Treacherous Witch

“My sister, she was torn in two.

My niece, she took her only breath.

Pray, tell, what hope must we eschew

In this new world where birth means death?”

Unknown, Maskamery War Poetry

The next morning, he summoned her for breakfast. She decided that she wouldn’t apologise—or talk at all, unless spoken to.

“You’re quiet today.”

She sipped her tea and said nothing.

“You can express your displeasure with me, but I don’t want you to be moody at court.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

“Fine.” He picked up a slip of paper from his silver tea tray, then slid it over to her. “Read it.”

She frowned, then put down her tea and picked up the slip of paper. Before the invasion, documents like these would have been stamped with the royal seal. This one was stamped with Lord Avon’s seal, a raven, but he hadn’t yet signed it. The note was written in spidery handwriting, and she read it in mounting horror.

It was a warrant for Lavinia’s arrest. Lavinia, one of her cousins, and mother to twin boys and an eighteen-month old girl.

Avon steepled his fingers together. “I told you after your first transgression to consider that your actions affect others. That I wouldn’t come after your family so long as you behaved.”

She shook her head, struggling for words. “This is my punishment? I didn’t even do anything! The spell didn’t work.”

“Your assassination attempt didn’t work either, but you’ve still been punished for that. I expect Lavinia’s repentance to be passed in under a week, when she will be sent to auction. She’ll leave Jairah and never see your family again.”

The cold harsh reality of it was beginning to sink in. Lavinia had nothing to do with the resistance. The Crescents had tolerated her anti-Drakonian activities, but none of them were willing to join in. She’d condemned an innocent woman to a terrible fate.

“Auction,” she whispered. “You mean...?”

“The fate I saved you from,” said Avon. “I expect she’ll be taken in as a housekeeper or maid or somesuch.”

The first time Valerie had heard about the auction was through her friend Iora early on in her days of joining the resistance. They’d gotten up to see the parade of soldiers returning from the war in the north: Drakonian knights in armour marching with rifles, swords and spears, and the rolling cages of captured prisoners of war on display for the crowds.

“Oh, no,” Iora had said softly.

“What?”

Her friend had pointed. “Look. Women.”

Sure enough, one of the cages contained female prisoners, all of them either sullen or scared. Valerie had wondered why there were so many. The only Maskamery women who took part in warfare were priestesses. This was long after the purge; there were no priestesses left to fight.

“Maska save them.” Iora touched her necklace which had a tiny silvertree emblem. “They’ll be going to auction.”

“Auction?”

“The Empire likes to enslave its prisoners. They get sold off at auction to the highest bidder. If you’re a woman under forty, you’ll be forced into bed by some mangy old lord, and if you’re over forty you’ll end up a cleaner or washer. Or worse, you’ll get bought by a brothel.”

Her eyes had widened. “A brothel?”

Such rotten places had sprung up around Jairah like a plague since the Empire’s occupation, luring in desperate women who were forced to sell themselves to make ends meet.

“It happened to Quintus’s cousin,” said Iora. “She was part of a cell that got caught. Because she was a traitor, she was sentenced to ten years enslaved by the Empire. She lasted six months before she hanged herself.”

That story had stayed with her, unsurprisingly, because it quantified the risk she faced herself. There weren’t many women active in the resistance. Not that the punishments the men faced weren’t also harsh: hard labour in the fields or mines, or being sent out to sea—all the dangerous and dirty jobs that no one else wanted to do. And a pretty young man might also be bought by a brothel or catch a nobleman’s eye. Their bodies were vassals of the Empire, and the Empire exploited them.

It was strange to think that she was in this situation now, sitting in the beautiful breakfast room in the palace, the morning sunshine streaming in through the balcony window. The croissants looked suddenly unappetising.

Valerie put down the note, her expression hollow. “What about her children?”

“They’ll go to an orphanage,” said Avon, “and when they’re old enough, the girl will be married and the boys will be conscripted.”

Maska help her. She’d brought ruin on her family, all because she’d attempted a harmless spell he didn’t like.

“I thought you were going to punish me. Please, my lord.” If she had to beg, she would. “I can accept a fair punishment. This isn’t fair.”

