Blood Coloured Flames

CHAPTER 1

She smells the smoke first. With autumn setting in and stripping the forest bare, Eda wandered further than usual from home, looking for berries and roots to add to her aunt and uncle’s winter supply. But now her head snaps up, dark hair flying in her face as she catches the scent of something burning. She grips the handle of her basket till her knuckles turn white. She strains her ears but can’t hear anything; her nose has always been strongest, the witch’s blood in her veins helping her to smell further, hear more, every sense heightened.

When you’re a witch, the smell of burning is never a good thing. Panic settles deep inside Eda’s stomach and she runs towards home. The smell gets stronger and then the noises come. Shouting, horses, crackling flames. Screaming. A column of smoke is now visible, climbing into the sky.

She turns herself invisible, slipping out of sight and forcing herself to slow her steps, to not make any loud noises, to not be noticed. As she leaves the edge of the forest to where her small home should be standing, her suspicions are confirmed.

Witch Finders are everywhere, black and red flags flying from their horses. Black hats pulled over their faces, all of them wearing black gloves. The cottage is now a pyre, burning so hot and bright it's like a star has fallen to earth. There’s no doubt her aunt and uncle are inside. She heard the screams through the roaring of the flames… but they’re not screaming any more.

~

Eda walks along the forest road, going so slowly she’s barely walking at all. But two weeks of travelling by foot, and the last two days without food at all, have left her hollowed out. Her bones ache. There’s a drumbeat in her head.

She could probably find food if she used her magic. She could sniff it out, try to summon it to her with a spell. But the thought of using magic makes her sick. Makes her empty stomach spin. She’s too weak to turn herself invisible and if anyone sees, even suspects that they saw her draw a rune and mutter a word or two… well all the running would have been for nothing. Her stomach wouldn’t be full for very long before they strapped her to a pyre and fanned the flames.

So she doesn’t use her magic to find food. She stays hungry and exhausted. Her exhaustion is the reason for such a stupid reckless idea. That, and she has nothing left to lose.

The plan is to go to the castle and beg for work. Scrubbing floors. Feeding pigs. She’ll throw herself at any task available. She’ll have a roof over her head and food to eat. (The roof may leak, the food might be mouldy but it’s better than what she has now). But the very reckless, very stupid part of the plan is that if the King is looking for witches and sending out his Witch Finders to round them up… the last place he will look is in his own castle.

So she walks. Her long black hair whips around her face in the biting wind, the closest thing she has to a shawl. Her lips are cracked, red against her pale skin. Her dark eyes are too bright in their sockets. Her gown is torn and muddy, leaves stuck in the rough weave from burying herself in leaf litter at night, desperate to stay warm. Her basket is long gone.

She can’t bear to make a fire.

So now she walks. But she’s so very tired.

~

“Girly?”

She blinks and she’s laying on her back with the sky and trees above. A gnarled face is looking down at her. Wrinkles and a tooth or two, a woollen cap pulled over his head.

“Ah, you is alive. Well, wasn’t expecting that.”

“Castle,” says Eda. She was trying to get to the castle. Why was she trying to get to the castle again?

“Well ain’t you lucky that that’s where Ol’ Malcom was heading. Come on then.”

Without any more chit-chat Malcolm hoists her up under her arms, hooks her knees over his other arm and carries her to a cart waiting a few yards up the road. A mule is strapped to it looking at Eda with twitching ears. Her head swims as he sits her down amongst cages of chickens that peck and cluck and stare at her. He walks off to the front of the cart. Eda’s hands are shaking. She doesn’t remember falling down on the road.

“Girly,” says Malcom, every word a soft rumble. He’s back and holding out a hunk of thick black bread and a flask of water to her. She reaches like a child, takes both the bread and the flask and cradles them in her lap.

“You’ll be alright girly,” he says, tapping the edge of the cart with his palm. He climbs in the front and orders the mule into action. The wheels start turning and Eda is bounced around with the chickens. The smell of the bread is divine. The flour and yeast and the oven scorch on the crust. She sinks her teeth into the bread, rips, chews, swallows. She eats as fast as she can, sipping water when she can catch her breath, and slowly she starts to feel a little less closer to death.

As the sun gets lower in the sky and the trees thin, Eda can see the castle walls rising above everything. Her sharp witch’s eyes can pick out each brick and the face of each guard as they watch from the top of the walls. The walls are taller than she’d imagined. Thick and strong, built to withstand armies and whatever weapons they brought with them. Ol’ Malcolm steers his cart steady along the road, nonplussed by the massive scale of it all. They pass by simple one room houses of the village that surrounds the outer walls. Women beeline this way and that, always with something to do. Children play and squeal. Men build or talk or carry things to and fro. Eda can’t remember ever being around this many people.

She’s always been in hiding, just her aunt and uncle for company. Her mother was taken by Witch Hunters when she was just a few weeks old. After that, Aunt June and Uncle Elias retreated further into the forest, taking their new charge with them. Twenty years they had kept her safe. Taught her everything there was to know about the plants and animals around them. Taught her how to control herself, use her magic and her more than human senses to smell if someone was sick and sniff out the herbs that would help them. Or, if needed, find the plants that would take someone’s breath away for good.

Now she’s in the lion’s den, the outer walls of the castle soaring above her as the cart approaches the gate.

Try thinking then doing, Aunt June would always say. You always do the doing part first and leave the thinking till it’s too late. It hurts Eda’s heart to think that she’ll never hear her say it again.

The gates of the castle stand open, closed only at night or when there’s danger looming. The guards on duty let Ol’ Malcolm through without question or fanfare and he doffs his woolen cap to them. So he’s a regular here, thinks Eda. Good. She thanks whatever god was responsible for sending him and his cart her way. Alert from the food and water she takes in everything around them. More small homes, market stalls and animal pens take up this outer ring of the fortress. More people mill around, going about their day.

How many of them fear flames and shackles, Eda wonders bitterly. The women in their beautiful gowns. Simple things, yes, but bright and clean. Women weaving and knitting and chasing after children. Laughing. The men working with all manner of beast and trinket. Carving and hammering and smiling at their wives and daughters. Greeting friends and neighbours that pass by.

Never has Eda felt so dirty. So alone.

Ol’ Malcolm’s cart nears the inner wall of the fortress behind which the castle towers rise into the sky, seeming to scrape the clouds.

“You got family here, girly?” Asks Ol’ Malcolm casually as they approach a second gate, this one closed and more heavily guarded.

“No,” says Eda, her voice rough from lack of use. Rough from sadness. She has no more family.

Ol’ Malcom doesn’t turn to look at her, but tilts his head to the side in acknowledgement. He heard the sadness.

“Got work waiting for ya?”

“I was hoping to ask for some,” she says quietly and now her plan seems even more stupid than before. How many people must knock at these gates a day, begging for work?

Another tilt of Ol’ Malcolm's head. He scratches his neck as they roll to a stop at the doors and two guards approach, swords glinting at their sides, while another two start the process of opening the heavy gates. One guard bends forward to inspect under the cart. The other looks at Eda for longer than necessary. She feels her skin start to prickle. He smells of sweat mostly but she can catch the edge of alcohol around him, stained into his breath from constant consumption.

“Who’s this, then,” he says with a smile and Eda frowns. It’s the same sort of smile the Witch Hunters wear when they’re toying with their captives. She can see the start of rot around the edges of his teeth.

“New kitchen girl,” says Ol’ Malcolm and Eda hopes the surprise doesn’t show on her face.

“Thought you were going to get chickens, old man, not a new girl,” says the guard, joined by his companion who has finished inspecting under the cart.

“Ask Agnes, it’s her business.”

Eda’s heart thumps out of time in panic at the obvious lie. But the guards think nothing of it. The one whose soul smells of alcohol shrugs and reaches forward, lifting Eda’s chin.

“You’d be prettier if you smiled,” he says with a chuckle, pulling his hand away.

“Touch me again,” Eda says, “and I’ll bite off your fingers.”

The smile falls from the guard’s face and his friend’s mouth drops open in shock. Ol’ Malcolm clucks the mule into action and drives through the inner gate. The guard scowls at her as the gates close on him. When they slam shut Ol’ Malcolm chuckles deep in his throat.

“Yeah girly, I think you and Agnes will get along just fine.”

“Who’s Agnes?”

“Your new boss if I’ve got any say in the matter. She’s tough but fair. Runs the kitchens.”

Any more questions fizzle out on Eda’s tongue as she looks up at the castle. Towers and flags reach into the sky. The villagers of the outer courtyard have been replaced by soldiers and knights. Horses are led to and fro and a blacksmith’s hammer bangs in even bursts. And the smells. Smoke and bodies and steel. Horses, dogs, men, dirt, but in the distance something finer. Incense and linen waft from the windows of the castle. And food. The smell of roasting meat makes her stomach growl in desperation.

“Why are you helping me,” Eda asks quietly, almost hoping he didn’t hear. But he did. Ol’ Malcolm is a lot sharper than most, it seems. He turns to look at her over his shoulder.

“I don’t think you realise how frail you look girly,” he says looking back at her. No pity. Just facts. He doesn’t smell of alcohol. He smells of straw and feathers. Eda feels like a strong wind could snap her in half so she must look worse than she imagined.

“My name is Eda,” she says. Ol’ Malcolm tips his hat.

“Pleasure,” he says. “I sure am glad you weren’t dead on that road. That’d sure be a shame. Wouldn’t have got to see the look on that guard’s face when you threatened to bite him just now.”

Eda allows the ghost of a smile to crawl onto her lips.

