3
A few days later I found myself on a low platform in Lady Vanessa’s chambers. Father had informed her of my need for a ball gown, so I had no choice but to accept her invitation and try some of hers. I had disposed of my extravagant dresses before I came to Greenwood Abbey. They were all in Mother’s favorite styles—none of them were truly to my taste.
I surveyed the heavy velvet covering my arms. It seemed that Lady Vanessa’s gowns weren’t faring any better.
“It’s a little old-fashioned,” Lady Vanessa said, “but quite flattering nonetheless.”
“Oh yes, I believe so too, milady,” Tizzy piped up from behind me.
The two of them were clearly lying through their teeth.
The dress was forest green with a low waistline embroidered with pale gold thread. Mother never allowed me to wear green. She claimed it made me look like a carrot with my coloring. It didn’t help that the fit was all wrong. If Tizzy hadn’t pinned back the excess fabric, I reckoned it would’ve slouched right off.
“It’ll do,” I said.
It was the fifth dress I tried, the past four being too bright, too dark, too drab, and too outrageous respectively. I was tired of standing and listening to Lady Vanessa and Tizzy make conversation.
“Are you sure, dear?” Lady Vanessa asked, joining Tizzy in the back. Her fair brows raised as she took in the mess of pins in the back. “I can find something that fits better. There was a time I slimmed down quite a bit—”
“It’s fine,” I interrupted.
Lady Vanessa and Tizzy exchanged glances in the mirror.
“It’s fine,” I repeated in a softer voice. “I...actually have somewhere to be.”
The two exchanged another glance. For all they knew, there was only one place I went—the palace dungeons to visit Mother. They weren’t wrong.
“Very well, I won’t keep you if you have plans,” Lady Vanessa said, her face breaking into a warm smile. I wondered how she could muster such an expression despite what she must be thinking. “Tizzy, help Narcissa dress. And take the gown to a dressmaker. I heard there’s a new shop downtown doing quite well.”
Tizzy began removing the pins on the ballgown. “Yes, milady. It’s called Jeraldine’s Dress Emporium. Witch-owned and run, I heard.”
“How lovely!” Lady Vanessa said, clapping her hands together. “I’m sure they have spectacular service. I’ll have to order from them sometime.”
“Perhaps for future gatherings, milady,” Tizzy said around a mouthful of pins. I stepped out of the gown and bent for my sage green day dress .
“Yes, of course. It’s lovely having these magic businesses pop up,” Lady Vanessa continued. “Just the other day I visited a quaint little bakery. They had my order whipped up in seconds and enchanted the coffee to stay hot even in these temperatures.”
Tizzy helped me into the dress. “I’ll take a look in my free time,” she said. “Oh, but have you seen the one uptown, milady?”
My gut sank as they chatted enthusiastically about witch-owned businesses. It only confirmed my assumptions—that the people of Greenwood Abbey feared me. Not my magic.
SOON AFTER, I TOOK the carriage to the palace. A guard rode in front, his posture stiff and disapproving. Father had insisted I go with some sort of protection during my visits. The cramped carriage and the narrow-eyed glances of the guard, however, made me feel more like a prisoner than a lady protected.
When the gleaming towers of the palace grew close, we rounded to the back entrance where the dungeons were situated. The guard followed as I took my route down the dark hallway of wailing prisoners. I had come so often that their cries no longer startled me and the acrid smell didn’t burn my nostrils. The numbers on the cells grew with every step until we reached cell one hundred and fifty-six.
The burly prison guard before the door gave me a nod.
“Visitor,” he said gruffly into the slot. He unfastened the lock and chains, leaving the door ajar.
I wished I had Misty with me, but she didn’ t like the dungeons. I suspected she didn’t like Mother either, though she would never admit it for my sake.
I clenched my fists and stepped in.
Mother sat in the middle of the cell, her knees tucked under her chin. Not a speck of dirt marred her chemise despite being surrounded by old hay and grime encrusted bricks. No doubt she had bullied her guard into allowing her various vain luxuries.
“Come to pay your dear mama another visit, have you, Narcissa?” Mother said, her words drenched in sarcasm. Her eyes flicked up my gown. “I told you you look awful in green.”
I kept my hands folded in front of me. “Mother,” I said. “How are you?”
She snorted, the sound echoing in the dank cell. “Why keep up this charade, Narcissa? If you cared I wouldn’t be here. Aren’t you busy enough frolicking about with your father and those other creatures ?”
Witches, she meant. I pressed my lips together. The only witch I had ever come in contact with was Amarante, and after the way I treated her, I didn’t expect any of the others to accept me. She was practically their savior.
