Chapter 9
If there was one thing I couldn’t do without, it was my thimble.
It was made of two scraps of unassuming brown leather, sewn together with tiny stitches that grew crooked upon closer inspection.
The underside was nearly black, riddled with roughness from the craters my needles had dug into it.
But it was the inside that made it special.
Marked within were swirling symbols of ink I had pressed myself from the nightweed from Grandma’s garden. Nightweed ink was favored for its magical properties, meant to enhance the magic of the charmwitch who used it. This was my first drawn charm, meant for speed and precision.
Though the making of it was anything but speedy and precise.
Grandma’s rasping voice had hovered over me as I bent over the leather, my fingertips stained and my frustration mounting.
“Anger won’t help, Gigi, unless you wish for this charm to not work as you intend,” she had said, the floorboards creaking as she rocked on her rocking chair.
Unlike an herbwitch’s potions or a charmwitch’s knotted charms that involved recipes and instructions, a charmwitch’s drawn charms were hers to create—no two designs looked the same, even if they were meant to produce the same results.
It would be the purest product of her magic, and thereby the most powerful.
The symbols were not about appearance, but about intent.
To me, intent over appearance sounded like an unskilled artist’s excuse for why they couldn’t make a painting look as it ought.
I preferred knotted charms with its precise patterns over symbols that my intuition was allegedly supposed to guide my hand to create.
Even enchantments with set gestures and words were better.
“I don’t know what to do,” I had said, dropping the needle-thin pen that I had been inking with, irritated with myself
“Perhaps you ought to go for a run,” Grandma said.
I did exactly that, because if there was anything I learned in the thirteen years I had lived by then, it was to always listen to my grandmother. I ran down the road that sloped away from our house, intersected the village square, then swooped back up to Grandma’s herb garden.
The weather witches had woven cool strands of breeze throughout Witch Village that day, the wind tousling my hair, the ribbon at the end of my braid curling and flapping behind me.
When I returned, I drew my charm with the shapes my ribbon had made. Grandma had only given me a knowing glance—it was her way of saying “I told you so”, though I never minded it; I was always too happy with the results her advice gave me.
How I wished I had Grandma’s wisdom now. Perhaps she could advise me on how to create a charm for courage—something that would have more long-lasting effects than an herbwitch’s potion.
***
THE PALACE WAS UNCHANGED when we arrived on Monday, but it was as if I had traveled back in time to nine months prior. My stomach was in knots. I was being led to the crown prince’s study again, nervous and ready to hear the details of my first assignment upon joining the Witch Committee.
“...think an anthology would sell better than separate volumes? Or maybe I can do separate volumes and an anthology!”
I had barely paid attention to Maddox’s ramblings on the carriage ride. Now that we were in the cavernous halls of the palace, the echo of his voice was impossible to ignore.
“I don’t know, Maddox,” I said with a sigh. “Maybe you can ask His Highness after the meeting.”
Our escort was blessedly silent as he stepped forward to open the door of Crown Prince Bennett’s study.
A flood of morning light lit the room aglow. I blinked rapidly, surprised by the sheer amount of green in the room. The curtains and upholstery were a sprightly grass green. Even the books on the shelves went from emerald to chartreuse. It seemed he had renovated since the last time I was here.
“Narcissa’s favorite color,” Maddox said from the corner of his mouth as he bowed and I curtsied.
“Giselle. I assume you’ve accepted,” Crown Prince Bennett said, standing from his desk. Someone else sat across from him, though the stranger’s back was turned to us. “Maddox. I hear from Captain Greenwood that you will be joining as a guard.”
We both nodded.
The crown prince gestured to the man across from him. “Meet our emissary.”
The emissary turned his head. If I hadn’t already committed his face to memory, the seafoam green cravat knotted at his throat would’ve been a telltale sign.
Edmund de Clare, in all his wavy-haired glory, raised his dark brows at the sight of me. “Miss Giselle. We meet again.”
“Mr. de Clare,” I said, flustered. “I didn’t expect you.”
Crown Prince Bennett looked surprised. “You’re already acquainted?”
“We met a week ago,” I said. “I thought you’d choose a member of the King's Council, Your Highness. Or perhaps a newspaper reporter.”
“The King's Council is less than eager and the reporters are overeager. I prefer a neutral party,” the crown prince said with a dry smile. He gestured to the empty seat next to Edmund de Clare. “Please, sit.”
Maddox stood off to the side. He had reverted to being a guard, staring straight ahead and silent. Finally.
I stole a look at the new emissary as I sat. “Apologies, sir, but do you not have a department store to run?”
His lips quirked into a grin that nearly sent my heart to a stop. “It is not mine to run, Miss Giselle. My father will proceed as he has always done in my absence. And please, call me Edmund. We count as old friends now, do we not?”
“Oh. Yes, of course.”
I had nearly forgotten he was the illegitimate son. His air was that of...well, an heir.
“It is always an honor to serve the crown, both as a citizen and a businessman,” Edmund said, dipping his head at Crown Prince Bennett. “Speaking of which, Your Highness, I brought a selection of fine jewels that may be to Lady Narcissa’s liking. Your steward put them in the other room.”
“Thank you. I’ll see to them after this.”
So Crown Prince Bennett was purchasing jewelry from Blanche de Clare. I always thought he was more of a custom-made man.
“Giselle?”
