Rhistel's jaw clenched at her bitter words, and without another word, he spurred the horse forward. The animal responded with a snort and a gallop that sent jolts up his healing wounds, but he didn't flinch. The witch behind him gripped his waist tightly to stay steady.
"You call her a traitor," Rhistel said in a low but sharp voice, "But did you see it with your own eyes?"
The question struck her like a slap. The witch stiffened behind him. For a few seconds, the wind rushing past them was the only sound.
"No," she finally admitted, her voice barely audible. "I am only twenty. I wasn't even born when the ritual was done. But I've heard the stories. The elder sisters told us everything."
"And you believed it?" he asked with eyes fixed on the horizon, but his tone cut deep. "Without ever questioning if they told you the truth?"
