Unlikely Queen (Crystal Castle 1)

“It is not negotiable, witch. Come of your own accord, or force will be used.”

Tatiana turns on her heel, eyes flashing with urgency. At the same time, the heavy-handed angel pushes past her, dominating the room. There is no point in using magic. It’s five against two, their strength much more powerful than ours.

“Run! Run, Talia!” she yells, and I do what she says. It’s what she has always told me to do if ever we are faced with this situation. My feet move fast and I flee past our bedrooms, through the kitchen, and out the back door. I jump from the top of the four steps to the grass and turn left toward the neighbor’s house. Our neighbor, Francis, who was our mother’s good friend, a reclusive witch, is probably watching all the commotion from her windows but will offer little assistance. In this instance… no one will help us. Her yard backs up to a narrow path that will lead me to the main road. I need to get to the wolves’ ward. There, they will demand to know what’s going on. Why three sister witches are suddenly being targeted. They are our allies.

But I’ll never make it.

I come to a skidding halt, falling backward on my heels until I hit the ground. There, appearing before me, stands the angel from the market. In his beautifully frightening presence, he holds me captive. I’m going nowhere. His eyes, just like they had earlier on, shine brightly with intensity, his gaze penetrating mine.

“Why are you running?” he asks, confused at the thought I would run. Angels aren’t used to people not obeying their every command.

“Why are you chasing us?”

“We require you and your sisters back at the Crystal Castle.”

“But we haven’t done anything wrong.”

“It was you I saw at the market today, was it not?”

I frown. He knows quite well it was me, so why is he playing coy? “Yes,” I bite back, and he smiles at my irritation.

“Get off the ground,” he orders, extending his hand.

It’s a kind gesture, but I don’t want him close enough to smell or even to touch me.

But what I want doesn’t seem to matter. I start righting myself without his help, when he grabs hold of my elbow and pulls me up. He isn’t gentle, and a newfound fear pulses through me. Sensing the worst, I push hard against his chest, which feels like a solid boulder beneath my palms. He breaks his grip and his back connects with the tree behind him, snapping off the bark, which falls at his feet. He staggers, trying to balance himself with one hand.

A deep frown mars his handsome face as he studies me. No witch has ever possessed the strength to move an angel even an inch. They are the Alpha and Omega of this universe, and now he knows that the witch he is looking at is not just a witch.

“What are you?” he asks in a coarse whisper. The angel looks behind me, ensuring we are alone.

“I’m a descendant of the Witch of Endor.” I’m stating something he already knows. All witches are descendants of the Witch of Endor.

“Where is it you find your strength?”

“Morning practice. My sister trains us well,” I half lie. Tatiana is a good trainer, but she goes easy on me because I am stronger than the two of them combined.

“No amount of practice could make any witch that strong.”

I remain silent, not giving him what he wants.

Again, his eyes travel the length of my body, but this time, I suspect it’s for a different reason. I’m wearing black leather pants combined with a black shirt, my hair tied back. It’s what we all wear.

He can’t figure me out.

But he wants to.

“The others won’t hesitate to put you in line, and believe me, that’s something you don’t want. You may have caught me unaware of your strength, but you cannot expect to fight them and win. You and your sisters are needed at the Crystal Castle.”

“Where is my sister, Tanya?” I ask him without moving to his request.

“At the Crystal Castle.”

“Did she do something wrong? Is that why you’re holding her there?”

“Move,” he orders, breaking eye contact and once again gripping my elbow. “The others are waiting.”

I dig my heels in, and he turns on me, silver irises flashing a warning. A few beats pass in a silent standoff.

“Why do you stare?” he challenges.

My eyes narrow to mirror his. “You don’t scare me.”

“It certainly looked that way back at the market.”

“You caught me unaware.”

His lips twitch and my gaze is drawn to them.

“Move if you want any answers.”

His fingers dig into the flesh of my upper arm, and I wince as he pulls me along at his side. Instead of going back through the house, we cut down along its side until we see the others waiting out front, standing in the dirt, which makes the angels seem out of place in this area.