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Kormac returned to his room and lay on his bed, thinking of the witch. He fell asleep with her cocky smile in his mind.
And woke to a pounding at his door.
CHAPTER NINE
Fionna slept soundly with a full belly and clean body. She woke with the dawn and immediately pulled out the mirror Amelia had given her.
It took but a tiny infusion of magic for it to cloud over then clear to show Amelia’s face.
“Fionna, have you arrived?”
“Yes, and I’ve already met the warlord.”
Something in her tone or expression must have conveyed her thoughts on him, for Amelia asked, “It didn’t go well?”
“The man required proof of magic.”
“Please tell me you didn’t humiliate him?” Amelia pleaded.
“No. But I did make it clear I wasn’t going to play a charade. The man wanted to pass me off as his fiancée, stating it would be easier for us to work together. It would seem women have very few rights here.” Which grated for someone used to the freedom to act as she pleased.
“Their culture is different than you’re used to.”
“You don’t say.” She couldn’t stem her sarcastic reply.
“Have you met the patient yet?”
“No. I arrived too late, but I shall do so as soon as I eat. The sooner I solve that problem, the sooner I can leave.”
“Don’t be so hasty.”
Fionna rolled her eyes. “I know, you want me to see if I can sniff out this evil you predicted. If you ask me, it’s their attitude in general.”
“Don’t let your own feelings about their culture blind you to what is happening.”
“I won’t.” She held in a sigh. “I will contact you again once I learn something.”
“Be careful.”
“Never,” Fionna said with a laugh before breaking the connection. She dressed in a gown of lovely pale green, but keeping in mind what the warlord said, she used a smidge of magic to change its hue to a much darker shade. She could do little about the style, but that was to be expected as a foreign diplomat.
She exited her chambers and headed down the stairs to the main level which bustled despite the early hour. Right away, a pair of guards corralled her.
“Halt. Who are you? What are you doing in the citadel?” barked a man with a braided beard.
“I am Fionna, here at the warlord’s request.” She left the actual reason out given she didn’t know what lie the warlord had chosen to use.
“Sure, you are,” sneered the braided fellow.
She arched a brow and did her best to control her irritation. “I assure you it’s the truth.”
“Bullshit,” interjected the other guard with pockmarked cheeks.
The braided guard sneered. “Someone thinks she’s special. The warlord’s bedmates are to vacate the citadel in the morning. Get going before you’re forcefully escorted out.”
“I wouldn’t recommend that. I am here by invitation so before you do something foolish, you might want to check with the warlord first.”
“We will. Rocko, go find the warlord. You stay here.” The last was directed at her.
