Treacherous Witch

“A lady’s bosom holds many secrets.”

Lady Briony Bretton’s Notes on a Scandal at Court

It was Markus who introduced her to the resistance. First, he took her to the apothecary a few minutes down the High Road, a place she had visited several times before to collect ointments and other medicine. The girl waiting for them was no older than she was, with warm, kind eyes, arched brows, and plump cheeks.

“Iora? You’re in the resistance?”

Iora smiled. “Hey.”

“I’ve got some supplies to grab,” said Markus. “Mind if I leave Val with you?”

“Sure.”

He disappeared, Valerie still processing this revelation. Iora Salver was a mild-mannered chemist she’d only ever seen mixing herbal remedies or carrying deliveries from her uncle’s cart. What on earth was she doing with the resistance?

She approached the counter as Iora came around to greet her.

“You never said anything.”

“Well, it’s supposed to be a secret.”

“Right...”

She looked around the store as if there might be some sign that she had missed, but the apothecary hadn’t changed. The shelves were filled with herbs and potions, salves and ointments, cures of every kind gathered from Maskamere and beyond.

“This place is a hideout,” said Iora. “A shelter. We smuggle supplies: weapons, gear, medicine. Anything we can.”

“And your family...”

“We’re all in on it,” Iora confirmed. “They do the smuggling. Me, I’m a messenger.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why risk your lives?”

“I’ll show you.”

Iora took her through the store and out again via a back door that led into a large courtyard. A gravel path bordered a square patch of grass. Behind her was the apothecary. To the left, a residential building which the Salver family shared with their kin, the Suns. To the right, the Sun clinic where the sick and injured of Jairah came to be healed. And ahead...

Valerie blinked a tear out of her eye.

In the middle of the lawn stood the blackened remains of a tree stump. And though it had been cut down to the root, she recognised it instantly.

“A silvertree,” she whispered. Though it wasn’t the first dead tree she had encountered, it was always upsetting to find one. Valerie felt the loss of the tree like one of her own, as if she were gazing on the corpse of a family member. The building directly behind the dead tree was also in ruins, with crumbled walls, blasted out windows, and ash-covered stone.

“They called it the Healing Tree,” said Iora. “All the healers in Jairah were blessed by it. Those ruins over there used to be the temple and the convent where we trained. My mother was the High Priestess. I was an acolyte.”

“You were going to receive the blessing.”

Iora nodded. “I was a month away when the war happened. We rebuilt the clinic, our home... But not the temple. We can’t bring that back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not the worst thing. My family suffered, but so did everyone. What really upsets me is all the good we did for the city that we’ve lost. Half the apothecary used to be filled with homeopathic medicine. Do you know what that is?”

“Magic potions,” she said. “We used to visit a healer in town who made them.”

“They’re made with holy water. The healers spell the bottles to treat different ailments. We even used to get Drakonian visitors before the war, offering us all kinds of riches for a miracle cure.”

“But the potions wouldn’t work in Drakon.”

Maskamere was the only place in the world where magic existed, because of the silvertrees. Everyone knew that. Outside of Maskamere, magic simply vanished.

Iora nodded. “I know. We’d always tell them to take the medicine here. Some of them didn’t listen. But when our healers were killed, the potions stopped working. We had cures for things that don’t even have cures. Then overnight... it was just water. Every day people in Maskamere are dying of diseases that we could have cured. We do what we can, but...”

She shook her head, wiping tears from her eyes. Impulsively, Valerie wrapped an arm around her shoulder, Iora leaning in to rest her head.

Iora sniffed. “Anyway, that’s why I joined the resistance. Sorry for the long story.”

“No,” she said. “I understand. It’s why I’m here too.”

In the backroom of the Crescent store, Iora was a sight for sore eyes. For a moment they simply stared at each other, then by mutual consensus they both ran forward and embraced tightly.

“Iora!” Valerie buried her head into Iora’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of thyme and rosemary. “I can’t believe you’re here! What’s going on?”

Iora stepped back, regarding her fondly. “I missed you too. Do you have a rose for me?”

Valerie blinked, nonplussed. The silence stretched on a moment too long, Iora starting to look worried, before her memory jogged itself—Hafnir, their meeting on the castle balcony in Enyr...

“You’re the spy.”

Iora nodded. “Sorry it took so long for us to contact you. You did speak to Lord Hafnir, right?”

“Yeah.” She showed Iora the locket tucked into her bodice. “Were you waiting for me? How did you know I’d be here?”

“I don’t know. I was told you’d be here, that’s all.”

“By who?”

But Iora shook her head. “I can’t say.”

Her mind was in a tizzy. Someone had arranged this meeting. And who had intercepted her that morning in the palace, who had insisted that she come along on this shopping trip, out of the blue...

The questions tumbled out of her. “Is it Lady Melody? Is she a spy?”

“Lady who?”

Iora’s confusion looked genuine. Maybe she really didn’t know anything.

“Did you know about Lavinia? That they’re planning to arrest her?”

If she did, then information had leaked from the palace, further evidence that the resistance had someone else on the inside.

“I just heard that from Koel,” said Iora. “I gave Lavinia the address of someone who can help. They’ll get her out of the city, don’t worry.”

“Okay. Okay.”

She paced around the workshop. So that information hadn’t leaked from the palace yet—or rather, she’d leaked it. But someone had gotten her to the Crescent store today so that she could pass on that information, and someone had told Iora to meet her...

Who else could it be if not Lady Melody?

“Hey.” Iora stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I can’t stay long. I need to go before the Drakonians come looking. Do you have any news for us?”

