The Witch King

By Nancy Holland

Can they stay alive long enough to save their kingdoms without falling in love?

Kyr, son of the famous warrior, Thalgor, has been tasked to marry the daughter of a warring leader to broker a peace between three clans. Ever the obedient son, he prepares for his wedding only to learn from a slave that his betrothed has fled with a warrior from her own tribe. Determined to save the peace, Kyr sets off in pursuit of the fleeing couple, reluctantly taking the slave with him to thwart discovery.

Ciel has been a slave all her life. She fully expects to be killed when she delivers the news of her missing mistress. Instead she is saved and tasked to impersonate Kry’s betrothed. In the dead of night she and Kyr sneak out of the warrior’s camp hoping to intercept the escaping couple by taking a dangerous route. With each leg of the journey, they are tested. They must learn to trust to survive... not easy when both of them harbor dangerous secrets.

This story brings a close to the mystical world of The Witch King trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tule Publishing
• Release date: Sep 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781951190064

Nancy Holland

Born in California (and always a California girl at heart), I'm now a teacher in the Upper Midwest. I wrote my first novel at the age of seven – a saga about a family of chipmunks and the family of ducks who lived in the pond next door. I’ve been writing ever since. My husband and I are lucky enough to have two smart, wonderful children who live on opposite coasts of the US. Since I've become a HarperImpulse author, my remaining daydream is to live in Paris or London.

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Author

Prologue

Kyr sat motionless on the branch high above the forest floor. The rough bark of the ancient oak bit into his back. Stiff muscles ached for movement, but he was a warrior—or would be one when he got older. Even in a time of peace, pain meant nothing to a warrior. He had to wait, had to know what his future would be.

As the full moon sank, the animals of the night scurried, flapped, or stalked with new urgency in the forest behind him. The perfect witch’s circle in front of him was still and empty, except for the cloak and gown half-tucked under a bush, as if the woman who had shed them was in too much of a rush to hide them completely.

A panther screamed. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

Automatically he reached for his bow.

At fourteen, he was a trained archer, only one of many skills he would need to lead his people when his father grew too old. If he could keep his secret that long.

Before he could notch an arrow on the string, he remembered.

Fear, like pain, was part of a warrior’s life.

He released the bowstring and settled back to wait.

The bottom of the full, red moon touched the horizon, just visible through the new leaves of early warm time. A bush rustled at the far end of the clearing. He held his breath.

The panther crept into view, midnight black and beautiful in the fading moonlight—dainty in spite of its size and the muscles that rippled under its fur as it walked.

Awestruck, he sensed the moment when the great cat caught his scent. Green eyes, familiar in the unfamiliar angular face, scanned the forest that surrounded the witch’s circle. The panther lifted its head to sniff the air, but did not look up.

The rim of the moon sank from sight, but the earliest light of dawn kept the night from complete blackness.

The panther fell to the ground. Its body twisted and jerked. Its tail shrank away. Its face softened. Its fur thinned. Claws shifted into hands.

Kyr covered his face with his cloak so as not to see the naked female body that emerged.

When the whisper of clothing rapidly donned stopped, he lifted the cloak and leapt to the ground in front of the startled woman.

Felyn.

His aunt raised her hand and a bolt of heat shot toward him. Without thought, he blocked the blast, sent it back toward her. She caught it in her hands and spun it into a ball of smoke that rose and faded into the rosy dawn sky.

They stared at each other in the dim light, both shocked by what he had done. What he had the power to do.

How did you stop my spell? Felyn’s green, slitted eyes narrowed.

I’m not sure how. I only meant to defend myself.

As I sought to defend myself. But blocking my spell was still dangerous.

It seems to have done you no harm.

Still, think first the next time. It is always dangerous to take a witch by surprise.

Her tone was so like his mother’s when she scolded him that Kyr smiled.

His aunt shot him a hard look. The next time, she murmured. As if it makes sense that there was a first time.

He let her puzzle it out, stomach knotted, hand on the hilt of his long knife, as if it could protect him from what came next.

After what seemed a long time, she lifted her eyes to his, green to blue, and finally saw there what no one had seen before.

You are a witch.

He lowered his head.

How is that possible?

I do not know. It—It has always been here. He touched his hand to his chest. But stronger now than when I was a boy.

How did you learn to use your magic?

I listened as my mother taught my sisters. I watched you and my mother as you went about your healing. I practiced what I learned in secret.

