chapter four
PHILLIP
I closed my gaping mouth, trying to reason through this. Trying to make sense of her.
Am I hallucinating? Am I still lying at the bottom of the cliff, dying?
The woman’s dark hair was so long that the curled ends touched the mattress beneath her.
She’s floating. Levitating in midair.
My heart began to thunder. I was in too much pain to be dreaming. How could this be?
With quiet footsteps, I made my way toward her and ran my hand beneath her hovering body. There was nothing there. Only air.
Remarkable.
There was but one explanation: she was a witch.
The witch. The witch of the dark forest.
This is insane.
I raked my hands through my hair, pulling at the roots and releasing it.
How is this possible? Witches aren’t real.
Rolfe was scared out of his mind when he neared the border. He mentioned this woman, saying she’d boil our skin away or something equally disturbing. But this woman, this young woman, was beautiful. I eased closer and stood on my toes to get a better look at her.
Her ears were pointed at the tops, her skin was pale, and her lips were full, the color of ripe plums. There were two scars slashing through her right eyebrow, but even with them, she was beautiful. They had healed into delicate lines, curving to resemble crescents.
“Miss?” I said, trying not to frighten her.
I tried to nudge her shoulder and called out to her in a loud voice, but she never answered and she never woke. The only sign that she was alive at all was the shallow rising and falling of her chest.
For six days and nights, she hovered over her bed fast asleep. I tried to wake her every way I knew how. First I tried to nudge her shoulder, and then I even gently tugged at her silken hair. I stomped around the room, through the house, and put the cat on her stomach. I even shouted at her to see if I could rouse her.
Part of me was scared she would wake. If the stories and superstitions about the fae were true, she could kill me with a single glance. But if I didn’t try to let her know I was here, a trespasser by all accounts, and she found me in her home, she might kill me just for being here.
When even a cold rag wouldn’t rouse her, it became clear that nothing would. So I left her alone, occasionally peeking in to see if she was still there... and she always was.
The fire burned, never needing more wood, and the sage never burned away. I drew water from her well out back to cook with and to bathe as best I could. There were no animals except for her cat, no horse to take, and I couldn’t walk or climb out of here yet. Not that I knew which way to go even if I were able.
Deciding to stay put and heal as best I could, the cat and I became fast friends. Each day, she would bring me a gift. A mouse, chipmunk, ground mole, and once a large, green Luna moth. She was particularly proud of that one. I ate from the witch’s small garden outside, feeling guilty with every swallow. It was obviously grown with the intention that only one person would be eating from it, but I reasoned that I could send food from the palace’s stores to replace it.
Slowly, the raging inferno in my ribs faded to a flickering campfire. At night, I could rest. I was getting stronger. Soon, I would be able to move about much easier. I could leave.
I didn’t know if the woman would know she’d had a visitor or not, but it wouldn’t matter. As I felt better, I tidied up the place, cleaning up the furniture and floor, sweeping away the dust and cobwebs with a large broom I found in the corner.
The kitchen was filled with every spice and herb imaginable. The woman’s cottage was better stocked than the palace kitchens, I was sure of it. I wiped the dust from the lids and put them on the shelves over the long counter.
Candles sat on every surface, their wicks half-burned and trails of wax leaking down the sides. There were white ones, black ones, purple ones, red ones. Ones that were sickly green and pale yellow ones like the delicate lilies that bloomed outside at night. Moonflowers, I believed they were called.
And in every window sill, strewn between the candles, there were stones and crystals. I didn’t know their names, but the colors of those varied as well.
The door across from the witch’s bedroom had thirteen locks on it in varying sizes, each requiring a different key. She didn’t want whatever was in there to come out or anyone to get in, but I couldn’t help but wonder what lay behind it. Was she trying to keep people out, or keep something dangerous inside?
Forget the door. It wasn’t wise to snoop through someone’s house. I wouldn’t want anyone rifling through my things if I was asleep and not expecting such visitors. Though, I wouldn’t be levitating above my bed in a strange state of rest, either.
