Manon gave her hands a quick shake, watching as the blue blood dripped down her iron nails.
"Manon, us witches do not grieve over the dead. Throw her out for the wyverns to have." The Blackbeak Matron's voice was like sandpaper in Manon's ears, and she handed the body to one of the other Blackbeaks from another coven. She stood there, in the center of the room silently before noticing what she'd have to do. Clenching her jaw and releasing it, Manon licked the blue blood from her fingers, and she couldn't help thinking that it could have been Asterin's, or Sorrel's, or Elide's.
Elide.
She couldn't help but wonder if Elide had made it to Terrasen, if she'd seen the queen and spoken to her. But she couldn't focus on that—her grandmother would not let her see the end of it if she blanked out during an execution.
"For her wrongdoings, Ilegia Blackbeak became less than a witch, less than a human. She failed her duty to provide younglings that survived, and, for that, she paid." Manon spoke brashly, trying not to think about how Asterin had the exact same story. A flash of Asterin's smooth, muscled torso and the burn there entered Manon's mind, and she blinked hard and didn't open them for a while. The crowd around her had began to scatter, and Manon hoped she'd be able to go back to her rooms for only a while before she had to train with The Thirteen.
She had already made it to the top of the stairs when her grandmother's voice invaded her space.
"Manon. What happened today was unacceptable. What do you think the Yellowlegs thought, that the heir to the Blackbeak clan could not even kill a witch with pride." Her voice was lethal, and the short woman approached her, their faces so close together that she could smell the wine on the Matron's breath. Manon kept her mouth shut, knowing doing otherwise would be a fool's mistake.
"You are a disgrace to the clan. You chose the runt of the Wyverns, you saved the Bluebood's heir, and you chose to save a human slave girl from Morath when it was burning? You are weak. You do not respect the values of the Ironteeth Witches." The old woman spat in Manon's face, and she refrained from flinching. Manon was well aware that she could kill her grandmother at any time—she had started to weaken, physically, and would not last in any actual not fight me about it.
Manon braced herself for her grandmother's slap, though, knowing putting up with her would mean she wouldn't have to face the repercussions of her acts—she couldn't act based solely on instinct. When the matron's hand came in contact with Manon's face, she kept her eyes diverted, resuming her normal position after her grandmother put her hand down.
"Go." Was the only word her grandmother told Manon, and she continued to walk up the stairs until finally getting to her rooms. She opened the door and walked in, sitting on the bed and staring off into nothing until she heard three knocks at her door. Stepping back into reality, Manon sniffed and caught Asterin's scent.
"Come in." Manon spoke, though not expecting her. Her Second, who had been promoted to her original position after the incidents in Morath, stepped through the door, in an outfit that was strikingly casual, even for Asterin. She had on only a thin white shirt and beige trousers. Manon looked up from her spot on the bed, straightening her posture slightly.
"Manon, there's something I need to tell you." Asterin spoke, like a soldier addressing her general. Manon stood in an instant.
"What is it?" Manon demanded.
"It's your grandmother. She's… you know what she has against me. She approached me and said that I'd be next, that I'd be the next one whose blood was shed on the marble floor, and that she'd have you be the one to do it." Asterin said, and Manon felt her temper begin to rise. Carefully, she took a deep breath out.
"What." In another time, Manon could have phrased this as a question, but she understood fully. She stepped around Asterin quickly, walking to her grandmother's office. This was the last straw.
Not bothering to knock, she opened the door, knowing her grandmother had probably scented her fury already.
"You are not going to kill my Second." Manon seethed, and her grandmother turned to her, her face devoid of all color.
"We need heirs. And we need to set examples for those witches that can become impregnated, and they need to know that anything other than a healthy witchling will be acceptable."
"No one knew about Asterin's pregnancy except for Sorrel and you. In what way is that an example for other witches if they didn't even know she was pregnant in the first place?" Manon was getting closer to her grandmother, and she felt her iron fangs slide into place and her claws come out.
"Asterin is valuable. Asterin is the Second to the most powerful witch clan, one of the best witches there is, and you expect that I'll let you kill her. You know, sometimes I think that you forget I inherit the clan after you. I will be the Matron of the Blackbeak witches, therefore I do have a part in this decision making." Manon began to realize that she had been piercing her grandmother's skin with her iron nails, and blood ran down her fingers.
Her grandmother raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"