Chapter 22
Ma stood at the threshold with her arms crossed, staring at me, Edmund, and Maddox with a slight curl to her lip. The light from the house silhouetted her figure, throwing her shadow on the ground so that it engulfed my feet.
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. Admittedly, I had not thought much about what to say on the way here, hoping the perfect explanation would find me once we made it to the house.
How utterly wrong I was.
“Mrs. Phula,” Edmund said, stepping from behind me and bowing. The gesture had an impressively gentlemanly effect even in his rumpled waistcoat and unwashed hair. “I am Edmund de Clare, emissary sent by the crown prince. I am very grateful for your hospitality.”
Ma pinched her lips in confusion. “Emissary? Hospitality?”
Edmund blinked, looking to me. The poor man had assumed that Ma was aware of our situation. I gave him a helpless glance back, embarrassed and utterly ashamed that I’d chosen to not prepare for this beforehand.
Luckily, before I could attempt to speak, Christabella poked her head out from behind Ma’s shoulder.
“Gigi! Are you bringing your guests to live with us?” Christabella asked.
I managed to unstick my tongue from my mouth. “Yes. If there’s room.”
Christabella trotted out to grab the luggage from Maddox’s arms. “Of course there’s room! We have two guest chambers on the second floor.”
We all trickled slowly into the house.
From his armchair, Pa lowered his spectacles as Christabella bustled in with Edmund’s luggage.
Sonny stared in gaped-mouth silence at the strangers from the parlor.
Ma glared as the two men followed a chattering Christabella up the wooden staircase, saying nothing.
Heaven forbid rumors spread across the village that Nasha Phula had turned away guests—she was the last witch who would want to be labeled as inhospitable.
I lingered at the foot of the staircase, studying the woven runner on the steps. It featured swirling oak trees and acorns—Grandma’s handiwork. She had been quite a skilled weaver, on top of everything else. I wondered what she would think of the situation.
“What have you gotten yourself into, Giselle?” Ma finally asked when everyone had disappeared upstairs.
Sweat coated my palms. It was only a matter of time before I had to tell Ma. I didn’t know why I was so nervous. What was I afraid of? Her disapproval? That she wouldn’t understand? Those were nothing new. Bracing myself, I finally spoke.
“This is a Witch Committee job.” I summarized Crown Prince Bennett’s plan to ease relations between humans and witches by sending an emissary on a brief tour of the village.
Ma’s eyes flashed. “You brought a human to our village so he can gawp at us like animals?”
The sentiment was not unlike Alexander’s, though he was at least more polite with his language.
“That’s not it,” I protested. “It’s just a friendly visit. Edmund has been nothing but kind—”
“I don’t trust him,” Ma said staunchly.
“He’s only here to experience the village and report back to the King's Council.”
“And if his report is unfavorable?”
“It won’t be.”
“Don’t be naive, Giselle. The security of our village—the very future of witches—depends on whether that man likes us or not.
Don’t you see we’re already fighting a losing battle?
” Ma shook her head. “This is our sanctuary. The land we’ve made hospitable for ourselves because they forced us here.
Having humans infiltrate is an insult to the founding witches. It’s an insult to your grandmother.”
“We’re not in the Non-Magic Age anymore, Ma,” I said, clenching the fabric of my skirt. Of course she wouldn’t understand. Ma was stuck in her beliefs and her ways—even reality couldn’t make her see reason. “Witches can come and go as they please.”
“Do you truly believe that? Generations of animosity don’t just disappear because of some laws. Hate has roots. They run deep, even if you can’t see them.”
“I’m going to get Edmund settled.” I was halfway up the steps when Ma spoke again.
“He’s only good to you so he can use you. You’re the one with magic, Giselle, yet he has you so hypnotized.” There was a pause. “Does he know what you can do?”
Anger and embarrassment burned my face, spreading to the tips of my ears. This was a question Ma asked frequently whenever I brought back a friend or playmate as a child.
Do they know what you can do?
“Why does it matter?” I demanded.
“If everyone knew, what would people think?”