I thought of kissing her to see if she would wake. She was real, the very stuff of fairy tales, and every fairy tale I’d been read as a child told of spells being broken that way.
They’re only supposed to be stories, I reasoned. But witches aren’t supposed to exist, either. None of this is supposed to be real.
If she was the dark witch, a kiss might anger her. The action might cause her to seek vengeance on me, and then I would become dinner. Rolfe’s terrorized expression and his urgent cries flashed through my mind.
Staring at her bedroom door, I wondered if such a beautiful creature could truly hurt me. I wondered what color her eyes were, and if her smile was as brilliant as it was in my imagination. And if she was deadly, what weapons would she wield against me?
I needed to get out of there. A nagging feeling of danger had settled into the pit of my stomach, and while I didn’t trust many things, I trusted my intuition. It had saved me on more than one occasion. Of course, it didn’t help me the day I fell from the cliff, but I was being foolish; trying to be like William instead of using my head. Rolfe felt the wrongness of the woods, and the horses were skittish. I should have listened to my friend, and if nothing else, I knew animals had a sense for bad omens and foul weather. I shouldn’t have gone near the fog. Not even for a stag as large as the one hiding within the mist.
Feeling better than I had since stumbling upon the cottage, I decided I would leave tomorrow at dawn. My host had shown no signs of waking, and I wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep. Having washed and eaten dinner, I sat in the chair by the fireplace, petting the cat who’d curled up beside me, eyes squinted closed and purring happily.
Cat and I sat in the chair. It was dark. The crickets sang loudly outside the windows.
“I have to leave in the morning at first light,” I told Cat. She let out what sounded like a sad meow.
“I know. I’ve enjoyed your company, too. But I’m afraid your mistress won’t be happy when she wakes. She will wake, won’t she?” I hated the thought of leaving Cat behind, but she was a skilled hunter. She could feed herself. There was a small stream nearby. She had everything she needed to eat, drink, and survive until her mistress did awaken.
I had become so lonely, I was conversing with a cat.
“I need to gather my things.”
I stood and Cat jumped to the floor. Packing a bag with some food, I sat it near the door and took my sheathed knife from the hearth. I was worried about leaving the young woman in the next room. What if someone with ill intentions wandered in here and saw the state she was in? Who would protect her?
Cat would try. She seemed very protective of this place, and also able to read people. She knew that I was no threat, but would she recognize someone who was?
With a small pile of my things and borrowed food near the door, I settled into the chair with cat in my lap. I needed to rest and the sun would rise soon enough.
I jerked awake when Cat jumped off my lap, meowed loudly three times and ran into the bedroom of the young woman. Blinking the blurriness out of my eyes, I called for her. Was something wrong? “Cat?”
Gritting my teeth, I decided to peek inside and make sure the woman was okay. I grabbed a candleholder and entered her room, quietly pushing the door open. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness as much as they could, I saw her in the dark room, hovering above the bed. She hadn’t moved an inch since I’d been there. I half expected her to be sitting up or standing, or even laying on the mattress, but thankfully she only floated in the air.
Cat squalled but I couldn’t tell where she was in the room.
“Cat?”
Cat brushed against my legs, but quickly became restless, jumping from the floor to the bed, to a chest of drawers that was stuffed full, and then to the writing desk again, overturning a pot of ink. She jumped down and crossed the floor, disappearing into a closet that was brimming with clothes. I sat the candle down and rushed to stop the spill, uprighting the overturned ink pot. “What’s gotten into you?” I asked Cat.
In the process, my hand was stained black. I needed to find water and a rag to clean up this mess. I turned to look at the levitating woman... and she was gone.
Warm breath fanned the back of my neck. My hair stood on end. And every muscle in my body tensed.
Slowly, I turned to face her.
The woman’s fingers, sharp at the tips, curled around my neck. With more strength and speed than was humanly possible, she slammed me into the wall beside us. I cried out, panting through the pain bursting through my bones again.
“What are you doing in my home?” she growled, enunciating every word. Her teeth were bared. She had... fangs. And her eyes. Her eyes were yellow-green, just like Cat’s. She narrowed them, squeezing my throat tighter.