CHAPTER 2

Ol’ Malcolm parks the cart next to a small stable where two scrawny boys appear from nowhere and get to work unloading the chickens and releasing the mule from its harness. He heaves himself up from the cart, bones clicking and crunching as he stretches. Eda unfolds herself, her own limbs stiff and sore as she clambers out of the cart. She wobbles on her feet, steadying herself with a hand against the stone wall. Ol’ Malcolm trudges up to a green door with a brass knocker set into the wall and bangs his fist three times. “Agnes!”

Almost immediately the door flies open and a plump, middle aged woman stands there with her fists on hips. She’s clean as a pin with her hair wrapped up in a veil and a spotless apron draped around her neck.

“You get my chickens?” she says as a greeting and Ol’ Malcolm nods.

“Boys are putting ‘em away. Got you something else as well.” He flourishes a hand at Eda and she feels the blood drain from her cheeks as Agnes looks her up and down and frowns. Eda attempts a curtsey but stumbles and has to right herself against the wall.

Agnes turns her glare back to Ol’ Malcolm and folds her arms. He takes a step closer to her while Eda tries not to fall over. The sun is setting, the wind is picking up and eating the bread Ol’ Malcolm gave her feels like a lifetime ago.

“Found her half dead in the middle of the road,” he says to Agnes under his breath, but Eda can hear clearly as if he were next to her. “You were complaining about needing more hands weren’t you?”

Agnes sighs sharply out of her nose. But her arms unfold and rest back on her hips.

“What’s your name, girl?”

“Eda.”

“You a worker?”

“Yes ma’am.” Please, please take me. Thinks Eda, desperate. I won’t survive another night outside.

Agnes wanders over to her, graceful and broad. “You obedient?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“What work are you good at?”

“Anything you want me to do ma’am.”

That answer seems to please Agnes who gives a curt nod and turns back to her door with a flick of her fingers over her shoulder. Ol’ Malcolm jerks his head at Eda. Go, before she changes her mind.

Eda follows, a hand trailing the wall to steady herself and nods to Ol’ Malcolm as she passes. He doffs his tatty cap at her, whistling as he walks away. As if he didn’t just stick his neck out for a girl he doesn’t know.

He has no idea he just saved a witch. Eda hopes he never finds out.

She follows Agnes through the green door which is then shut behind her. They stand in an enormous kitchen, the warmth swirling around them from the fires, the ceiling high and bright with windows and chimneys to let the smoke out. Pots and pans of every size hang from the walls, while barrels of vegetables overflow. A boy turns a pig on a spit and girls Eda’s age and younger pluck chickens and ducks, peel potatoes, gather water. And oh the smell. Spices and meat and gravy. Bread and dough rising. Even the coals in the fire smell sweet. It’s the most delicious room Eda has ever been in.

A young woman, only a little older than Eda, stands at a wooden bench chopping pumpkins into squares. Her eyes are sharp, scraping Eda up and down, her pale curly hair peeking out from under her cap.

“Martha,” says Agnes, and the girl stands to attention. “Go get me a fresh bucket of water, rags and soap.”

Martha does as she’s told but watches Eda as she leaves to fetch her list. The smile at the corner of her mouth doesn’t seem friendly at all.

“Come here, child,” says Agnes sternly, standing in front of a small fire in the corner. Sternly, but not unkindly. Agnes assesses her up and down. Eda tries to look as capable and bright eyed as possible. Which is hard when she’s swaying from side to side like she’s on a ship.

Agnes nods, as if she’s just solved a problem. “No, I shall find a use for you,” she says, more to herself than Eda. Relief washes over Eda, walls and food and a floor to sleep on. That’s all she wanted. She can worry about Witch Finders another day. For today, just for today, she can rest.

Martha reappears and thunks a bucket of water at Eda’s feet, handing soap and clean cloths to Agnes.

“Wash,” says Agnes. “You’re in the King’s castle, this ain’t no ordinary servant’s job. If His Majesty wanted to look at dirt he’d go outside and stare at the ground. And I don’t want to look at dirt neither. And off with those rags you call a dress. Wash in front of the fire so you don’t keel over from a chill, dead body in here is the last thing I need.”

Agnes stays standing in front of her, hand outstretched, waiting for Eda’s dress.

Eda sighs, her toes curling against the stone floor. But Ol’ Malcolm was right. Agnes is unforgiving but if Eda ran the King’s kitchen she’d be unforgiving as well. This is a different world. Everything is more important. More dangerous. And if she’s going to pass as an ordinary person and get as little attention as possible she’s going to have to play by the rules.

She pulls her dress over her head, the threadbare shift sticking and coming with it. Agnes helps yank the tangle of fabric over her head, promptly throwing it into the fire where it fizzles and pops before catching flame.

Martha folds her arms and stares. So she’s one of those. Humiliation and bullying are her bread and butter. Eda will have to watch herself around her, make sure she doesn’t get even a whiff of her magic. Martha’s the sort who would betray you in a second if it meant a moment's entertainment.

The skin over Eda’s breasts turns to goosebumps as she instinctively crosses her arms over her chest, more from cold than shame. Martha giggles.

“Back to work,” Agnes snaps at her, tossing a rag in her direction. Martha sighs and trots off, pleased with herself. Agnes hands a cloth to Eda instead of throwing it, and a hunk of waxy soap that smells of old candles.

“Top to toe,” she says. “Don’t care if you’re scrubbing all afternoon, I want not a speck left.”

Eda does as she says, dunking the cloth in the bucket of water. She doesn’t want to feel like the dirty smudge in the corner of this spotless kitchen. The stone practically sparkles. She wipes herself with rag and soap. Agnes stays by her side, scrubbing her back and shoulders, her hair, all the places Eda can’t reach by herself. Twice she gets one of the small girls plucking birds to go and get a fresh bucket of water. Eda’s skin turns pink from the effort, but she feels reborn. Eventually the water that runs off her is clear, not black with dirt and soot. Her hair hangs in a curtain down her back, free from leaves and twigs. Her feet feel like they could carry her anywhere.

Agnes vanishes and reappears periodically, either to fetch something or to direct another servant about their tasks. Everyone leaves Eda alone except for a curious stare or two. Plenty of them had their fair share of scrubbing when they first arrived too. They’re all busy and as far as they’re concerned she’s just another peasant girl wandered in from the wilderness. Eda is more than happy for them to believe that as she drips dry next to the fire, the heat burning the water from her in a steam cloud. She tries hard not to think of the last fire she saw...

Agnes is once again by Eda’s side, a folded shift and dress in her hands. They smell of dust and darkness, as if they are kept spare in a cupboard, just in case someone needed them. They’re plain and cream coloured, rough linen and wool but as Agnes tugs them over Eda’s head without fanfare, Eda feels like a different person. Clean and respectable. A servant in the royal kitchen. Not a witch. Not an orphan.

Agnes takes a step back and inspects her handiwork with a nod. “You will sit at that bench for the rest of the evening,” she says pointing to the smaller wooden table, the one meant for food for the servants, not the royal family. “You will eat what you’re given and you will watch and learn what happens here of an evening. You will sleep next to this fire with the little children. You’re new, and you’re at the bottom of the ladder so no complaints. Then tomorrow you will begin work proper. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am. Thank you ma’am,” says Eda, meaning every word. She’ll do whatever this pristine, fierce woman says.

Agnes nods. “Good.”

CHAPTER 3

“Miss Eda.”

It’s before dawn and the embers cast a soft glow on the world. Even the roosters aren’t awake just yet. One of the small boys, Gus, is shaking her shoulder, his face a smattering of freckles.

“Time to wake,” he says before disappearing off to his first tasks of the day.

Eda sits up, blinking hard. She fell asleep last night in the pile of small children in front of the fire, all of them too tired to care too much about Eda. And Eda was content to be folded into their simple acceptance.

Martha, with her sharp eyes, kept scowling at her until it was time for everyone to retire for the night. Eda was happy to curl up on the floor with the children rather than follow the more senior kitchen servants to their shared room down a hall off the kitchen.

She shakes herself awake, stands, slaps her face until she feels somewhat alive.

Agnes walks in, already dressed to perfection, neat as if she slept standing up. A trickle of tired servants follows behind her, ready to start the day.

“You ready to work, girl?” Says Agnes, handing Eda an empty bucket.

“Yes ma’am,” says Eda politely. Her time for rest is over.

~

She ferries buckets of water here and there for hours on end, from the well in the courtyard next to the mules stable, to the kitchen, to the animal troughs, back to the kitchen, till her fingers ache and there’s a bruise forming on her thigh from the rim of the bucket hitting it again and again. While Agnes is relentless in her list of tasks, and unforgiving about any bruises or sore fingers, she hands bits of food to Eda every time she passes. A leftover pie crust. A piece of chicken. A slice of bread thick with butter. Everything she’s handed is delicious, the best of everything she’s ever eaten. Agnes has a special touch when it comes to cooking. No wonder, really, if she’s responsible for cooking for the King. Eda doubles her efforts with each piece of food, desperate to please this woman. Desperate to stay where there’s warmth and food.

A tabby cat with one eye and a lazy tail watches her from a window sill where it warms itself.

Don’t be a Familiar, begs Eda inside the safety of her thoughts. Don’t attach yourself to me. Don’t give me away. Just be an ordinary cat, alright? If you just stay ordinary I will feed you all the kitchen scraps your heart could desire.

But that one eyed stare is sending prickles up her spine...

