Chapter 11 #2
Edmund sat gingerly at the edge of his bed.
The mattress gave an ungodly creak. I grimaced, assessing the low, slanted ceiling and the abundance of floral motifs in the wallpaper, bedsheets, and rug.
The room was fit for a little old lady, certainly not Edmund with his tall stature and impeccable fashion.
These accommodations must be below the standards he was used to.
I walked over to the little writing desk and stool pushed underneath the round attic window, right beside the bed.
“I know it’s not much,” I said in a low voice, not wanting Alexander to overhear, “but I hope you can make yourself comfortable here.”
Edmund smiled, crossing one of his legs over the other. The top of his head was nearly brushing the ceiling. “The sights are quite charming. I’ll think of it as a cozy weekend away.”
I smiled back—it was impossible not to when his eyes crinkled just so at the corners. He was so polite. “Alexander is a wonderful cook. The meals here will be fantastic. Tomorrow, we’ll show you the fields.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
I eyed the flat pillows arranged along the headboard. Surely he was used to fuller pillows. “If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.”
Edmund raised his brows and leaned back. The mattress creaked some more. “Giselle, there’s no need to be so nervous.”
I sat on the stool. “I’m not nervous,” I said, tapping the surface of the little wooden desk.
I craned my neck to peer at the sun. It seemed to be high noon, which was odd, since I swore Maddox and I had left Greenwood Abbey at noon.
The time in Witch Village must have gone askew.
I watched the sky sullenly. Good heavens, the day was barely over.
Just thirteen more until I could leave this place.
Thirteen days to keep Edmund entertained while hiding him from as many people as possible.
I startled when a warm hand closed over mine.
“I’m going to have a wonderful time,” Edmund reassured me. He gave my fingers a squeeze before letting go. “Since I have you for the moment, shall we talk business?”
I blinked, my mind still addled from the sensation of his hand on mine. “Business?”
“Yes. About Lady Narcissa’s wedding gown.” Edmund straightened, looking every inch like the respectable businessman he was. “Crown Prince Bennett is choosing her wedding jewels from Blanche de Clare. We never got to discuss the design you have in mind for her dress.”
“Oh, right.” Maddox had interrupted us last time. I relaxed. Dress designs was a topic I could talk about all day. But with sudden clarity, I realized that I no longer had anything for Narcissa’s dress—not since the Mrs. Lewis incident.
“Actually,” I said. “I don’t have a design.”
Edmund raised his brows. “With the wedding only five months away? You certainly like to live dangerously.”
It sounded like a compliment, coming from him. I laughed, feeling another blush coming on. “I’ll work on it and show you what I have in mind within the week.” Or two weeks. I could use the time holed up here to work on the dress.
“Very well,” Edmund said. He paused, squinting at me as if trying to figure something out. “What do you think about being featured in my magazine?”
“You have a magazine?”
Edmund raised a shoulder, as if every child on his block had one.
Depending on the block, maybe that was true.
“Just another segment of the de Clare empire. My father bequeathed it to me. It’s called Blanche.
Our target demographic is middle to high class ladies.
We would feature up and coming designers and of course the latest fashion.
We haven’t launched our first issue yet, but I have big plans for it. ”
“Wow,” I said, wanting to sound calm amidst my rush of excitement. “It would be my honor.”
“On the contrary, it would be mine. Having a witch designer in my magazine would be rather avant-garde. A show stopper.”
I shifted on the hard seat, growing warm. Maybe I did have a future waiting for me after this tour. I’d have the royal funds from this assignment and a feature in Edmund’s magazine. The publicity would be perfect. But with my current luck, I wasn’t so sure if I’d be prepared.
I deflated a little. “Wouldn’t you rather have someone more established? Like Jeraldine’s Dress Emporium?”
“Ah.” Edmund leaned back and stretched his legs out on the mattress, the heels of his shoes sinking into the quilt. “My father prides himself on discovering Jeraldine and bringing her into the limelight. She does have a shop within the department store, which I presume you noticed?”
I nodded.
“The magazine will naturally advertise for Blanche de Clare. But Blanche is an entirely separate entity.” Edmund sat forward again and rested his elbows on his knees, a conspiratorial glint in his blue eyes.