Ah! It was you who started the fire that almost burned down the tent last year. Your sisters all denied being responsible, but no one thought to ask you. Men cannot be witches. She frowned. Yet you are.

He drew a long breath, found the courage to ask. If I am a witch, can I even be a man?

He was not able to hide the anguish behind the question.

You are Kyr. That is enough.

For you, maybe, but not for me. I do not know how to be Kyr, to be this thing I am. Witches are forbidden to kill, yet my destiny is to fight and lead. How can I be a warrior if I cannot kill? That is why I am here. I followed you to learn about your curse.

What has my curse to do with you? No one even knew until tonight what I become.

His head jerked up. Not even my mother?

She may. We have never spoken of it. She has more respect for my privacy than you.

She is not also cursed.

And you are?

Is not how I am, also a kind of curse?

She thought for a moment. A curse—or a gift. Most of all, it is a secret you must keep as I keep mine.

Why?

She drew herself up, suddenly far older than her years. Because they will kill you.

The words were both an unbearable blow and something he had always known.

They would fear your power as they would fear what my curse makes of me. Even those who love you would not be able to protect you, if others knew. And they would be in danger themselves, if others tried to learn your secret from them.

The truth and sadness in her voice echoed in his heart. I never meant to put you at risk.

Of course not, she said. But you must promise never to reveal what you are.

There will come a time when I must. Although he could not have said how he knew.

Yes. In that we are different. But until the time comes for you to become what you are, we must keep each other’s secret. She held out her hand to him. Here, in this sacred witch’s circle, in the presence of our foremothers, I swear I will keep your secret, if you will swear to keep mine.

He clasped her hand as he would have a man’s. They both stepped forward until their joined hands touched their chests.

I swear.

The worst revealed, the vow made, a rush of emotions he did not understand pushed words out of him in a torrent. Can you control your curse? Do you like it? Hate it? Have you learned not to care?

I have learned it is what I am. I have no choice. Nor have you.

He pushed the most important words out over the tightness in his chest. H-have you ever wanted to die?

She hesitated, then said softly, Yes, I have wanted to die.

He stifled a sob of relief.

Will you teach me how I can live?

The answer you seek is in your own heart. She laid a hand on his shoulder. You have a rough road ahead of you, but I promise you, Nephew, a life, even one such as yours or mine, is always worth living.

Chapter One

Fifteen years later –

The night was clear, the circle of tents pale in the moonlight. The fires were burning down. The sounds of pipes and drums, the familiar songs of the Hill and the strange-sounding ones of Thalgor’s people, rang in the air. When one of the Ruler to the South’s musicians began to strum his lyre, a murmur of surprise came from the side of the circle where Thalgor and his men sat.

With so much to distract them, no one noticed the simply clad woman who slipped from shadow to shadow, avoiding the sentries the Ruler set even more assiduously than those set by the great Thalgor.

"Five, six," Ciel counted silently to herself, both relieved and curious why Thalgor’s son, Kyr, was not among those who sat with his father.

If only his tent was as large and ornately decorated as the ones that belonged to the Ruler, so she would not make any mistake in which it was.

These northerners hide their wealth from us, the Ruler had grumbled over dinner.

Ciel thought it likelier they lived more simply, but when she said so to the Ruler’s daughter Rynne, she burst into another bout of helpless sobs.

Ciel froze as a pair of Thalgor’s sentries went past, joking in the funny dialectic of the north about the wedding tomorrow and the night to follow.

She would have felt sorry for Rynne, except for two things. First, Kyr, whose woman Rynne was to become the next day, was the most handsome man Ciel had ever seen, although she did not dare say so to Rynne.

The second reason Ciel wasted no pity on Rynne was that she was about to bring war and devastation to their people with no thought of anyone but herself and her lover, Wille.

The full reality of what they had done, and what she must do, hit hard. She had to pause for a while before she could move on.

"Seven, eight," she counted.

Kyr’s tent.

Her mouth was dry. Her hands shook. Her whole body quivered.

She focused on walking normally as she approached the tent and stopped in front of the young man who guarded it.

I must speak to Kyr. Even her voice wobbled.

Perhaps that was why the guard did not recognize her. More likely he had simply never noticed her before.

Why?

I have a message from Rynne.

True, in a way. She refused to say more to anyone but Kyr.