She leaves the cat behind, the ordinary cat that is definitely not a Familiar looking for a mistress, and is off on her next task. Agnes has thrown soap and a coarse brush in her direction and wants the castle entrance scrubbed clean. Gus shows her the way, zipping away from his own duties at the speed of light to help her. He shows her through a backdoor into a hall, sunlight pouring in and lighting up the thick tapestries that line the walls. While the door back to the kitchens is set into the wall, the hall stretches north and south, one end opening in the inner courtyard, the other leading into the castle proper.

“This is where she means,” Gus says, the gap in his teeth whistling on his S’s. “Best to start at the inside and work your way out.”

“Thank you Gus,” she says, with a proper smile and he nods, leaving her to her business. He’s the leader of the little ones, and as she now sleeps by the fire with them he’s adopted her as one of his minions. Never mind that she’s two feet taller and ten years older. He bounds off back to his own duties and Eda carries her bucket towards the inside of the castle.

She stops before her toes touch the edge of the castle interior. The entrance chamber is enormous, the ceiling reaching sky high, stairs leading into the walls to spin in all directions. More halls leading off to different rooms on the ground floor. With her ears pricked she can hear footsteps and laughing and cursing. Soldiers boots and the soft whisper of rich ladies slippers. She’s been working for hours but it’s still before noon. The powerful people are still getting ready for the day.

She focuses on scrubbing the stones. Tries to not listen deep into the castle, not see every miniscule speck of dirt on the floor. Tries not to think of her uncle's screams over the sounds of the house burning to the ground. She is here. It is now. She is a normal girl scrubbing the floor and she will go to bed and do it all again tomorrow. And there definitely is not a one eyed tabby cat looking for a mistress.

She’s halfway down the hallway, getting closer to the outside light, when traffic starts to pick up. Ladies maids and soldiers pass her by. Mostly they ignore her. Some of the soldiers whistle or mention her getting on her knees for other reasons, so she ignores them and they laugh. She keeps her head down and scrubs.

Then the softest of scents moves forward from the entrance hall. Blooming roses and vanilla. All the feet walking past stop where they are. Eda looks up and over her shoulder.

As isolated as Eda and her family were in their forest cabin, they still gathered stories wherever they could manage, and she’s heard all about Princess Odile. The fairest, the gentlest, a golden flower. Eda always figured they were exaggerating for flattery but the young woman walking down the hallway is all of that and more. She’s bluebells and lambs wool. Her white blonde hair is braided around her head, framing her angular jaw and high brow, blue eyes wide in her striking face. Her gown is light blue silk, loose and billowing around her as she walks, a silver girdle hanging around her slim waist. Her lips are pink.

Eda stands and stays still like everyone else, people curtseying as the princess walks past them, her footsteps silent even to Eda’s ears. Eda holds her scrubbing brush in her hand, dripping. Everyone else averts their eyes out of respect but she can’t help herself. She can’t look away. Her neck turns hot and red, the blush spreading over her face. A different sort of blush blooms through her stomach.

As Princess Odile walks past her, Eda curtsies, still staring. Odile turns her head a fraction and their eyes meet. Her beautiful blue eyes. The smallest smile flickers at the edge of her lips, before she blinks and looks away. Then she’s walking on, with everyone curtseying, not looking at her. But how can you not look at her?

The spell is broken as the Princess leaves the hallway into the courtyard and disappears from view.

~

“Is that hallway sparkling?” Asks Agnes as soon as Eda returns for the evening. Honesty is the best policy when it comes to the kitchen mistress.

“As good as I could get it with people still walking through. I can make it better tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother. That hall is the bane of my existence, it never gets fully clean. Just wanted to test you, see how much effort you’d put in. You’ll be rotated onto something else tomorrow.”

“Yes ma’am.” Eda collapses onto a stool by the servants table, her knuckles raw and her knees smarting. She rolls her shoulders, her hair coming loose from its mess of a braid. She should probably feel a little bitter about it, but finds she can’t blame Agnes. She’s probably sick to death of hiring lazy servants.

In the chaos of the dinner preparations dishes are being served onto plates and platters, the little ones are racing back and forth with their orders, maids and runners move back and forth to take their meals to their respective masters and mistresses.

Gliding past, Agnes hands her a piece of bread and butter, the crust thick and knobbly. Eda is slapped with a memory of her aunt handing her a slice of bread dripping with honey in their kitchen.

“Thank you ma’am,” she manages to say quietly, before shoving the bread in her mouth trying to swallow away tears. It doesn’t quite work, she can still feel the tears pricking her eyes so she finds herself talking instead.

“I saw the Princess today,” says Eda. She’s not really sure why she says it. It mustn’t be anything extraordinary to see the Princess when she lives here. But it was extraordinary for Eda. She can still feel the heat in her neck and hopes desperately no one else notices. That no one asks why she’s blushing.

“That reminds me,” says Agnes. “Martha!” she barks.

Martha, who has been preparing a tray of food for someone’s dinner, snaps her head up. “Yes Ma’am?”

“Eda will accompany you as you serve the Princess tonight.”

Eda’s heart jumps into her throat in panic. She needs to avoid attention as much as possible, not dive straight into it. Not to mention she wants to avoid the butterflies in her stomach that exploded into life when she saw the Odile in the flesh. She certainly doesn’t want Martha to potentially notice any heat in her face with those sharp eyes of hers.

Martha scowls at Eda. She’s not happy about Agnes’ orders either.

“I don’t need help,” she snips.

“You will if you ever fall ill or get run over by a horse,” drawls Agnes. “Or are you invincible all of a sudden?”

Martha bites her tongue and picks up her tray.

A male servant Eda hasn’t seen before, with ears that stick out at right angles from his head, reaches over Martha’s shoulder and places a jug of wine down on the Princess’ dinner tray.

“Forgot that,” he says before disappearing. Martha harrumphs a thank you and purses her lips.

“Come on then.” She sets off at a trot not waiting for Eda.

As she follows behind Martha, Eda runs her hands over her braid, trying to tame her flyaway hair. She rubs the backs of her wrists over her cheeks hoping there’s not dirt on her face. Her heart thumps in an erratic, panicked beat. She’s about to be in the presence of someone who could have her burned in an instant if they even suspected what she was. The King could be there, sitting with his only child, and Eda’s stomach heaves. And there’s a smell in the air that’s making her feel even more sick. Something metallic and sharp wafts around her and she can’t tell where it’s coming from. But it’s dank and oozing. It’s making her head spin.

Through the entrance hall with its high beams and candlelight, Martha leads her to the left and up another two flights of stairs, lit by glimmering candles as dusk settles. She thoroughly ignores Eda behind her and Eda doesn’t mind. She’s as unhappy as Martha about their orders. But there’s no thought of defying Agnes in either of them. They walk briskly down a long hall bigger than any they’ve been through yet. Despite herself, Eda peers curiously at the paintings and lanterns that line the walls. Fine, beautifully crafted things.

Two guards in red and chainmail stand to attention outside a heavy wooden door, pikes in hand. One looks bored but the other smiles and nods at them.

Martha curtsies to them and Eda follows her example.

“I’m to teach her,” says Martha, stabbing her head in Eda’s direction and the guards part and let them through, the guard that smiled opening the door for them.

“Thank you,” says Eda, but she’s sure he didn’t hear. Her throat is dry and her tongue feels like it will drop into her stomach at any minute.

Martha’s pace slows as they enter the Princess’ chambers. An open sitting room welcomes them, a fire crackling in the large stone fireplace. Soft chairs and cushions are scattered everywhere. And the books. So many books. Piles and piles on every surface. Gorgeous leather bound things with such fine writing. Eda can’t imagine how anyone could ever decipher what they said. The letters mean nothing to her. Even if she could read, that acrid smell is stronger now they’ve stopped moving and it’s making her eyes tear up. Surely Martha can catch just a hint of it?

A giant wolf hound with a shaggy coat lopes over, panting and wanting attention. Martha ignores him and places the tray and jug of wine on a circular oak table. There’s just space enough for the food, the rest of the surface is taken up with papers, scrolls and quills. She turns back to Eda, motioning to leave, when the gentle scent of vanilla floats in as Odile enters the room. She’s still wearing the blue dress Eda saw her in earlier but her perfect braids are now crooked and fluffed as if she’s been laying down.

She smiles politely at them and Eda melts. It’s a beautiful smile, stretching her bow shaped lips into her cheeks.

Martha and Eda curtsey low. The wolf hound takes the opportunity to lick Eda’s nose.

“Victor likes you,” says Odile, wandering to the table where the tray was placed.

“I like him,” says Eda without thinking. Martha shoots her a venomous glare but the Princess laughs.

Martha curtsies low again. “Enjoy your dinner, Your Highness,” she says in a sickly sweet voice, before turning on her heel towards the door. She tugs sharply at Eda’s skirt as she passes, follow now, and leaves promptly, not waiting for her.

Eda doesn’t follow. That smell is bothering her. It’s all sorts of wrong, it smells like death. It smells like poison. As Odile pours wine from the jug they just delivered into a silver goblet the smell blooms and explodes. Time slows as Odile lifts the goblet to her lips. Eda knows deep somewhere inside her soul, that if she takes a sip that smell will course through her veins and snuff out her life. Eda’s body acts without permission. Her hand flicks out, fingers splayed and the goblet goes flying from Odile’s hand. It shatters against the wall, spraying wine onto the floor.

Odile stares at her, eyes wide and frozen.

Shit. Eda’s heart stops.

“You-” Odile starts to say but Eda, who is still shifting through survival mode, still on high alert from the smell of poison and the murder that almost took place, notices the dog sniffing at the puddle of wine.

“No!” She yelps, leaving forward and tugging by the dog back by his fur, who yelps in turn. “It’s poison, don’t touch it.”