“And personally, I think the forgotten royal seamstress makes a better story than Jeraldine’s Dress Emporium. ”
“Oh,” I said breathlessly.
“I’ll draft up a few interview questions for you,” Edmund said. “If you have a sketch or description of the royal wedding dress, that will be included.”
I paused. “Will this issue come out before the wedding or after?” It wouldn’t be tasteful to reveal Narcissa’s wedding dress to the public before she had a chance to wear it.
A few society girls might have the design replicated in an attempt to steal attention away from the new princess.
Though, considering her looks, I wasn’t sure if that was even possible.
Edmund mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key. “After. You have my word that no one else will hear about it from my lips.”
He certainly had lovely lips.
***
I UNPACKED MY OWN THINGS in my room, which was directly beneath Edmund’s.
Like the others, it was modest. The walls were covered in a cheery yellow wallpaper that matched the floral bed sheets.
Just as I finished putting my clothing into the trunk at the foot of the bed, the floorboards near the door creaked.
“What were you doing up there for so long?”
I turned around. Alexander stood at the threshold with his arms crossed, his shoulders nearly filling up the doorframe.
“Just helping Edmund get settled,” I said, closing the trunk with a thud.
Alexander rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me the emissary expects to be served like a prince. Did you have to unpack his trunks or something?”
I stuck my head out in the hall. No movement. I pulled myself and Alexander back in and shut the door. “Please don’t insult someone who is right above us. And no, I was not. We were discussing business matters,” I whispered. “So. What do you think of him?”
“He’s polite enough,” Alexander said.
“Polite is good,” I said. “And?”
“He seems...friendly?”
“Is he friendly or not?” I demanded.
Alexander raised his hands. “Alright, he is friendly.” A small crease appeared between his brows as he lowered himself into a too-small armchair at the corner of the room. It was upholstered in the same yellow floral fabric as the bed. “And this man...he’s just here to look around?”
“That’s the idea,” I said, taking a seat on the bed. My mattress wasn’t nearly as creaky as Edmund’s. “He’ll report his experiences to the King's Council. Once everyone knows Witch Village is a perfectly normal place they’ll—”
“They’ll what? Take it over?”
“No, of course not! It’ll bridge the distrust between witches and humans. And the Witch Committee is discussing whether the village should be open for visits.”
Alexander frowned. “Visits? This isn’t a menagerie.”
“I know. I don’t particularly like the idea either,” I admitted. Although I had spent the better part of the year aboveground, I didn’t know how thrilled I’d be to have humans in Witch Village. “Maybe this will be proof that we’re civilized and not wicked.”
“The fact that we even have to prove that is ridiculous,” Alexander said, running a hand through his hair. “Sometimes I wish the Non-Magic Age never ended.”
“There were witches getting sick, Alexander,” I said.
He sighed. “I know. But I just wish we could be left alone.”
Witches like Alexander never thirsted for more. He was too young to feel the health effects of spending a lifetime underground. He had his family, his fields, and his trips to the Witch Market every week to sell his produce. It was fulfilling work for him.
But for me, the village had never been enough.
We stewed in silence for a few seconds until Alexander said, “So, what sort of business were you talking about? Does it have to do with whatever you’ve been doing aboveground?” He waved his hand vaguely in the air.
I scrunched my nose. It was strange how little someone who knew me since childhood knew about me. “I opened a dress shop and I got to be the royal seamstress for the winter. We traveled all around Olderea.”
Alexander’s eyes widened. “Did you really?”
I felt a smile tug at my lips. The one good thing about homecoming was getting to brag. With unbridled enthusiasm, I told Alexander all about the Witch Committee, the winter tour, and the whole debacle with Celeste.
“You mean she was Cecelia all along?” Alexander shook his head in wonderment. “I knew that witch was crazy.”
Then came the not-so-impressive parts after the tour. How I rented Mrs. Lewis’s building. The confusion with Jeraldine being the royal seamstress instead of me. Then my eviction, and finally the offer to show Edmund around Witch Village.
