Book 6: How You Taste

Ella

I hadn’t planned on beating up three witches today. It wasn’t on my schedule at all. Putting Petra into a headlock and dragging her to the cold crystal floor hadn’t been on the itinerary, nor had swinging her friend into the wall by the woman’s auburn hair, or using her other friend's cloak as a weapon I then strangled the third witch with.

I didn’t kill any of them, but I wanted to. I’d scratched and bit and punched with all of my physical might until all three women were panting, gagging, and choking for both breath and mercy. Then, I’d simply stepped over them and walked out of the castle and into the rain.

Petra hadn’t had any idea what she’d been getting into when she cornered me and raked her iron-tipped fingernails over my cheek. She has no idea I’d been trained as a warrior since the day I turned five years old, that I’d let grown men with decades of experience throw me around the sparring ring in the castle until my skin was bruised a