Rewrite That Witch
CH941 · Rewrite
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Chapter 941: Baring His Soul

Appen went still.

The accident years ago — it had been a fabrication. A story Earl Quinn built from nothing to conceal his daughter’s awakening. Andrea had always been a witch. A Fallen one. And he had never known.

He had never known.

But the facts did not change. The creatures who had killed his father, who had shattered his kingdom — they were witches. If not for their abilities, the outcome would have been different. His vow of vengeance had been made in earnest, born of real grief.

Was it wrong? Could it be wrong?

The two thoughts collided inside him, and the pain they made was physical — a tightening behind his eyes, a pressure at the base of his skull.

“Your rule ends now.” Earl Quinn stepped forward. His voice held no triumph, only the flat certainty of a man who had waited long enough. “Whatever else may be said, the Kingdom of Dawn cannot continue under your hand. Witches will receive recognition. The same rights as common people — to walk the streets, hold office, claim inheritance, govern this kingdom if they prove worthy.” He paused, glancing toward Andrea. “As for you—”

“Do you mean to kill a member of the royal family?” Appen’s voice cracked on the last word. He fixed Horford with a stare that might, in other circumstances, have driven lesser men to their knees. “Have you forgotten your oath? My family name? Answer me, Horford Quinn!”

For a moment, those in the hall — soldiers, earls, heirs — each fell back half a step.

The God’s Punishment Witches did not move. Andrea did not move.

“I won’t kill you.” Horford’s sigh was that of an old man who has already paid too much. “If my family had not been at stake, I would never have come this far. But you must swear — leave the Kingdom of Dawn and never return. Take whom you will and go. The only other choice is the dungeon you gave to the Luoxi boy.”

“Is this the will of all three families?”

Earl Tokat touched his chest. “The Tokat family has no objection.”

Earl Luoxi followed. “Nor the Luoxi family.”

“We are not as cold-blooded as you,” Oro Tokat said. “Be grateful his order came too late, or else—”

“Enough.” Otto’s voice was quiet and carried no argument. “Say nothing more.”

Appen surveyed them all — the old men, the young heirs, the soldier-witches ranked in silence along the wall. He was quiet for a long time. When he spoke, what had been fury had burned down to something cooler.

“I choose the first option.”

To rot in a cage was unthinkable. As long as he breathed, he was the Moya line. The Kingdom of Wolfheart, the Kingdom of Everwinter — they would receive him according to his blood. Men like Quinn made errors. The King of Graycastle would make errors too. And when that day came, the nobles of the outlying territories would remember there was a rightful heir still living.

“Then swear it,” said Earl Quinn.

Appen Moya swore in the name of his ancestors, and it was done.

Only Andrea noticed — as the guards moved to escort the King of Dawn from the hall — that Elena, who had been supporting Andrea through the walk, wore a cold smile she made no effort to hide.

Otto caught up with Andrea as they were leaving the castle.

“Andr—” He stopped himself. “Miss Quinn. I wanted to thank you for saving my life. Hill told me, in broad terms, what happened in Neverwinter.”

Andrea smiled. “Why so formal with someone who saved you? We were children together.”

“I—” He stumbled. Something loosened slightly in his expression. “I just—”

“Then call her big sister!” Oro hooked an arm around Otto’s neck from behind and hauled him sideways. “Don’t forget who led our little group, unless you’re making a play for the title.”

Otto drove an elbow into Oro’s ribs.

“Ow. Fine. I only said it because you looked like a wound spring.” Oro rubbed his side with theatrical injury. “We haven’t seen each other in years. The Flower of Glow is back among us — we must celebrate. Silver Antler Tavern, tonight, our old corner? Do you remember the place, Andrea?”

“A Luoxi family establishment.” She raised an eyebrow. “I assumed it would still exist.”

“It does — barely. The manager is hopeless.”

“Hey.”

“I’ll be there,” she said.

“Then it’s settled.” Oro released Otto and waved cheerfully as he turned to go. “I’ll leave you two. Things to see.”

The sound of his footsteps faded. The courtyard opened around them — pale stone, the smell of turned earth from the flower beds that had gone to seed in the autumn.

Otto breathed in. Let it out. “Andrea. I’d like to speak with you alone.”

She read nothing into his face. “The courtyard, then.”

He fell in behind her. Elena had stayed at the door. Only the two of them moved down the path, Andrea’s steps still carrying the faint tremor of exhausted magic — a rhythm she hadn’t quite smoothed out of her gait.

“Are you all right?” He wanted to reach out to steady her. He had done so a hundred times when they were small, had never thought twice. Now his hands stayed at his sides.

“The shaking is just an after-effect of overextension — nothing permanent. We all go through it when we push past our limits. It passes in two days.” She glanced back over her shoulder, a quick oblique look. “What did you want to say, just the two of us?”

Otto pressed his lips together. “Do you remember what I told you in Neverwinter — that Oro visited your grave every year, left flowers?”

“I remember.”

“There’s one thing I didn’t tell you.” He stopped walking. She stopped too. “I did the same. Every year. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He held the words very still, the way you hold a lamp in wind. “When I heard your voice in the dungeon — I am here — I thought I would come apart. Right there. I decided in that moment that whatever else happened, I had to say this to you. Andrea, will you stay?”

She did not look surprised. There was a gentleness in her face that was worse, somehow, than surprise.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “But you are too late.”

“Too late.” He repeated it as if testing whether it meant what he thought.

“There is someone I want to stay beside. So I won’t be remaining in the City of Glow.” She spoke quickly, quietly, each word even. “If you had asked me ten years ago, the answer might have been different.”

“Is it His Majesty Roland?” The question came out without bitterness, only the flatness of a man doing arithmetic he doesn’t want to finish. “He would be a better choice than me.”

“I would never compete with Nightingale.” Andrea said it and then blinked. “No, disregard that. That came out wrong.” A small cough. “The point is, it’s not what you think. Otto — witches cannot continue a noble bloodline, and I no longer want to be governed by noble custom. Ten years changes a person. I am not the Flower of Glow you remember. This is better. Do you understand?”

He opened his mouth. The words were there — I would give it all up, the title, the obligation, my father’s expectations — and an invisible hand pressed flat against his sternum and held them.

He was not a child anymore. He could not afford the luxury of capricious vows. His father. His sister Belinda. The weight of what the Luoxi name meant now, after everything it had cost them to survive.

Otto said nothing.

He watched Andrea’s back grow smaller through the courtyard’s far gate, the slight tremor in her step, until she passed through and was gone.

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