“But things are looking up,” I said with a sigh. “Edmund just offered to feature me in his up-and-coming fashion magazine and I’ll have plenty of funds after this to open another shop in a better area. Plus, I get these two weeks to work on Narcissa’s wedding gown.”
“Is Lady Narcissa really as beautiful as you say?” Alexander asked.
I threw a pillow at him. “That’s what you chose to fixate on?”
He caught the pillow sheepishly.
***
DINNER CAME. ALEXANDER set out bowls of spiced tomato soup, a tray of roasted sweet potatoes, and a platter of buttered bread on the small dining table.
The food was good by Witch Village standards, but I couldn’t help but note the missing layer of flavor in the tomato soup, or the lack of sweetness in some of the potatoes.
Due to the magic that aided us in growing crops quickly, our produce tasted bland compared to their naturally grown counterparts.
I glanced at Edmund to gauge his reaction to the humble fare, but his face was as pleasantly impassive as ever. Maddox ate with gusto.
After we finished dining, Edmund complimented Alexander on his cooking and headed to the parlor to sit and flip through the books on the mantel. I helped Alexander clear the table.
“You’re still using village produce?” I asked.
Alexander nodded, lowering the dishes into the sink. “There’s plenty of it.”
“Perhaps there’s no need to grow so much so quickly anymore,” I said. “Aboveground food is accessible to us now.”
Alexander knit his brow. “I know, but it’s just the way of things here. Everyone is used to it. Besides...how do you know aboveground food won’t poison all of us?”
I rolled my eyes. “There are herbwitches aplenty to deal with that if that does happen, which it won’t. I’m still alive, aren’t I?” I pumped water from the faucet.
Alexander made a noncommittal noise.
“I don’t understand why everything is the same here when so much has changed,” I muttered.
“Decades of mistreatment doesn’t just go away, Giselle,” Alexander said. “And our way of life doesn’t just go away either. Perhaps you’re eager to adapt, but many of us aren’t.”
I stayed silent, wiping my hands on a dish towel as he took over washing the bowls and platters.
“Anyway,” Alexander said in a lighter tone. “I hope I don’t disappoint as a host.”
I managed a smile. “You never disappoint.”
“I really am glad you’re back, Gigi, and I know everyone else will be too. Now get some rest. You look exhausted.”
He patted my shoulder and returned to washing.
I left the kitchen, a bit perturbed. What if Alexander grew uncomfortable with Edmund’s presence before two weeks were up? Would we have to find different lodging? I tried to think of any other witches in the village who had vacant space and a favorable view toward humans. None came to mind.
From the corner of my eye, a shadow moved in the hall.
“He’s rather familiar with you,” Maddox said.
I jumped as he emerged from the inky depths of an alcove and joined me against the wall. The light from the parlor illuminated his profile.
I elbowed him. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. Were you eavesdropping?”
“As any good guard would.” Maddox raised an eyebrow. “So. Alexander?”
“We’re childhood friends, of course he’s familiar with me,” I said.
Sounds of Gio’s laughter came from the parlor as Edmund cracked a joke.
It appeared the young witch had been charmed by the guest after all.
“You ought to watch Edmund and make sure he doesn’t choke on his saliva or get a paper cut. ”
Maddox snorted. “That’s ridiculous. He is a grown man.” The dim light delineated the muscles of his forearm, which I allowed myself to admire for a split second before looking away. I doubted he was finding bits to admire about me.
“What do you think about the village?” I asked. “You were quiet today.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it. My father...he grew up here I think.”
I had nearly forgotten that Captain Greenwood was a witch who had come aboveground in his youth. He had befriended King Maximus, who was still a prince at that time, and was granted a noble title through his own merits and vigorous effort in the Royal Guard. It was beyond admirable.
It suddenly made sense the pressure Captain Greenwood was putting on Maddox despite his status as a noble—he was a witch and witches valued hard work and industriousness above all.
“If that’s the case, then I think your grandparents must live here,” I said.
“Do they?” Curiosity alighted his features. “What are they like?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever met a Greenwood down here.” I paused. “Your father never told you about them?”
Maddox shook his head.
“Perhaps they’ll be in the fields tomorrow morning. Everyone comes here to start off Harvest season.”
Maddox grew contemplative. “Perhaps.”