The Witch Blood Prophecy (Kingdom of Forest and Mist #1)

Chapter 1

The Midsummer Ball

The demon watched the carriages and smiled.

He carefully marked every carriage that rolled up the palace drive, noting which of the nobility had arrived and which had yet to come.

Ladies stepped out in sweeping ballgowns, draped in jewels and scowling at any servants that allowed their trains to touch the ground.

The demon gritted his teeth as he watched them lift their skirts—the cost of each dress alone could have fed a commoner’s family for over a year.

Lords stepped out in handsome cream suits with gem studded cufflinks, snapping at their servants and marching ahead of their daughters and wives. Miserable bastards, all of them.

The Rhodean court was made up of the high nobility and lesser nobility.

The latter often lived at court during the social season—they were already in the ballroom, waiting with bated breath for the high nobility to arrive.

The wealthiest families typically remained at their estates for most of the year, only making appearances for the largest events of the season.

Such as tonight.

The lady he sought was from one of the oldest and wealthiest families in the kingdom, and his spies had told him that she would be arriving any moment.

His demon servant stood beside him, a mid-level demon wearing the form of a short man in a suit, edging closer to where the nobles and guards stood gathered.

A guard walked perilously close to where they stood, and his servant licked his lips.

His servant leapt at the guard, and he grasped him by the scruff of his tunic.

His fingernails lengthened into claws, and he jerked his servant back.

“Not yet,” he snarled. The mid-level demon quailed under his look of pure loathing. “Soon, I will take you hunting,” he soothed, releasing him. “But not yet.”

His servant whined, looking forlornly at the young men and women walking towards the palace, blissfully unaware of the two demons that lurked in the gardens flanking the drive.

The mid-level demon looked at him with big, mournful eyes.

“You are my footman on this journey, nothing more.” His nostrils flared in quiet rage. “If you cannot contain your appetites for even a few hours, I will find myself a servant who can, and I will not need you any more. Do I make myself clear?”

Sullenly, the demon turned to face the drive once more, quieting.

He had waited too long for this. He did not care if the other demons in his household understood the use of long hunts like this one.

He was already the head of his household with more gold and power than he could ever want.

Sating his thirst for revenge against the atrocities committed against his ancestors was the only hunt that ever piqued his interest anymore.

If someone looked into his eyes of flickering silver fire, they would have seen them flare with the thrill of the hunt, almost glowing in the soft light of the evening.

The demon turned his gaze back to the palace drive and watched the rest of the carriages arrive, searching for a head of golden hair.

***

Lady Elizabeth Ashcroft sat in a cream and gold carriage bound for the palace.

It was the beginning of the perfect summer night. She only hoped that her parents weren’t about to be disappointed.

Elizabeth studied her reflection in the carriage window and chewed her lip.

Her maid had elaborately braided her hair around her crown, leaving the rest of her hair to cascade over her shoulders.

Sapphires and diamonds glinted at her throat and earlobes, bringing out the blue of her eyes, and marking her as a member of the high nobility.

She shifted in her seat, the crystals embroidered on her bodice glinting in the light.

Her close friend, Lady Charlotte Harrison, sat beside her, escorted by her mother, the elder Lady Harrison. Her parents sat across from her—her father sitting in the corner of the carriage with his nose buried in a book, and her mother surveying her with pursed lips.

Tonight was the Midsummer Ball, the night her mother expected her to find a husband.

Her mother reached over and fixed an errant lock of her golden hair that had escaped during their journey and tutted. “Are you feeling ready, Lizzy?”

“Yes, Mama,” Elizabeth lied.

In truth, she wasn’t.

Lady Charlotte grinned, wearing an equally extravagant gown of pink silk that complimented her honey-brown skin. Charlotte had voluminous curly hair and a face that was made for smiling.

“And Charlotte? You feel fine?” Lady Harrison asked her daughter sharply. “You’ve gotten over that nasty cold you had last week?”

“Yes, Mother, as I told you yesterday, I’m fine,” replied Charlotte, tossing Elizabeth an exasperated expression. “We will each find a match tonight. Don’t fret so.”

