Chapter 10
Two robed members of the King’s Council stood to the right before the elevated thrones on the dais. To the left were two members of the Witch Committee, brass acorn pins gleaming at their lapels.
I recognized the witches as Rowena and Ferdinand; they had stood behind me in line all those months ago. Luckily, we were already acquainted. I had favors to ask of them today.
Crown Prince Bennett and Narcissa sat side by side on the thrones, the king nowhere in sight. The two of them seemed to handle most of the witch-related affairs. King Maximus, I suspected, would have gladly gone back to the Non-Magic Age just to spare himself the headache.
“I cannot believe this,” a wizened councilman with a pair of ornate gold spectacles grumbled to his companion. “A businessman going down to a witch’s lair? I don’t see how this is relevant or necessary at all.”
“Hush, Archibald. Not here.” The companion was an eagle-like man with black hair streaked with gray and a beak of a nose. His voice was so low it sounded like a growl.
When the murmurs of both parties quieted, Crown Prince Bennett cleared his throat.
He trained his gaze on the two robed men.
“Sir Sylvester.” He nodded at the eagle man.
“Sir Archibald. Rowena. Ferdinand. Thank you for joining us today. I believe you were all informed about what is to happen in the following two weeks.”
“Indeed, Your Highness,” Sir Archibald said, frowning at us through his spectacles.
Crown Prince Bennett continued. “Our emissary, Mr. Edmund de Clare, will be staying at Witch Village where he will report on his experiences. Sir Sylvester and Sir Archibald will relay the accounts to the rest of the King's Council and to the press. Giselle here will be overseeing Mr. de Clare’s stay. Maddox Greenwood will accompany them as a guard.”
“Why her?” Sir Sylvester said, slithering his dark gaze up and down my person. I resisted the urge to shudder. “Isn’t she the one you employed last winter because of her coercive powers?”
I did shudder then. He knew about that side of my magic. Why was he privy to that information?
“Exactly!” Sir Archibald cried, pointing an accusing finger my way. The collar of his green robe was far too big for his scrawny neck. “How do we know she won’t put our emissary under her thrall and sway his report?”
Crown Prince Bennett hesitated. I had the uncomfortable feeling that even he couldn’t defend me against that argument. I couldn’t even defend myself.
Beside me, Maddox’s jaw clenched. If he weren’t playing the silent guard at the moment, I figured he’d have something to say, but it wasn’t his place to fight a council member.
Narcissa sat straighter, her eyes flashing. “Giselle proved herself to be good and loyal last winter. She would never use her magic on anyone for her own gain. Her skill set is far beyond coercion. I would argue that is the least formidable thing about her.”
Sir Sylvester bowed. “Of course.” Sir Archibald merely shot me a disgusted look.
Gratitude filled my chest. Narcissa and Maddox had told me this before, that my magic didn’t make me wicked. It felt nice to be seen that way—if only most others could do the same.
I stole a glance at Edmund, worried I’d see the same fear or disgust on his face, but he looked as calm and polished as ever, his eyes trained ahead. Was he hiding his reaction, or did he truly not care?
“Honorable witches will never use their magic on others without permission or due cause,” Rowena said, frowning at the councilmen.
“What if an outsider trespasses into Witch Village, which has historically been shut off to humans?” Sir Sylvester said. “Will they wield their magic then?”
“Most witches will have no objections to humans visiting our territory, as long as they come in peace and make themselves known,” Ferdinand said. “We will certainly not be violent.”
“Your territory?” Sir Archibald said with a sniff. “You witches merely burrowed below ground, still on Olderean soil, when you were lawfully banished. That makes your kind outlaws and criminals—”
“Careful, sir,” Narcissa said icily. All traces of the blushing bride from our fitting last week were gone, replaced by a woman with steel in her eyes. “We no longer adhere to outdated laws, unless your crown prince’s efforts mean nothing to you.”
Sir Archibald’s mouth snapped shut.
“What Sir Archibald is concerned about,” said Sir Sylvester, “is whether witches will be as hospitable as you claim. You may represent the Witch Committee, Miss Rowena, but I doubt the Witch Committee represents all of witchkind. Was it not one of your own who stirred up trouble during the kingdom tour last winter? I would hate for Mr. de Clare to find himself in an unpleasant situation.”
As much as I detested Sir Sylvester’s oily voice, he had a point. Though witches were known to be peaceful, there were always those who didn’t fit the mold.
