Chapter Fifteen. In Which the Trio Encounters a Jilted Witch
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
In Which the Trio Encounters a Jilted Witch
After several failed attempts at making conversation with the vengeful outlaw, Javi hooked an arm through Risa’s and bent his head close to her ear.
“I have a request.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard it,” he whined. He dropped his voice lower, ignoring her sidelong glower. His breath stirred her hair and caressed her cheek as he whispered, “Tell me what you see.”
“Thinking of ditching your betrothed and going for the outlaw instead?”
“Humor me for a moment.”
She considered him, flaring torchlight dancing on his cheekbones and jaw. He had turned his attention back to the Wolf, eyes narrowed in focus. No flirtatious waggle of an eyebrow, no smirk to suggest romance. He wanted to know what Risa saw.
“Do you see her scar?” she asked.
Javi nodded. “That’s about all I could see when she removed her hood.”
That surprised her. She recalled what the Wolf had said about how, without her hood, it was impossible to remember her. But Javi did.
“She’s very beautiful.” The conversation made her insides feel funny. Like being ill from severe food poisoning. “Regal, even. Black hair. Dark eyes. Pointy chin. Blurry face. Just your type.”
He cocked his head, curious.
“Everyone is my type,” he eventually said. “Though some more than others.”
“Then go talk to her and leave me in peace.”
“I haven’t stated my request.”
“I thought it was to get a rundown of how pretty our new companion is.”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, et cetera, et cetera,” he breathed, as if looks concerned him very little. Perhaps they only mattered when they were his. “Here’s my request: Try to remove the Wolf’s curse.”
“So you can get a better look?” she deadpanned.
“You’re vicious when you’re jealous,” he said with a twinkle in his gold eyes. She swore he somehow pressed closer. “But no, you can dispel that silly thought from your head.”
There was no use trying to pretend she hadn’t heard him, or slithering out of the request. He had murmured the words directly in her ear, stirred the frizzy hair that had escaped her braid, and sent a shiver down her back.
“Well, I can’t,” she said, after a moment.
“You can try,” he argued, his breath hot against her neck. “I’m sure she’d be thankful, and then you wouldn’t have to be concerned about me.”
“I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about me.”
“Think about it. If you removed the curse, she might tell you all you want to know.”
Risa considered it for a moment, staring at the back of the Wolf’s hooded head. Perhaps the Wolf would be more compelled to be honest. Tell her who placed the curse, and where she might find that person to help her remove her own.
The curse had something to do with the Wolf’s identity, the way it warped her features and made her forgettable.
But no matter how hard Risa concentrated, she couldn’t see past the blurry unease surrounding the Wolf.
Something else niggled at the back of her mind, something she kept forgetting, the thought slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.
“No,” she said, more determined than before.
He pouted at her. “I’m starting to think that’s your favorite word. And don’t you even think about saying it again.”
She was tempted, and the fact that he’d known she would be brought a smile to her face.
Javi froze, and because he was still holding on to her, she stopped as well.
He stared at her, a little dumbfounded, eyes blinking rapidly.
Shaking himself from his stupor, he marched forward with determination and called out to the Wolf several feet ahead: “Wolf, I think Risa has something to ask.”
The Wolf paused and turned to face them, waiting. Risa shot the prince a look that could kill, but Javi stubbornly remained breathing.
“Where does this tunnel lead?” Risa asked.
“It’s as if she enjoys being contrary,” the prince muttered with a shake of his head.
“Monpira,” the Wolf answered. “I have a connection there who might help. He could take us to the outpost for San Cirilo.” The Wolf made a sudden turn left, down a tunnel Risa swore hadn’t been there moments before.
“A fellow outlaw?” Javi’s eyebrows lifted in question.
The Wolf regarded them with the one eye Risa could see from beneath the cover of her hood. “It depends on who asks.”
Risa was in no mood to play the Wolf’s games. She was tired of walking, she was hungry—the fish soup a salty memory—and she was wary of being underground in a tunnel they were decidedly lost in.
“Fine, and if somehow Javi’s long-lost great-uncle can’t help—”
“Might be a cousin, though I still can’t be sure,” Javi interjected, more to himself than anyone.
“—then how are you supposed to get us to—” Risa growled with exasperation as the block in her mind stopped her mid-speech. The word had slipped away again.