She had thought it impossible to be any more frightened, but when the guard opened the flap of the tent for her, her heart seemed to stop. She hesitated in the anteroom and gasped in one last breath, not yet ready to face the man whose life she was about to ruin. She only hoped it was not the last thing she ever did.

Kyr listened to the muffled sound of music and flipped polished stones into the dish one by one. Anything to slow the tedious cycle of thoughts in his head. He wished he could go to his father’s tent and play a real game of stones with him and Felyn’s man, Varz, but Thalgor and Varz were entertaining the Ruler and his son, Brax, two men Kyr wanted to avoid at all costs. He suspected his father and uncle would have preferred to avoid them, too.

Kyr would just as soon avoid Rynne, their daughter and sister, as well, but inevitably tomorrow he would be tied to the woman, if not for life, at least for as long as it was necessary to maintain the tenuous peace agreement between the Ruler’s people, Thalgor’s, and Varz’s.

Voices outside the tent. Perhaps their visitors had gone to bed early and his father had come to offer some company this grim night.

He stood, but when the flap opened, a woman stepped in. For a moment, he thought it was Rynne come to him of her own will, as if he were a person to her instead of a symbol of her obedience to her father. Some of the tension left his body. Then he realized it was not the woman he was promised to, but her servant.

Their eyes met. A jolt of pure terror shot across the space between them. Her fear pushed him back into his chair before he could protect himself against the force of it.

He blinked his mind clear and looked closely at the servant for the first time.

She was not so dark as the women of his people, but her amber-brown face had gone white with fear. Still, the servant—was her name? Ciel?—stood straight and tall.

I have a message.

He could barely make out the words, her voice quivered so. He had not thought her timid. Rather the contrary, in fact. He had seen her stand up to Rynne over her treatment of one of the lowlier servants and push Brax away when he touched her where he had no right to.

Come closer, Kyr said.

Ciel slid a glance to the sword he had thrown on the table after he came in from the feast.

I will not hurt you, he assured her.

She stared at him, eyes wide, hands knotted together at her waist, but did not move.

With a sigh, he pushed the sword out of reach. What message could she bring that would anger him enough to kill her? Or was she an assassin, another case of the Ruler’s treachery?

He saw no sign of a weapon as she took an unsteady step or two toward him. In the full light, she looked more like Rynne than he had thought, slender with a pretty face and soft, wide eyes, although hers were not brown, but a cloudy gray. Witch blood?

He gestured for her to come nearer yet. She drew a deep breath before she took another two wavering steps. Was she ill? Was Rynne ill?

I-I have to tell you. . . She swallowed. To tell you. . .

She dropped to the floor. Kyr rushed around the table to crouch at her side, but she had not passed out. Instead, she laid her hands on his feet.

The slave’s gesture repulsed him.

He stood and stepped out of her reach.

His people had kept no slaves since Thalgor became their leader, long before Kyr was born. The end of the trade in slaves was one of the main reasons behind their efforts to make peace with the Ruler. All the slaves in the south had been freed as a condition of their pact. This woman must have been one of them. He should pity her, but her servility rankled more.

Get up, he said, more roughly than he meant to.

She stumbled to her feet, eyes lowered, hands open in the attitude of a slave. He tamped down his irritation.

What message does Rynne send?

The woman’s hands knotted together again in front of her heart. Please. It is not her fault. Her father knew how she felt, but he still forced her. . .

So his bride was as unwilling as he. Quite a marriage this would be! At least it explained Rynne’s coldness toward him. He was not sure he had ever seen her smile.

Go on. He tried to soften his tone, but Ciel still flinched.

She dropped her hands, straightened, and lifted her eyes to meet his. Rynne is gone.

He took a step toward the door of the tent. Gone? Gone where?

She shook her head and dropped her gaze to the floor again.

Did she mean she did not know or would not tell him?

How?

He suspected he knew why. He had seen his promised bride in close conversation with one of her father’s lieutenants. He had not thought much of it at the time, but now understood the fear in Rynne’s eyes when she had noticed him watching them.

She and Wille took two oxen. Ciel’s eyes widened with new fear. From those we brought with us, not stolen from your people.

He nodded.

Ciel swallowed again. They also took food from our stores, one of our oxcarts, one of our tents, and Wille’s armor and weapons.

This Wille means to go renegade with Rynne?

No, he means to take her home to his people, who live far south of here. T-they hope your father will be angry enough at their betrayal to attack our soldiers before the Ruler can send anyone after them. Wille’s people will hide them, he thinks, once whoever wins the battle here searches for them.

