12
T he jingle of silver bells sounded. Through my fuzzy vision, the palace ballroom took form. Perfume and anticipation hung heavily in the air. I floated past nondescript faces and voices.
Then I saw her. A flash of wine purple eyes and a laugh sweeter than a nightingale. She was with a man, tall and familiar, but his face was a blur. I reached for her, but the closer I tried to get the further I drifted. Some invisible force pulled me back into the ocean of tulle and silk and featureless faces, suffocating me. I shoved and kicked, desperate to escape.
Fire and ice seared through my bones. An explosion of light flooded the ballroom, then everything disappeared.
I woke up.
A cotton quilt weighed over my face. The pocket of air I was breathing had long gone stale. Shifting in my sweat-drenched chemise, I sat up and blinked hard, wondering why my blanket felt ten times heavier and why it looked like a pile of ruffled fronds. And why they were glowing purple.
A fresh film of sweat dampened my neck when I turned to the window. The bird’s-nest fern that sat in a pot on the windowsill had an explosive growth spurt. The pot lay shattered. From the cake of dirt that remained, thick tendrils of fronds snaked across the floor, up my bedposts, and wound themselves over my quilt. My jaw hung open. Was this what Theodora and Rowena meant when they said my magic was bound to show itself?
Genevieve’s soft breathing brought me back to reality. Thank heavens she was a deep sleeper.
The sky had barely lightened. Slipping quietly from my bed, I began pulling the fronds into a heap on the ground. It was laborious work for someone who had just woken up and especially difficult with an injured knee. My leg and back ached by the time I shoved the hefty pile under my bed frame. I would have to take it outside later.
Light began to stream in through the window. I surveyed the room and deemed it satisfactorily un-magicked. But when I touched the quilt, a flash of vermillion sparked from the fabric. I clutched my hands to my chest, gnawing my lip. There was only one witch who could help me figure this out.
After pulling on a dressing gown and cloak, I penciled a quick note to Genevieve. Soon enough, I was out the window and through the gates of the Strongfoot’s mansion with a leather pouch stuffed with fronds.
THE POUCH DUG INTO my shoulder as I hopped off the horse chaise and marched through the buildings at the outskirts of Delibera. My thoughts strayed to the dream. Somehow, I couldn’t remember the whole thing—only snippets. The ballroom. A laugh as clear as a bell. Something that thrummed and vibrated my very bones. I had dreamed of a person but also a time and a place. And my magic. Swirls of purple emerged from my fingertips. My bag pulsed with the same energy.
I walked into the building I was looking for.
“Hello, and welcome—”
“Miriam, I need you to take me to Lana,” I said.
She stared at me in shock. “Amarante? What are you doing here?”
“I have to see Lana now.”
The witch looked askance and fiddled with her snail shell necklace. “You heard what she said last time, child. We’ve angered her enough.”
I shook my head. “You don’t understand. It’s different now.” I opened my bag and showed her the curling, engorged leaves of the bird’s nest fern. Miriam raised her brows. “My magic is getting harder to control.”
Miriam sighed. “Lana will have my neck if I bring back an unwelcome guest. You should leave. Go to your nannies and see if they can suppress your magic,” she said.
“But I don’t want to suppress it,” I said. “Please. At least show me the way. You don’t have to come with me.”
“No,” she said. “Your nannies will have my neck. I only have one neck! They’ll split it three ways, the lot of them,” she said.
I made an impatient noise at the back of my throat. “Fine, I’ll go myself,” I said, walking past Miriam to the back room. I pushed aside the ratty tapestry and narrowed my eyes. Five bricks glowed gold. I pressed them in.
“How did you—? ”
The wall began to shift and part until it formed into the archway that led to the tunnel. I stepped in and turned back to Miriam whose jaw hung agape. “I’ll be back soon,” I said. “Don’t worry. I won’t mention your name to Lana.”
The bricks resealed before she could say anything. Taking a deep breath, I walked forward in the dark, the gravel crunching underneath my thin slippers. This time I was not afraid.
A few minutes later, the rectangular sliver of daylight appeared before me. I reached out. My hand met something cold and spongey, and then the darkness melted away. Instead of overlooking the village from a distance, I found myself in the middle of a field of farmland. Witches hacked the dirt with hoes and pulled up beets by their purple and green stalks. No one seemed alarmed at my sudden appearance.
“Looking for anything, dearie?”
