Chapter II.14 #2
Miria swore to herself. She had to keep the gate open long enough for Adaline to pass through. Had to keep the guards who were already on her tail from catching up. Neither of these things were ones she could do in her owl form. She needed magic, and it would not—could not—be subtle.
In her haste and with her preoccupied mind, she landed gracelessly on the grass outside the manor and returned to her normal form.
The illusion spell was gone—she couldn’t maintain two such magic-intensive spells at once—and people yelled out in surprise and fear as the witch materialized nearby.
(To be fair, many people were already yelling thanks to Adaline’s commotion.) Miria didn’t have time to worry what the ones who’d seen her might do; she merely hoped that none of them aimed a crossbow her way.
First, the doors. Miria raised her hands, calling on the wind, and it answered readily.
Too readily. Nature was always eager to lend itself to magic, but Miria needed this gust to be contained and refined—enough to make it too hard for the guards to close the gate but not so much that it stopped Pearl from racing through the opening.
Wind whipped her hair and clothes about her as Miria grasped the very air itself, directing and focusing it.
The gate, which had been almost shut, was flung wide.
Miria thought she could hear a horse wailing, but the sound could have come from any number of horses.
Just a little longer, she thought, struggling to keep the wind focused. Then Adaline charged through the gate, her face buried in Pearl’s mane to shield her from the wind.
With relief, Miria dropped the spell, but she had no time to rest. Adaline had spotted her, and Miria waved her on down the road toward town and the woods.
Guards were following. The ground rumbled with their horses’ hooves as they pounded closer.
Miria had to stop them, preferably without anyone getting hurt, and she didn’t have much time to think about how.
Her body was growing weary with the strain.
An illusion to distract the horses? She had the supplies for that, and while she didn’t have the power left to disguise or hide a moving target, she could create something static that blocked Adaline from the guards’ view.
But as Miria wracked her mind for an idea, new cries were rising from the manor grounds. “It’s the witch! She bespelled Lady Adaline!”
With a shock, Miria realized some of the guards were not coming for Adaline at all.
They were aiming for her. Whatever good ideas she might have conjured if given the time to think them through fell to the wayside.
She had to act quickly, so Miria called forth the first illusion she could think of that would accomplish everything she needed.
She set the grounds and the manor on fire.
Fake flames erupted from the grass, the gate, from every direction.
Horses and humans alike screamed, and chaos descended upon the area for real.
Despite the fire having no heat or substance, it swept through the crowds, consuming everyone’s attention and causing all to flee.
Miria wrapped herself in the fake fire, disappearing into the flames and escaping those seeking her.
Adaline, she hoped, would not turn around and come racing back in fear.
If she turned at all, Miria hoped Adaline would be able to guess what Miria had done and thus keep running.
She held the illusion as long as she felt able, knowing she was far from finished with magic for the day.
Once the confusion sounded as though it were dying down, Miria took to the sky again, and the fires vanished as quickly and painlessly as they’d appeared.
Miria didn’t look back. Her owl’s eyes sought out Adaline, and she kept pace above once she found her heading into the forest. Adaline wisely hadn’t stopped, and she finally slowed only as the woods closed in around her, easing Pearl into a trot.
She brushed the horse’s head and whispered encouragement while she checked over her shoulder to see if she’d been followed.
Miria dropped to the ground and shifted back.
“Miri!” Adaline dismounted and ran toward her, and Miria leaned into her embrace but only for a moment. “You’re trembling. Are you all right?”
Miria lifted a hand, dismayed to discover Adaline was right. “I’ve been expending a lot of power. I need to rest.”
“Well, we’re in the woods,” Adaline said, wrapping an arm more sturdily around Miria’s body. “We’re safe, aren’t we?”
“Not yet. We must get to the cottage. Your uncle’s household knows I’m involved, and they’ll look for you here. I can hide us, cut them off from the path.”
“All right.” Adaline wiped road dust and sweat from her forehead and helped Miria over to Pearl. “But you should ride. I know you’re not a fan—” she interrupted Miria’s protest “—but you need to conserve your energy. Let me walk.”
There was logic to that, much as Miria disliked it, so she allowed Adaline to help her onto the saddle, and she led the way to the cottage. What she would do with a horse there, for however long Adaline stayed, that was another question entirely.
Miria’s mind drifted on the journey, but she pushed the worry about Pearl aside.
She had more pressing issues to contend with.
Since the original plan was no more, her work had compounded.
The lord’s niece being abducted by the witch was not an action that would go without consequences.
Even those who believed Adaline might flee were unlikely to believe she might flee in that way.
People were already claiming Miria had bewitched her.
Part of Miria didn’t mind. In some ways, her revenge was all the more satisfying if her family knew the witch was behind the disappearance of Hans’s bride.
They might not know their relationship to the witch, but such a happenstance might force them to remember their history of dealings with the witch and the little girl they chose to abandon.
Perhaps a touch of guilt would flavor their anger and their fear for Adaline’s well-being.
On the other hand, the Shadow Wood would soon be crawling with guards from Adaline’s family. From the cottage itself, Miria could keep them hidden, but although it would be easier there, it would still tire her. She would need rest eventually, and a lot of it.
But until then … She glanced down at Adaline, who chose at that moment to glance up, and Adaline’s smile was radiant.
She was covered in dust, her hair sliding out of its many pins and sticking to her cheeks, and tiny worry lines creased her forehead.
But she looked beautiful and more—alive in a way she hadn’t truly appeared in the visions Miria had scried of her.
It was as if when she’d fled her uncle’s manor, she’d escaped some of those invisible chains of propriety and duty that were dragging her down. She looked—finally—hopeful.
Miria knew beyond a doubt that she couldn’t bear letting her leave again. She might not have used evil magic to get revenge on her family, but just as surely, the repercussions of this plan would end up hurting her as badly as the magical blowback would have done if she had.
Because how could Adaline ever stay?