7
T he next morning, Lydia was in very high spirits. “Ah, my girls! Last night was a raving success, if I say so myself,” my stepmother said as Genevieve and I took our seats at the dining table.
“It was a lovely ball,” Genevieve said, stifling a yawn.
I grabbed a roll and began to eat.
“I’ll never forget my Season. King Maximus was quite the catch back then,” Lydia said, sighing.
Genevieve and I exchanged faces.
“All the girls vied for his attention, but sadly he was engaged to Queen Cordelia,” Lydia said. “It was rumored that she and her sister, Nerissa, were great beauties in their kingdom. Strange place, Aquatia.”
“Have you ever been there, Mama?” my stepsister asked.
Lydia shuddered. “Never. I heard it’s full of magic and odd creatures. If they’re anything like witches, I’ll never set foot there. Thank goodness the queen was one of the normal ones. But never mind that. I’ve received wonderful news today!” My stepmother shuffled through the pile of letters next to her and pulled out a creamy envelope.
“Who is that from?” I said, setting down my roll.
“A Lord Strongfoot,” Lydia said. “His daughter is a friend of yours. Why haven’t you girls told me you’re acquainted with a lord’s daughter?”
“Oh, Tori!” Genevieve said. “She’s a lovely girl.”
“Well, her father has extended an invitation to the two of you to stay with them during the extent of the Season. They say their manor is only minutes away from the palace. Can you believe it? Minutes!”
Lydia’s eyes gleamed as she looked at us. The woman was clearly having the best month of her life. Cedric favored Genevieve and I danced with a prince. And now, a lord was offering us free food and lodging at his manor minutes away from the palace. I wondered what my stepmother would say if I told her the duchess hated me, the prince spilled ice water over my dress on purpose, and Lord Strongfoot was actually a blacksmith with a great deal of money.
“Are we going to accept the invitation?” I said.
“Is there any question?” Lydia said, waving the letter in the air. She looked ready to fly off her seat. “Helene! Start packing the girls’ things. They’re going to a lord’s manor!”
The prospect of a change of scenery and an escape from Lydia’s delirium were extremely appealing. I was eager to meet Tori again and curious to see the Strongfoot manor, and how generous Captain Greenwood’s reward had been.
The news lightened my spirits and I bore the rest of the day relatively well, despite my frustrations at Helene crowding my room with suitcases and folding my gowns wrong.
After hearing the news, Theodora and Rowena insisted on coming with me, but Lydia told them that a lord would have enough handmaids to serve a dozen young ladies .
“Plus,” my stepmother said begrudgingly to Theodora, “your baked goods are unmatched. I couldn’t possibly find a replacement.”
That night, Genevieve and I sat cross-legged on the floor in her room, repacking our suitcases. It seemed that Helene, after nearly a decade of working for us, still did not know how to fold silk gowns correctly.
Genevieve shook out the skirts of her rose-colored riding gown. The split skirt was slightly creased from Helene’s folding. Her stomach let out a loud growl.
“Oh my. I feel like I could eat a horse,” Genevieve said, rubbing her stomach.
I stood and stretched. “I’ll go down and see if Theodora can spare us something to eat.”
“Maybe a few of her raspberry tarts?”
“Perfect.”
I descended the stairs and traversed the hall to the kitchen. It was almost an hour past ten, so Theodora would still be preparing tomorrow’s breakfast. But when I entered, there wasn’t a soul in sight. The oven was lit and the smell of baking bread permeated the air, but the counter was empty. I turned on my heel, ready to tell Genevieve the bad news, until I heard voices from the servants’ break room. It was usually deserted this late at night, yet a light shone beneath the door.
“...poor girl. She wouldn’t have to do this alone if her mother were still alive.”
“Hush. We promised not to bring that up as long as we’re here.”
“I know. But now that her magic is emerging, we’ll have to break that promise. You say it happened in the gardens? ”
I stilled, recognizing Theodora and Rowena’s voices. They were speaking of magic! I tiptoed past the counter and flattened myself against the wall.
“Yes. I’m sure it’s her Emergence. She said she saw something purple. Lo and behold it was a patch of weeds too far away for anyone to see, much less identify.”
Someone’s shoes scuffed along the floorboards. Theodora was pacing. “Is there any other explanation?” She sounded desperate. “Has our spell really worn off after a mere sixteen years?”
“It was bound to. Magic cannot be suppressed for long.”
My breathing became uneven. Was Rowena talking about the purple smudge I had seen in the garden? It had been a mere hallucination—a result of poor sleep. What were they going on about with spells and magic?
“What do we do, Rowena, if we can’t come with her? What did Master Flora say?”
Paper crinkled. “He told us to suppress it again by any means possible. He wants us to remove her magic for good.” Rowena’s voice shook. “How could we do that to her? Without her knowing consent?”
“She won’t know what she has lost. It’ll be painless for her.”
“Seraphina would never allow it.”
“Seraphina is dead.”
Rowena sobbed.
“Now, now, Rowena. It will all be over soon,” Theodora said, her own voice shaking. “Amarante will never know she has magic. To her, it’ll be like nothing has happened.”
I couldn’t stay quiet when Theodora finally said my name. I wrenched open the door.
“What are you two talking about? ”
Rowena spun around, a crinkled letter in her hand. She tucked it behind her.
“Amarante, let us explain—”
“There’s nothing to explain,” Theodora interrupted. Her lined face was emotionless, but the crease between her brows told a different story. “You must be tired. Go to bed, dear. It’s nearly midnight.”