"Wait. They fled, Rynne and this Wille, in hopes it would start the fighting again?"

The words made sense to Kyr, but not their meaning. Peace above all had always been his father’s goal and now was his.

It was the only way they could have a life together.

Not the only way, he roared and grabbed up his sword. War is no way at all.

Ciel shrank back from him, but his rage had nothing to do with her.

If they had spoken honestly to her father. . . But Ciel had said the Ruler knew Rynne wanted Wille. If she had spoken honestly to me, I would never have allowed the ceremony to go forward.

Ciel lifted her head. Would your father have allowed you to stop it?

Yes. We would have found another means to guarantee the peace. Has the Ruler no other daughters?

Ciel shifted her gaze sideways. No.

I must bring them back before anyone else knows of this. They cannot move quickly with an oxcart. It should be easy to overtake them. How long ago did they leave?

While all were at dinner.

Rynne had eaten in her tent, out of maidenly modesty he had assumed.

Why did you not tell me sooner?

When she eyed his sword, he threw the weapon back on the table with a clatter that echoed harshly against the lilting music outside.

Rynne only told me what they intended at the last moment because she needed me to pack her things, Ciel explained. Wille wanted to k-kill me to be sure their secret was safe.

Kyr shook his head in disgust.

Rynne said I would never betray her. She said I would flee rather than face you or your father, so he tied me to a tent post.

Absently she rubbed the redness on her wrists he had not noticed before.

I freed myself as quickly as I could and came here.

At least Wille was a better judge of character than Rynne.

Kyr paced the suddenly too small space of the tent. Ciel cowered away from him when he passed her. He did not like that she was afraid of him, but he had far more important worries at the moment. We must tell my father.

No.

He had not really spoken to her, so the denial seemed more forceful than it probably was.

What else can I do? Tell her father?

Panic crossed Ciel’s face. No, please not that. He will blame me. H-he will— She wrapped her arms around her waist, as if to stop the tremors in her body. I have an idea, she said.

You do?

She frowned at the disbelief in his voice. Yes. Even a former slave is capable of having ideas, occasionally good ones.

He was too distracted to apologize. Is yours a good one?

You will have to judge that for yourself.

Tell me. He sat back at the table and gestured her to the bench across from him, but she remained on her feet, still ready to flee at any moment.

If you were to disappear, too, I. . . Her voice faltered, but she persisted. I could tell everyone you and Rynne ran off together, that you had fallen in love and wanted to start your life together in privacy. I could say Wille went after you to bring her back.

Kyr thought for a moment. Not a bad idea. Not bad at all.

But she still held herself in as if tempted to weep. Her body shook so hard he wondered how she managed to stay on her feet.

But what about you?

The Ruler. . . She cleared her throat. He is unlikely to have me killed me in front of your father.

The flat way she spoke sent chills down Kyr’s spine. But he would blame you.

Rynne has pushed the blame to me ever since we were children.

Again, the flat calmness of her words chilled him. As did the reminder that even as a child she had been a slave.

He closed his eyes and looked into the murky future. What he saw surprised him, but once seen, it made sense. A perfect solution, in fact, if he could persuade the woman in front of him of both his power to protect her and the innocence of his motives.

What if you came with me? he asked.

*

Ciel blinked in disbelief. Not simply at the question. She was far more shocked that Kyr, whom she had every reason to regard as honorable, would expect her to disappear into the night with a man she had never spoken to before. He must think the worst of her, as a former slave, in more ways than one.

I would rather die. Anger had erased the tremor in her voice. She dropped her arms to her side, hands fisted.

I did not mean— he protested.

She shook her head, her eyes still narrowed in wary rage.

In a single movement, he took the knife from his belt and made a small, deep cut in his hand. She gasped and reached out to stop him.

Silently, he stood and came to her. She was too stunned to object when he took her hand and spread a line of his blood on her palm, then pressed the carved bone handle of the knife into her grasp.

Varz’s people pledge with a knife, mine with blood. I give you both. If I lay a hand on you, with this knife, my life is forfeit.

No, she said in horror and tried to release the knife, but his hand held it fast in hers while he offered her the leather sheath with the other. I could never harm anyone. . .

Nor could I harm you.

The sincerity in his eyes convinced her more surely than the warm dampness on her hand. She nodded and tightened her hand around the knife. Once he released it, she took the sheath and slid the bloodied knife into it, as if she were really capable of using it to kill a man.

