Chapter 15 Witches and Fortunes
Witches and Fortunes
Elizabeth looked at the crystals and dried herbs on the shelves and noted a large painting of a black cat sitting under a crescent moon. Definitely a witch’s shop.
It would be silly to try to get her fortune read. She wasn’t twenty-two anymore, she was twenty-six and had much more important things to spend gold on than a childish novelty like fortune-telling.
She turned to leave when an older woman appeared beside her. “Hello, dearie. What can I do for you?” she trilled.
“What do you sell?” Elizabeth asked cautiously.
“Oh, a bit of this and that.” The woman’s face crinkled with a kindly smile.
Elizabeth noted that the woman wore a pendant of a white stone with a pearly sheen, the top wrapped in silver wire.
She had a hook-shaped nose, and her attire was a black, loose-fitting gown.
Gold rings sat on knobbly fingers that ended with long pointed nails.
“Teas for healing, sleeping, things like that. Or are you looking for something more … out of the ordinary?” the witch asked, raising a brow.
“I’m just browsing, thank you.”
She pretended to examine pickled things in jars and chunks of raw crystal on the shelf, well aware of the eyes on her.
“Something about you, I find interesting,” said the woman, no doubt an attempt to wring some coins out of her. “Care to have your fortune read?”
Elizabeth tilted her head, considering. She eyed a reptilian-looking animal preserved in a glass jar. Could this woman really be a witch?
She hesitated, patting her pockets. It would be a fun story to tell Charlotte, at any rate. Hopefully, Fiza and Maud were keeping busy and not waiting for her. “Actually, sure.”
She followed the woman to a small table. The woman lit several candles, even though it was still daytime. The woman waved her hands as if wafting the smell of the candles towards her, then breathed deeply and theatrically. No doubt the woman was a hack, and the dramatics were only for appearances.
Elizabeth scoffed under her breath.
“Five gold nobles for your fortune. Give me your hand.”
Elizabeth tried not to roll her eyes and dropped the coins on the table, giving the woman her hand.
It was a high price, but perhaps this was how the witch stayed in business.
In any case, it might be her only chance to have her fortune read, and so, she grudgingly slid the five coins on the counter.
The older woman grasped her hand and felt her fingers, her palm, and the back of her hand. She yanked her hand towards her face and sniffed it. She surveyed Elizabeth’s fingernails, then flipped her hand over, studying her palm.
“You have the nails of a lady, but the roughness on the pads of your fingers suggests you’ve worked with your hands at some point.
Your heart line is jagged and broken, as is your life line.
Your fate line is abnormally well-formed, which means you either are very unlucky or will play a pivotal role in something yet to come.
“Your life line is cleaved in two—your old life or current life, and the one waiting for you to move forward with.”
Elizabeth stared at the woman with shock and begrudging wonder.
The woman continued, “You have a head line that is very strong, so you must be either very strong-willed or deeply intellectually curious. Or both.” She paused. “You smell of the roses and the sea. You are from Rhodea.”
“Yes.”
“You stink of demons, girl.”
Elizabeth pulled back her hand, affronted.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell. But I will need more to divine your particular future. Their presence can distract and obscure the inner eye.” The woman tapped her forehead knowingly and shook her shoulders. She pulled out a deck of cards, shuffled them and set them on the table. “Pick six cards.”
She did, and the woman spread them out, looking intently at them and moving them this way and that. Finally, she scooped them up and placed each one in front of her, each card hitting the table with a sharp slap of finality.
The six cards lay across from her, figures and faces on each card, but she didn’t have the slightest idea what each one meant.
“These cards suggest several paths ahead of you, blessings in one direction and consequences in the other. Which path leads where, I cannot say.” The elder narrowed her eyes at the first two cards, lips pursed.
“You have more than two paths in front of you, and your life will be different depending on which you take. One will bring happiness while one will doom you to a lifetime of misery, so take care to choose wisely.”
She pointed to another card. “Ten of Swords. At some point in your life, you will be betrayed by someone close to you. When this happens, I cannot say.”
Elizabeth was impressed with her intuition. However, the woman wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know. Obviously, her father had betrayed her trust by forcing her engagement with Duke Howard. Was the witch only going to tell her things she already knew?
“These two are happier cards. The Lovers and the Ace of Cups. This suggests you have a powerful love interest in your future, though how it begins or ends, I cannot say.”