“Yes, but...” She had questions for Iora first. “Did Hafnir pass on my message? That Quintus betrayed us? Is the prince safe?”

Iora nodded. “Your warning got to him in time—he escaped the Drakonian trap and banished Captain Quintus from his entourage. He’s safe. That’s why it took so long to get to you. We had to find a new hideout and regroup.”

“Are you in contact with Bakra?”

Another nod.

“There are some things I need to know about the palace. Can you ask him?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Iora seemed surprised that Valerie was taking charge, but she’d had plenty of time to think about what information she needed to pass to the resistance and what she needed in return.

“Tell him that Avon is trying to open the door below the palace temple. It’s sealed by a spell. I need to know what’s behind that door and how to break it.”

“Palace temple door. What’s in there, how to break the spell.” Iora nodded. “Got it.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can stall him for. I need to know what Bakra is planning.”

Iora hesitated. “I can’t tell you that either.”

She could have screamed in frustration, but Iora quickly clarified:

“I’m sorry, but you understand, right? We can’t risk it if you get caught. It’s better that you don’t know.”

“And what if you get caught?”

“I don’t know much more than you.”

“So what, I’m supposed to just sit here until Bakra pulls his thumbs out of his arse?”

“Val, I...” Iora’s lip wobbled. “I’m sorry. Look, we’ll keep in touch. I’ll get a message to Bakra, and I’ll try to pass on as much information as I can.”

She exhaled, controlling herself. “Fine. How are we going to talk to each other?”

“I’ll find you. You’re doing okay, right? It’s not too awful?”

Oh, fine. Just the occasional bit of torture. Mostly tea and croquet.

She swallowed that response—she didn’t want to be petty—and shook her head. “I’m good. Don’t worry about me. Just... can you make sure Lavinia is safe? And look out for my family?”

“I’ll do what I can.”

The two girls hugged again, and then, finally, Iora departed. Valerie took a moment to calm herself, breathing in and out. No matter how frustrated she felt, Iora was a friend. And though she hated being kept in the dark, here at last was a sign that the resistance might be of help.

Maybe Bakra did have a plan. Maybe he’d actually deliver on it.

She could only hope.

Before she departed the Crescent workshop, there was one more thing Valerie wanted to do. At the back stood a big old closet where they kept their overcoats and raincoats for the winter months. Valerie opened it.

Her eyes lit up. Tucked inside the closet was an oversized jacket, muddy brown and made of canvas. It wouldn’t be suitable for the nobility, so she guessed Koel hadn’t found a buyer. Valerie picked it up, riffling through the inside pockets until she found—yes! Her favourite thimble. She’d bewitched it with a devious little spell that seared the flesh, a handy deterrent against Drakonian guards who got a little too familiar when they stopped her on her way home.

It was also a perfectly good thimble.

She tucked it into the pocket of her skirt. There was nothing else worth taking, not in her current circumstances. She would have liked the jacket too, but she could hardly hide it, and she didn’t fancy explaining it to the guards.

Instead, she rejoined Lady Melody on the shop floor. Despite the whirlwind of events that had occurred since entering the store, it was only a few minutes since they’d parted. How strange, then, to find herself regarding Melody in a completely different light.

Are you a spy?

“Valerie,” Melody trilled, twirling around in a gorgeous plum ballgown. “You were taking forever; you must help me decide between these dresses.”

Valerie obliged, then went on to try a few evening gowns herself. It was quite pleasant to be in this position: the customer, rather than the backroom seamstress with her fingers worn raw. But she was also looking for an opportunity to question Melody.

She selected a golden dress that shimmered with every movement, a halterneck at the front and cut deeply at the back.

Melody regarded her sceptically. “You can’t wear a corset with that.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Darling, no one likes low-hanging fruit.”

“Oh, I know. Luckily I don’t have that problem.”

What Valerie didn’t say was that she had a secret weapon: spelled undergarments of her own making that provided an uncanny degree of support considering the flimsy material. It was her most popular garment, much prized by actresses, dancers, and other performers.

Of course Melody didn’t need to know that.

Melody raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to try anything else? I could wait outside.”

She paused. “Did you know?”

“Know what, darling?”

“About my family. This store.”

Melody passed off her two chosen gowns to an assistant. “Family is important to all of us. Take all the time you need.”

That was an answer or enough of one. She wished that she could stay longer, but she didn’t want to be hanging around when the Drakonian guards arrived.

She did hug them all, even Koel and Kamila, before they departed. When they finally emerged from their shopping trip, trailed by servants overloaded with bags, she curled her hand around Melody’s arm.

“Thank you.”

Their eyes met. And whatever sharpness she found in Melody’s gaze, there was softness behind it too. The barest incline of the head, an acknowledgement. Admitting that we’re on the same side?

Not quite.

Meanwhile, Captain Doryn was grim-faced as ever when he ushered them back into the carriage.

“There’s unrest in the east quarter,” he told them. “We’ll take a detour.”

Valerie sat up in her seat. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing to concern you ladies. Sit tight.”

He closed the carriage door, Valerie and Melody exchanging troubled looks. The carriage rolled into action, horse hooves clip-clopping down the street, and she could barely catch a glimpse of the scenery outside through the tiny window. Unease twinged in her stomach.

They passed the market square and turned into the residential streets of the north quarter. Presently, she heard shouts in the distance.

Melody leaned over and pulled the blind down.

“I wanted to see!” Valerie complained.

“It’s better that they don’t see us,” Melody snapped back. “I don’t want to be targeted by an unruly m–”

She didn’t finish the thought, because that was when the rock smashed into their window.