Ivy sat on her ass, doing nothing. For…three days. She let out a long breath, and then flopped face-first onto her huge bed, now staying at the nicest place she could find in Rhune. She was…so bored. But she also had no idea what to do with herself. Letting out another long sigh, she rolled off the foot of her bed, plopping down against the hardwood floor, and stared up at the ceiling.

Her teeth ground against each other at the thought of giving that woman what she wanted, but Ivy had also found what she had been looking for. A literal treasure trove of witches hiding in plain sight. They couldn’t all be so bad. Anemony was even pleasant…

She hopped to her feet and stomped over to the door to her room and threw it open, only to find a young woman wrapped in furs standing in front of her, her closed fist raised high as though preparing to knock. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Ivy frowned. She almost hadn’t recognized the young witch so heavily bundled up.

“Oh! Hey, Ivy.” She lowered her hand, a small blush creeping along her cheeks.

“What are you doing here?” Ivy asked. Though she hadn’t bothered hiding herself anymore, she doubted the queen would approach her first based on how things had gone last time.

“Ah, well…that’s…”

“I don’t suppose you just came for a visit all on your own?”

“Uh, wait,” Anemony smiled brightly, “you would actually want me to come visit you? Really?”

Ivy rolled her eyes.

“Is that so surprising?”

The part of her heart she had discarded behind in Atrican had left Ivy feeling hollow most of the time. She missed Virian, and even Rose, but her pride would not let her forgive them.

“Well,” Anemony said, “it’s just you’re kind of scary sometimes. I was shaking up there on the roof with you. And not because I was in that dress in the cold, either.”

Ivy laughed.

“I frighten you?”

“You frighten everyone! I’ve…heard stories.”

“About me? I didn’t realize I was famous.”

“Did you really kill an entire squadron of paladins?”

The girl’s eyes shone with a mix of wonder, awe, and fear. Ivy tried to imagine how she would feel had she heard the same thing a few years ago and sighed.

“Why are you here, Anemony?” she asked.

The young witch hid her fidgeting hands behind her back and her eyes wandered, landing anywhere but upon Ivy.

“So, yeah…Queen Daphne. She thinks you two got off on the wrong foot. She’d like to—”

“Yeah, I got it,” Ivy said, “and she sent you as the best way to sway me.”

“Is it working?” Anemony shuffled her feet awkwardly.

“No.” Ivy slammed the door shut, earning a yelp from the other side. She stood there for a second before flinging it back open to a wide-eyed Anemony. “Tell her she can’t summon me when she pleases.” A second, more forceful slam shook the walls of the inn.

Once again, Ivy stood there, eying the door, and began fidgeting herself. Ugh. Damnit! She heaved open the door again, this time seeing a more confused Anemony than anything.

“Ivy?” she asked, one eyebrow arched.

“I was going to come anyway!” she said, storming forward. “Not because she asked!”

“O-okay,” Anemony said, hands raised but smiling, “I believe you.”

“Shut up.”

Ivy closed the door behind her and started walking ahead of Anemony, who caught up a second later.

“This is going to be so much fun!”

Ivy had a hard time not being infected by the girl’s unabashed cheerfulness.

With a small grin, she said, “We’ll see.”

Anemony locked arms with Ivy as they made their way through the inn’s hallways and down the five flights of stairs from the top floor.

“You’re going to love the others,” she said, “first, there’s Dahlia. She’s like a million years old, but her magic is crazy! She—”

The girl went on to outline the various faces of the witches of Rhune as they made their way to the palace. Ivy tried to keep it all straight in her head but had difficulty matching names and powers and faces to the women she had briefly seen once in the throne room.

Dahlia was supposed to be their strongest, who conjured massive swaths of flame. She must have been the one keeping things warm. Then there was Cassia who could be said to be her opposite, able to freeze things by touch or even from a distance. The queen of course could talk in other people’s heads. Azalea had been the unfortunate one to try and restrain Ivy. The last two in Rhune she had forgotten already by the time they reached the palace gate. There was also one more pair of twins that were currently outside the city searching for more witches.

If she were to include Rose, the old hag witch, and herself, she counted eleven. And these weren’t just scared girls hiding from the church, but true witches, all aligned if only tenuously. The church might actually have a fight on its hands. Ivy smiled, and her companion did as well.