I started at the croaky voice. A positively ancient witch squatted a few paces behind me with a basket full of bell peppers. He had an impressively long beard, snowy white and adorned with a tangle of chains and beads that nearly concealed his toothless grin.
“Er, I’m actually looking for a person,” I said.
“You’ve come to the right place,” the witch said.
“I have?”
“Of course. When you want something urgently enough, the passageway will lead you to it,” he said with a wink.
I spun around. This clearly was not where Lana lived. Perhaps she was somewhere here?
“I should get going,” I said.
“Very well. But you should take your ration of produce before everything is gone. ”
I began to shake my head until I caught a glimpse of my own face in a puddle on the ground.
My eyes were purple.
I leaned in. A glimmer of something flitted over my cheeks. My freckles had turned gold.
The old witch gave me a strange look as I rubbed my face. “I-is this puddle enchanted?” I asked.
“Well, technically everything here is enchanted—”
A stiff figure emerged from behind a stalk of corn, hair streaked with gray. Lana.
“Sorry, I have to go!” I said to the witch before darting off. I thought I heard him grumble something about “witches these days” but wind rushed through my ears as I weaved through the rows of vegetables.
“Lana!”
She did not turn around. My view of her was obstructed by the heads of several people walking about. I dodged a few swinging baskets.
“Lana! La—Oof!”
Someone crashed into my shoulder, nearly toppling me over. Pain shot up my knee. I barely bit back a curse. After regaining my balance, I looked down at the person I had run into. It was a little witch girl, hardly more than twelve. She stared at me, her silver eyes a glaring contrast to her midnight skin.
“I’m sorry,” I panted. “Are you alright?”
She nodded, but continued to stare. “I’ve never seen you here before,” she said. “Are you new?”
“I’m sure you haven’t seen loads of people here,” I said. I didn’t have time for small talk. Lana’s head was getting further and further away. I rushed forward again, limping .
“No. I’ve seen everyone here. And I remember them too.”
I glanced down. The little witch had followed. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on it.
“Alright. I am new. What of it?” I said.
“There’s never anyone new.”
“Shouldn’t you be with your parents or something? Before you get lost?” I said, narrowly avoiding another collision with a young witch.
“I never get lost.”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself for someone so young.”
“I’m Elowyn. What’s your name?”
I exhaled loudly. Lana had disappeared. “I’m Amarante. And also lost,” I muttered. How was I supposed to find my way back now?
Elowyn tilted her head. “You have purple eyes. My sister said she had a friend with purple eyes once.”
I heaved a sigh. “Elowyn, was it?”
She nodded.
“Do you by any chance know someone called Lana?”
She nodded again.
A feeble ray of hope shone down on my situation. I felt foolish asking such a young child, but she was my only option at the moment.
“And do you know where she lives? Can you take me to her?”
Elowyn nodded yet again.
I nearly melted with relief. “Great. Which way do we go?”
Instead of pointing to a direction, Elowyn merely stretched out her hand. “Take my hand,” she said .
“Er...alright.” I took her hand.
Then, my stomach dropped to the ground and the field twisted away. In a blink of an eye, I was standing before the door to Lana’s hut. I stumbled back.
“W-what happened?”
“We transported from one place to another.”
Elowyn blinked up at me. I realized I was still clutching her hand and let go.
“How did you do that?”
“I’m a charmwitch,” she said simply. “Didn’t you know?”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
Elowyn, seeing that I had nothing to say, shrugged. “Well, you’re welcome. I’ll see you around?”
I nodded and she skipped off without another word.
When I regained my senses, a figure was walking uphill towards me. It was Lana. Miriam’s warning came back to me. I had to have a death wish to come back to Lana’s cottage uninvited.
“Lana,” I managed to say as she approached.
If she was surprised to see me, she didn’t show it. A basket hung from the crook of her elbow, filled to the brim with glass containers and sprigs of herbs. She hardly spared me a glance.
“What did I tell you last time, Miriam?” she said. “This girl and her nannies are not welcome here.”
Lana slipped into the cottage and slammed the door. A purple glow surrounded the handle, but I twisted it and entered.
“Miriam isn’t here. It’s just me,” I said.
Lana set down her basket on a counter, her expression a mix of irritation and surprise. “That enchantment took me weeks,” she muttered. She briskly removed the contents of the basket, glass clinking as it hit the wooden surface. “What is it you want, girl?” she asked. “I already told you I do not take custom orders from humans.”