When the male slaves among my people were freed, they were given knives as a sign of their freedom, since it had been forbidden for them to own weapons before, she said. But the women were not. Much evil flowed from their inability to protect themselves. And some of their men died trying to protect them.

Were you— He seemed to choke on the word. Were you touched by that evil?

No. I had Rynne’s protection. Which she would lose if Rynne became Kyr’s woman. She has always been fond of me, as long as it costs her nothing. Ciel dropped her gaze. I should not speak so of her. She saved my life tonight, and she was—is to be your woman.

She saved your life after she put it at risk. Kyr went back to sit at the table and gestured again for her to sit opposite him.

The flow of blood from his hand had stopped as if by magic.

And do you think I would have her for my woman now? he added.

Given this man’s honesty with her, she owed him the truth. She—she has been with Wille before.

He waved the information away with a careless hand. I do not care about that. We have no commitment to each other, only to the peace. But to risk breaking that peace for her own happiness? Why would she, why would anyone, do that?

The anguish in his voice pushed Ciel across the room to the bench. She and Wille have loved each other since childhood. I do not think she can imagine a life without him. To her, it felt like death.

So why would her father force her? Kyr stopped and shook his head. He cares for her as little as he cares for you.

His words did not offend Ciel—Kyr would not think the Ruler had any reason to care for a former slave at all—but the thought lodged strangely in her mind. It hung there awkwardly for a moment before it fell into place, the missing piece of a puzzle that, once finished, brought no joy, only a new understanding. Rynne may have lived a far more comfortable life than Ciel, but she had never truly been any safer from her father’s heartlessness.

Kyr stared somewhere over Ciel’s shoulder. I never expected a love match, but Felyn and Varz married to create peace and came later to love each other. I had some hope the same might happen with me and Rynne. If not, I would have released her as soon as the peace was secure and let her be with Wille. I thought she understood that.

The peace will never be secure. Brax considers their father’s agreement to it evidence he has become too old and weak to rule. Her actions tonight could provide him with the pretext he needs to seize power for himself.

Did she not know that?

She does not care. She is in love. Ciel loaded the last word with all the weight of her pity and contempt for Rynne.

Kyr grimaced. So you agree the only solution is for me and you to flee, as they have, in the hopes everyone will think she and I are together, with you and Wille in attendance.

None of our people will think Wille would ever attend anyone but the Ruler. They will think he has gone after you to kill you, but no one will say so out loud.

The same outcome then. Kyr held out his uncut hand. You will come with me?

Where?

I can think of only one place where you would be safe from the Ruler.

Renewed terror flooded her mind at his words. She saw the sword at her throat, the killing slice as clearly as if the Ruler and his guards stood in front of her. A whimper escaped before she managed to wipe the image away.

I will protect you, Kyr said, almost as if he had seen the vision, too.

She looked at him a moment, the powerful shoulders, the large, strong hands, the craggy face the same color as the leather sheath he had given her. A warm tremor ran through her, unfamiliar but not unpleasant. She nodded in acknowledgment that he would do his best, which was all he could, in truth, promise.

Have you no woman you wish to have flee with us?

He leaned back, his handsome face hard. You think I would take Rynne, if I did? I have always known the peace was more important than my freedom to choose a woman.

Perhaps, but it is hard to see how a man such as you could have lived alone until now.

His face softened. I was promised for many years to Varz’s daughter, Li.

Your cousin?

My aunt is her stepmother. We suited well enough, but she fell in love with one of Varz’s warriors, who is closer to her in age.

But still, to live alone all these years.

A rude question. She held her breath against his anger, but he smiled and shook his head.

I do not know how it is among your people, but among mine a man does not have to have a woman of his own to enjoy a willing woman’s company now and then.

What would it be like to live among a people where a woman’s willingness mattered?

An image of Brax’s hands grabbing at her filled her mind unbidden. She shuddered.

The music that drifted in through the tent walls shifted from lilting to more somber.

Kyr raised his head. We must go and go soon. You will come with me?

I will slow you. Better to catch up with them quickly. Let me tell the Ruler the tale you want him to believe and rely on your father to protect me.

And if the Ruler kills you before anyone can stop him?

She wrapped her arms around her waist and whimpered again.

My father’s honor would never accept such behavior in a supposed ally, Kyr said. The peace will be broken in any case.

And it would be broken because