Celeste Carr, who I had originally known as Cecelia in Witch Village, had risen to fame as a star soprano last winter, stirred up tensions between humans and witches, and nearly stole the magic from an auditorium full of witches purely out of spite.
She was a particularly nasty apple, thankfully behind bars now.
“There will always be those we cannot account for,” Rowena said stiffly, “just as you, Sir Sylvester, do not speak for all humanity. However, I will stand behind my home and my people. I know no other place more welcoming than Witch Village.”
Edmund dipped his head to her. “I’m sure I will find it nothing but.
” He turned to the councilmen. “If I may speak, good sirs. I have agreed to stay at Witch Village because I trust I will be in good hands. A wealthy man like me does not go looking for death,” he said pleasantly.
“And if we do run into trouble, I am sure Miss Phula and Mr. Greenwood will handle it, knowing of their excellent services last winter.”
Maddox’s cheeks pinked. It seems that he wasn’t immune to Edmund’s charm either.
Sir Sylvester merely offered a bow in return, while Sir Archibald snorted something that sounded suspiciously like “Captain Greenwood’s wastrel son.”
“Maddox is a capable guard,” Narcissa snapped. “I have no doubts our emissary will be perfectly safe.”
She was an angel.
The meeting ended after a few more insolent questions from Sir Archibald, who asked if witches had adequate plumbing or if they lived in their own filth. Narcissa’s face was almost as red as her hair by the time the councilmen took their leave.
“I thought you chose the most amenable council members, Bennett,” she said to the crown prince. It seemed that “my darling” and kittens were reserved for more relaxed situations.
“I did,” Crown Prince Bennett said drily.
“Whatever happened to that royal inspector?”
“Erasmus? Ash said he retired.”
Of course the only member of the King's Council who had a friendly disposition toward witches was retired. I threw a glare at the archway the two councilmen disappeared through, wondering just how awful the others were.
Rowena and Ferdinand seemed similarly ruffled as I turned to them.
“Nasty bunch, aren’t they?” I muttered.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Ferdinand said with a sigh.
Rowena withdrew something from her pocket. I recognized the brassy gleam all too well. She pressed a small acorn pin—the symbol of the Witch Committee—into my palm.
“I’m not rejoining,” I said, attempting to give it back. “It’s just for this assignment.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Even still. Count yourself back in for the next two weeks. Don’t hesitate to ask any of us for help, my dear.”
Good old witch hospitality. I had nearly forgotten that such kindness existed. “Thank you,” I said, my voice catching. I dropped the pin into my pocket. “I actually do have a favor to ask.”
Ferdinand nodded, jangling the charms in his beard. “About lodging, I suppose?”
“Yes,” I said sheepishly.
Rowena patted my hand. “Can’t imagine Nasha would be too pleased to house a human.”
Her mention of Ma brought a fresh wave of dread over me. I had been terrified of seeing her even when I was the royal seamstress, but now, when I had lost everything? Blazing fires. She’d never let me live it down.
“Do you still have that cottage near the fields?” I asked Ferdinand. As one of the witches who looked over the crops, he had a house at the outskirts of the village. It was the ideal spot; Ma always grew antsy at the outskirts and the population was considerably less dense there.
“Oh yes,” Ferdinand said. “My grandsons are in charge of it now. I’ll write to Alexander, if you’d like. I’m sure he remembers you, seeing as you two were old playmates.”
I let go of a relieved breath. “Thank you. Would there be enough room? I’d hate to intrude.”
“There’ll be plenty,” Ferdinand said. “You’re brave for doing this, my girl. Some elders won’t be happy about you bringing back a human, but you’ll weather it—all they can do is talk.”
It was only talk, but I feared words meant too much to me. Rowena shot me a concerned glance. I wondered if I looked as sick as I felt.
After the two of them gave me another slew of comforting words, they took their leave. I was left with Edmund and Maddox, who seemed to have forwent conversation in favor of looking at the tiles.
I cleared my throat awkwardly. Despite Edmund’s pleasant demeanor throughout the meeting, I still wasn’t sure if he was uneasy about my magic.
“Miss Giselle,” he said with a gentlemanly nod. “I wish I could apologize on behalf of those councilmen. Their crassness was unforgivable.”
I shrugged. “They only behave according to what they believe. Rest assured, I’ll make your experience at Witch Village as pleasant as possible.”
I peered up at him, and to my relief, Edmund smiled. It was a genuine, joyful expression, creasing the corners of his eyes.
A man simply didn’t smile like that at someone he feared.