The guards from outside have run in during the chaos, Martha behind them, swords drawn. They glance from Odile standing frozen, to the puddle of wine, to Eda wrestling the wolfhound away from it. Their swords tilt towards Eda and her stomach rolls. Either they’ll think her an assassin or a witch or both. She’ll be executed. It’s done.

“The girl looked ill,” says Odile, snapping all of them to attention, her voice both soft and absolute. The voice of royalty. “I insisted she take a sip of wine and as soon as she tasted it she threw it across the room. Poison, yes?” She looks to Eda for confirmation. So Eda nods. What is the Princess doing? Why isn’t she screaming witchcraft? Why is she defending her?

“You,” continues Odile, jutting her chin at the previously bored looking soldier. “Go tell my father what has happened. You will stay and guard the door,” she says to the kind guard who nods, turns and leaves the chambers. The bored guard grabs Martha by the arm as he does the same. She follows him, mute and terrified, until the door slams shut and Eda and Odile are alone.

Odile stares at her feet without blinking. She can barely hear over her heart thumping in her ears. But gods, that smell. Now the tainted wine covers the floor, the wall, and the stink makes Eda want to vomit. She sinks down to her knees. The dog licks her cheek.

Odile, stepping nimbly to avoid any patches of wine, comes closer and crouches down. She reaches a hand out and Eda flinches away. Surely she’ll strike? Maybe even strangle her? Odile simply pulls her hand back.

“I won’t hurt you,”she says, looking scared and shaky, the impenetrable mask of royalty has slipped from her face.

“You know what I am…” says Eda. The panic has gotten too much and now her body is numb. Frozen.

Odile offers her a smile. But it’s a sad little smile. “Well, we all have secrets.”

The door opens with a bang and men come storming in. Instantly Odile’s face snaps back to that of a crown princess. No fear. No sadness. She stands tall and straight while Eda remains on the floor, the dog still nuzzling her. She strokes its fur.

“Captain,” she says and a terrifying bearded man in full soldier's armour bows to her. His beard is unkempt and his dark eyes rake over the room, taking in everything, scouting for further danger. He stands over the puddle of spilled wine, inspects the jug that shattered on the floor.

A smaller man in fine, grey robes and spectacles is behind him, his bald head shiny, slim hands clasped in front of him. Or is it a woman? Eda isn’t entirely sure.

“Doctor,” commands Odile and the bald person looks to her politely. “The girl is the one who tasted the poisoned wine and it has made her ill. Tend to her.”

The doctor, who is neither a man or a woman, flurries to Eda and crouches at her side. They smell of coals and spices, too many spices to separate one from the other. They place cool fingertips on the hollow under her jaw.

“Yes, poor girl, your heart is racing,” they mutter, measuring the heat of her forehead with the back of their hand. Eda figures it’s wise not to mention her heart is only racing because she’s afraid of getting tied to a burning pyre. Let them think she’s been mildly poisoned, she can blame any odd behaviour on it.

“Captain Vinead,” says the doctor, pulling a small vial out of their sleeve. “Would you mind terribly collecting a sample for me?”

The captain straightens and holds out a leather gloved hand. The doctor throws him the vial, which Vinead catches easily, and scoops a few droplets of poison wine into it before sealing it tightly with the cork.

“Your Father requires your presence in his chambers, your Highness” says Vinead with a tip of the head to Odile. Eda is surprised by his voice. It’s smooth as satin and friendly around the edges. A voice from someone you can trust.

“Yes I assumed he would,” Odile sighs, whistling so her dog comes obediently to her side. After one final lick of Eda’s face, that is.

The doctor pats Eda gently on her shoulder. “Can you walk, my child?”

Eda nods, not sure she can speak, anxiety tying her tongue in knots. The doctor offers their long scholar’s hands to her and helps her up. Her knees shake and her vision swims. She’s not sure whether it’s from terror or exhaustion at this point.

“Off to my quarters and we shall get you well, yes?” Hums the doctor. “Water, water and more water to clean out your system. Yes, that is where we shall start.”

“His Majesty wants the girl there too,” interrupts Vinead. The doctor halts and scowls at him.

“She is clearly unwell.”

Vinead shrugs, but looks sympathetically at Eda as he leaves the chambers, followed by the Princess.

The doctor tuts and follows after them, supporting Eda with a surprising strength.

“I suppose we are going as well,” they say. “Now if you feel the need to vomit whilst in the presence of dear King Richard, please do go ahead. It will mean we can leave his presence sooner.”

Eda surprises herself by laughing.

CHAPTER 4

After a brisk walk down several hallways and up another flight of stairs, their strange little group, including Victor the wolfhound and the kind guard who has followed along, arrives at the heavy oaken doors of the Royal Chambers. The guards standing watch let them in without hesitating, Captain Vinead taking the lead. Eda thinks about vomiting on the King’s floor. With the way she’s feeling it's a distinct possibility.

The room they enter puts even Odile’s chambers to shame. Priceless tapestries line the walls and rugs adorn the floor. Bottles of wine and smoking pipes glitter in the firelight. Oak chairs and a table built to be impressive. But there’s a dense layer of unease soaked into the room. Eda can’t see a single book.

The King is there, dressed in black and red. Beneath his salt and pepper goatee and fierce eyebrows he is scowling. He rakes his eyes over each of them as they enter. A nod at Odile is the only acknowledgement of the danger she was just in. Jodis is the only one with a spring in their step.

More guards and soldiers are gathered by the King, the one from the door still with a firm grip on Martha's arm. She’s pale and terrified, trembling in the middle of all these men. She might be unpleasent but she doesn’t deserve the fear of being blamed for an assassination attempt. Eda can’t help but feel for her. They congregate in the middle of the room, King Richard watching everyone with hawk eyes.

“Tell me from the beginning,” he says to Odile. Eda waits for the truth to come tumbling from her lips.

“The girl looked unwell. Half starved. I insisted she have a sip of the wine that was brought and as it touched her lips she threw it across the room. Poison.”

Odile is calm and in control, but Eda watches as her hand compulsively stroking Victor’s fur.

“And what are you in all this?” snaps Richard, flicking a finger at Martha who is thrust forward roughly by the guard. She’s lost her tongue, too terrified to speak.

“She always brings Her Highness her meals,” offers the kind guard behind Eda.

“Then why were you there as well? Is it a terribly difficult job?”

“The kitchen mistress told Martha to train me,” says Eda, her voice low, slow and calm. It surprises her, how serene she sounds. Jodis squeezes her arm in encouragement. “I’m new. I’m being trained as a girl of all sorts.”

“And a poison taster, apparently?”

Don’t call it a gift. Witches have gifts. “A talent, Your Majesty. Nothing but a party trick until today.”

The King harrumphs but the answer seems to satisfy him. He looks Martha up and down like she’s a hunk of rotten meat. “Quite spoiled your plans then didn’t she, girl?”

Martha quails, the guard gripping her arm the only reason she’s not on the floor.

“It was a man,” says Eda. “He leant over Martha and put the wine on the tray. He had ears that stuck out from his head. She never touched the wine.”

Richard scrutinises Eda again. But her calmness and surety has, somehow, seemed to win him over. He nods at Captain Vinead.

“Find this man. And take her back to where she belongs.” He glares at Martha who is taken away. But it appears she’s safe from the gallows.

Jodis moves to leave as well, taking Eda along too.

“You stay,” snaps the King. Jodis sighs so lightly Eda’s the only one who hears. But they stop. They stay.

The King coughs quietly into the back of his hand, but it doesn’t sound right, not to Eda. There’s a rattle deep in his chest, the way he breathes… that cough means nothing good.

The King turns his attention to Eda and her knees nearly give way. “You’ll serve Odile from now on. Put that talent of yours to use.”

Odile bristles. “I like my independence, thank you-”

“Independence is the least of your priorities. She will be a permanent lady’s maid and you won’t be alone again.”

And with that, they are finally dismissed.

~

Odile is taken back to her chambers by the kind guard while Jodis sweeps Eda away, down flight after flight of stairs till they arrive at a small red door.

“Come, my dear, let's get you feeling better.”

The doctor's quarters feel like a different world from the rest of the castle. Plants and bottles, trinkets, candles and glass are arranged on every available surface. By the wall three cots are lined up, ready to take patients. Stairs lead up to a loft where the doctor must sleep, made private by thick orange curtains. Jodis places her on one of the cots and glides to a shelf, picking from jars of herbs and ingredients.

Eda drinks all the water the doctor instructs her to, mixed with herbs to settle her stomach and calm her heart. Although she’s not actually been poisoned, it helps. Her racing thoughts slow and her body relaxes. The anxiety that’s been eating her alive for weeks settles into dormancy. The doctor seems pleased by the change in her, but doesn’t hover, leaving her to sit quietly on the bed.

“Um, sorry?” says Eda, embarrassed but wanting to clear something up before it gets any more awkward to ask. Jodis’ head pops up from the bottles they’ve been inspecting.

“Yes my dear?”

“Please don’t take offence, but-”

“He, my dear.”

Eda falls silent, but Jodis smiles serenely. “I’m a he. Or a she. Both, neither, in the middle.”

“A they, then,” says Eda quietly, her embarrassment fading, reassured by Jodis’ gentle tone.

“A they,” says Jodis with a calm smile, now preparing food. “Indeed I am a they. And I’m the best healer there is, not to brag but let us face facts. The King pretends I’m a man because he only wants the best in his inner circle, so we all humour him so I can keep a job.”

Eda can’t help but smile at their ease and matter of factness. It’s both calming and refreshing. Jodis glides back towards the bed, handing her a cup of sweet tea and bun.

