"Your Dominion, I've come to answer your call…"
Rhys barely moved after he spoke the ancient, formal words. He knelt on the rough-hewn stone floor of the lighthouse chamber with the wind stinging his bearded cheeks and cold water on the floor seeping into the knee of his breeches, but he made absolutely no movements once he'd assumed his submissive, respectful posture. He didn't dare.
He'd never met a witch before, and neither had his father, but he knew his history well, both the history that was known to the common people and the secrets kept locked away in the Blackwell family's sealed records. There were many things that the common folk didn't know about witches, but if there was one thing on which the public record and his family's private histories both agreed on, it was that no ordinary man could face the power of witches… and that the witches of the sea weren't to be trifled with.