“Punishment is meant to be effective, not fair.”

He reached out for the warrant, but before he could take it, she snatched it back and tore it in two.

Avon sighed. “Valerie.”

“All you’re doing,” she said, “is making me vengeful.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Valerie didn’t care to interpret it. She stood up, abandoning her breakfast, and walked out without a word.

Part of her expected him to come after her, or yell, or send in the guards. But none of those things happened, and Valerie walked through the palace entrance hall where she was accosted by Lady Melody and one of her maids.

“Oh, Valerie! I was just looking for you. I was meant to take a shopping trip with Amilia today, but the poor thing has been taken ill. You simply must accompany me. We’re only a week away from the capital’s visit, and I’ve yet to freshen up my wardrobe.”

This was rather more information than she was used to hearing from Melody all at once, and Valerie blinked at her.

“Why are you looking for me? What about the other ladies?”

“Darling, I can’t have you embarrassing yourself. You are the jewel of the Maskamery court, Lord Avon’s favoured companion. Drop everything, I insist.”

Valerie almost retorted that if her wardrobe was so important, why hadn’t Melody invited her in the first place? But Melody was already taking her arm, steering her through the entrance hall and beyond into the grounds. It turned out that she was very good at insisting she got her way to everyone. Guards questioned them to no effect. Even Captain Doryn only shot her a bemused look as Melody showed her into the carriage.

And once they departed the palace gates, her heart beat faster. They were in the city! Surely this was an opportunity...

“We must be up-to-date,” Melody said in the carriage. “We can’t have the Drakonian court laughing at us when they arrive.”

In different circumstances, she might have been excited about the shopping part too. She was familiar with the high fashions that Melody talked about from a merchant’s point of view. The Crescents prided themselves on making high-quality durable garments to exact specifications in any style their customers requested.

Which meant there was no reason she couldn’t ask to visit their store. If she could visit the Crescents... warn Lavinia... She might be able to save her cousin before she was arrested.

The carriage pulled up, Captain Doryn opening the door for them, and Valerie stepped out into a familiar street. This was the High Road, where lords and ladies—or more often, their servants—came to order all manner of goods, from clothing and jewellery to sweet treats and baked goods. She recognised the shoemaker opposite her because it was next door to the Crescent store which she had called home for the past two years.

“Do you know this part of town?” Melody asked, seeing her expression.

“I do...”

She explained. Melody was delighted. “Well, why don’t we say hello to your uncle. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.”

“Did you know...?”

“Know what?”

Did you arrange this? It was the perfect stroke of luck—too perfect. But Melody was either innocent or an excellent actress, giving nothing away as they entered the store.

And there was Koel behind the counter, his long hair tied back, inspecting a loose button on a petticoat with that intense frown she knew so well. The bell rang when they entered, and he looked up, his expression changing from indifference to surprise.

“Valerie?”

She curtsied. “Uncle Koel. May I introduce Lady Melody. We’ve come from the royal palace.”

“In search of a gown,” Melody added. “Your latest evening wear, may we see it?”

Koel frowned at her but collected himself. In a few minutes, he had Melody busy trying on a selection of gowns with her cousin Elissa, which left them on the main floor alone.

“So,” said Koel. “You’ve moved up in the world.”

She glanced around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “Have any Drakonian guards come by today?”

His frown deepened. “Not today. You know they ransacked the store because of you?”

“Is Lavinia here?”

“Upstairs, with Aurelia.”

She didn’t need telling twice. Valerie hurried up to where she knew her grandmother would be, her favourite sitting room overlooking the High Road. From her rocking chair by the bay window, she could knit and watch all the goings-on outside.

It was just as she remembered. The rocking chair, Aurelia and her knitting, a soft blue shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“Grandma.”

Aurelia looked up. “Valerie?”

She’d never been so relieved to see that wrinkled face, kind beady eyes taking her in. Valerie buried her face in her grandmother’s bony shoulder, hugging her tightly.

“I’m so sorry it took me so long to see you.”

“Nonsense,” Aurelia rasped in her papery voice. “Those Drakonian devils have you all tied up. Did they let you go?”