“Madros?” the Wolf supplied.
That was it. The thing that had been bothering Risa, even when she couldn’t remember what it was. The ease with which the Wolf could say that word, the way it never went missing or slipped out of reach, the familiarity of it in the Wolf’s mouth.
“How do you do it?” Risa asked, advancing on the outlaw. Javi followed and tried to pull her back with a gentle hand around her good elbow. “We can’t even say the word. Not since Spearbelly. But you can.”
The Wolf shrugged but refused to look at Risa. “I do not know.”
“You seem to know nothing at all. Not even how to get out of this stupid maze. We’ve been walking for hours!”
At this, the outlaw huffed, “You need not worry,” but her voice sounded strained. “I have crossed dozens—no, scores—of times before. This is no different.”
How could that be when the world was practically closing in on them?
No, it actually was. The walls pressed closer, the ground beneath their feet humming with a deep, churning rumble. Inch by slow inch, with the torches flickering wildly.
The tunnels were shrinking.
The horses noticed and bucked in protest. Torches at the farthest end of the path snuffed out, one by one, urging the darkness closer. Brunie yowled at the encroaching danger before leaping from Risa’s shoulder and disappearing into the unfathomable depths.
“Oh, gods,” Javi started, staring at the two of them with panicked eyes. “I’m going to die here.”
The torches continued to flicker out, and the few that remained lit cast long, distended shadows across the too-close walls. Dread washed over Risa as she realized her curse had struck again, and she would be its final victim.
“We’re all going to die,” Risa realized aloud.
Naivete had made her believe that her bad luck would never take her down with it.
There was so much she hadn’t gotten to do. She would have liked to see the rest of the world. To break her curse. To hug her parents without being concerned that doing so might seal their demise.
Her eyes fluttered closed as the tunnels threatened to crush them.
A voice rang out: “Oh my, I think I can help.”
The walls stopped shrinking. The torches flared back to life.
And before Risa stood a radiant woman with silver hair aglow like a shimmering curtain of constellations.
Her bright eyes were the same color as her hair, two twinkling stars plucked from the very fabric of the night sky.
Luminous pale skin glimmered in the flames, as did her resplendent white gown sewn from moonlight, which draped over her svelte body.
There was not a hair out of place or a blemish upon the woman’s smooth skin, let alone a wart or crooked nose to signal her witchiness.
It was difficult to look straight at her shining visage, and when Risa could manage staring for longer than a few seconds, she felt the same heat of magic race across her skin as when Brunhilda threw spells.
The horses shied, frightened by the sudden appearance of a glowing person. It wasn’t every day that they ran into the human equivalent of a firefly.
“Now that is definitely a witch,” the Wolf declared. She rested her hands on the hilts of her daggers.
The witch reached with a long, slender finger and tapped Risa’s forehead.
Her heartbeat slowed. The panic that had been building in her chest ebbed at the cool touch, replaced with relief. Even her dislocated shoulder felt better. She stared up in awe, unable to tear her gaze away until the witch turned and allowed her to break from the shimmery thrall.
The witch repeated the gesture with the other two; the Wolf tried to get away but was too slow to be successful. Only Brunie seemed genuinely disinterested with the whole affair, ignoring the chaos and licking his paws. Risa hadn’t even realized that the cat had returned.
“You must be weary from your travels,” the witch observed with a gentle voice.
Those silver eyes fixed upon Risa, and her chin tilted a fraction, probing.
Whatever she saw in Risa’s face must have been deficient, as she moved along to place a calming hand between the horses’ wild eyes.
“Please join me in my humble abode to rest for a moment, and then I can help you find your way out.”
This was the witch. The one who had made the Underground Pass. Who might be able to finally break Risa’s spell.
The group trudged after her in a daze. Risa couldn’t tell if they took only a few steps or walked for miles. The witch glowed so brightly that the rest of the tunnel seemed to drown in the light, until finally, she stopped and threw her hands out.
“Welcome to my home.”
The witch dimmed her glow as they stepped into a vast cavern. Torches cast odd shapes across the walls that made little sense to Risa, no matter how many times she blinked away the daze. It took several moments for her to understand, for the pieces of the scene to slide into place.
The mustiness that had first emanated from the Pass when it tumbled open was but a whiff of fresh spring air compared with what wafted from the witch’s home.