Family image was everything to her. She didn’t want anyone to know that the daughter of a founding witch family had such deplorable magic.
I gripped the wooden railing and whirled around. “All you care about is what other people think!” I burst out. “Why don’t you ever care about me?”
Ma stood at the foot of the stairs, her face stricken. Or perhaps not. My vision was too blurred with tears to make out her exact expression, and before she could say anything, I stomped up the stairs, wiping my eyes and attempting to compose myself.
As for Ma, I figured she retreated to the kitchen.
***
AS SOON AS THE GUESTS were settled, Ma called us all down for dinner.
I was calm enough by then to show our guests downstairs.
There were two additional chairs set up around the dining table.
Christabella sat beside Ma, I sat beside Christabella, and Edmund beside me.
Somehow, Maddox got sandwiched between Sonny and Pa, the former of whom wouldn’t stop gawping at him, and the latter who seemed to make it a point to avoid looking at him entirely.
On the table were Ma’s signature dishes. A spiced stew of potatoes, cauliflower, chickpeas, corn, and tomatoes sat next to garlic flatbread and steaming bowls of pillowy rice.
“The food looks delicious, Mrs. Phula,” Edmund said, a polite smile on his face. He had changed into a clean ensemble, a crisp white shirt and a rum-colored waistcoat and coat, looking ready for a formal dinner.
“So you’re here as an emissary,” Ma said sharply. She dipped her flatbread into the stew and took a bite out of it, not breaking eye contact with Edmund, like a lioness stalking her prey. She chewed and swallowed. “You wish to know more about Witch Village, I presume.”
The smile didn’t waver on Edmund’s face. “Yes, Mrs. Phula.”
“What has my daughter told you about the village?”
My cheeks heated as Edmund’s gaze flicked to me.
“That Witch Village is the village where witches live,” Edmund said with a laugh, evidently attempting to dissolve the sudden tense silence.
Ma didn’t smile. “Hmph.”
I wanted to melt into a puddle, already anticipating her next lecture—that I shouldn’t have taken the job as a guide if I wasn’t going to do it properly. I grabbed a piece of flatbread and stuffed it into my mouth.
“Witch Village was founded three generations ago under King Humphrey’s unfortunate reign,” Ma began imperiously.
“Witches were given one month to evacuate the kingdom at the start of the Non-Magic Age.
There were no avenues of escape within such a short time span.
No ship would dare assist a witch as we were outlaws.
A group of witches stumbled across an underground tunnel and decided the best way out was down.
They used their magic to deepen this tunnel, and finally expand it until it was large enough to accommodate all of us.
“Together, we witches built this village from the ground up, adding the comforts that had been taken from us. The sky, the sun, shelter, and the freedom to roam and live as we please. The founding witches planted a great oak tree where this village started as a mere hole at the end of a tunnel.” Ma pointed at the circular kitchen window, where the branches of the First Oak touched the glass panes.
“My late mother was one of the main founding witches. This is where Witch Village started.”
Across the table, Maddox’s mouth was in the shape of an “o”.
“I didn’t realize this place held such significance.” Edmund gazed at the ceiling, as if he could see the canopy of the great oak through the roof. “You say Witch Village began here and expanded out. Under which part of Delibera are we?”
Ma smiled a hard, prideful smile. “We are currently beneath the grounds of the royal palace.”
“Incredible,” Maddox breathed.
I bent my head and ate my stew, though I didn’t taste the food.
Heat scorched my tongue—and my cheeks. Ma loved telling this story to anyone who would listen, and she was so very smug about being a descendant of a founding family, as if that held any real significance.
At the end of the day, we were just like any other witch family, living a quiet life in the village like everyone else.
“This village is a symbol of our resilience,” Ma continued.
“Even as times change, our village is not something we will let go of easily.” She said the last part as a threat, which I could tell through her slightly narrowed eyes.
Edmund was oblivious to such subtleties, so he merely smiled and nodded, and said something exceedingly polite about how honored he was to dine underneath such a significant tree with such a significant family.
I allowed myself to relax when everyone began to eat.
Christabella nudged my side. “Not so bad, hm?” she murmured.