A Witch's Undoing

Chapter 9: Lilian

The worst part about waking up sore, dehydrated, nauseous and with two broken ribs was that it had all been entirely my doing. I had no one else to point a finger at.

The second worst part was the plain unreasonable attention that came with it from Theodor, Beth, and even Leo. Not from Neil, of course. He hadn't even bothered to pay a single visit.

I was relieved about that in a way. I didn't need him sneaking around in my room and, by default, in my head while I was unconscious.

"Neil sends his regards" Theo would mention every now and then, both of us aware he was lying and lying poorly. I acknowledged his attempt with a nod.

The third worst part was facing the consequences of my actions, the ones that weren't imprinted on my body.

I had saved Sonya. To the eyes of Theo, Samael, and every other direct or indirect witness, I had become the hero. It was making me queasy just thinking about it.

I was not a hero. At best, I was the bog-dwelling rumored-to-be-berserk witch that the hero went to for directions or a meaningless prophecy. But none of them seemed to understand that. Least of all Theodor.

"She just leaped in Sonya's defense without a second thought" he looked away from Beth, who was listening with the same level of worry and enthusiasm as the first four times. I could only hope she was getting paid enough for this, "Although, I'll have to fact-check that with Neil" he winked at me and got back to telling the story, "But anyway, Sonya would have been mashed into a pulp. A half-druid purée. It was the relentless bravery of my fiancée that saved her. Ah, you should have seen her!" He was beaming. I felt like a prized horse who'd made an unbelievable jump.

"Beth, I urge you, leave before he remarks on the Freyra Bjorn comparison" I whispered as she leaned in to adjust my pillows. She giggled at first but my pained expression got to her. Theodor frowned as she headed for the door.

And as soon as the door shut, I grabbed him by his shirt.

"For the last time, I am no Saint. I am no mythical protagonist. I am a very irritable patient with two broken ribs. An injury I endured for your stupid mission. Do you honestly believe Sonya's death would have aided us in any way? The hunters and Sorren already hated our guts, they did not need another reason. But now that we've saved their precious Sonya", my voice sounded too harsh even to my own ears. I tried to take a deep breath, "I bet things will turn in our favor".

Theodor furrowed his brows.

"Chills..." he showed me his arm covered in goosebumps, "Saints, you sound just like N..." he pressed his lips together, the rational part of his brain finally registering that angering me further wasn't ideal for his survival.

I let go of him. He slowly reclined into his chair.

What was the point? I knew I sounded like him. I wanted to sound like him.

By the grace of some warped logic of mine, I considered it better to have done it out of Grandmaster intentions than the true, decent ones. I wished I'd been cunning enough to foresee the benefits my decision would bring and execute them as a distant observer. Act from above the chess board, not within it.

But the truth was that the only thing I'd been thinking in that flickering moment was how Sonya's death would have devastated everyone who fawned over her. The family, the tribe.

My relentless bravery? What about the relentless love they all had for Sonya? The love that even broke through to me and made her endearing enough to protect?

The Grandmaster remained untouched. Not just from danger, but from feeling. That's what sustained their power, their omnipotence, their survival. It was bad enough that I'd never get to be one because of Eliah's ridiculous bias towards possessing only men, but to be able to reach just the shadow of what Neil was at this moment in time...