My throat tightened when I recalled the events of last summer. Six months alone cleared Mother’s influence like spring fog dissolving in the afternoon sun. Without her praise and affirmations, her pretty gifts and rare shows of affection, the things she made me do became all the more horrifying.
Forcing Amarante into servitude was perhaps the worst. I had drawn her blood and bullied her into silence. The bullying was nothing new, but the physical assault was a line I didn’t think I would ever cross. The knowledge that I had done it without so much as a blink—that my desperate need to please Mother pushed me to do something so cruel—was the most sickening of all.
My silence was enough.
“So. You’ve been wasting away in your room like a prisoner. It shows.” Mother sneered. Her once full, deep voice had become tinny. I suppose being shrill was more advantageous in the dungeons, so as to better annoy her guard. “You always were a sulky girl. Pathetic and friendless. If I raised you right you would be queen by now. But alas. With that gaunt face of yours you won’t stand a chance with any prince.”
“If you don't want anything I will be on my way,” I said flatly, turning on my heel. I touched my cheek for a brief moment.
I had hoped to find Mother in disarray, like a proper prisoner. But once again I was disappointed. Satin smooth hair. Clean face. Straight spine. And that glint in her eye.
What I would do to get rid of that glint.
“Tell me, Narcissa. Why do you come unless some part of you wishes to free me?”
I wanted badly to take calming breaths. The rancid air did little to settle my nerves.
“I hear the Winter Solstice Ball is around the corner,” she said.
I should have walked away. But I never left as long as Mother had something to say. If I closed my eyes I could imagine us in her suite again, days before an event, her mahogany comb running through my hair as she drilled me on etiquette and noble lineage.
I could defy her with no consequence now, but old habits held me back. She knew that.
I looked over my shoulder. “Where did you hear that? ”
Mother tipped her head back and gave an airy laugh. “I’m not so foolish as to tell you,” she said. “Well? Are you going?”
I stiffened. “That is no longer your concern.”
“You must go,” she said gleefully. “When you were my daughter you were admired by all. Did you think betraying me would grant you their good graces? They will not accept you, Narcissa. You are nothing without me, only the bastard daughter of Greenwood. And a witch at that.”
She was playing one of her mind games again. To confuse me in the midst of my own confusion. Did she loathe my existence and want nothing to do with me? Or was she trying to draw me back under her influence? Or perhaps she had lost her sanity completely. The last, I knew, was wishful thinking.
Whatever it was, I couldn’t stand another minute of it.
“Goodbye, Mother.”
I exited the cell. The prison guard slammed the door, the sound of chains being fastened reverberating through the corridor.
My guard showed no sign of having heard anything as I brushed past him, but I knew he was going to recount the conversation to every other staff member in Greenwood Abbey. Roaches scurried across the floor, a cacophony of little voices echoing in my head.
Food, food, food, food, food...
They were hungry, off to find a crust of bread a prisoner had hidden for himself. I shook their thoughts away, too overwhelmed with my own. I pressed my fingers to my eyes, but they came back dry.
What a fool I was. Was I not satisfied with the knowledge that she was locked away in the most secure corner of the palace dungeons ?
No.
I would not rest until I saw her broken.
“ENJOY PLOTTING WITH your mother?” Maddox said when I returned to the abbey. He was in the stables, his horse beside him.
“Enjoy behaving like a brat?” I retorted, eying his muddied trousers. He had taken another one of his rides, evidently.
I had been around long enough to know he only rode when he was upset and took great pleasure in tearing up the fields. When the groundskeepers weren’t whispering about me, they were muttering about Maddox.
He scoffed and turned his attention back to his horse, a steed with a glossy black coat, and attempted to lead it into his stall. The horse did not budge.
“Come, Midnight,” Maddox said, tugging on the reins.
Leave it up to him to give his horse the most unoriginal name. Midnight whinnied in protest, his thoughts floating over to me. There’s a rock lodged in my hoof!
“There’s a rock lodged in his hoof,” I said as Maddox continued to struggle.
He stopped. “What?”
“Your horse,” I said, jutting my chin at Midnight. “Check his hooves.”
He glared. “This is some sort of joke, isn’t it?” He tugged on the reins again but Midnight held his ground. “What are you doing to my horse?”
There’s a rock in my hoof, you idiot!
“There’s a rock in his hoof, you idiot,” I said coolly.
“ What did you just call me? ”
Are all humans like this or is it just him? Midnight huffed.
I sighed, wondering why I was bothering with this. Show him , I thought to the horse.
Midnight whinnied and raised one of his front hooves.
“What are you—” Maddox’s words cut off when he caught sight of the offending rock.
“You’re welcome,” I said, turning on my heel. I pretended not to hear him cursing me under his breath.