Oh, God. Rolfe was right.
“I—” I couldn’t talk. Couldn’t breathe. She had cut off my airway. A pressure built in my face until she eased her grip, but she didn’t let me go. I wasn’t out of danger yet. “I injured myself in the woods and found your cottage,” I stammered.
“How long have you been here?”
One of her claws bit into my skin, drawing blood. The wound stung. A warm, wet trickle slid down my throat.
“One week.” I swallowed. She was going to kill me.
She looked me over from my hair to my feet, sizing me up. Cat came to my defense, settling on my shoes between us.
“You look familiar, somehow. Your ribs are healing. Your arm, too. How is your ankle now?”
“How did you know where I was injured?” I asked suspiciously as she eased her nail from my flesh and took a step back.
She snorted. “You walk with a slight limp, you winced when opening the curtains, and you did so gingerly because your arm or shoulder was hurt.”
“You were asleep. How did you see all that?”
“I was waking, not asleep. And I didn’t see it. I heard it.”
She looked at Cat, narrowing her eyes. “You’re pathetic,” she growled. “Find someone to pet you, huh?” She took Cat into her hand and held her up. Cat stared right back at her, unflinching.
“What’s her name?” I asked, fighting the urge to step back when the woman glared in my direction.
“Her name is not important,” she said with a hint of warning in her voice, raking her narrowed eyes over my clothes. Her eyes flicked to the door where the food and my knife lay. “What is that for?”
“I was going to try to hike out of here in the morning. I’m glad you woke, actually. I was hoping you could give me directions?” I would have asked her to lead me to the edge of the dark forest, but she wasn’t what I expected. She hadn’t hurt me yet, but it was clear that she didn’t want me in her home. And I didn’t want to push my luck by staying any longer where I wasn’t welcome.
“Do you have any idea what today is?” she countered.
My God, she was beautiful. I shook my head to clear it. What was significant about today? I had no idea.
“It’s the first day of autumn,” she said dryly. “The equinox. The fae will celebrate. They’ll be hunting in the forest today, and some are very fond of the taste of human flesh.”
Well, damn. I stared at her pointed ears and gulped. “Are you fond of it?”
Her lips curved into a cruel smile. “Not particularly.”
“Should I leave tonight then? Before daylight?”
“It’s midnight. While some are already celebrating, others are already in the wood, waiting for some unsuspecting prey to waltz by.
I watched an unfamiliar emotion roll over her features. “You’ve been my guest, you say? Have you poked your nose anywhere it doesn’t belong?” Her eyes narrowed as she waited for my response.
“I’ve eaten from your garden, slept in your chair, and washed in your creek. I’ve made friends with Cat, whom I will continue to call Cat until you divulge her name. And I’ve tidied things a little. I promise to send food to replace what I took from your garden as soon as I get home.”
Her head ticked to the side. “You cleaned my house?”
“Just the kitchen and sitting room. I kept this door closed as much as I could. It won’t quite shut, and the other door is locked.”
She flicked her eyes at the small gap in the bedroom door and then smiled at me. “I know you weren’t in there.”
“How?”
“Because if you had picked those locks, you wouldn’t be standing in front of me now.”
She left me and Cat behind as she walked out of the room, her footsteps completely quiet. I looked down at my furry friend and she looked up at me and then followed her master. It felt wrong to stay in the young woman’s bedroom, and since I didn’t sense an immediate danger from her, I followed Cat, dabbing at the stinging wound on my neck.
A growl came from the main room just as I stepped into it. “You moved my things.”
“I told you I cleaned,” I defended.
“Yes, well you shouldn’t have touched my things! Now, how will I find what I need?” She scowled at the shelf and the spices arrayed on them.
“They’re in alphabetical order.”
“Alphabe—” Her word faded away as she took in my handiwork. I thought she liked it until she gripped the counter and swiveled her head toward me. “Perhaps now is the perfect time for you to walk through the dark forest.”