Their carriage passed through leagues of rolling hills, the winding road giving fleeting glimpses of the sea that stretched to the west. The sun started to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the fields dotted with wildflowers.

“You girls both look beautiful.” Elizabeth’s mother simpered, her eyes glazing over slightly. “You are the pride of our houses, and I am certain that this is the year we will have at least one engagement to celebrate!”

Lady Harrison smiled as well, her eyes lining with silver as the two matrons glanced between their daughters.

“Mama, please.” Elizabeth shook her head in exasperation. “I will not die if I do not secure a match tonight.”

“Do not be difficult, daughter. This year you must choose. I worry about you. The matrons have already begun to talk.” Her mother said “talk” like it was a nasty curse word. “They've already begun to wonder why the great Ashcroft house has a daughter who’s still unwed!”

Elizabeth sighed, resigning herself to what was sure to be an awkward carriage ride home.

“And I’m not married yet because I haven’t found anyone worthy enough to bestow the honour upon,” Charlotte drawled to her mother.

Charlotte’s mother gave a long sigh and Elizabeth burst out laughing.

Both she and Charlotte were in their late twenties and had passed the average age of marriage, of about twenty-four, by a few years now, to the chagrin of both their mothers.

In a mock serious tone, Charlotte continued, “And if there is no gentleman that we deem worthy for such beautiful, amazing young ladies such as ourselves, perhaps we ought to enlist a witch!” Charlotte wiggled her fingers mischievously. “To cast a love spell and—”

“Charlotte! Don’t ever joke about such things,” her mother chastised, looking horrified. Lady Harrison looked about frantically, as if the very birds outside might report their conversation to the queen.

“But, of course, I’m being ridiculous! Don’t take things so seriously, Mother,” Charlotte said with a wry smile.

Elizabeth’s father lifted his face from his book long enough to say, “My dear Charlotte, do not fault your mother for being protective of her flesh and blood. You girls have grown up in a time of light and prosperity, but it has not always been so and may not always be so. I shudder to think of what would happen to any of my girls,” He gestured to her and her mother, and to Charlotte, who had become as close as a second daughter to him.

“if any of you were suspected of such things.” Elizabeth’s father smiled kindly at Charlotte.

Charlotte replied, “Be that as it may, the war is won now. Rhodea is prosperous, and all that mess of magic and witches is far in our past. Surely, we can make a joke in private.”

“I’d rather you not joke about things that could turn both our houses from the queen’s favour sooner than you could blink,” said Lady Harrison, her expression serious. “She’s been famously fickle of late.”

Soon the ornate silver gates of Calyx came into view, and everyone hushed. Calyx was the capital of the Rhodean kingdom and home to the royal palace. The city gates were flanked by white stone walls that stretched around the city.

As their carriage drew near, the silver gates swung open, and a line of soldiers rode out on horses, their armour gleaming in the sunlight. The soldiers rode past them in a single file, and a bannerman carried a large blue banner with a white dove that rippled in the wind—the sigil of the queen.

Elizabeth watched their progress, fidgeting with her necklace. Rhodea was a kingdom at peace, where were they all going?

Reaching the foot of the gates, their carriage grinded to a halt. A guard peered in the window and nodded. “Lord Ashcroft.”

Her father inclined his head in answer and soon they were admitted to the city, and Calyx was spread before them like a painting.

Hanging baskets bursting with pink and white flowers adorned every street corner and baskets of flowers sat outside every shop.

There was a view of the sea in the distance, dotted with the white sails of ships.

All around their carriage, the city was loud, and teeming with life, full of busy shops and commoners bustling about their day.

Their carriage continued through the heart of the city and on towards the palace.

They neared a raised platform in the main city square and each person made the sign against evil on their chests. Around them, the noise of the city quieted, and the air grew somber.

The site of the witch trials.

The platform was stained with dried blood and scorch marks, and being given wary looks by passersby. A tall wooden pillar jutted from the centre of the platform, and beside it was a wooden box with a small divot for someone’s head.

Where those suspected of practicing magic were judged for their crimes. The accused were either beheaded, if the gods offered them a kind end, or tied to the pillar and burned until their ear-splitting screams could be heard for leagues.

Having stayed at court before, Elizabeth knew that many were not offered a kind end.