I blinked as both men stared at me, realizing a touch too late that the crown prince had asked me something.
“If you could give Mr. de Clare an overview of where he is going to stay in the next two weeks?” Crown Prince Bennett prompted.
Horsefeathers. Perhaps I should have spent some time thinking about where to hole up for the tour.
“Oh, Witch Village...the village where witches live,” I said stupidly.
Amusement danced in Edmund’s blue eyes. “Go on.”
“It’s underground, right below Delibera and almost as large. We have enchanted passageways all over the city that lead to it,” I continued. “It has existed since King Humphrey’s reign, when we were wrongfully banished.”
I stole a look at Crown Prince Bennett, who thankfully didn’t seem offended at this recount of history despite it painting his late grandfather in a bad light.
Edmund leaned his elbow against the desk and tilted his head. “As large as Delibera! How can so many people live underground?”
“Witches can make any space inhabitable. We especially rely on our weather witches, who specialize in recreating aboveground conditions to the best of their abilities. Our population is small compared to that of Delibera, so space is not an issue,” I said.
Ma would give me a good swat on the backside if she heard such a lackluster rendition of Witch Village history.
I never preferred her theatrics when telling the story, though.
Edmund nodded slowly, as if absorbing all I’d told him. I couldn’t tell if he was receiving it positively or not.
“I suppose we should start off with finding a host in the village, yes?” I continued when he didn’t speak.
“I could write to potential places today.” That shouldn’t be too difficult.
I knew Ferdinand rented rooms, and there were many vacancies all throughout the village due to witches coming aboveground, like those in the Witch Committee.
“Your family cannot host?” Edmund asked. His gaze had never left mine since I started talking.
“Er, our house is small,” I lied. It was one of the biggest in the village. “Then we can tour the fields, perhaps. It’s nearly Harvest time, assuming we still do that. There’ll be gatherings in the village square. Though it’s really not that interesting,” I added hastily.
Witch Village really only had three places of significance.
The fields, the square, and the oak tree behind my house.
Mentally, I made a note to only show Edmund the square at a distance, and the tree too, if its branches were visible from miles away.
Avoiding civilization would be the ideal strategy.
“It sounds quaint,” Edmund said with his heart-wrenching smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“You’ll be writing a report of your experiences, Mr. de Clare,” Crown Prince Bennett said. “It will be reviewed by a member of the King’s Council and a member of the Witch Committee. For security’s sake, a guard will accompany you.”
Maddox stepped up on cue. “Maddox Greenwood, son of Captain Greenwood of the Royal Guard, at your service.” He bowed neatly.
At that moment, a footman came to the door. “Your Highness, representatives of the King’s Council and the Witch Committee are waiting in the throne room.”
“We’ll be there shortly,” the crown prince said.
Edmund stood. “I’d like a quick word with you, Your Highness.” He accompanied the crown prince to the far door. “About the jewels...”
Maddox took a seat on the edge of the desk once the other two men were out of earshot, destroying his previous pretense of good breeding.
“Say, what sort of person is the emissary, anyway?” he whispered.
I stole a look over my shoulder at Edmund, who was still speaking with the crown prince. His figure was fantastic. Broad at the shoulders and trim at the hips. The way he held himself was all elegance, though his deep voice and shadowed jaw lent him a more masculine appeal. Not to mention his—
Maddox snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Giselle?”
I swatted his hand away. “He’s the son of the proprietor of Blanche de Clare.”
“What’s that again? A perfume?”
“It’s a department store, you dolt,” I whispered. “Biggest in the kingdom.”
“He has a punchable face,” Maddox said.
“His face is perfect.”
“Exactly.”
Edmund and his perfect face turned to us before I could retort. Maddox pushed himself off from the corner of the desk. I quickly smoothed my skirts as Edmund approached.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the gentleman said pleasantly. He bowed to Maddox. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Greenwood. It’s an honor to have a relative of the future crown princess in my acquaintance.”
“Oh. Of course,” Maddox said awkwardly.
I fought the urge to sigh. The disparities between the two men were glaring, though Edmund couldn’t have been much older than Maddox. He practically oozed gentlemanly poise while the other...well.
Maddox was Maddox. I supposed that was fine too.
Edmund slid his ocean-eyed gaze to me. “And Miss Giselle. You keep far more secrets than I imagined. A tour guide for Witch Village as well as a seamstress? I’m impressed.”
A flush rose to my cheeks. That only happened around him, it seemed. “I can say the same for you. I didn’t know businessmen involved themselves in royal affairs.”
“Like I said, it is an honor to serve the crown. It is also an offer I couldn’t refuse,” Edmund said, clasping his hands.
“Crown Prince Bennett has chosen to purchase jewels from Blanche de Clare for Lady Narcissa’s wedding and coronation in exchange for my cooperation.
The publicity of that, well, it’ll be unmatched. Even my father agrees.”
“I hope your jewels don’t clash with Narcissa’s wedding dress,” I said.
Edmund quirked a brow. “I suppose you’re the seamstress sewing her dress. Do not fret, our options are all very tasteful.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But perhaps you can disclose the design you have in mind so I can sway His Highness’s choice?”
Sway His Highness’s choice. For me?
I opened my mouth, but Maddox kicked my heel. He smiled brightly, ignoring the glare I shot him. “Aren’t we supposed to be in the throne room?”