“No... Where’s Lavinia?”

“Here.” Her cousin’s voice. “Valerie?”

Valerie turned around as Lavinia entered the room, hair pulled into a messy bun, wiping her hands on her apron. This room also served as a playroom. Lavinia’s infant girl lay sleeping in a crib. Her twin boys rushed in after her, squealing when they saw Valerie.

“Val! Val! You’re back!”

“Is Markus coming back too?”

“I’m just visiting,” she said, ruffling their hair. They’d grown, she thought, with a pang. Ianus, the elder of the two, looked up at her with big adoring eyes, while Silvius ran back to his toy wooden bricks. He liked to build things.

And if Lord Avon had his way, they’d be ripped away from their mother and taken to an orphanage.

“Val! You’re okay.”

Lavinia hugged her, but Valerie had no time for that. She stepped back quickly, shaking her head. “I came to warn you. The Drakonians are planning to arrest you. You need to leave right now.”

The commotion had gotten Aurelia’s attention. Her grandmother swung the rocking chair around, cocking her head.

“What’s that?”

Valerie backed into the middle of the room so that Aurelia could hear her too. “Lavinia, you need to get out. They’re coming today.”

Lavinia was bewildered. “But why? I haven’t done anything.”

“It doesn’t matter. They’re doing it to threaten me. Please. If you don’t get out now, they’ll take you and your children away, and you’ll never see us again.”

It took more cajoling than she would have liked, not helped by the children getting upset and her aunts coming up to find out what all the fuss was about. But once Aurelia got the message and ordered Lavinia to make haste, everything happened quickly. She sent Lavinia off to get packed and another cousin to calm the boys down and tell them they were off on a fun day trip.

Valerie glanced anxiously out of the window, aware that Drakonian guards might arrive at any minute. She also knew that she had to return to Melody soon or her companion would miss her. She was about to do so when Aurelia called her.

“Valerie. Sit with me.”

She knelt by the rocking chair. “Grandma?”

Aurelia took her hands. “I see they’re feeding you, at least.”

Valerie smiled. “Yes, Grandma.”

“How is the palace?”

“I’m handling it.”

“You’re serving the Chancellor?”

She nodded.

“Are you protecting yourself?”

“I haven’t needed to.”

Her grandmother blinked in surprise. “Drakonian men aren’t like ours. They won’t show respect.”

“I know. I found a way to manage him. He needs my magic.”

“What for?”

Time was short, so she explained as much as she could. When she’d finished, Aurelia sucked in her cheeks and resumed her knitting. She was halfway through a pair of baby boots.

“What do you think of the prince’s plan?” Valerie asked.

“Does he have a plan?”

She frowned. “I hope so.”

The knitting needles went click-clack. She’d always liked that sound. It reminded her of her true grandmother, Luciana, who used to knit too. But now it made her think of a clock ticking, and she shifted on her knees in irritation.

“I think you’d better ask,” said Aurelia.

“Ask?”

“Check in by the workshop before you go. We have something for you.”

Her curiosity was piqued. Valerie rose, squeezing her grandmother’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Val.”

Valerie paused.

Aurelia’s expression was as stern as she’d ever seen it but not without sympathy. “I trust you more than I trust them. You always had good instincts. You’ll need them.”

Her heart soared. It was the encouragement she needed.

She kissed her grandmother farewell, then checked in with Koel who confirmed that Lavinia and her children had departed. Good. Valerie made her way to the back of the store where a wooden door led into the workshop.

Nostalgia swept over her. Here were the shelves filled with rolls of fabric from all over Maskamere and beyond. The sheets of paper on the trestle table were crowded with Koel’s designs. Next to it, the magical loom passed down to them by a great-grandmother who had been a High Priestess—Valerie had successfully replicated the faded spell, and she aspired to surpass her work someday—and all the assorted paraphernalia for stitching, sewing, and needlework. Not so long ago, this workshop had been hers.

And sitting at the work table that she’d once sewed many a garment on, not one of her cousins...

“Hey.” The girl’s smile was warm and familiar.

Iora.