I stepped further into the room, shaking my head. “No. I-I heard everything,” I said. “You can’t tell me to go to bed when I heard everything. The magic. The spell. Tell me what it means.” My voice went an octave higher. I was sure I sounded raving mad.
Rowena wiped her tear-streaked cheeks. “She’s right, Theodora. We have to tell her.”
Theodora’s stoic facade crumbled. “Amarante,” she said, taking a breath, “Rowena and I are witches. And so was your mother.”
I fell back into a chair. It sounded even more absurd out loud than in my head. Witches were wicked creatures. Everyone knew that. I stared at Theodora’s warm, wrinkled hands. But my nannies weren’t wicked. I wasn’t wicked. And I was sure, with my whole heart, that Papa could never love someone who was.
My vision spun. “Prove it, then,” I said, raising my chin. “If you’re witches, then why are you in Olderea? Everyone knows they were banned two generations ago at the inception of the Non-Magic Age.” History never was my forte, but King Humphrey’s witch ban was a piece of Olderean history everybody knew.
“Much of the history involving witches are skewed beyond recognition, Amarante,” Rowena said.
“Prove it,” I repeated .
Theodora sighed, exchanging a look with Rowena. Then, before my eyes, the air around them shimmered and shifted. Theodora’s brown eyes became golden and strands of Rowena’s wild curls gleamed metallic champagne.
I tightened my jaw. I didn’t know if I was on the verge of screaming or laughing. “This is a joke, isn’t it?” I said. A giggle burst out in spite of myself.
“That was an enchantment,” Theodora said, pulling up her sleeve. Her mosaic of sun spots shimmered like gold leaf. “We were hiding our witch traits—all witches have to if they dare stay here. The enchantment dissolves when we willingly reveal ourselves to others.”
“Ha! Witch traits? Enchantment?” I said, my cheeks aching from laughter. “This is a joke!”
“Amarante...” Theodora’s voice died off. I kept laughing.
Rowena slammed her hand on the table, rattling the silverware. I stopped at the sight of her flashing eyes.
“Is this proof enough?” She jutted her finger out at a vase across the room. It levitated and fell back down with a heavy clink. “Or this?” She waved her arm toward the curtains. They swung shut on their own accord. “And this?” My chair began spinning, blurring the room before me. I clutched the armrests as it went faster and faster and faster and—
“Rowena, enough!” Theodora’s angry voice halted the spinning. I lurched to the floor on my hands and knees, limbs trembling. A choked sound erupted from my throat and wouldn’t stop.
“Oh, Amarante! I’m so sorry.” Rowena knelt next to me. Her hands were shaking too. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”
“W-well I believe you now,” I sobbed. My tears dripped onto the carpet and I hastily wiped them away. I was bound to believe them. A part of me believed them the moment I walked into the room. But I simply couldn’t bring myself to accept it.
Theodora offered me her handkerchief and sighed. “There, now. This is going all wrong isn’t it?”
“It’s my fault,” Rowena muttered. “You’re half witch, Amarante. Magic is a part of you and the fact that you had to grow up without it...” She shook her head and withdrew the crinkled letter from her pocket. It was the other half of Papa’s letter.
“But I thought...”
“Read it, dear,” Theodora said.
I must thank you for alerting me to the other situation. I don’t know how long I can conceal the circumstances of her own birth from her. Sometimes I forget she is like her Mama. Each year I convince myself that deception is the right thing to do and each year I succeed. Have I become too comfortable being a liar, knowing that cheating my daughter is for her own protection?
Forgive me, I am rambling.
If there is anything you can do to suppress her powers a little longer, or for good, please do so.
All the best,
Julien
“Papa always told me Mama was a nobleman’s daughter who left us,” I said. My mind flashed back to the first time I had asked him about my mother. I wasn’t too introspective at eight years old and his spectacles obstructed my view of his eyes. Now, I fancied that there was a glimmer of tears behind the frames.
I knew enough then not to pry. Over the years I assumed that she had broken off the marriage and went off without caring a wit for me or Papa. To think she was a witch!
“Ridiculous thing to say to a child,” Theodora said.
I gave the letter back to Rowena. “So,” I said shakily. “Are you going to get rid of my magic?”
“We cannot get rid of it for good,” Rowena said, helping me back into the armchair. “But we know someone who can.”
I tried to calm myself. “Who?”
Theodora fiddled with her apron. “We’ll have to find her first, of course.” She shook her head at my panicked look and said, “There is no reason she wouldn’t do it.”
“Will everything go back to normal after that?”
“It will, dear,” Rowena said. “As long as you never tell anyone about this.”
I nodded. I didn’t ask for this secret, but there was no doubt I had to keep it. To think I came here for raspberry tarts and got all this instead.
That reminded me. Genevieve!
Wiping my eyes, I said, “Do you have any raspberry tarts, Theodora?”
After thrusting a generous amount of pastries in my hands, Theodora and Rowena ushered me upstairs with gentle smiles. I excused myself to bed after dropping a few tarts off to Genevieve, leaving my portion untouched.
I rearranged my blanket, staring out the spot between my curtains. The chirping of crickets was the only sound that filled the silence. At the gap under my door, Genevieve’s light doused. I wondered what she would think of the whole affair. That I was half witch. That I possessed magic—actual, dangerous magic.
But the purple smudge at the garden didn’t seem dangerous. Was my magic merely seeing strange colors?
Rowena had made things move on their own accord. I squinted hard at the ottoman a few feet away from my bed, willing it to spin as she had done to my armchair.
Nothing happened.
I was too exhausted to know whether I was relieved or disappointed.