Witch Queen by Kim Richardson

paths. I could see a surprisingly vast city was
nestled on the floor of the valley. Grand limestone structures
similar to those in Soul City reflected red and gold in the setting
sun, and the city looked both frightening and beautiful.
    This was Erast. It was the home of Prince
Landon Battenberg, the late
real royal prince of Anglia. I felt anger, guilt, and sadness as I
remembered Prince Landon. I had let a pretty face creep into
my heart. My mind had been clouded because this wealthy and
beautiful man paid flirtatious attentions to me, a poor and
wretched woman from the Pit. I had listened to the lies from his
hot, sensuous lips, and I had fallen for his regal charms. I
couldn’t blame his damn family wine anymore. I had fallen
for him, and it had cost me.
    I couldn’t believe I had let him kiss me and
touch me, only to have him leave me for dead. I had been so stupid
and weak.
    A tall, square structure rose in the center
of the city, an enormous pillar of white stone that dwarfed the
buildings around it. Even from the distance of the crossroad, I
could see a red and gold flag on the topmost turret, the royal seal
of Anglia. It was clear that Erast had supported the late prince’s
claim to the throne of Anglia, and I wondered what these people had
had to sacrifice for the high priests to allow them to make such a
bold statement and fly the Anglian flag.
    Although it was substantial, the white-stone
structure wasn’t a castle. The priests would never have allowed
them to build a real keep. I suspected that flying the flag was as
close as they could get to suggesting that the real monarchy
belonged in Erast.
    The city seemed quiet from up here. The
grasses were green, and the trees rippled with a myriad of red,
orange, and golden leaves. No black stains. No blackened anything.
Perhaps the black blight hadn’t reached Erast yet. Perhaps they’d
been lucky.
    Or perhaps we just couldn’t see it.
    The longer I stared at the city, the more I
felt that something was definitely off. I just couldn’t figure it
out. There was nothing out of place. The city gleamed under the sun
like a giant jewel, and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I felt the same
foreboding I had felt when I had spotted the giant wave of gray
mist rolling onto the beaches of Anglia’s western sea. At first I
couldn’t see the evil that lurked in the mist, but I knew it
was there. I felt it.
    Call it my witch’s intuition, but I knew
something evil was down there, just as I knew that if we went down
there we wouldn’t come back.
    And then as if answering my suspicions, the
wound at the back of my neck throbbed and burned like holy hell. It
was warning me, just like it had warned me of the high priests’
black magic inside the golden temple. The necromancers’ black magic
was definitely in Erast.
    Leo appeared on my right side. I knew he
wanted to talk. I gave a firm tug on the reins and slowed Torak to
a walk. I knew all too well what he was about to ask.
    Leo stared at the city down in the valley.
“Do you think we should warn them? It doesn’t seem like the city’s
been infected yet.”
    My throat felt dry as the others slowed and
gathered around us, close enough to hear our conversation. I wasn’t
sure I’d ever get used to this leadership thing. I did my best not
to cringe in my saddle because what I was about to say was
difficult.
    “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” The words
were out of my mouth before I could control them.
    “Why not? We could save thousands of
lives.”
    I wanted to say , Because of the witch
blood in my veins, I can sense the evil down there , but instead
I voiced, “If we go down there and tell them that their beloved
prince is dead at the hands of evil necromancers skilled in black
magic, they’ll hang us all. They’ll blame us for his death.”
    I looked at Leo and hoped he could see it
would be madness to go down there.
    “They won’t believe us. They