“And you, my dear,” they say, placing a gentle hand on Eda’s shoulder, “are safe with me.” They look her in the eye and Eda’s throat tightens. Because of course they can see right through her. Not about being a witch, perhaps, but certainly the other part of herself she keeps hidden. The way she couldn’t help but keep snatching glances of Odile and the blush that crept up her neck. She looks down at the bun in her lap and nods. Jodis squeezes her shoulder and leaves her alone to eat and rest.

~

Once the doctor is deep in sleep, their snores floating down from the loft above, Eda sneaks out, tiptoeing across grass and sticking to the darkest shadows. She finds a secluded corner that’s painted in darkness and sits outside in the cold. It was a mistake ever coming here. Hiding in plain sight means you’re still in sight. Always. Now if the Witch Finders come to the castle to report to their King she won’t be hidden in the kitchens or scrubbing dark corners, she’ll be in their firing line, right next to Odile. And if she takes off and leaves now, after being given such a desirable position, then suspicions will be raised. Why would a nothing servant girl run away from such an opportunity? And if they go looking for her, they’ll know her face. Before she was anonymous at least. Now she’s known.

Eda rests her head on her knees. This is bad. This is very, very bad. She presses her knuckles into her eyelids until stars swim; tries to focus on the scents in the night air around her, the freezing wind on her skin.

But her thoughts keep circling back to Odile. She protected Eda. Said nothing. More, she spun lies instead of the truth. All to protect a witch.

The only thing that keeps Eda running from thoughts of funeral pyres and hangings is that Odile would have some explaining to do herself if Eda’s secret was revealed. Because it is now their secret.

Gods, to be able to go to bed and not wake up until all the Witch Finders were dead and gone.To have the wind whip round her till she’s numb. Instead she thinks of Odile, not as terrified of her as she should be. She thinks of those big blue eyes, almost too big for her face. About how she wants to run her thumb over the delicate hollow beneath those eyes, over her lips, her earlobe, down her collarbone and beyond. How these are all stupid thoughts to be having. Dangerous thoughts at the best of times, let alone the mess she’s gotten herself into. But she still finds herself moving her finger over her own collarbone, skin feverish despite the wind, moving lower and lower until she’s moving her finger over the shape of her breast through her dress. Her nipples are hard under her fingers, chest goosebumped. Without her say so, her body shifts, sitting cross legged, her dress stretched across her knees.

She listens hard and far. No one is around. No guards are watching this secluded corner. Sensible people are inside, in their beds. Eda tried doing the sensible thing and that got turned on its head. Well, maybe she shouldn’t be cowering and hiding, trembling until a Witch Finder stumbles upon her. Maybe she should stoke up that pride her aunt always said would get her into trouble.

She’s in trouble anyway. She didn’t have to hide her witchcraft in front of her family, but she always hid her desires and heart’s wanderings… She’s so thoroughly tired of pretending to be something she’s not.

In the silence and the dark Eda becomes invisible, flicking on the ability like a switch, and lets her fingers trail down her leg. Grabbing the fabric, she pulls her skirt over her knees, her back leaning against the brick wall, sending chills down her spine. Her hand slides up her inner thigh till it stops between her legs. She’s warm and wet and, throwing caution to the wind, her fingers slip inside. She sighs. It’s a thrill and a relief. Pulling her fingers out, she strokes herself slowly, circling now and again in a steady rhythm. Her mind wanders up to Odile’s quarters. Eda imagines her wearing that beautiful blue dress, how it must unfasten at the back and slip from her shoulders to the floor, leaving Odile in a thin shift, practically see through, the curves and lines of her almost visible. Eda would lay her down on that bed and kneel above her just to see those lips open in a sigh. She’d peel the delicate shift over her head till Odile lay naked and bare, hair loose, and run her fingers over her breasts, her stomach, her hips. She’d stroke between her legs, fingers entering her, curling forwards and back until Odile begged for her to stop, to keep going, to kiss her… And Eda would remove her fingers and lower her head between Odile’s thighs until she was kissing the centre of her. She’d open her mouth and lick her from one end to the other and kiss and caress till her chin was wet. Odile would shake and writh and beg for more, her fingers tangled in Eda’s hair.

Heat rolls over Eda’s stomach and up her ribs as her fingers rub back and forth, finally letting the release crash through her till she’s shaking and breathless against the wall. She listens and waits. No one is coming so she makes herself visible again. She doesn’t make a sound as she gets up and heads back to the doctor’s quarters.

The one eyed tabby cat is waiting by the door, a lump of shadow in the darkness, its eye sparkling. Eda smiles at him and scratches his ear. If she names the cat then it really will be her Familiar, sealed and bonded. Another thing to mark her as a witch. She’s sick of being cautious. It’s gotten her nowhere but into trouble so far. If this is her Familiar then so be it.

“We’re both more than we seem, aren’t we? What do you think of Eyebright as a name?”

The cat purrs his assent.

CHAPTER 5

Eda’s bravado from the previous evening has well and truly fled. After waking and washing in Jodis’ quarters and being declared well, she makes her way to the kitchens to begin her new role as personal maid to the princess. The man who put the poisoned wine on Martha’s tray was found two miles outside the castle walls and was executed before the rumours could properly start.

While everyone else fusses over Eda and her close call with poison, Martha’s glare cuts her to the bone. Eda leaves the attention, both good and bad, as quickly as she can. She heads for the interior of the castle and Odile’s rooms carrying a tray of breakfast. Fruit arranged on a silver platter, small scones with fresh butter and cream. Eda smells not a whiff of poison. Despite everything, she has a job to do and she intends to do it well. The Princess will be safe from poison if she has anything to do with it. But her knees shake as she navigates the stairs and hallways to the door guarded by soldiers. While the one on the left looks her up and down as if she were the meal, the guard on the right recognises her from the evening before, smiles kindly and opens the door for her. Eda smiles back at him.

“Thank you,” she says, loud enough for him to hear her this time, and he beams. The door clicks shut behind her.

The fire smoulders low in the grate, Victor splayed out and snoring, warming his belly in front of the embers. Eda places the tray down on the table just as Martha did the night before. Martha. Now she has to keep a closer eye on that girl. She’ll be looking for any chance of revenge.

Any sign or smell of the poisoned wine has been cleaned up overnight and now the chambers smell floral and sweet instead of like tar. Eda stands awkwardly and takes a better look around. Another door leads off to a separate room which Eda assumes is the bedchamber that Odile entered from last evening. Her Uncle’s house was one room in total. She turns and watches Victor sleeping by the fire, belly falling and rising with his snores, not a care in the world.

“Good morning.”

Eda jumps, hand flying to her mouth to swallow a yelp as she spins around. Odile stands by the now open bedchamber door, hands raised in truce. It’s rare for Eda to meet someone as silent and smooth as Odile, someone who can sneak up on her. She’s not used to it. She remembers herself and curtsies.

“Apologies,” says Odile, lowering her hands. “I frightened you.”

She’s wearing a green gown today, the neckline scooping along her shoulders, displaying her collarbones and the delicate silver chain that sits in the hollow of her throat. Her feet are bare beneath her skirt, her pale hair braided down her back and loose from sleeping.She’s not yet fully dressed as a princess for the day. She’s simpler, more herself. She looks so much like the Odile from her fantasies last night that Eda turns away, heart galloping, legs burning. She prays that her face isn’t turning red with the embarrassing blush that likes to creep up her neck. The blush that would always have her aunt teasing, “someones thinking about their future husband!”

Ha. She was never thinking about husbands.

Odile approaches the table quietly and sits down, waiting for Eda to look at her. Which eventually she has to. Eda raises her eyes and resolves to keep them firmly on Odile’s face and not an inch lower.

“Goodmorning, Your Highness,” her voice steady, thank the gods.

“Please, sit,” says Odile, waving a hand at the chair opposite her.

Eda hesitates. She’s not an equal. Under no ordinary circumstances would someone like her ever sit at the same table as a princess. Odile seems to read the thoughts flickering across her face as she picks up a plate with sweet biscuits and places it in front of herself.

“We’re in rather a unique situation aren’t we?” Her voice doesn’t have the royal surety woven through it this morning. For now it is just a young woman’s voice, tired from a lack of sleep and a stressful night.

Eda’s glances at the door. She can hear the soft mumblings of the guards outside but has no idea how far their ordinary hearing might carry.

“Our conversations are safe in here,” says Odile, turning a biscuit to crumbs between her fingers, observant again. “You are safe in here.” She pierces Eda with a sincere gaze.

Eda squares her shoulders. Let us get this pretending over with. “I am a witch, Your Highness.”

It feels good to say it. Terrifying but good. It might be the first time she’s ever said it out loud.

“Yes,” says Odile, still clearly daunted by the truth of it. Daunted but somehow not at all afraid. “And you saved my life. And Victor’s,” she nods at the wolfhound still soundly asleep in front of the fire. “So the least I can do to repay you is keep your secret. We shall only speak truths in here.”

She doesn’t eat any of the food, just plays with it. There are dark circles under her eyes. If she was going to reveal Eda she would have done it straight away. And the longer she waits to run out of the room and scream the truth only implicates Odile further, only makes it harder for her. Eda takes a deep breath and decides to jump fully into the situation she’s found herself in. She sits down at the table.

Odile smiles a little, gods she looks tired, and gestures to the rest of the food on the tray that Eda set down. “Eat, please. They always send more than I could possibly eat.”

To be polite more than anything else, Eda takes a small plate piled with apple tarts from the tray, sticky with sugar glaze. She takes a bite and could cry. It’s the finest thing she’s ever eaten. All of Agnes’ cooking is delicious but this is divine. She wishes she could travel back as a vision and tell her past self, wandering and starving in the forest, that soon she would eat the finest food in the kingdom. Keep walking girl, soon you will eat apple tarts.

