The Silver Witch. #3
“Queen Mabina,” he began, addressing her with the regal title that Regina had stolen.
Mabina’s eyes shimmered with renewed hope.
“Rally the fae in Wistaman’s Woodland. Share our plan to restore harmony, and promise them that under our rule, the clipping of fairy wings will be a crime punishable by death. ”
Mabina nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“You must keep your army appearing loyal to Regina until you reach Cambas. Once she trusts you, strike back and defeat,” Fitzroy instructed.
“How can we be sure she hasn’t foreseen this?” Elizebeth asked, concern etching her features.
Fitzroy shrugged lightly. “Regina doesn’t see everything that the future holds—otherwise, she would’ve prevented Wolver’s death.”
Elizebeth nodded, her worry slipping from her brow. “Regina’s lost her commander—I have no doubt she will draw me into her plotting,” she said. “I’ll pen her plans to parchment and have Slaugh deliver them to you in Cambas.”
“Is Slaugh trustworthy?” Fitzroy asked.
Elizebeth shook her head. “He’s a demon—loyal to no one. But he owes me a favor.”
Bronwyn raised her arm, waving her little hand to grab Fitzroy’s attention.
He gave her a kind smile. “Speak,” he commanded.
“The goblin soldiers will remain faithful to Regina,” she whispered. “They fear what she might do to their families in Goblin Combe if rebellion is suspected.”
“We can handle the goblins. It’s her dragon that truly terrifies me,” Elizebeth replied with a grimace. “That beast can singe ships filled with soldiers in mere seconds.”
Fitzroy exhaled heavily. “We can only hope we have the favor of the gods.”
A creak interrupted the tense conversation.
My gaze darted to the slightly ajar door—a flicker of red dashed past the crack in the frame. Fitzroy was already moving, prying it open to peer into the hallway.
“Come here,” he snarled, bolting toward the eavesdropper.
I chased after him, my pulse pounding as I spotted Billy hobbling away. Given his small stature and poor eyesight, he didn’t get far. Fitzroy dove, tackling Billy to the ground as the goblin screamed and scratched. While Fitzroy secured his upper half, I wrestled with his flailing legs.
“Traitors, traitors to the Queen!” Billy screamed at the top of his lungs.
My heart thumped fast, fueled by fear—I didn’t want to endure the same grim fate as Herla.
“Silence!” Fitzroy spat through gritted teeth.
Together, we carried Billy back to the chamber, where Elizebeth quickly slammed the door shut behind us.
“Help!” Billy wailed, his cries piercing the silence.
“Hold him down,” Elizebeth commanded.
Fitzroy pinned Billy’s arms overhead, while Isobel and I restrained each leg.
Elizebeth’s hands hovered over his snarling face as she chanted, “Saelig’be’th halig leoht, becuman pis mann hir gesihp.” Blessed by the holy light, return this man his sight.
When she withdrew her palms, the milky glaze that had clouded his vision dissolved, revealing sky-blue irises beneath.
Billy blinked rapidly. “I—I… I can see,” he stammered, his voice trembling with astonishment. “I’m no longer blind!”
“You never were,” Elizebeth corrected him, in a harsh, matter-of-fact tone. “Regina cursed you with a cataract enchantment.”
Billy’s bushy brows furrowed heavily over his newly restored eyes, confusion wrinkling his sallow skin.
“Impossible,” he murmured, yet his tone was laden with uncertainty.
“Regina believed your fortune-telling abilities would heighten without your sense of sight. It wasn’t an unfortunate illness—just a reversible curse,” Elizebeth explained.
“She beguiled me with her sorcery,” Billy muttered, his trembling fingers probing around his sockets. “I’ve been betrayed.”
“He knows too much,” Mabina declared, her expression devoid of emotion. “He must be silenced.”
“Are you suggesting we kill him?” Elizebeth asked.
“Don’t smite me!” Billy pleaded, his voice quivering with fear. “Grant me mercy!”
“Yes,” Mabina affirmed, her steely gaze unwavering. “He offered to maim Herla—now I shall reave him of his life.”
She stood, poised to slay him—here, in my own bedchamber. But Isobel’s hands shot out, holding onto Mabina’s waist and anchoring her to the spot.
“If Billy disappears, Regina will suspect something’s amiss,” Isobel cautioned, gently pulling Mabina back to sit on the bedstead.
For a moment, I considered how we might rid ourselves of Billy without his absence being noticed. Then, suddenly, a memory resurfaced—a spell I’d once flicked past in Greenhorn’s Grimoire.
I turned to the vanity, picked up the tome, and flipped through its pages until I found the passage I sought.
“The art of mimicry—shape-shifting spells,” I read aloud, tracing my fingertip across the title page.
Elizebeth took the book from my hands. “Grand idea,” she remarked, giving me a quick pat on the shoulder. “We can transform another into Billy, but it must be someone whose disappearance won’t raise Regina’s suspicions.”
I glanced over my shoulder and saw Fitzroy already pointing at Bronwyn.
Without hesitation, the goblinette stepped forward. “I’ll do it.”
I knelt and drew Bronwyn into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” I murmured, my voice heavy with gratitude—for she’d offered to risk her safety to protect ours.
Elizebeth crouched beside me and placed the spellbook on the floor. With Bronwyn and Billy standing before her, she took their small, spindly hands and began reciting the incantation.
“Purh’th Paes dagda miht, ordain hire gesceap wringan’n bugan, inoe hir gesceap hero’ll ofergan.” By the gods might, make her shape twist and bend, into his form she will transcend.
Her fingertips radiated an otherworldly shimmer—as though she held captured starlight.
A wash of purple light seeped from her palms, shrouding Bronwyn and Billy.
Bronwyn’s skin rippled like shifting waves beneath the glow.
A spectral haze engulfed the goblinette in swirls of iridescent light.
As the mist dissipated, Bronwyn stood transformed into a perfect reflection of Billy.
“Is that truly how I look?” Billy sneered, eyeing up his doppelg?nger.
Bronwyn raised her hands to her face. “I… I really am him!” she gasped, scrutinizing her changed knuckles—thick and gnarled like twisted tree roots.
“Swap clothes,” Fitzroy ordered.
Billy hesitated, stammering, “I—I…”
“Swap clothes, or I’ll slit your throat and strip them off your corpse,” Fitzroy growled, his hand inching toward the hilt of his sword.
Billy flinched at the warning. “Spare me,” he pleaded while reluctantly unbuttoning his red doublet. “I can advise you on defeating Regina—I know all of her plans for war.”
“He might prove useful,” I said, casting a wary glance at the untrustworthy goblin.