Chapter III.30
Chapter Thirty
Day of the Wedding, Continued
Without access to her supplies to cast a proper spell, the wind obeyed only half-heartedly, but it was enough—mostly. A cloud of amethyst rose into the air, and some of the spell dusted Sir Alberik and Lord Sigmun. People screamed.
Then Miria was jerked backward as more hands clawed at her arms. The moment was over, the spell’s remains fluttering to the grass just like she was being forced to her knees.
Miria blew into the breeze, wiggled the fingers that were pinned to her sides, but it wasn’t enough to command the wind any longer.
The question became: would it be enough to wake the men, and would that help?
“Get her out of here. We’ll deal with her later,” Garulf barked as if he’d not heard a word of the accusation Miria had thrown at him only moments before.
Some of the enchantment-breaking spell had landed on him, turning his face lightly purple, but there was no charm for it to break.
The only spell he was under was one of his own making—the arrogant belief that he deserved more, by whatever means necessary.
But the guards still did not take orders from him or Rosmilda directly. They waited for word from their employers, and Miria remained on the ground. She struggled to catch sight of either Adaline or Hans through the bodies that encircled her, but all she saw were men’s legs.
Her father snapped at the men again, then a new voice cut his off.
“Stop this. What is going on?”
And another. “You do not get to command my men, Overseer.”
A hush followed. Then murmuring. Miria held her breath and cursed her inability to see. How quickly could Rosmilda recast the enchantment? Had any of the spell dust landed on Adaline?
“Explain this.” Adaline’s uncle, the Lord of Gawfrid himself, must have given some silent command, because the guards surrounding her shuffled, revealing an opening for her to see through at last.
“She is the witch,” Rosmilda pressed through the crowd, dragging Adaline with her. Adaline, who still looked too dazed to have been affected by Miria’s spell.
Miria’s stomach sunk as low as her position. She needed to break the charm on Adaline, but her hands were bound too tightly to use. Her purse of supplies hung like a stone around her neck, and her red charm burned hot with her stored fury against her breast.
“She is the one who abducted Lady Adaline,” Rosmilda continued, and Miria heard the note of fear that had crept into her voice, and it gave her hope.
She could not re-charm these men so easily then.
She had to regain control another way. “She’s come here making wild accusations to stop the wedding for some horrible reasons of her own, no doubt. ”
“She said she is your daughter?” The priest remained in the back, and he spoke timidly.
“Of course, she did,” Rosmilda spat out. “Witches lie. Everyone knows that.”
Hans started to say something, but a look from Garulf had him closing his mouth.
Oh, how her brother continued to disappoint her. She’d given up on him years ago, yet the pain of that betrayal didn’t ebb so easily. Miria glared at him. “I once thought you were so brave, Brother. You made me brave. But you’re either a coward or as selfish and cruel as they are.”
He lowered his head and backed out of view, and one of the guards raised his hand as if to slap her. Miria turned her glower on him, and he hesitated, his face white. So she still had fear of the witch on her side. It was a good thing they didn’t realize she was mostly powerless at the moment.
“Ada, daughter,” Adaline’s father pulled Adaline in closer. “Is this her? Is this the witch who took you?”
Adaline opened her mouth slightly, but no words came out.
Her face was no longer placid. It was strained, as strained as Rosmilda’s face behind her, and Miria’s pulse skipped.
Adaline was fighting Rosmilda’s enchantment.
Rosmilda might have removed the protective charm, but Adaline had been prepared mentally for what might happen, and she was strong.
Too strong and stubborn to make a proper lady, to hear her tell of it.
Hope pricked Miria’s heart as she waited, staring at Adaline, willing her to succeed.
Sweat formed on Adaline’s brow and she stumbled slightly, but a guard was there to help her to regain her balance. Otto again. When he removed his hand from her arm, he left a trail of amethyst dust.
Whether Adaline had nearly fallen because of her internal struggle or whether Otto had made it so as an excuse to coat her with the spell, Miria didn’t know. But Adaline blinked slowly, and the cloud over her face lifted.
Adaline wet her lips and turned her head from Miria to face her father.
“She is the witch, but she didn’t abduct me.
I ran, and everything she said about the Overseer and his family is true.
I’ve seen the proof. You must listen to her.