Eda’s chewing slows and she places the pastry back on her plate when she notices Odile watching her calmly from across the table, a small smile tugging at her lips. Eda swallows.

“Eat your fill,” says Odile. “I saw you yesterday morning, scrubbing the entrance floors. You looked thin enough to snap in two.”

Eda blinks in surprise. She’d convinced herself that the look and the smile Odile had given her were just her imagination. Wishful thinking. Apparently not.

“I’m surprised you noticed someone like me. I think I was still holding my scrubbing brush.”

Odile shrugs.

“I hadn’t seen you around before and thought… well I couldn’t believe quite how lovely you were.” She laughs a little, as if she’d made a joke, trampling the power out of the words. But Eda sees the tremor in her fingers as she picks at her food. Hears Odile swallow nervously.

We all have secrets, she’d said last night. Oh. Oh…

To another dirt poor servant girl, one who dreamed of having a husband someday, this would come across as nothing more than a flattering compliment from Her Highness.One girl telling another they were pretty. But to Eda… she recognises the tone of those words. The desperation underlining it all. The loneliness. Please understand what I’m saying. Then again, please don’t understand. Please don't reveal me. Please don’t hate me.

Oh.

Well… Odile already knows Eda is a witch. So, Eda can throw herself in and maybe come out of it with more than just fantasies and dreams... Or, she can pretend she didn’t hear the undertone and carry on alone.

If she ends up on the Witch Finder’s pyre she knows which choice she would regret more.

“I…” she falters but plows on; what does she have left to lose? “I couldn’t understand how anyone could take their eyes from you,” she says, the aching she’s felt over the last day seeping into her voice, a bursting valve cracked open. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you-”

She stumbles to a halt as Odile’s breath sharpens, her expression hardens, and for a second Eda thinks she’s made a terrible mistake.

“Don’t make fun of me,” says Odile, eyes hurt, the tremor back in her fingers. The royal sharpness is back in her voice. “Don’t play pretend either. It’s not becoming. I said truths only, didn’t I?”

Relief floods down Eda’s limbs, because Odile didn’t deny it, so it’s true. She’s like her, a keeper of the same secret. But sorrow follows, that Odile thinks Eda would tease her about something so serious. Almost as serious as witchcraft.

Eda puts her hand on the table, inches from Odile’s, her own fingers shaking slightly. Not proper etiquette for a servant and a princess, but they’re far beyond that now. She licks her lips as she thinks of what to say to sound convincing.

“I’ve always been in two different types of danger. Had two different secrets.”

Odile is staring at the plate before her, still as stone. But the hardness around her jaw has softened a little. So Eda keeps going. “I really did think about you all day…” she gets braver, and allows her eyes to follow the line of Odile’s exposed shoulders. “I thought about you all night…”

And at that she looks down at the table, face burning red. Her ears feel like they’re on fire. She sneaks a glance back up at Odile who is staring straight back, her own cheeks flushed pink. There’s not as much fear in her eyes now. There’s something almost like hope shining through.

Eda keeps talking before the words run away from her, she hasn't talked this much since… well since her aunt and uncle were still alive.

“I thought… I thought well, this is just a crush. Just a nice little crush to pass the time with. I can handle that. No one would ever need to know. It would just be some thoughts I could keep to myself. Some alternate reality I could imagine…”

Maybe it’s the relief of being able to speak her whole truth for the first time in her life, witch and woman lover. Maybe she still needs to eat more, her body exhausted and starved. Maybe it’s the trauma of her family and home burning before her eyes finally catching up with her. Whatever it is, Eda finally cries, the table in front of her blurring.

“But then you protected me. You didn’t tell them what I was. And it can never be just a little crush after that.” Her voice fades into a whisper then disappears altogether. Tears fall from her chin onto the table that she can barely see. Now she’s done it. Taken the plunge and probably ruined everything. She’s never opened herself up like this and it feels like she’s been flayed alive.

But then she feels fingertips on the back of her hand. Shaking fingertips, warm to the touch, that settle lightly on her skin. Eda blinks, tears falling and clearing her vision as she looks up at Odile who has stretched out her hand to hers. There’s such a look of concentration on her face you’d think she was battling life and death as she lightly stroked Eda’s hand, her fingers, her wrist. Eda slowly, ever so slowly so as not to scare Odile away, flips her hand over so her palm faces upwards. Odile continues running her fingers over her skin, over the creases and her palm lines, and Eda wants nothing more than to close her fingers and hold Odile’s hand in her own.

A knock on the door jolts them like a lightning bolt, both of them snatching their hands back. Victor finally wakes in front of the fire with a snort.

They look at each other for a brief second before Odile’s royal persona takes full effect. “Dry your face,” she tells Eda, and Eda obeys, wiping her cheeks with her sleeves, sniffing and getting up to go to the fire. If she stands there, she’ll have a reasonable excuse for red cheeks and bright eyes.

“Yes?!” Calls Odile the second they’ve collected themselves and the door swings open. Jodis enters, robes billowing as they carry in several bottes cradled in their arms. They bow to Odile and smile at Eda. Eda smiles back, knowing full well that Jodis’ eyes are scanning everything and most likely piecing together whatever clues they find. But this doesn’t worry her. Jodis, so rarely amongst humanity, is truly trustworthy. Truly kind.

Odile also relaxes in their presence. The royal persona is still there but a watered down version.

“What is it Jodis?” Asks Odile, letting the tiredness come through her voice, settling back into playing with her food.

“I am actually here for your new maid, Your Highness,” they say, strolling over to Eda by the fireplace, scruffing Victor’s belly with their foot as they pass. They hold out the first bottle to Eda.

“This is chamomile. One spoonful in warm water before bed will help you sleep. Don’t think I didn’t hear you up and wandering at all hours last night.” Eda presses her lips together, eternally grateful that she went outside and out of earshot to tend to herself last night. But she takes the bottle.

“This is mint,” continues Jodis, handing her a second bottle. “Again, a spoonful in water, warm or cold, should any residual poison be in your system upsetting your stomach. But I do think you’re out of the woods in that regard.”

They hold out a third bottle which Eda takes obediently.

“That, my dear, is for a panicked heart. If you don’t calm your worries and your pulse, you’ll drop dead of a heart attack by thirty and frankly the cemetery is getting overcrowded so it would be far more convenient if you stayed alive.”

Odile laughs. “Your bedside manner is impeccable as always, Jodis.”

“I know,” they say, with that sardonic smile of theirs.

“Can you do me a favour,” says Odile and Jodis cocks their head in assent.

“Anything, Madam.”

“I would rather not have visitors today. Frankly I don’t intend on leaving this room. Both my new companion and I have had enough excitement, I think.”

Jodis bows. “I shall keep the vultures at bay, even the royal ones,” they say, turning dramatically and making to leave. “Send Eda should you need anything, your Highness. I shall spread the word that you’re not to be disturbed.”

“Thank you, Jodis,” says Odile and the doctor waves a hand in lazy acknowledgement, opens the door and exits. Once the door closes behind them Eda strains her hearing as best as she can and hears Jodis keeping their promise and telling the guards that the Princess is distressed and exhausted by the events of the previous evening and is not to be bothered by anyone. Her new maid will take care of anything she might need. A smile tugs at Eda’s lips, her arms cradling her bottles of medicine.

He turns back to the table where Odile is steadfastly avoiding her gaze. Was it really only a few minutes ago that they were caressing hands like lovers? But Eda needs to put her bottles down before she drops them and they shatter so she moves back to the table and places them gently down. Odile stands and starts pacing the room, attempting to seem relaxed and deep in thought but clearly wound tight as a spring. Neither of them speak. Eda wonders if they’ll ever be able to look each other in the eye again, let alone wind their fingers in one another’s.

The awkward silence is broken by Victor whose belly has grown too hot by the fire. He gets up, stretches and pads his way over to one of the long, overstuffed sofas. Without further ado he climbs up, lays himself out and promptly falls back asleep.

Both of them watch the utter ease of the giant dog, catch each other's eye across the room and laugh. The tension shatters and Eda finds that she can breathe again. She inspects the bottles Jodis gave her more closely, not to avoid looking at Odile, but out of genuine curiosity.

“Jodis is quite the genius,” she says, placing the chamomile mixture back down.

“They are,” agrees Odile. “And the clown. And the viper. It depends what mood you catch them in.” She smiles fondly, absently scratching Victor’s ear. The silence returns, but it’s more comfortable this time, the crackle of the fire in the cool autumn air almost musical. And Odile wasn’t lying when she’d told Jodis they had had enough excitement. The past twenty-four hours feel like a month condensed into a day.

“What were you doing wandering around outside last night?” says Odile as a joke, attempting to break the silence before it has a chance to turn awkward again. But that stupid blush flares up Eda’s neck. She’s sure steam must be coming out of her ears.

“Didn’t you say you thought about me all night?” says Odile, quietly, shyly. Her own cheeks have turned bright pink, gathering enough information from Eda’s blush to take a guess at the answer. She’s fidgeting from foot to foot and Eda can hear her breath and heartbeat working over time, the scent of sweat prickling at her neck.

Eda, although the lowest of society’s low, a poor young woman and a witch to boot, has always known who she was. She has always dreamed of wives, never of husbands. And when those thoughts and dreams snuck up on her and her body reacted, she took it in stride. Went off on her own and explored it. Embraced it and left no part of her own body untouched. She’s never touched or been touched by anyone else but she knows what to do. She’s not innocent by any stretch of the imagination.

