Nyx is a girl who can heal any wounds except her own.
When a king captures and murders her mother, she is imprisoned; forced to heal men of war who deem her lower than dirt and forced to marry the king she loathes the most.
Saval is a servant boy w...
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The Witch in the West Tower
•—||—•••—||—•
They say that King Franzes' new bride is a witch.
The rumours whisper that when the Queen had died, the captured sorcerer bewitched and seduced him. To earn the King's trust she used her dark powers and made the King's armies unkillable.
And truly, the rumours puzzle Saval; the witch is dumb then. The army follows and protects the King and if she’s truly evil, why make them unkillable, is it not counterproductive?
Such things do not matter to him, anyway. What matters is the silver pennies in his hands and his new job in the palace. A servant boy mayhaps, but still it is something and fifteen-year-old, Saval Locke walks with a jump in his steps.
The night is young.
Hefty crowds pass by and flickering lampposts shed light against the dark skies. He counts his earnings once again as he approaches the market. It’s enough to replace his dusty, sandals that looked like they'll burst out of the crappily sewed hinges (in his defence, it was his first time sewing things!). Instead, he buys five pieces of bread. But today, he can buy more than bread now.
He goes to another merchant who sneers at him and his raglike clothes. Saval stumbles and accidentally knocks over some of the merchant's food stall.
Mumbling apologies, he helps everything back in place. He heads for home with ten more silver coins, and stolen vegetables in his pockets, smirking.
He tosses a piece of bread to a skinny dog he sees in a corner. It nips the food into pieces, licks his hand and disappears into the night.
He gives another one to the blind old lady that gives him apples sometimes. Madam Valurie. She wears a Vikings hat (whom Saval thinks she stole from the pawnshop, and really, he respects that) and tells stories, and fortunes, as she carries a small, leather-bound book she pretends she could read.
“Tragedy awaits you, lad.” Madam Valurie pokes his face with her cane.“Be careful.”
“Of course.” Saval nods, smiles dismissively then mutters his goodbyes politely, because he has heard that a hundred times.
Home is tucked into dark alleyways where dust fills the air, narrowed, and stings of hunger and starvation; home is pieces of wood nailed awry together and a sufficient roof above it. Saval enters. He is too tall for their doorway, so he ducks down.
His sibling sleeps peacefully inside their small hut, curled up on the small bed he stole—ehem, made. He nudges the boy awake. “Irion, I brought food.”
Grumbling, Irion elbows his nose and sinks. his face deeper into the pillow.
“I get it, you want your beauty sleep.” Saval scowls but still kisses his forehead softly and drops the bag of food beside him. He puts the rest of his money to a half-filled jar.