Rosmilda has had you under an enchantment—you can feel it now, can’t you?
Like your mind has been foggy for days?”
Adaline spoke softly but firmly, and yet the grounds had become so hushed that her voice must have carried.
Miria could sense the gasps coursing through whoever remained nearby, as well as hear them.
It was a collective shift in the mood, a tinge in the air.
One of the guards loosened his grip on Miria’s arms, not enough for her to move them freely, but enough for her to know Adaline’s words were affecting people.
“If you’ll pardon me for saying so, m’lord,” said the guard holding Miria.
“Some of your orders of late have been unlike you.” Recognizing his voice as that of the younger captain, Miria turned to him in time to see the guard cast a furtive glance toward Rosmilda.
“She and the Overseer have been taking an awful lot of liberties around here.”
“This is preposterous,” Rosmilda said, but there was more than that hint of fear this time, and her fingers were curling and uncurling at her sides.
She was going to cast another spell, and Miria couldn’t stop her from the ground.
Adaline’s father and uncle exchanged glances.
“Is this true?” the Lord of Gawfrid demanded of Rosmilda. “Did you place a spell on me?”
For a second, Miria thought Rosmilda would snap at him. Then the heat in her eyes dimmed. Her entire posture softened. The haughty woman, who minutes ago had been ordering everyone around like she owned the manor, diminished and became meek.
Rosmilda burst into tears. “Of course, it’s not true. My lord, please. How could you believe such a thing? She’s a witch. Lady Adaline confirmed it, and nothing she says can—”
“The pendant!” Miria motioned as best she could toward where the pendant had fallen to the grass. “You must have seen her gift it to Lady Adaline, and there is a charm in there. I can prove it.”
“You gave my son’s betrothed some nefarious magic?” Garulf stepped forward. “How dare you? What are these games you’ve been playing at, Wife?”
Clearly, her father had sensed the change in the air, too. And if Rosmilda had thought he would stand by her when times were hard, she was about to learn the same lesson Miria had learned as a child. Her father would never protect anyone but himself.
Rosmilda’s face turned scarlet as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, and these new tears—Miria could well believe these were real.
They were tears of rage as the dagger of her father’s betrayal drove into whatever hardened heart Rosmilda had.
Having experienced her father’s perfidy herself, Miria almost felt bad for the woman.
Almost.
“You ungrateful, arrogant …” Rosmilda tripped over her words before seeming to remember that pity was the better play.
“After all I’ve done for you, Husband. My lord, if he has acted untoward, I know nothing of it.
Will you let him accuse an innocent woman—a devout woman who has done so much for the church—like this? ”
“Seize her,” Adaline’s father said at last. “We will get to the bottom of this.”
“Seize both of them,” Lord Sigmun corrected.
Garulf sputtered with indignation, but Rosmilda, seeing that her tears had failed, switched tactics. Miria saw it if no one else did—how Rosmilda’s eyes closed briefly, the concentration on her face. She wasn’t casting, so whatever she’d unleashed, it was something she already had prepared.
The guards let go of Miria, and Adaline was at her side in a flash, helping her to her feet.
“Are you all right?” Adaline asked, not pausing for an answer. “She found the charm in my hair. And the note you sent was …”
Adaline’s voice was drowned out by an eruption of screams from the south. She and Miria spun around, searching for the cause. The grounds were devolving into chaos. The well-heeled guests were panicking, running straight at them.
“What in the world?” Adaline grabbed Miria’s hand, and they dashed out of the way as the air whistled with a crossbow bolt sent from high above.
The yelling increased in volume, and on its heels came the sound of crashing and higher-pitched screams of terror or pain.
Miria sensed the cause first, then smelled it, the same horrific feeling of twisted magic that had charged through her woods only days ago. Another abomination. It had to be the creature Rosmilda had been working on to attack Miria but never used due to Adaline’s return.
“Find a weapon,” Miria said to her. “Anything. Quickly.”
She didn’t know if the abomination had been unleashed upon a specific target, but there were many possible people to choose from if Rosmilda had decided she was not going down without a fight.
Adaline didn’t hesitate to pull up her skirts and produce a small dagger.
“Really?” Miria couldn’t help but ask in disbelief.
“I wanted to be prepared,” Adaline said. “I couldn’t very well carry my sword. They took that from me.”