Married To Darkness-Chapter 424: Doing Witchery By Sebastian

The road was long and silvered with early moonlight, the silence between them filled only by the crunch of their boots over earth and fallen leaves.

The horse walked obediently beside Sebastian, its reins loosely held in his gloved hand. His coat flared behind him with each confident stride, while Thalia matched his pace, her cloak tugged tightly around her frame.

"So..." she panted slightly, brushing her wind-swept hair from her cheek, "where exactly are we going?"

Sebastian groaned as though the question had plagued him for miles. "I’m starting to feel like we need a change of plan."

Thalia furrowed her brow, glancing sideways at him. "Wait—what was the original plan again? Because I feel like I missed that part while being dragged through half a forest."

He didn’t answer at first. His eyes scanned the horizon, and then after a thoughtful pause, he stopped walking. Thalia nearly collided with him.

"There might be a way," he said, his voice low and thoughtful, "a shortcut, of sorts. If it works, we could reach your Lord and Lady by dawn."

Her curiosity piqued, she tilted her head. "What kind of way? The starving, hallucinating kind?"

Sebastian turned slowly to face her, his gaze intense under the flicker of moonlight. "Do you have anything that belongs to the Third Prince?"

Thalia blinked, momentarily caught in the pull of his eyes. The way his lashes shadowed his cheekbones when he tilted his head, the smirk that hovered just under the surface of his cool demeanor—it was all far too distracting.

"I... no," she stammered, then quickly composed herself, "but I have something of the Princess’s. And if I know her heart right, where she is, he won’t be far behind."

Sebastian gave a crooked smile. "That’ll do. Hand it over."

Thalia knelt beside her travel sac and began rifling through it with care. "One minute," she murmured. She shifted a rolled-up cloak, a worn book, and a pouch of dried fruit before finally retrieving a hairbrush. "I took this when we were escaping. I thought... her hair must be a mess by now, and when we meet again, I wanted to help fix it."

Sebastian chuckled, crossing his arms, the leather creaking slightly. "Sweet. Maybe creepy. But sweet."

Thalia stood and held it out. "This has her hair in it," she insisted, her tone suddenly sharp with purpose.

Sebastian took it with one brow raised. "Smart. Might actually work. But don’t flatter yourself just yet, damsel. Most spells like this need clothing or something a little more... intimate."

"This is intimate," she replied, lifting her chin. "It held her thoughts and her sighs and her mornings."

He looked at her, impressed despite himself. "Fair point. Romantic. Weird, but romantic."

He tucked the brush into his coat and gestured forward. "We’ll need water. We don’t have a mirror."

They resumed walking, the horse obediently trailing beside them again, the night wind cooler now.

"To do what?" she asked.

Sebastian glanced back over his shoulder with a sly grin. "Witchcraft."

Thalia’s lips parted in surprise, then curved into an amused smile. "Wow..."

He smirked. "Did I just sweep your mind right out of your head?"

Thalia looked away, cheeks flushing as she tried to hide the grin pulling at her lips. "Maybe. Maybe just a little."

He chuckled, low and pleased. "Careful, Thalia. The road ahead is long, and I might be charming all the way to the end."

She rolled her eyes—but she kept smiling.

And somewhere in the day ahead, under the blazing sunny sky and still waters waiting, a spell was about to be cast.

By the time they reached the still water nestled between mossy stones and whispering reeds, the afternoon sun had dulled into a hazy gold, casting shimmering light across the quiet surface. The trees curved gently around the clearing, offering shade and silence—perfect for magic.

Sebastian tied the horse to a low-hanging branch and tossed his coat onto a rock nearby. "Hold this," he said, handing Thalia his satchel and belt with casual trust.

She obeyed, watching as he crouched by the edge of the water. The lake was eerily still, like a polished mirror waiting for a secret to be revealed.

Sebastian held the princess’s brush in his hand, eyes narrowing. "Stay close," he murmured without looking back.

"I already am," Thalia whispered, stepping up behind him.

He began to chant—low, ancient syllables that sent ripples through the very air. Thalia couldn’t understand a word, but the power in them raised goosebumps along her arms. Then, with a sudden snap of his fingers, the brush caught fire in his palm.

Flames flickered with an unnatural violet hue, the strands of hair curling into smoke as the enchanted fire danced.

He held the burning brush over the water, his eyes locked on the reflection like it held the key to another world. But his brows furrowed. He leaned in, chanting again, but something wasn’t working. His voice faltered, and frustration settled across his features.

The brush was melting fast, licking dangerously close to his skin but he doesn’t notice or care, he kept his gaze on the water, waiting for the serenity to change and show a vision but nothing seemed to be happening, just the fire.

"Sebastian," Thalia said, panicked, inching closer. "It’s going to burn you. Drop it!"

He didn’t move.

"Sebastian!" she shouted again, heart pounding. The flame had touched his fingers. She lunged forward and smacked his wrist, hard enough to knock him out of his trance. The brush tumbled into the water with a hiss of steam.

Sebastian blinked like waking from a spell. But before he could speak, Thalia grabbed his hand.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped, voice thick with emotion. "You were going to let it burn you—"

Without thinking, she brought his reddened fingers to her lips, soft and urgent, kissing each one as though it might undo the pain.

His breath hitched.

Then he chuckled, low and smooth, even in the pain. "If you’re going to kiss something, Thalia... might as well be my mouth."