The guards at the gate did not bother to question them as they passed through like they owned the place. Neither did the men stationed at the palace doors themselves. For a second time, Ivy was struck by the opulence of the Rhune palace interior, but Anemony led her through a series of increasingly plainer halls and corridors. It was when they started descending rather than climbing to the throne room tower that Ivy couldn’t keep silent any longer.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“You’ll see.” Anemony kept up her warm smile, continuing to drag Ivy along.

“Uh, perhaps you might have noticed, but I don’t respond that well to surprises.”

“Oh, it’s nothing bad!” Ivy gave her a dark look. “You’re so serious. It’s just a place where we talk about things. Witches only.”

Ivy had her doubts that was all that it was, but held her tongue, letting Anemony guide her ever further down until the stones beneath her feet were damp with a blueish, slightly glowing moss. The stuff covered nearly every inch of the walls and ceiling as well, giving the lowest section of the palace an otherworldly radiance.

“Pretty, huh?” Anemony asked.

“Y-yeah.” Ivy had to agree but wrinkled her nose at the musty fragrance in the air. “I could do without the stink, though.”

Anemony shrugged.

“You get used to it.”

The landing at the foot of the final stairway opened up into a large, circular room dominated by a similarly shaped table that reached almost to the walls. Five of the thirteen chairs were already occupied by the witches of Rhune, all staring her down. Not to show any weakness to them, she strolled to the furthest chair directly opposite the queen and sat. Anemony beside her shifted her gaze from Ivy to the queen several times, before finally settling down beside Ivy, who laughed at the scene.

“Welcome, Ivy,” Queen Daphne said, “to the Council of Dragonflies.”

Ivy snorted. The beggar witch in Atrican had told Ivy to rebuild and lead this group of women.

“The old hag got to you as well?” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be surprised. So, what did she tell you?”

There was zero chance the beggar witch had told Daphne that Ivy was coming to rule over this council of witches as she had tasked Ivy with.

“Synthia is our eldest and most learned member,” Daphne said, “you would do better to show her some respect.”

Ivy shrugged.

“She is what she is.” Off to her left, Anemony tried to suppress a giggle. “She’d probably agree with me, anyway.”

Five pairs of eyes glared at her, one more than the rest. The redheaded witch Azalea still looked a little pale, though her complexion did not mask the pure hostility of her dagger-like gaze.

“Youth.” Daphne rubbed her forehead with the fingertips of both of her hands. “This is why—”

“Hang on,” Ivy said, pointing toward Azalea, “she’s not going to try to kill me, right?”

“No one in this room will harm you, Ivy.”

“And if they do? Are you going to give them a stern warning?”

“No. They simply cannot. Did Anemony explain nothing to you?”

Ivy glanced over at her singular companion.

“Maybe?” Ivy said. “She was quite talkative. I might have accidentally tuned out some of it.” She mouthed a “sorry” to Anemony.

The queen gestured to the chair placed to her right.

“Zinnia is an oath witch. Everyone had bound themselves to not act against you except in self-defense.”

Huh. Ivy didn’t know the specifics of what being an “oath witch” meant, but the situation sounded pretty good. Assuming it wasn’t a lie. It actually made it seem like she somehow was the de-facto ruler of these witches.

“Including you?” Ivy asked. The queen did not answer. Ah. Okay. That made more sense. “So why am I here?”

The queen’s eye flicked to a dark archway in the back of the room behind her that Ivy had not noticed previously.

“I need your help,” she said.

“And attacking me the other day was your way of asking?”

“I will remind you that you threatened us first. And Azalea did not harm you.”

Queen Daphne looked down the dark passage again, pursing her lips. Ivy followed her gaze, squinting into the gloom.

“What are you hiding back there?” she asked.

“Not what, but whom.” Daphne’s attention returned to Ivy. “Do not overreact.”

Ivy stiffened in her chair, ignoring the gentle squeeze of Anemony’s fingers on her forearm. If Rose waltzed on in past that arch, she had no idea what she would do. “Do not overreact?” Did she know who she was talking to?

A moment passed in silence, and then a silhouette appeared beyond the obscuring darkness. Far too tall for Rose. Ivy eased a bit in her chair until…no. The approaching figure was not a woman.

“I thought only witches were allowed down here,” she whispered to Anemony.

“Me too.”

The man emerged into the council chamber and Ivy was on her feet in an instant, dagger drawn.

“What is he doing here?”

The thorn that had been on Ivy’s side since arriving in Rhune offered up a sheepish smile.

“Mostly staying away from you,” he said.

Ivy directed a glare in the queen’s direction.

