Witch of Iria

Castle Ròs

The walls tower over us, their silvered stones already making me feel trapped. I can almost sense the hunter's smirk. We're riding towards the gate of Iria and I can feel him behind me. His right hand is clasped around my waist, his fingers softly stroking my stomach as if I'm some frightened animal.

"Stop that," I mutter, irritated. I can't believe I was attracted to him. But I have a thing for monsters.

"Why?" he asks, all innocence. "Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Everything about you makes me uncomfortable," I snap, trying to make out Dorcha in the distance. He tightens his grip around my waist.

"What's your name, witch?" His voice is curious. Lie.

My mother's voice comes to me unbidden, a distant memory of the past. I frown, trying to block it out. But that was always her advice when it came to Iria. Lie, with everything you've got. They'll use anything you love against you.

"Bridget," I say calmly. My heart races and I hope he can't hear it.

"Liar," he murmurs, chuckling. His laugh is loud in my ear and heat spills through me again. I swallow, trying to control the lust that burns through me. I don't understand why I'm so attracted to him. He's handsome, of course, with that golden hair and charming smile. But it almost seems...unnatural. I'm not normally so ruled by my body.

"I won't ask again." There's a warning in his words. As if he would force my name out, somehow. Maybe by using Dorcha.

"Gwyneth," I snap. "My name is Gwyneth."

"Better," he says.

"And what's your name, oh terrifying hunter of witches?" I ask, in a mocking tone.

He laughs again.

"Finn."

His dark-haired friend glances over at us and frowns.

"Don't give away any trade secrets, Finn. Who knows what diabolical plans she could have."

I glare at him in outrage. If anyone has diabolical plans, it's this lot.

"She'll find everything out anyway, Owen."

I will? I wonder where he's taking me.

"So where are we going? Will you lock me in a dungeon and throw away the key?" I ask.

His hand caresses my stomach again and I squirm.

"That would be a waste," he says calmly.

"Then where are you taking me?"

He says nothing and is silent. His friend, Owen, turns away from us and rides ahead.

I'm about to retort when we finally reach the gates of Iria.

They are made from the same stone as the walls but the gate itself is a great arch. The doors are a blackened metal, covered in studs. The true wonder isn't actually the gate though. It's the statues flanking the arch. Snarling griffins stand, guarding the entrance. Their claws are sharpened marble and their eyes are a midnight blue. It's odd, because even though I know they're only stone, I feel as if they could come alive at any moment. A low hum informs me that there's magic imbedded in some part of this gate. The griffins watch me, knowing I don't belong. I shiver in the saddle and Finn pulls me closer to him.

The guards at the gate are stern and forbidding.

"What do you have there, my lord?"

I start in the saddle, nearly toppling off. Only Finn stops me. My lord?