The House of Cards

City of Blood and Bone

City of Blood and Bone

The Blood-Born witches drag us through the swamp mercilessly, our hands bound before us with handcuffs made of iron and vorpal, inhibiting our use of magic, and a witch walking behind. They keep us separated, unable to talk, and unable to scheme up a way to escape. They even confiscated Solomon's cat, Beelzebub.

In front of me, Gwin plays with her too-big handcuffs. Her wrists and hands are too slim for them to fit properly, causing them to slide down until they hit the base of her thumb. Marius' wings are folded flat against his back, held down by a thick, filthy rope.

They are not taking any chances with us.

The twisted trees of the swamp thicken, and more skeletons appear. The bones begin to show up hung from tree branches, clattering against each other when the wet swamp breeze blows through. Many are formed into cages, hanging low from the branches, holding clay bowls filled with a toxic green flame that moved like water. Blood-Born sentries peer through the slits of their bone helmets, high in the gnarled trees.

Gwin's handcuffs rattle as she pushes them higher up her arms.

A wooden ramp, guarded by the Blood-Born and flanked by two metal braziers filled with the liquid green fire, rises from the swamp, leading to a low walkway decorated with fire and bone. The path is rough and uneven, but stable, groaning under our feet as we make our way along. More Blood-Born appear out of the swamp as we walk, the path diverting, leading to low huts with thin, thatched rooms, smoke curling out of the tops of many. The crowd of witches grows, peering curiously at us. And I cannot help but peer curiously back.

There are no males among them.

The thought sits with me as the path opens, forming a large platform ringed by many small huts, an enormous green bonfire burning in the middle. A series of thick, wooden poles ring the flames, connected by an iron chain held in place by a metal loop screwed to the top of the pole. A skull leers down from the top of each.

With an order from their leader, the witches separate us, taking the boys into one hut while herding Gwin and me into another adjacent one. Inside, the floors become stone, steam rising from a sunken pool in the middle, the green fire giving the room a sinister glow. One of the Blood-Born witches who are guarding us takes off her skull helmet, her dark braid falling down her back. She sets it down and picks up a few bowls of sweet smelling herbs and oil off a counter along the far wall, spreading them in to the pool.

She glances up at us as we stand there dumbly. "Strip," she orders, her accent thick, unused to speaking this language. "We want you clean before we take the magic from your bones."

Two other witches unlock our handcuffs, allowing us free range over our movements. Even if we had tried to fight, the thought is immediately chased out when the two guards pull wicked looking knives from their belts, setting them to our throats.

"And don't try to run," the first witch continues. "Although we would rather take the magic from you while you live, it is just as easy to do if you are dead."

My stomach twists into a knot.

Three time two is six.

With a sigh, Gwin reaches for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up over her head. Her body is small, hidden beneath a white camisole tank top. When she reaches for the hem of that, I turn away, trying not to invade her privacy. She does the same after I take off my shirt and reach to unhook my bra.

Shortly, both of our clothes end up in a pile on the floor and we are ushered in to the steaming bath. A layer of bubbles floats along the top and I hastily sink beneath it, luxuriating in a warmth that sinks into my bones, a warmth I had not realized I had been missing. The witches step outside taking our old clothes with them, giving us our privacy, but remaining within earshot in case we attempt to escape.