“What is this? A peace offering? You’re going to hand him over to me if I help you?”

“Not at all.” The smug bitch smiled. “I want you to work with him.”

“Work with him.” A low, incredulous cackle formed on Ivy’s lips. “Work with him. To do what?” She stared at the man, who didn’t flinch to meet her eyes. “Who are you?”

The stalker who had bested Ivy that day in the snow strutted up to an empty seat at the table and gestured to the chair.

“May I?” he asked, but already began pulling the high-backed wooden chair back.

“Of course,” the queen said.

He took his seat with a confidence that made it seem like he did not need the queen’s permission in the first place.

“Your friend in Atrican sent me to look after you,” he said, “my name is Raenin.”

“Look after me?” A guttural scoff escaped her nostrils. Friend, huh? She didn’t think Virian would be bold enough. Rose had other methods. That left Armond. “Is that what you call spying on me? Nearly breaking my nose and bruising my ribs?”

He shrugged.

“You held a dagger to my neck. Given your nature, I wasn’t taking any chances.”

Ivy’s grip around the hilt of her dagger tightened until her fingernails dug grooves into her palm.

“My nature? What is that supposed to mean?”

“He means,” the queen said, drawing Ivy’s attention, “that you enjoy killing people.”

Anemony made a little squeaking noise to her left, but Ivy remained stick still. Her insides churned with rage at the violation of her darkest secret.

Rose.

Ivy had never told a soul about the sick satisfaction of basking in the rightness of her kills. She had always thought something was a little bit twisted in her but could not help it. She could not deny how good it had felt that night in Atrican when she had decimated her enemies. How she had reveled in the blood and darkness.

But then…then came the aftermath. The fallout. After the slaughter of the church, no one saw her the same. Virian…Virian had looked at her like she was a monster. A demon. Maybe she was. Which was why she had never let her true self show to anyone who wasn’t about to die.

For a year after, since that day, she hadn’t killed anyone. She had roamed the countryside looking for witches to save instead of using her talents to kill. She had thought maybe things would turn out better for her that way. If she only denied the monster, the sick pleasure of the kill, the world would reward her with a less lonely existence. Yet she had found no one. And the bloodlust still came. Still reared its ugly temptation.

It showed itself when Raenin had stalked her in the snow. Again in the queen’s chamber when they had outed her as a witch. And once more…this very moment.

How sweet it would be for her dagger to taste what it had been denied for so long. How easy it would be. The blood thirst she had fought so hard to push down, to suppress, surged within her.

“Ivy,” the queen said.

Anemony’s chair scraped along the stone floor as she scooted back from Ivy.

“You want me to kill someone,” Ivy said.

They wanted to use her, as everyone else did. A chained monster was useful, after all.

“Well…yes,” the queen said, “more than a someone, actually.”

“And why would I help you?” Ivy asked though she didn’t care what the queen’s answer would be. She already knew she would do whatever the woman asked. The roiling darkness inside her yearned to be let out. And she had no reason to deny herself any longer.

It seemed the queen knew it too. She grinned.

“It is just the kind of work you prefer, I believe.” She nodded to the only man in the room. “Raenin?”

He started without preamble, “I’ve located a group of Church-backed hunters gathering in Rhune.”

“And you want me to do your dirty work.” Ivy directed to the queen. “Don’t you have an army or something?” Again, she had no intention of letting any witch hunters live, but she still didn’t want to seem too obedient.

“The church and the guild have something of an unspoken truce with my city,” the queen said, “if I employ military might to root them out, that is as good as declaring war on the church. But if they simply disappear? Admitting they exist in the first place would be a violation of Rhune’s sovereignty. They could not ignore it if I use my men…but with the situation in Atrican? They have their hands full already. It’s a delicate thing.”

Ivy did not believe for one second that if a highly trained group of witch killers suddenly died mysteriously, it would just be pushed under the rug, but she also didn’t care at all.

She laughed.

“You’re not very good at this whole ‘opposing the church thing’ are you?”

The queen’s scowl could freeze an open flame.

“I have kept my city safe for centuries. Do not presume to tell me how to fight against our oppressors.”

“The way I see it, the first-time trouble comes knocking right under your nose, an Atrican spy is the only reason you know about it, and I’m the only solution you have.”

Ivy called on her power and took a step into the witch world. When she returned, she stood over Raenin’s seated form. It was time to have some fun.

“Show me,” she said, barring her teeth in a wicked smile.