I bit my lip, cowed by her dismissive tone. “But I’m not,” I said. “Not really.” I let my bag fall to the floor with a thump. The silver bells of my bracelet jingled as I did this. Lana stiffened and turned, eyes flickering to the bag and then my bracelet.
“Look, I think I really do have magic,” I said. “Last night, I...I had a dream and the plant next to my bed grew.” I toed the bag, and the engorged leaves tumbled out.
Lana’s face remained stony. “Perhaps you used too much fertilizer,” she said and turned back around to busy herself.
I glared at her back, a surge of anger and frustration overtaking me. “Why are you so against helping me?”
“I do not teach humans.”
“I’m half witch and I have magic,” I said, marching over to Lana. “Last time when you asked me what those leaves were, I didn’t know, but...I knew . I saw blue and the colors told me what it was. Repair. It said repair.”
Lana began sorting through the herbs.
I clenched my jaw. “You’re not listening to me!”
“Not everything is about you, girl,” she said harshly. “Typical of humans, demanding favors when they need them and disappearing when they don’t. You are selfish, like your—”
She stopped abruptly, and pinched her lips into a thin line. I stepped back, chastened. “No one told me I had a witch for a mother,” I said. “Not even my Papa.”
She was silent and did not react.
“I don’t know what to do. Please help me. ”
Lana turned. There were deep creases along her forehead and frown lines around her mouth. “Put this over there,” she said, flinging a sprig of herbs in my hand. I barely caught it before it hit the floor.
“Huh?”
“Are you deaf? Hang that over there,” she said, pointing at the row of hooks above my head. There were already several different bunches wrapped in twine. I hung the one she gave me on an empty hook and looked over for approval, but Lana’s head was bent over as she wrapped another bunch of herbs with a length of twine.
Several minutes passed in silence as she handed me each bunch of herbs to hang on the wall. I was too afraid to ask what was happening. When the last bunch of herbs was strung, Lana broke the silence.
“Follow me.”
She traversed the room and revealed a short hallway behind a curtain. I trotted after quickly, noting that the interior of the cottage was a lot larger than the exterior suggested. The hallway opened up to a modest bedchamber. Everything inside was tidy and organized. Lana knelt before the bed and pulled a box from underneath the bed frame. It was small, with no embellishments or gilding, but she held it with great care.
“Tell me exactly what you’ve been experiencing with the colors,” she said.
I took a breath and recounted the very first time I had seen the purple smudge with Rowena in the gardens, the situation at the hunting party, and finally the dream and the plants.
“You’re experiencing the emergence of your magic,” Lana said. “Most witches go through their Emergence much earlier, around five or six years old. It is a developmental process during which they discover their specialty of magic.”
“Five or six?” I said, aghast.
“Theodora and Rowena have suppressed your magic for sixteen years, which is why you are late,” Lana said. “Magic will ebb and change during a witch’s Emergence. Your magic could be completely different at the end of it. All in all, Emergence is an unpredictable process. We usually have some sort of enchanted object to keep the magic under control.”
“How does that work?”
“You channel your powers through that enchanted object. It keeps excess magic inside it, in case it expels outward unexpectedly,” Lana said. She opened the box and thrust it toward me. Inside was a crystal pendant, deep wine in color, strung on a long leather cord. “Even after their Emergence, witches keep their enchanted object. They develop a bond with it. It becomes a part of them, just like their magic.”
I glanced at it hesitantly. “Is that for me?”
“Who else would it be for?” Lana said sharply.
I gingerly lifted the pendant out of the box and dropped it over my head. It rested comfortably over my chest and hummed.
“Try it. Use your magic.”
I looked at a windowsill and waited for a color to ooze out of it, but nothing happened .
“It’s not working,” I said.
Lana grunted. “Of course not. Come back out here,” she said.
We traversed the hall to the front room. I focused my gaze on a bushel of herbs hanging from the wall. A pale green aura appeared around the leaves. I waited for a word to appear, but none did. Instead, a feeling overtook me and I knew exactly what to say.
“That plant. It’s supposed to slow the effects of any poison,” I said.
“Yes. Nixgrass. It can also be used in incense, to calm the senses when burnt.”
I touched the crystal. “This is amazing.”
“The crystal is merely a crutch. Soon enough you’ll be able to control your magic on your own,” Lana said.
“But what is my magic?”