But looking at Odile across the room, Eda doesn’t think that’s the case for the Princess. She may not have touched another person and she may have never even touched herself. Eda makes a conscious effort to gentle and soften every fibre in her body. Part of her wants nothing more than to throw Odile on the bed and live out her fantasies from the previous night. To ravish her into oblivion. But if Eda’s suspicions are correct, that Odile hasn’t even pleasured herself before, then a different, more sensitive approach is needed.

Taking a deep breath and straightening her shoulders, Eda walks over to the princess stopping only a foot away, enough space to be intimate, enough space for Odile to back away if it’s too much.

“I did think about you last night,” says Eda quietly. Odile stares at Victor, arms folded across her torso, but she smiles and peeks up from Eda under her lashes.

“I did other things too,” says Eda, reaching out and barely grazing Odile’s sleeve with the backs of her fingers. Gods, the silk is soft. She desperately wants to know what the skin underneath feels like.

Odile’s breath hitches and shallows. She remains frozen. Her eyebrows crease ever so slightly.

“Did you think of me while you were doing these other things?” She says, sounding almost hurt, as if the conversation isn’t going where she wanted it to.

Eda’s suspicions are at least partly confirmed. The princess is more sheltered, more innocent than her. She didn’t connect a very obvious set of dots. But that’s fine. What else could you expect from someone in her circumstances? Who did she ever have to teach her? Eda takes several steps backwards in her head. No throwing her down on beds then. Simpler. Slower.

“Yes Princess, I thought about you all the while.”

“Just Odile. I want to be just Odile here. With you.”

“Odile.”

“Eda.”

They both smile. It’s so simple. And neither of them thought it could ever be theirs.

Eda presses the backs of her fingers slightly firmer onto Odile’s sleeve now that she hasn’t pulled away, now her shoulders are looser.

“This is very, very stupid,” says Odile. But she still doesn’t pull away.

“Yes,” agrees Eda. “But so is using witchcraft in front of you and I’m somehow doing just fine.”

Odile huffs a laugh. She keeps looking at Eda’s fingers stroking her arm. Her own hand reaches out and lays on top of Eda’s and, at last, their fingers interlock.

“The something else that I was doing, while I thought of you, that’s why I was outside last night, I didn’t want Jodis to hear.”

“Hear what?” Odile seems worried again and Eda’s heart breaks slightly that she seems to have so little trust in her, in anyone. Eda resolves to be trustworthy to her, if nothing else. Truths only.

“I thought of you and I was touching myself,” says Eda. Odile shakes her head, still not understanding, but now aware that she is missing something, embarrassment blooming on her beautiful face. Eda steps in to squash it before Odile’s confidence cracks. She squeezes Odile’s hand and lifts it to her mouth, grazing her lips across her warm knuckles. Always her hands seem to be warm.

“Would you like me to show you what I was doing?” Says Eda, looking her in the eye. Trust me. I would never tease you. Never.

Odile nods and takes the lead this time, holding Eda’s hand and tugging her to the door on the left which Eda correctly guessed was her bedchamber. Inside, the bright morning light softens the room through the high glass windows. Odile tugs the curtains closed even though this high up anyone is unlikely to see them through the window. The bed is a beautiful thing, more than Eda could have imagined. A wide, high mattress piled with blankets, pillows neatly stacked. Four posters mark the corners with gossamer fabric draped between. More books line the floors, the walls. Paper, quills and candles. But it’s Odile that keeps stealing Eda’s focus. Their hands are still clasped tight.

“I’ve-” Odile starts, then coughs. Gaze focused on the floor again.

“I’ve never been with another person,” offers Eda. Odile looks back up. “Have you?”

“No,” says Odile, fingers gripping tight.

“That’s fine,” says Eda, smiling and shaking her head. “I can teach you. I only ask so I can teach you. It doesn’t matter either way, Odile.” She takes her other hand and strokes her cheek, her palm fitting over Odile’s delicate cheekbone. Odile relaxes a little, comforted by Eda’s words.

Eda steps closer, until she can feel Odile’s breath on her face. Their breasts almost touch and glancing down Eda can see Odile’s nipples make an appearance through her dress, which sets her own on edge and a fire blooming in her stomach.

“Have you ever thought about being with another?” Asks Eda, fingers trailing down her neck onto that gorgeous, bare shoulder that she wants to sink her teeth into.

“Yes,” says Odile after a pause, her pulse jittering under her skin.

“Have you been with yourself?”

She frowns again. Shakes her head.

“You’re not stupid,”says Eda, fingers moving back up to Odile’s chin over her lips. “I know that. But you can’t learn everything in books.”

Odile takes a deep breath and appears to make a decision. “You teach me this and I’ll teach you other things.”

Eda smiles. “Can you teach me how to read?”

Odile smiles, genuine and wide. “Yes.”

“Okay,” and they’re both smiling, another barrier of shyness and embarrassment knocked down. They’ve both been so desperate for connection and now that they have it it’s making them giddy.

Eda moves forward just another inch and this time their breasts graze against each other. Odile moves into her, and as they’re the same height, the friction makes Eda’s breasts grow even harder. She unlaces her fingers from Odile’s and strokes her shoulders and neck with feather lightness.

“Last night, when I was thinking of you, I went outside to the most quiet, private area I could find and sat against the wall. Then I thought of you some more.”

Odile leans in and presses the tip of her nose to Eda’s and they breath each other’s breaths.

“I thought about taking off your dress and kissing you all over,” and at that she presses her lips forward and kisses Odile on the mouth. Softly. Slowly. Gods, she tastes like spring rain.

“Then I started touching myself,” she continues, lowering a hand down Odile’s chest till her shaking fingers lay atop her breast, so much more full than her own. Something shivers deep inside her and her whole body grows hot. She can feel her vagina blooming wide.

“I touched my breast,” she says, breathless, circling her fingers. Odile puts her hand over Eda’s and pushes her hand in harder. Eda grips and massages Odile between her fingers and Odile’s breathing takes on a staggering offbeat rhythm. She moves her own fingers onto Eda’s flatter breast, feeling gingerly through her dress, rubbing her fingers over Eda’s nipple. Eda feels a thrum up her abdomen.

Odile keeps her face close to Eda’s. “What else did you touch?”

Eda lowers her hand. Leaving Odile’s breast behind, she places her other hand in the small of her back, holding her steady. With her other hand she strokes down her stomach until she reaches her groin. Though there’s not much she can do over the dress.

“I touched here,” she says. Pushing Odile’s back inwards until their hips touch. Odile’s hands make their way up to Eda’s neck.

“I thought of you naked on the bed,” says Eda, not quite believing that this isn’t all in her head right now. “And I pulled up my dress and put my fingers inside myself.”

Odile’s breath is ragged, her fingers start tracing Eda’s lips as she speaks.

“Then once my fingers were wet, I rubbed the outside, over and between the lips, over the most sensitive parts, and I rubbed faster and harder, thinking of you the whole time, until I came. And I wanted to scream, it felt so good. Did you know you could do that to yourself?”

Odile shakes her head. “But I want you to do it to me.”

She takes a step backwards and looks Eda up and down.

“Take off your dress,” she says, just a hint of her royal voice making an appearance. The order makes Eda smile, and it makes her wet. If she were to ever bed someone, she’s always imagined herself as the bossy one. But that might change…

She obeys Odile, her body’s actions raving ahead of any thoughts, unlacing the front of her dress and letting it fall to the floor. She pulls her shift over her head and stands naked. It’s now that the self-consciousness kicks in. She’s been hungry for weeks, exhausted and afraid, and it’s showing in her body. She’s more flat chested than ever and her bones stick out in odd places.

But Odile steps forward and kisses her. “You’re so beautiful, do you know that?” She says against her lips.

“Off,” says Eda, tugging at Odile’s neck line. Her dress is more complicated than Eda’s, so she spins around and Eda unlaces the back to speed up the process. She pulls it and Odile’s underdress off as one, over her shoulders and down to her hips. Eda presses up against her back, reaches around and massages Odile’s full breasts, rubbing her nipples between her fingers till Odile gasps, reaching back and grabbing at Eda’s thigh. She spins back around, and Eda watches her breasts rise and fall with her breathing and she never ever wants to look away. Odile pulls her dress off over her hips and steps out, her body a continuous curve, all her hair blonde, skin like milk. She walks slowly to the bed and sits on the edge, her braid pooling on the mattress behind her, and watches Eda approach. Odile moves herself to the middle of the bed and Eda climbs on after her, sinking into the mattress. She lifts Odile’s legs so that her knees sit either side of her own crossed ones. So that Eda can see all of her.

There’s no doubt left that Odile is enjoying herself. Eda runs a thumb over the lips of her labia and she’s wet and glistening. She grazes a finger tip over Odile’s clit which makes her jerk and gasp, clamping a hand over her mouth in surprise, muffling a squeal. Eda begins to rub firmly but slowly, moving her fingers up and down, occasionally dipping them inside Odile who’s passage grows wider and wetter by the minute. Gradually, Odile begins to move her hips in time with Eda’s fingers, grinding into her hand. But then she stops suddenly, sitting upright, and Eda pulls her hand away, worried that she’s hurt her.

“Don’t stop,” says Odile, a trickle of sweat running between her breasts. She puts her hands between Eda’s legs, watching carefully as she strokes Eda’s own throbbing clit. Eda flinches uncontrollably. It’s different when someone else does it.

