Bride of the Traitor (The Prophecy of Sisters #1) - Hayley Faiman Page 0,27

together once their fate has been sealed, they will absorb all of the powers this world holds. Four sisters will be the most powerful creatures in this world. It is not known if this will be used for good or evil.

“The future is uncertain and unknown if these sisters gather together in our world.”

My entire body stiffens at her words. “Four sisters?” I ask.

“She has three sisters, does she not?” Aleida asks.

“Gods bones,” Merek curses beneath his breath at the same time Cornwall lets out a, sard.

Lifting my hand, I realize that I’m trembling as I run my fingers through my hair. “What does this mean? Does this mean that she has bewitched me? Bewitched my people? Does she cast a spell on Bunafi?” I demand.

Aleida shakes her head, but it is Godiva who speaks. “She is no danger to you or your people. I would guess that if she holds magic, she does not even know of it. In fact, I don’t think that her magic has come to fruition yet, it won’t be until their fates are sealed and they are all together. When the prophecy is set in motion, that will be when her magic becomes apparent.”

Closing my eyes for a moment, I open them again, my gaze finding Aleida. “Does your enchantment of blocking her power still stand firm?” I ask.

“Until I break it, yes, it stands firm, Your Majesty,” Aleida confirms with a nod.

“What do we do?” I ask the witches.

They look at one another, then both turn toward me. “There is naught to do, Your Highness.”

Shaking my head, I lift my hand and run my fingers through my hair. Pinching my eyes closed, I remember another piece of their prophecy. “If she is not born of this world, where does she hail from? Is she not of Earth? Is she a mirage? What is she?” I demand.

It is Godiva who speaks, obviously knowing more of this prophecy than Aleida. “She is of Earth, just not this world. Bring her to me and I may be able to better read her,” she softly demands.

“Merek, go and fetch Sybilla.”

Merek dips his chin and he leaves us, though I don’t take my eyes from Godiva. “So, she has not bewitched me?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

Godiva takes a step toward me, then lifts her hands and cups my cheeks. “You feel strongly for the girl, so soon?”

“Stronger, bigger, unworldly,” I hesitate to admit.

Godiva nods her head, dipping her chin, then drops her hands. “Perhaps the prophecy forces the emotions to be greater, more intense, Your Highness? I do not know, we’ve been told that it was coming for generations, though I’ve never had even an inkling of it coming to fruition before now,” she admits.

“Why now?” I say, more thinking aloud than actually asking them.

They are silent for a moment, my eyes shifting from one old witch to the next. I watch as Aleida opens her mouth, then snaps it closed as soon as the chancery door opens. They turn around to see who is entering the room, but I don’t even have to lift my gaze to know who has walked in.

It’s only been mere hours since I’ve last laid eyes on her, but it feels as though I haven’t seen her for a lifetime. She causes my heart to swell. Her dark golden hair is piled high on top of her head, pinned with glinting black ornaments.

Her dress is another—far too tight with a far too bare expanse of neck and chest on display— piece from the wardrobe of my father’s last paramour. I’m only a tad disappointed that it is not in the colors of my coat of arms. Though, I must admit that the deep plum color makes her skin appear even creamier.

“You needed me, Elias?” she asks, completely oblivious of my station and that of her own.

“The witches needed to speak to you, milady,” I murmur.

Her eyes widen and adorably her lips part before she whirls around to face the two old women. Aleida and Godiva both take a step toward her.

I can tell by the way that she holds her body that she is indeed, frightened. My body practically shakes with the need to comfort her, but I deny not only myself, but her as well in the name of my station as king.

Aleida and Godiva take one another’s hands, then they each extend a hand toward Sybilla. “Take our hands, lambkin,” Aleida murmurs. “We need to feel you equally