The Witch Collector (Witch Walker #1)

“No. You need to listen. I don’t like being challenged when I’m only trying to help. Your actions have done nothing but slow us.” He presses his heels into Mannus’s flanks and walks the animal forward until he’s alongside me. With a penetrating look, Alexus raises a fist and extends his finger. “This was a lesson. Winter Road shouldn’t be far now, but if your head was where it should be, you’d sense that magick isn’t far either. I’ve no idea what we’re about to face, but there’s a good possibility it won’t be pleasant, and it won’t be anything you want to endure by yourself. If your self-serving independence is a problem again, know that I will not be so kind as to rush to your aid. The people we care about need us, and I will not be deterred anymore. Do you understand?”

I hesitate to reply, and his voice deepens.

“I said, do you understand?”

Pride is difficult to swallow when it comes to him, but darkness closes in all around, so I do it anyway. Though it kills me, I give the Witch Collector a single, stiff nod.

An annoying half-smile graces his lips. “Good. See how easy that was? I might tame you yet.” He thrusts his chin toward the west. “Now let’s find a place to rest.”





From my seat on an old tree stump, curled in on myself against the cold, I glare at Alexus Thibault, wondering if looks can kill. I don’t want to spend the night with him. I don’t want to even be in his presence, and he knows it. I certainly didn’t want to stop riding, but it's so dark, and the horses are tired. I know that it’s best if we sleep for at least a few hours before facing what lies ahead, but god all, I am not happy about it.

After what happened earlier, it isn’t like I can argue.

“Look,” he says from where he’s crouched, knees spread wide as he adds twigs and sticks to the fire he built in a small clearing. “I reacted harshly earlier. It’s just that, over the course of my life, I’ve spent countless days and nights in this wood. Even without being enchanted, Frostwater is no place for anyone who hasn’t traveled its ground many times. I only wanted to keep you safe, and you were being impossible.”

A flush rushes up my chest and neck. I like to think that I could’ve kept myself safe, but sometimes, whether I care to admit it or not, experience trumps daring.

“Also,” he continues, “there’s a very good chance that we might be forced to spend several nights together, so you should get used to me. I don’t bite.” A flicker of humor flashes in his eyes. “Not hard, anyway.”

“Hilarious,” I sign, doing my best to keep my face expressionless.

A smile tugs his mouth. “I’m only saying. There are a lot of dangerous things in this wood besides me. Wolves, boars, venomous snakes. Ghosts, wraiths. You never know what might come crawling out of the dark.”

He tosses a small pebble at my feet, the movement so quick that I almost miss it. I still jump half out of my skin. The thought of wolves, boars, and snakes terrifies me, that’s true, but at least the other creatures he mentioned don’t exist. Not anymore, that is.

“You are a child.”

“I thought I was a trickster teacher. A liar.”

“You are those as well. And more.”

Again, he smiles, and it’s irritating how devastating it is, even with a busted lip. His lone dimple makes an appearance, too, making matters even worse. It’s hard to despise someone who lights up the world when they smile.

Damn him to the Nether Reaches.

Though I’m oddly glad the tension between us has dampened, and though I’m struggling to stop looking at him, I don’t find his joking about the wood funny at all. The leaves and limbs in a nearby tree keep rustling like something’s climbing or walking up there, making me shiver. I was raised in a vale. I’m used to all sorts of creatures wandering into the village, climbing on the thatch, scurrying into the cottage. But the wood has forever been contained. It’s still too new for me. Still feels forbidden—for a reason.

The thought makes me shiver.

Gods. The best thing I can do is go to sleep.

The ground is hard and frigid, but I lie down and turn on my side anyway, my back to Alexus. The moment I close my eyes, his voice drifts over the fire.

“I haven’t had a chance to tell you that I’m sorry for the loss of your village. And your mother.”

The moment he speaks those words, I see her smiling at me, so real.

I sit up, heart racing, and hug my knees to my chest. After a few minutes, I face him. I don’t want to talk about last night, especially with him, but he seems sincere, and I haven’t had time to process the enormity of the disaster. The loss feels so great that I don’t think it’s hit me yet, like reality will arrive in cresting waves.

I remember what it was like when I lost my father. I walked around in a daze most of the time, the ghost of him following me everywhere. I would even hear him laughing sometimes, or see him from a distance, or run into the cottage with news on the tips of my fingers that I needed to tell him, only to realize that he wasn’t there.

“Did you have a partner?” Alexus asks.

I shake my head, then nod and end up shaking it again. Finn was never my partner, not like my parents were partners, but for a time, I’d believed he was everything.

“I had someone. It was…complicated.”

And that’s all I say about that.

“Well, losing everyone you love is something no one should be forced to endure. It leaves an indelible mark on your soul.” Alexus stares into the fire but then meets my eyes. “I truly am sorry, Raina. I would change it if I could.”

Again, his words are so sincere—like they’re coming from a man with experience or a load of guilt. Or maybe both.

My stomach twists into a tight knot. He’s partly to blame for my loss. He took Nephele, though it sounds like she’s been just fine living at Winterhold. I still can’t grasp how that’s possible, thinking maybe I’m being tricked, because if she holds so much sway over the Witch Collector and the Frost King, why has she not come home?

“Tell me about my sister,” I sign, needing to take my mind off last night. “What is she like now?”

At first, he looks like he’s not sure how to reply, but he finally does, with an amused grin. “She’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing, that’s for certain. She has an affinity for clashing swords—with me, in particular. Sometimes I win, but I won’t lie. Much of the time, she beats me, fair and square.”

I can’t help but allow a faint smile at that. “Nephele used to beg Father to teach her the sword.”

Father did teach her too. I was so small—she’s six years older than me—but I remember. However, as we aged, more important duties took precedence, and the playtime of pretend sword fighting had to be cast aside.

Another reason for my smile is that Alexus speaks of her with such familiarity and admiration. It angered me so much before, but now it brings me a sliver of comfort. Even if I don’t yet know the details of Nephele’s situation, it seems like she’s made the best of it.

“Nephele cares for the children at Winterhold too,” he continues. “Teaches them.” He switches to signing. “She even teaches your hand language. We have two deaf children who benefit from it greatly. I cannot tell you how many times she has smacked my hands for getting something wrong one too many times.”

I laugh, but it makes my heart hurt for a reason I can’t place. I’m glad she’s had this other life. A rich life, it seems. I truly am.

And that she hasn’t been unhappy like me.

The stars are out, so I lie down and stare at the sky, unexpectedly brutally aware of the empty cavern inside me. I’ve no reason to speak to Alexus openly, to confide in him, but that emptiness aches so much, and words rush from my fingers anyway.

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