Genre: YA Fantasy
Word Count: 87,000
My MC and MA (main antagonist) are dressed as:
My MC and MA show up dressed as walking flames, glowing robes and all. Adonia hides her anxiety behind the bold colours and fiery mask, but Dante just wants to burn Adonia and her coven to cinders.
In the witch lands of Obsidia, where males rule and females are slaves, seventeen-year-old healer Adonia dreams of becoming the first female lawmaker. After fleeing her wicked master and his Assassins’ Coven, she must first traverse the Obsidian wilderness, and find sacred ground where the murderers can’t touch her. 
But she makes a mistake. She ventures too deep inside Obsidia…and trespasses on lands ruled by a prince deadlier than any poison.
Forced to serve Witch Prince Leander’s coven for her crime, Adonia secretly studies Obsidia’s ancient laws when she’s not brewing herbs, searching for a way to escape. But as she grows closer to Leander, Adonia discovers there is more to her tithe than servitude. 
A vendetta raging between witch courts has left a blight upon Leander’s lands – a sickness killing anyone it touches. Adonia must help cure it, but she won’t find a remedy in any grimoire. To cure the blight, she must wield forbidden matriarchal magic and heal a land fractured by feuding males… 
Unless the Assassins’ Coven catches her first. 
First 250 words:
It was supposed to be easy to hide in the dark. To melt into the thick shadows and embrace the night as camouflage. Perhaps it was that simple for most witches, but most witches didn’t have Cesario Raymel, leader of the Assassins’ Coven, after them.
No one escaped Cesario without paying their coven debts…and he very much enjoyed hunting in the dark.
I crouched under the window and slid a plank of rotting wood beneath the sill. Nails sprang up from the splintered board like rusty grass – blades sharp enough to puncture any leather boot. It couldn’t stall Cesario for long, but…long enough to knock him out and run. 
Besides, he wasn’t the only wild, wicked beast in the witch lands. 
I checked my makeshift water clock – six hours until dawn, give or take a few minutes. Six hours between me and a wagon trundling by, destined for distant and safer lands. Lands where being a healer didn’t make me a target – or my sister, Muriel, a victim caught in the crossfire. All I had to do was survive long enough to hear the rumbling wheels – and find out where the hell Muriel was. 
She knew the rules – always be back from hunting by the time the first whorls of moonlight kissed the sky. This deep inside the witch lands of Obsidia, we risked skirting the borders of the witch courts – the circles within which the most powerful and vicious witches moved. Witches who didn’t need the services of the Assassins’ Coven.
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