Chapter III.20
Chapter Twenty
Two Days Before the Wedding, Continued
“Your brother?” Adaline jerked back as though Miria had just performed her most shocking spell yet. “The Overseer’s son is your brother? The Overseer of Swiftdok is your father?”
Miria merely nodded. She had a hard enough time wrapping her mind around it herself.
“But.…” Adaline shook her head. “You said your family was poor. Why would such a wealthy man …” She trailed off, apparently unable to form the words sell his daughter.
“I believe he’s only achieved that post in the last few years,” Miria said.
“I don’t know when he achieved the wealth that allowed him to rise to such a position.
He was nothing but a woodcutter when I was growing up.
It was skilled work, but not so well-paying that we didn’t suffer without the money my mother and grandmother would have brought in.
My nana gave him a very powerful spell—a single wish.
She wanted to ensure he didn’t change his mind and that I did not have to stay with him.
He may not have been kind, but he must have been clever enough to use the spell well. ”
Adaline pursed her lips. Color had risen to her cheeks with indignation when Miria had told her story, but it drained away.
She looked a little queasy. “He must have used it very well for my uncle to think so highly of him and ignore his background. Although, his wealth certainly helps with that. My family has titles, but my father’s gold has been running thin. ”
Because of her rare but occasional scrying on Adaline, Miria knew that already.
Adaline’s uncle’s coffers were reputedly flush, but those of Adaline’s immediate family were less so.
Gold might be the only reason they would consider marrying Adaline to someone so far beneath them.
Miria’s father, greedy to raise his children high, and Adaline’s father, simply greedy, would benefit from the arrangement.
Naturally, only Adaline and Miria would not.
As always, the girls were an afterthought. In the end, they were just objects for a man—something to be bought and sold, whether to a witch or a richer man.
But not this time. Miria had vowed it.
“My brother,” Miria began, but she cut herself off. What of him? Did she want to assure Adaline that he must be kinder than her father? She wasn’t sure of that herself anymore, and if Adaline—when all was said and done—was forced into the marriage, Miria didn’t want to give her false hope.
“I don’t really know him,” Adaline said, filling the silence.
“I met him and your father only briefly. But … Oh!” She raised her hand to her mouth in surprise.
“Some of my uncle’s staff have called your brother a hero—the only child who ever escaped the witch.
I thought it was just more silly tales since there’s no need for anyone to escape from you, but that would explain it, I suppose. ”
Miria grimaced. “Yes, after that day we met in town, I tried to learn more. He spun a good story for people, claiming the witch tried to cook him and his sister, and how he managed to be clever enough to get away but couldn’t save her.
No doubt his lies helped bolster my family’s reputation.
As if anyone needed more tales of how awful witches are—we’ll steal your blood and bones for magic, we’ll turn you into clay, and we’ll cook and eat you, too.
We must be very clever to do all of that and leave bodies behind. ”
“Oh, Miri, I’m sorry. Your brother seemed pleasant when we met, and I can’t say your father made enough of an impression to stick with me.
I wish he had. I wish people who did horrible things came with some sort of warning about them—spiteful eyes or an oily voice or ugly features like they do in children’s stories.
” Adaline sighed. “My time has mainly been confined to other women. Your father’s wife, though, I suppose she’s your stepmother? I’ve been in her company much more.”
“What is she like?”
Adaline twined her fingers together almost nervously.
“Rosmilda is gracious. Helpful. She apparently does a lot of charity work in town and with the church. But I admit there’s something about her that I’ve never trusted.
There was a girl I was friends with for a time back home.
She was the one who always knew everything that was going on around court.
She had the best ideas for fun, was always helping others, and we all wanted her to like us.
But finally I started noticing that ideas other people had eventually somehow became her ideas, and sometimes her help actually made things worse, but you were criticized if you pointed this out and ill luck often followed.
She didn’t want you to be her friend; she wanted to be your benevolent queen, only she was more self-serving than benevolent.
