, burying myself into his fur.
“He is part of a balance at the moment,” Arne commented. “Nothing is final yet.” He looked to the sky. “This is great white magick; magick that takes from others. I do not use it much, preferring black. I am in charge of my pain and my magick. I fear this can only end with white magick. I will try to do my part if you do yours.”
I stood, straightening my cloak. “Magick that takes from others. I … I will do it. Will you keep him safe for me while I go to her?”
Arne bowed his head, still kneeled on the ground before me. “Yes.”
I threw my arms around him, startling the poor man. After a moment of shock, he tentatively hugged me back, albeit patting me awkwardly on the shoulder. “Take this.”
He shoved a bottle at me. I squinted in the darkness, only making out white flakes inside.
“What is it?” I asked, hoping it was some magickal antidote.
“You will know when to use it,” he said. I sniffed and pulled away, tucking the bottle into my pocket.
“I will be back,” I promised, and reluctantly turned my back on Tyr. The darkness of the forest awaited, but I turned toward the village. The witch wouldn’t be hiding behind her magicks this time, oh no. She’d be gloating, feeling confident in her victory.
I knew where to find her.
“My lady!”
I turned back at the last moment towards Arne. His normally guarded expression twisted with concern. “Do nothing that will make him hate himself more. He will not survive that.”
I nodded, instantly understanding.
I ran toward the castle, skirting the village, and the bodies that I knew lay everywhere, like discarded rubbish. No one was around to stop me. I didn’t see any sign of Maddeus or the villager mob that was left. There were no soldiers and no servants.
Instead, the castle was crawling with beasts.
They growled as I neared them, but they didn’t attack. I assumed the witch knew I was coming and had commanded them down to heel.
So they snarled and nipped at my heels, but none of them came after me. I made it down the hall. I turned toward the entrance hall. The witch was exactly where I knew she would be; sitting in the hall in Tyr’s throne, the king’s beast heeled at her feet. Aella was in the corner, weeping inconsolably.
“You are a smart little bitch, I’ll give you that,” the witch greeted me, tapping her fingers against the wooden armrest. “A pity it wasn’t enough to save your mongrel.”
