Chapter 2

Papa smoothed his fingers across the seat of the chair he’d nearly finished thatching before reaching for another dried reed. He wove it expertly into the material already there. I watched, fascinated.

“Mother will be so happy to have new chairs.” I propped my elbows on the table and my chin against my fists as I watched. Renata stood at the counter, nervously kneading dough.

The coven council had been called before the king to answer for the burned mint and rosemary. Rumor had it the king had also demanded the dragon council attend the meeting. Perhaps, after twenty-plus years, the king had reached the end of his patience with our feud.

Papa lived in the village. Witches didn’t marry because men and non-witches weren’t allowed to live with us. The coven kept separate from the rest of the village.

That rule didn’t stop witches and villagers from falling in love or lust, nor did it prevent witches from having babies. Spells ensured we produced only daughters.

Papa had a wife and three other children in the village. His affair with my mother had ended after Renata’s conception by my mother’s wishes, not his.

Still, he often spent time with us, making us feel wanted and loved. Each year his hair turned grayer, his face more wrinkled, but I still remembered the dark-haired, handsome man who used to toss me in the air while we laughed together.

His wife in the village, and our three half-brothers, treated us warmly. Having two families comforted me most days, and I was always thankful that Mother didn’t resent any time we spent with our “village family” as she called it.

As Renata had grown into a teen, she’d spent less and less time with Papa and his family in the village. I, on the other hand, always had supper at least once a week at his home.

Renata had Mother’s blonde hair and blue eyes, but I looked like our father. Brown eyes and hair two shades lighter than his dark brown.

I hadn’t inherited his gift of woodworking, though. I could only stare in awe as he made tables and chairs from pieces of wood and reed.

“I see lanterns coming down the path.” Papa stood, one hand on his back as he stretched. “Put this chair in the corner until the thatching sets. Marley, I’ll see you Thursday for supper. Renata, as always, you’re welcome to come along.” He gave us both bear hugs and left by the back door so he wouldn’t run into Mother and the council.

Papa was sensitive. He knew whatever the king had said couldn’t have been good, and witch business was not his business. He left before Grandmother had to ask him politely to go home.

“He’s getting very old.” Renata covered the bread dough with a cloth so it could rise overnight, then wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “I wish villagers could eat the tubers and be young for a thousand years like we can.”

She gave me a look. “Well, like most of us can. You’re too stubborn, Marley. After what that dragon did our herbs, I can’t understand why you don’t break your rule and eat the tubers like the rest of us.”

Truth be told, I’d been tempted to do just that after Donovan’s betrayal, but I hadn’t yet made up my mind. Simply because he’d sunk low didn’t mean I had to in return. Problem was, the high ground was a lonely place these days. Still, doing the right thing was more important than having friends. Or so I told myself.

Our cottage door burst open and Mother stalked in, her pretty face disfigured with anger and trepidation. Grandmother followed closely and set her lantern on the table. She thrust back her shawl from over her head. Her blonde hair, loosened from its knot, cascaded down her back and made her look like a teenager.

“Curse the king,” she spat. Renata gasped and backed into the counter, her face drawn tight with fear. No one dared speak against the king.

“Mother,” my mother said, after sucking in a deep breath. “Anger right now is profitless. We have no choice. We must do it.”

“I’ll not send one of my witches to the top of Zodiac Mountain to sleep with a friggin’ dragon!” Grandmother’s eyes blazed with wrath, and she clutched the edge of the table so tightly her fingers turned bone white.

“What?” Renata’s eyes widened until they dominated her face. “What is she talking about, Mother?”

Mother sighed helplessly. “King Leopold believes that our feud with the dragons will end if each knew the other better. Therefore, he has decreed that one witch shall marry one dragon, and since witches do not allow males to live within the coven, the witch will have to make her home with the dragons on Zodiac Mountain.”

A gasp of horror escaped Renata’s lips. She pressed a fist to her heart as if to calm its wild beating. “Who? Which one of us?”

“The king, in his infinite wisdom, has left that up to us.” Mother lurched toward the tea kettle and hung it from its hook above the flickering fire in the grate. “His only stipulation is that we choose a young witch with no children to leave behind.”

“Not me!” Renata sagged against the counter. “Oh, please not me, Mother! I’m scared of dragons.”

Mother crossed the room to pull Renata into her arms. She stroked my sister’s bright blonde hair and crooned to her as she rocked her.

“I’ll make the decision,” Grandmother whispered through stiff lips. “I lead this coven.”

“We’ll draw lots,” Mother said, still rocking Renata. “There are my two daughters, Eleanora’s Eileen, Sheena’s three, and Jessie’s twins.”

Renata burst into ugly tears. “Please not me! Please don’t put my name in the drawing!”

“Who’s the dragon?” I asked. My legs trembled, and I couldn’t feel my fingertips as shock crawled through me. Married to a dragon. Exiled to the top of Zodiac Mountain? Even I, who admired the dragons, shuddered at the thought of losing everything I knew here in the coven and the village.

“That bastard green who flamed our field.” Grandmother crossed to the cupboard to find the tea, which she scooped into the teapot. “One of my witches is too good for him.”

“Don—”Horrified, I snapped my mouth shut. I’d never told a soul about meeting a dragon on Zodiac Mountain twenty years ago. I pretended to cough and turned my back on my family so I could think more clearly. Donovan married to a witch? Had the green-eyed boy grown into a hateful man, or someone who could still be reached? Surely, he remembered the little girl who entrusted her Bunny to him as a peace offering? Perhaps he would be kinder to me than he would to my sister, cousin, or friends? Besides, I couldn’t let Renata’s name go into a drawing. If she were chosen, she’d never make it to the mountaintop. She’d expire from fear first.

I wasn’t afraid of dragons. At least, not much. Especially Donovan. I knew he had a heart. I’d seen it. Boys with good hearts kept those hearts when they grew into men. Didn’t they? Even if their dragons flamed a coven’s field.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Blood pounded loudly in my ears. “I’ll do it. I volunteer.”

Renata wailed, her sobs muffled by Mother’s shoulder. Grandmother slammed the teapot onto the counter, and the lid rattled. Mother gasped.

“Marley!” she cried. “Oh, you can’t be serious. Mother! Don’t let her! I don’t want to lose my oldest daughter! Please tell her there will be a drawing, so at least she’ll have a chance of not being picked.”

Grandmother’s footsteps echoed across the wood floor. She wound her arm around my waist and pulled me tight against her.

“You’re my brave girl,” she whispered, her voice tight with tears. “It is fitting that my granddaughter be the one. After all, I allowed this feud to happen.”

“You didn’t! Mother shouted. “This is all Eleanora’s fault! If anyone should go, it should be Eileen, her daughter! Eileen’s your granddaughter, too! Eleanora started all this. She should end it!”

“We’ve been eating the tubers she’s grown for over twenty years.” In the firelight, Grandmother’s face turned harsh, and the ghost of her real age drifted like a shadow across her smooth cheeks. “That was my decision as leader of this coven.

“Marley has volunteered. Eileen’s like her mother. Defiant and unthinking. Marley is level-headed. Most of all, she’s fair. If any of us can find a way to exist with dragons, it would be her. You know it, too, Kelly. Now, no more bewailing our fate. Let’s face it like the proud witches we are.”

“I’m not a proud witch. I’m a mother about to lose her precious daughter.” Mother blundered across the room to her bedroom and slammed her door. Loud sobs echoed throughout the cottage.

With heavy steps, Grandmother moved to the fire and removed the kettle so she could fix us all tea. She dosed it heavily with spelled chamomile. We’d all sleep well that night.