Something about Rosmilda has always reminded me of her. ”
That didn’t sound promising, and Miria tried to reconcile Adaline’s impression with what she’d seen. Rosmilda’s words at the funeral—the way she’d stated her opinion so forcefully—there might be something to it.
“… they always sound so confident of themselves when I’m not sure they should be.”
“Then they are teaching you the ways of men, as well. Another good lesson to learn.”
Miria frowned. Yes, something about Rosmilda had reminded her of that conversation again. Though surely it was normal for a woman of her status to act like she had power. Because she did.
Miria didn’t like it, though. While it didn’t seem right that a man like her father should have married a sweet, gentle woman, for the sake of her half-sisters, Miria had wanted to believe it so. “What about their children? I have two sisters. Have you ever met them?”
“No, I’m sorry, although I’ve heard Rosmilda speak of them on many occasions. She’s said their health is poor. They don’t leave the home often, and every time I’ve seen your family it’s because they were expected to travel to my uncle’s. The girls don’t come with them.”
“Of course,” Miria murmured. Adaline’s family would not go to the Overseer’s home, no matter how nice it was relative to the other houses in town.
She stood wearily, though more fortified than she’d expected earlier. Adaline jumped up with her, her arms poised as though to catch Miria should she fall over.
“I’m not that feeble yet.” Miria swatted Adaline’s hands away with a laugh.
“I just want to be sure. I want to help.” Adaline closed the distance between and cupped Miria’s cheek, and Miria’s eyes closed. This was all the help she needed, knowing Adaline was here with her.
But she wouldn’t be here long if Miria didn’t continue to work, and the thought snapped Miria’s eyes back open.
She clutched Adaline’s hands and reluctantly removed them from her face.
“If you want to help, you’ll remove the rest of the pins from your hair and braid it.
I’m waiting for one to fall and stab you in the eye. ”
Adaline stuck out her tongue, but she also touched her head and winced. “I must look awful.”
“A touch feral, but that’s nothing we aren’t used to around here. And you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Hmm.” Adaline wrinkled her nose, picking out the remaining pins. “I’m not sure how many women you’ve seen, hiding in the woods like you do, but I’m too vain to argue the point. Will you braid my hair for me, and then let me help with something real?”
“I suppose I can find another use for you,” Miria said. “Now sit.”
Another use turned out to be asking Adaline to clean up after breakfast, a chore Miria typically loathed but which Adaline took to with the gusto of one for whom cleaning up after herself was an interesting novelty.
Miria hoped she’d retain that sort of enthusiasm over time, but that led to the question of how long Adaline could possibly stay with her (and the answer being: never as long as Miria would want), and so she put the mundane chores out of her head to contemplate something more important, if not exactly more cheery.
Miria had magical tasks to see to. Tuli was circling the cottage perimeter and hadn’t reported back with any signs of disturbances, so that was good, but she should consider strengthening the concealment spells around the cottage, just to be safe now that she was feeling strong enough again.
She should also unpack the magical implements she’d brought to the manor yesterday and consider refilling her satchel with fresh supplies that would be handy in case she and Adaline needed to make a hasty retreat at a later time.
That was the less tiring of the two tasks, so Miria set to it first.
One by one, she retrieved items from the satchel.
Her feather. The bit of silver. Something unexpected?
Miria pulled her hand out of the bag and gazed at the pendant she’d stolen from Adaline’s room.
The pink charm, masquerading as a sapphire, glittered up at her.
She’d forgotten all about it until this moment.
Adaline had taken the wash bucket to dump outside, and Miria was still contemplating the charm and what it might be for when she returned. “Is that mine?”
Miria held it out to her. “I imagine so. I found it in your room. Do you know what it is?”
“An extremely generous wedding gift,” Adaline said. “Why?”
“One of these sapphires is actually a charm.” Miria tapped the fake jewel. “That’s why I took it. I wasn’t trying to steal from you, I promise.”
“First of all, you should have stolen from my room. What if we need money to escape from my—our—families? I took some gold with me, but more is always better. Second of all, you mean that’s magical?”
“You didn’t know?”
Adaline shook her head and stepped closer, squinting at the pendant. “It all looks the same to me.”