“Do you overreact to organized spices and kindness very often, or are you just cranky because you woke from your nap?” I snapped, immediately regretting the words. I wasn’t a coward, but neither did I want to die at the hands of a fae witch.
To my surprise, she didn’t gut me. Instead, a slow smile stretched over her lips, as brilliant as I’d imagined. Not that I’d imagined she had those small fangs...
Cat ran across the floor and jumped toward the woman, who caught her and cooed at her as if she were a baby.
I caught the word ‘ember’ in her mumbling.
“Ember? Is that her name?” I asked, nodding toward Cat.
The woman scowled. “It is.”
“It suits her.”
“Of course it does, young Prince.” I wore no crown, but my tunic and clothing must have given me away. “Tell me, what Kingdom will you one day rule? Are you first born?”
A memory of my brother surfaced. I cleared my throat. “I am the second born, but will one day rule the Kingdom of Grithim.”
The woman froze, her eyes widening in the warm firelight. She blinked away her surprise. Her brows nearly touched one another. “You’re William’s brother?”
It was my turn to cock my head. “You know my brother?” Could he still be alive? Hope blossomed through my chest.
She must have seen it on my face, because the witch shook her head slightly. “I knew him,” she corrected, confirming my fears.
“How?” The hope faded into despair once again, heavy as a mill stone ‘round my neck.
“He was murdered by my sister.” I would have been less shocked if she’d backhanded me. The sting of her words was almost more than I could bear.
“Who is your sister? What did she do to him?”
“My sister is Princess Aura of Virosa. You should probably sit down. You look pale.”
I felt lightheaded. Not as if I would swoon, just... I couldn’t believe what she’d told me. “Virosa has twin princesses. Are you her twin?”
“I am. My name is Luna.” She motioned toward the chair near the hearth and I made my way to it and sat down, keeping her in my sight in case she attacked me again.
Twin princesses... But Luna was undeniably fae, which meant Aura had to be as well. My father would never have traded with Virosa had he known. He would have sworn them off, girded our borders, and forbidden anyone to enter their Kingdom, and denied anyone from Virosa entry into ours. “Have you always been fae?” I asked.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Since birth,” she answered wryly.
They’d been born fae, but weren’t of a fae Kingdom. One of the servants in our palace was from Virosa, and she was human. None of this made sense. How did my brother end up in their clutches?
“What’s your name, Prince of Grithim?”
“Phillip,” I answered. “What did she do to him?” Or a better question might have been, what did he try to do to her? William hated the fae as much as my father, and he’d never doubted their existence.
She inhaled deeply. “It’s a long story, and if you’ll be patient, I will tell you. But not right now. I have work to do.”
What sort of task could she possibly have? She just woke from what was at the very least a seven-day sleep.
Luna stared at me, her yellow-green eyes aflame. They raked over me from head to toe. Was she assessing me as a threat? She turned away, waved her hand, and all thirteen locks on the mystery door disengaged. She strode across the hall and disappeared behind the door, the locks engaging once more. Apparently, witches didn’t need keys. Ember and I kept each other company, ignoring the noises that came from behind the door.
Clanging.
Banging.
A shrill, animalistic screech.
I wondered if I would die at this witch’s hands the same way my brother died at the hands of her sister.
It was a difficult decision to make: trust her and stay, or run like hell – and my first thought was to run. It may have been the first day of autumn and the equinox, and fae may have been hunting, or Luna could be lying and trying to keep me in her cottage so she could boil me for supper. The one thing that gave me pause was that she knew what happened to my brother. Or she said she did, at least.
I argued with myself. She had to know. She knew his name.
Grabbing the bag I’d packed, and threading my sheathed knife onto my belt, I didn’t even stop to say goodbye to Ember. I needed to get out while she was busy. Easing toward the door, I avoided the floorboards that creaked and groaned. I turned the door handle, but nothing happened.
Tugging on it did no good. The worn brass wouldn’t turn, even when I twisted it until its cool surface became warm beneath my hands and I felt sure it would break.
“The door is spelled. You aren’t going outside,” she yelled from behind her door. “You should conserve your energy. You’ll be leaving soon enough.”