Emberwood (Witches of Frieya Book 1) by Erin Le Marquand

Author:Erin Le Marquand [Le Marquand, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-04T16:00:00+00:00

Asher returned about fifteen minutes later, his arms filled with various vials and ointments, some cloth, and a pestle and mortar.

“Have my people been captured too?” My voice was shaky, and quiet; I was terrified of the answer. What would happen to them now that I am gone?

“The way through has been blocked by The Black Cloth. They cannot pass,” he replied, walking over to a side table.

“No one was injured?” I asked, sounding hopeful for the information he would give me.

“Not that I know of.”

At least they had not been hurt trying to save me.

I watched him as he sorted through the vials – a variety of small glass bottles filled with a mixture of substances I couldn’t identify.

“Why do you even work for Briar anyway? You obviously have a tiny speck of humanity in that black heart of yours.”

“Black heart? How macabre,” he said with a smirk as he uncorked a small glass vial, emptying seaweed green powder and what I thought was salt into the mortar, along with something that looked like olive oil. He started to grind the ingredients into a paste; his jaw flexed each time he twisted the pestle.

“My parents were killed in the witch trials, along with Briar’s mother. They were all murdered at the command of your grandfather.” He looked into my eyes intensely, and I sent a panicked look his way, concerned about the substance he was about to put on me, along with a pang of guilt at his reference to my grandfather. How did he feel knowing who I was related to?

I had no love for my grandfather; had I known him, I’m sure I would have hated him too. I shouldn’t suffer persecution because of his wrongdoings.

“This should help with the swelling,” he halted, gesturing towards the paste he had just made. I reluctantly gave a nod to continue.

Asher dabbed the mixture lightly along my ribs, his hands surprisingly gentle, making it impossible not to notice how warm he was, almost unbearably so. The heat from his fingertips provided a comfort I didn’t know I needed, relaxing my body and distracting me so much I hadn’t realised he had continued his story.

“I grew up with Briar in an orphanage; we became more like siblings. But the pain she suffered at losing her mother the way she did and being abandoned by her father, your father, festered into something much more than just feeling unwanted. Unloved.”

“You think her killing my father was justified because she felt unloved? She tortured him. Mutilated his body.” I was stupefied by what he had suggested. Oh, you grew up without a father? Guess that makes it okay to cut people up and murder them!

“I didn’t say it was justified. I’m trying to help you see how she has become the way she is.” Asher seemed slightly frustrated with me, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“How can you live with yourself knowing what she does to people? Knowing that you’re playing a part in all of it?”

“I had, have, no one else, nowhere to go.

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