Elizabeth nodded politely. The woman was likely a hack, here to tell young women they would fall in love, produce many healthy babies, and come into great fortune. She sighed inwardly, thinking it would be a fun story to tell Charlotte, and she had well and truly wasted her money.
As if she sensed her reluctance to believe her words, the shop owner gathered the cards in one swipe and placed them back atop the deck.
She folded her gnarled hands on the table.
“I can give you protection against demons, you know, if they are bothering you or trying to coerce you into doing something,” the witch said brusquely, but not unkindly.
“I think I’ll be alright, thank you.”
“Be careful. Whatever they have promised you, they are no friends to the living.”
“Like I said, I’ll be fine. I should be going now.” Elizabeth shook her head. She paused at the door, and gave what she hoped was a kind smile. “I’m trying to get to the bookstore. Would you be so kind as to tell me how to get there?”
“Oh, alright, alright. I’ll walk out with you. I need to stretch my old bones.” The woman smiled disarmingly at her. Elizabeth strode out after her, the stack of books heavy against her arm.
The woman walked with her down the lane and around a few corners. It was nice of the older woman to show her the way. Turning a corner, she spied Maud at the entrance to the bookstore, her arms crossed over her chest.
The woman sniffed the air. “Look at me, child.”
Elizabeth did, and the woman searched her features. “Are you the one staying at the castle on the hill?”
Elizabeth didn’t answer.
The woman studied her for a moment, and the woman’s face grew pitying.
“If you need help, come to me.”
“For a price, of course,” Elizabeth muttered.
“For a price,” the woman confirmed.
“I should go,” Elizabeth said hastily, offering a polite nod before turning away.
She had gained an entertaining story for Charlotte, but she was unnerved by the witch’s cautions. The back of her neck prickled as she felt the witch staring at her as she made her way across the square.
Hurrying towards the entrance to the bookstore, she came face to face with Maud.
Maud’s sharp brown gaze took her in. “We have been waiting for you. Where did you run off to?”
Elizabeth smiled weakly and shrugged. “I got lost.”
To her relief, Maud did not press the issue and ushered her to follow them back to the carriage.
Rain pattered against the window and roof as they rode home. Elizabeth watched the fat drops of water slide down the window, wondering, not for the first time, why fortune tellers and healing women were persecuted in Rhodea.
They were strange, yes. But evil?
When Elizabeth thought of evil, she thought of war, destruction, and death. She did not think of older women speaking in riddles and guessing at fortunes.
***
Back in the library, Elizabeth tried to lose herself in reading, but anxiety gnawed at her. Had Maud bought her lies? And would Fiza report back to Caspian that a bag of gold was resting in one of her trunks at the bottom of her closet?
She was just about to give up on reading for the night when she noticed something strange.
There was a hulking figure standing a few aisles away, visible between the gaps in the shelves. Illuminated by dim torchlight, she made out monstrous dark wings trailing across the floor and curling horns on its head.
A monster.
She clutched her book to her chest and sank into the chair, trying to make herself as small as possible. She looked away, keeping her breathing as shallow as possible, lest she draw its attention.
Unable to keep from peeking, she glanced back and saw the monster trudge through the library, making for the doors.
As it came into view, she was struck by the sheer size of its dark blue hands, twice the size of a normal man’s and appearing much too large for its frame.
Shadows slithered around the monster, cloaking its legs and torso in darkness.
The sight made goosebumps pebble her skin.
The monster’s steps thudded through the library, moving away from her.
After the monster left, she waited a minute to ensure she was alone, then quickly made for the library doors.
Spotting a dark feather on the ground, she picked it up. She tucked the feather and book under her arm, and hurried to her chambers.
Once in the safety of her rooms, Fiza drew a hot bath as Elizabeth examined the feather.
It was a curious thing; it was bigger than any feather she had ever seen. The vanes of the feather were so dark that they appeared to absorb light entirely and were as soft as velvet under her fingertip.
She set the feather down on her vanity and went to the bathing chamber when Fiza called for her.
Shrugging out of her robes, she slipped into the warm water and settled her head against the polished stone.
Fiza’s fingers massaged her scalp and applied products to her face and hair while she lounged in the tub, her thoughts drifting.
“Something the matter, Lady?”
Elizabeth turned to Fiza and smiled, smoothing the worry from her face and schooling it into a polite mask. “Not at all.”
When she awoke the next morning, the feather was gone.