“Magic is different in every witch, even amongst herbwitches and charmwitches,” Lana said. “I happen to be particularly skilled at potion making. I know exactly what ingredients to use in exact quantities. You seem to understand what certain herbs and potions are through color.”
I nodded. “So. Knowledge is our magic?”
“Indeed. Knowledge is power,” Lana said, “but it can also be enhanced with more knowledge. All things can’t be learned through our abilities. Take these.” She grabbed several thick volumes from the shelves above her and handed them to me. My legs nearly buckled under the weight, and a sharp pain shot through my right knee. I winced. I had forgotten about my injury.
“Are you hurt?” Lana asked.
“I...fell off a horse yesterday,” I said, setting the books on the counter .
Lana pointed to a stool and whisked off to her shelves. I took it as a sign to sit down, somewhat getting used to her behavior. After a few seconds of clinking and shuffling, she came back with a viscous amber substance. It was the potion from her cauldron last time. I hiked my dressing gown over my leg and unwrapped the gauze.
The sight wasn’t pretty. I had forgotten to apply Reselda’s ointment last night. Blotchy purple and green riddled my swollen knee. Lana dabbed the substance over the injury. I felt an instant cooling sensation and watched amazed, as the bruising disappeared before my eyes.
“A basic healing elixir,” Lana said, corking the vial. “All witches learn to make it eventually.”
I prodded my knee as Lana went back to her shelves. No pain. It was as if I hadn’t fallen off a horse at all. A giggle threatened to burst from my throat. It was like magic. No. It was magic.
Lana dumped the pile of books onto my lap. I jumped.
“Do some reading,” Lana said. “I expect you to finish them all before you come back. And don’t let anyone see them.”
“Come back? So you’ll help me?”
“Why else would I give you my books?” Lana said. “And never take off that crystal. It will control your powers when you’re in the midst of human society. I will contact you through it as well.”
“Contact me?”
“It will vibrate when it is time for our next lesson. I expect you to arrive promptly when I call for you.”
“Can I contact you through it?” I asked.
Lana frowned mightily. “Absolutely not. You are not to use magic above ground. And you are not ready for communication charms. Stick to your books. ”
I thumbed through the titles. History of Witchcraft. Potion Making Volume I. An Index of Witchmade Herbs . They were all worn, except for the first volume, The History of Witchcraft . The title was embossed with gold and I caught a glimpse of my reflection.
“Thank you...but I can’t go back looking like this,” I said, gesturing to my face.
Lana nodded. “Your witch traits have emerged. They are the physical marks of a possessor of magic,” Lana said. She rolled up her sleeves, and I noticed that there were gold flecks on her elbow and fingertips, not unlike the gold of my freckles. With a wave of her hand, a shimmering mist settled over me and then dissolved. I checked my reflection again.
“Nothing happened,” I said.
“Humans will not be able to see your witch traits unless you tell them what you are,” Lana said. “All witches have this enchantment casted on them by one charmwitch or another.”
“But I thought you’re an herbwitch.”
Lana sighed. “Charmwitches and herbwitches each have basic magic the other can learn. A charmwitch can learn to make basic potions. An herbwitch can cast simple enchantments. I refuse to waste any more time blabbering facts. You may leave.”
“Well, thank you for everything,” I said, standing up.
Lana turned her back to me again. “I will call for you in two weeks’ time. I won’t tolerate tardiness.”
“Yes, Lana.”
“And throw that bag of plants in my garden on your way out. I could use some fertilizer.”
I RETURNED WHEN GENEVIEVE was dressing for breakfast. She started at my sudden appearance.
“Amarante? Where have you been?”
I pointed to the note I had left on my mattress. “On a walk.” I discreetly shoved my bag under my bed as Genevieve bent down for the note.
“A walk. At the crack of dawn? Dressed like that?”
I nodded, hoping she wouldn’t question me further. Luckily she didn’t, but the face she made told me that it wouldn’t be easily forgotten.
“Hurry and get dressed,” she said, tossing me a gown. I caught it, but not before the fabric hit me squarely in the face.
I recognized the gown Papa sent me for my sixteenth birthday. He was overseas, unable to attend my birthday celebration. I ran my fingers across the olive-green silk of the bodice. The square neckline was embroidered with shimmering bronze vines.
“What’s the occasion? We don’t have an event today, do we?” I asked.
Genevieve twisted her fingers. “No, but you are summoned to the palace.”
I began to ask why, but realization dawned on me.
“Oh. Oh no.”