Chapter 3
I began the next morning with a bruised arm and a bracing walk north to the more respectable side of town, where the wooden sign of the post office jutted out from teal tiled rooftops.
The charmwitch Miriam had a shop beside it, which had served as the main passageway to Witch Village long before I was born.
Down the street, the beech trees were just beginning to turn, raining vibrant leaves upon the passersby. A few littered the ground as a breeze swept through, fiery orange against the gray. They crunched beneath my boots as I traversed the cobblestone path.
Autumn. Christabella’s favorite season. She would’ve loved it up here, where the weather varied every day and there were more than just fifty-seven deciduous trees to look at. Around this time of year, she and Sonny would probably be helping Ma with preparations for the Harvest.
I drew close to the familiar rounded door of Miriam’s Terrariums, which had a new coat of paint on it.
Turquoise, this time, made all the brighter by a shiny brass doorknob.
The interior was the same as it had been last week.
Fruity incense filled the air and amongst the filigree shelves were terrariums of fat, shiny snails that I tried my best to ignore.
“Ah, Giselle. Good to see you my dear.” Miriam herself came through a curtain of wooden beads, her hunched shoulders draped in gauzy shawls. “Here for the usual?”
“As always,” I said, sinking into a pouf on the carpeted floor. The cushion was lumpy, though my feet welcomed the respite after my brisk walk.
My pockets contained the meager weight of last week’s carefully rationed earnings.
I fished out the five silver coins, all stamped with the royal insignia on one side.
The other side featured insignias I didn’t recognize, though I presumed they were the crests of various aristocratic families, as was typical for Olderean currency.
I poured them into the pouch Miriam held open for me.
She drew the drawstrings shut, weighing it in her hands. “And you’re sure you don’t want to send a letter this time?”
I shook my head.
“Not a note?” Miriam prodded. “A little doodle?”
“No.”
She tsked. “I think your family would appreciate your words more than your coin.”
I smoothed the wrinkles from my skirt, pretending not to hear her.
Leaving Ma and Christabella without so much as a goodbye was admittedly callous of me, but I wasn’t so selfish a creature as to leave them without means.
Ever since witches had been allowed back into the kingdom, the standard currency of Olderean coins wormed its way back into Witch Village.
We had once been content to exchange goods, supplies, and services amongst ourselves, but enough witches were starting to accept coin and only coin.
I knew Ma would never succumb to such a practice, so I made sure the funds I could spare went straight to Christabella. She had the sense to change with the times, at least.
As for writing letters? That was out of the question. I’d never be so foolish as to give Ma a means to contact me. I shuddered to think of the barrage of questions and lectures she had been holding in for the past nine months.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Miriam said with a chuckle. “If Nasha didn’t dislike me so much I reckon she’d demand I let her see you.”
I pinched my lips. “There is no scenario in which I’m stepping foot in that passageway of yours, and there is no way she is going to emerge from this side of it. You promised to not tell anyone except Christabella that I frequent here.”
Miriam sighed. “So I did! No need for that tone. I didn’t mean to intrude upon your affairs.” She paused, then gave me a sly look. “Speaking of which, have you found a nice young man to settle with?”
I groaned. Though Miriam was not a blood-relation of mine, she certainly acted like one. “No settling,” I said. “I didn’t come up here for that.”
“An awful lot of young witch girls are coming up and exploring. I daresay some of them have set their sights on human men.”
“Scandalous,” I said without heat. Even I had to admit that there weren’t many options in Witch Village.
I knew perhaps two boys near my age, one of whom was my brother, and the other one very much like a brother.
Even still, human men were frowned upon ever since Seraphina Barclay ended up dead after eloping with one.
It worked out for the village that there were so few romantic matches every year—space was limited, so children were had sparingly.
Miriam plucked an errant snail from a low table and placed it into a globed terrarium. “I must say I know the siren call of business myself, but I hate to think that a girl as young as you has only work for her companion. What about that tour last winter? Meet any handsome guards?”
“One,” I said, embarrassed that my mind immediately went to Maddox. He had made it clear he found my attraction uncomfortable. I had ceased and started treating him like an annoying brother instead, a role he played far too well.
“Oho, is that a blush I see?” Miriam teased. She settled herself on the orange pouf across from me. “Tell me more about this guard. Is he dark-haired? Blond?”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I said, standing. “I should really get going.”
“At least stay for tea and biscuits.”
“Alright.” I sat back down at the prospect of food. I had skipped breakfast to come here.
After treating me to a plate of chocolate biscuits and strong black tea, Miriam retreated to the back room behind a beaded curtain, leaving me to curl up on one of her poufs and sew.
I’d brought the unfinished skirt of Narcissa’s wedding gown, which consisted of seven flared panels of luminous ivory satin yet to be stitched together.
The dress would be simple but magnificent, lending more attention to the wearer than itself. It would be the dress to end all dresses—my best creation yet.
I threaded my needle and began a line of running backstitches along the seams, relishing the feel of the buttery soft satin between my fingers and the sound of silk thread pulling through fabric.
By the time I had finished sewing the panels together, it was nearing noon and my spool of white silk thread had run out. I squinted at the rays of sun slipping through the windows. Regretfully, I had to return to my shop where Mrs. Lewis was sure to be lurking.
Standing, I put away my work and said goodbye to Miriam, who emerged from her beaded curtain to see me off cheerily—though not without a few more prodding questions about my love life, which I pointedly ignored.