33. IRA DEORUM

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"Call me Medusa for my monstrosity is not mine to bear, but yours to fear."

— Amy Clark

"This isn't how we do things," Ilse whispered

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"This isn't how we do things," Ilse whispered. Her nails dug into Hadrian's shoulder as she leaned in, her back to the gathering of witches as she leaned in close. "What you're suggesting is against everything we were taught."

She might have said something else, but Hadrian tilted his head and gave her a flat stare.  "You're welcome to stay. I won't force anyone to do anything."

She swallowed and stepped away from him, releasing his shoulder like he'd burned her. Her green eyes flicked over him before she took her place a step behind him.

He turned his attention back to the witches. His coven. They all stood on the shallow beach, wind-whipped but silent as they waited for Hadrian to speak. Sand blew across their bare feet. The flapping of their loose linen clothes, the tents behind them, and the din of ocean filled the air. This was his home. Not the dank hold of a ship or the stone constructs humans favored. He took a deep breath of the ocean air and drew himself straight.

"I know many of you doubt me." His voice carried through the crowd. "That's fine, you all have good reasons. But now is not the time to argue over whether or not I'm the person you want to follow."

At the very front of the crowd, little Farah sat with her legs crossed. Her eyes were laser-focused on him, devouring every word he spoke. 

"You might not have agreed with my mother either. Honestly, neither did I. Actually -- every Witchking since our fall has been wrong."

A stir passed through the coven. Hadrian clenched his fist as he spotted several faces glaring at him. The witches who were still stuck on shock whispered to each other urgently. He tightened his jaw. Ilse's iron gaze burned a hole in the back of his neck. He had to keep going. He had to. 

He raised his voice to cut through everyone else. "How many of us have the humans killed?"

That shut them up. 

"I'm not just talking about the hunters, I mean the humans, too. They're the ones who throw us to the wolves and call the hunters to exterminate us." He took a breath and let his words settle on them for a second. 

"What the hell do you expect us to do about that?" Malachai. Hadrian found the witch spy in the crowd. Mal's arms were crossed and his face set in a scowl. "They'll never let us be a part of them. Not in this generation."

Hadrian kept his face carefully even. "Who says we want to be a part of their society? Who says we even need to rise?"

Instead of whispers, this time he was met with dead silence. Even the sea hushed itself.

Deadwater Kings • Part I ✓Where stories live. Discover now