Eda starts stroking Odile again, harder this time, and Odile matches her for firmness and speed until they’re pressed together, gasping for air with sweat beading on their brows and chests. It’s not long until they’ve reached their limits and Odile comes first, nails digging into Eda’s back as her muscles convulse and she lets out a moan that tips Eda over the edge. The wave starts in her thighs and rolls all the way to the top of her head, her core shaking uncontrollably as Odile presses her fingers hard into her one last time. Her mouth against Odile’s neck, Eda lets out a moan of her own, barely able to breathe afterwards.

They stay like that for a while, letting the tremors stop and their breathing come back. Eda runs her hands over Odile’s back, while Odile kisses her shoulder. Eventually, they float back to reality, still clasped together and never wanting to let go.

CHAPTER 6

It’s evening before they disentangle themselves from each other, Eda’s howling stomach finally winning the battle of wills. She dresses and Odile watches her from the bed, winding and unwinding a tangle of hair around her fingers.

“I have to return to reality tomorrow,” she says sadly.

“That’s tomorrow,” counters Eda, sitting on the edge of the bed to lace up the front of her dress.

What is she doing? Bedding the princess who also knows she’s a witch. She named a Familiar who could be anywhere in the castle. The King himself knows she exists. And she’s already made an enemy of Martha, which would be bad enough on its own. So much for lying low.

Gentle fingers scrape through her hair pulling it off her face as Odile sits up behind her, taming Eda’s mane into a braid down her back.

But to hell with it… thinks Eda. She’s found someone. If they can pull this off then it’s worth every risk.

Odile finishes braiding and rests her chin on Eda’s shoulder.

“We’re mad aren’t we?”

Eda laughs. At least she’s not alone in her thoughts.

“I think we must be.”

“I never said thank you. For saving my life.”

Eda shifts to look at her. “I never thanked you either. For protecting mine.”

“Well, we can call it even, then.” She smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind Eda’s ear.

~

Eda takes her time making her way to the kitchens to forage for food. She keeps a lookout for Eyebright, wondering where he might have gone to. Is he a secret finder? A treasure hoarder? Can he smell lies and truth on people? What sort of Familiar did she go and lump herself in with? She should know herself better by now, since when did anything but chaos follow her.

A hand is clamped over her mouth and the point of a blade scrapes against her neck as Eda is shoved into a dark corner and up against a wall. Martha stands in front of her, knife at the ready, hand still over Eda’s mouth. Her face is vicious and cruel. Eda goes very still, even her breathing slows. Chaos.

“I should kill you right now,” spits Martha. Eda bites at her finger making Martha yelp and pull her hand away. But her knife jabs forward, scraping Eda’s throat.

“You think you can come into my kitchen and disrupt everything? Take my job?”

“It’s Agnes’ kitchen,” says Eda, voice calm and reasonable. She won’t stoop to Martha’s hissing. “And I saved your life, you’re lucky I noticed who gave you that jug of wine or you’d be the one swinging from a rope.”

Martha’s hands shake, her face a furious red.

“You’re nothing.”

“I never said I wasn’t,” says Eda. She waits and Martha’s nerve fails her. If she killed Eda now she’d only get herself hung. So she sheaths her knife and stalks away.

Eda runs her neck and lets out the breath she was holding. Brilliant. She’s going to have to watch Martha like a hawk from now on. That won’t be the last of it.

There’s a soft meow and Eyebright creeps out, checking the coast is clear before padding to Eda’s ankles. She kneels down and scratches behind his ear.

“Watch her for me?” She asks and Eyebright nips her finger and meows an agreement. His ability will reveal itself in time. For now he can help her avoid having her throat cut.

CHAPTER 7

Eda spends the following weeks navigating her new life. It’s unsettling, having people look at her, recognise her, know who she is and her role in the castle. And gossip spreads as it always does.

She saved the princess from being poisoned. Barely survived, the Doctor had to care for her, the King promoted her himself, just an orphan peasant girl too…

Luckily the word witch hasn’t attached itself to any of the rumours. She’s just lucky and skilled. Not a sorceress.

Eyebright is smart enough to avoid her during daylight hours and only approaches when she’s alone in the dead of night. Nothing particularly special about him has become obvious yet, just the basic Familiar traits. His single minded loyalty, his apparent understanding of everything she says and of course his single eye. One morning while Eda fetched breakfast, Agnes was in a rampage, threatening to find out who it was that put a dead mouse in Martha’s bed overnight. Eda had run away trying not to laugh, knowing full well who the four legged culprit was.

Slowly, passing by the guards at the Princess’ door no longer feels quite so strange. Especially as Duncan, the kind guard who smells of baking, is the one most often there. He’s polite and quiet, and if the rotating series of second guards ever licks his lips at Eda, or says something vile, he gets a prompt kick to the back of the knee and he’s never seen guarding Odile’s door again.

Odile spends her days performing the role of crown princess. Appearing where she’s told to appear by the King. He says it’s to raise morale. To make an appearance. To use her popularity to curry favour with the people he’s over taxing and scrutinising with Witch Finders. The people who are like Eda, who live day to day in fear that it’s their last. He sends his daughter to soothe the ripples. Which Odile does happily, because she genuinely cares. She lays hands on the sick who are desperate for any help they can get. She listens. She acknowledges their existence and pain. She gives them hope that the future will be better.

In her spare time Odile loses herself in her books and manuscripts, learning all she can. Captain Vinead brings her shipping and tax reports, business exchanges and rumours of secret deals. She learns it all. People assume because she is kind, because she is beautiful, that she doesn’t have ambition burning in her soul.

“My father won’t live forever,” she tells Eda one afternoon, ink splattering her fingers as she scribbles her quill furiously across a page. “I intend to be better than him. Better than any king.”

Eda debates within herself if she should mention the brief rattle she heard deep in the King’s chest, that Odile’s time as ruler might not be as far away as any of them thinks. But she says nothing. She can’t be sure of what she heard. And she doesn’t want to add complications to Odile’s already tenuous relationship with her father.

Their relationship, however, blooms like night-flowers. Sweet and secret. A small sleeping cot meant for Eda is placed in the living chamber for appearances sake, but in the evenings they crawl into Odile’s bed, hiding from the cold under the blankets as they pull each other's clothes off. Sleep is a distant thought as they wrap themselves around and inside one another. They learn each other's bodies, the curves and the lines. The sweetest spots. They fall asleep with tangled legs.

On one such evening, or early morning really, Eda lays with her head against Odile’s stomach. Odile gently strokes her hair. The candles gutter in their sconces. They wait for their breath to come back and their hearts to stop racing.

“Can you teach me any magic?” Asks Odile, out of the blue. Eda’s heart stops all together for a beat or two before gasping back to life. Her head snaps up and Odile pulls her hand away, surprised by the violent reaction.

“No,” snaps Eda, not sure if what she’s feeling is panic or rage. “You’re born with it or you’re not. Even if I could teach you I never would.”

Odile’s expression turns apologetic as Eda sits up.

“Can you teach me about magic?”

Eda wraps her arms around her knees.

“It’s not something you need to know anything about.”

Odile grabs Eda’s chin tightly between her forefingers and holds her gaze. It’s less the gaze of a lover and more one of a ruler.

“The only information I have on witches and magic is what I hear from my father and the Witch Finders. I'd rather hear it from you. I doubt they actually know what they’re talking about.”

Still, Eda shakes her head no. For weeks she has neatly avoided the subject of being a witch. Any time Odile tiptoes towards asking a question Eda promptly runs away; either changing the subject or distracting Odile with more pleasant activities.

And it’s not panic or rage she’s feeling; it’s grief rising to surface.

“It’s too dangerous,” she says, voice small. “The more you know, the more danger you will be in.”

“And this isn’t dangerous?” Says Odile, gesturing to herself, naked with another woman in her bed. Eda lets her hair fall over her face, hiding as much as she can. Odile sighs and shuffles closer.

“It’s all dangerous. And you’re the one living it. Dancing with the danger, daily. The more I know, actually know, not the nonsense the Witch Hunters spread, then the better I can protect you.”

“They already got my family…” whispers Eda, the words hurting on their way out of her mouth. “I can’t lose you too.”

Odile’s hand snakes through Eda’s curtain of hair and lifts her chin up again to look her in the eye.

“I am safe,” she says, not letting go of Eda’s chin, not letting her look away. “So they come for me and I tell them that I was bewitched, I never had control of myself, all of this was an enchantment. I can protect myself, Eda, but I cannot protect you as well unless I know what you’re truly capable of. I can’t plan for all possibilities if I don't know what ingredients I have at my disposal.”

Forever calculating every angle and escape route. A true politician. A true queen.

Eda has that flayed open feeling again. The thought of talking openly about her magic makes her sick. Her aunt and uncle hid from the world as best as they could and it still got them burned alive. What happens when she lets the secrets she’s kept her entire life through her lips and into the open. Even if it is to Odile.

When Eda remains silent Odile asks, “Do you trust me.”

“I love you.”

“Yes. And I love you.” She strokes the back of her hand down Eda’s cheek. “But I asked if you trust me?”

It just makes Eda fall in love with her a little more. Because Odile understands the difference between words like love and trust. She can pick it apart and ask the proper question. Eda gives the truthful answer.

“Yes. Always.”

Odile smiles, pecks a kiss on her lips and swings out of bed to gather up their nightgowns from the floor. She throws Eda’s to her and climbs back on the bed as she dresses.

“Promise me though,” says Eda. “Never write any of this down. Do not tell another soul.”

“I promise,” says Odile, deadly serious. Eda feels a little less sick knowing how well Odile keeps her promises.

“Is it true you control the weather?” Is the first question Odile asks, a million more bubbling up inside her.

“No,” says Eda, unable to help smiling at the ridiculous claims put about by the Witch Finders. She wonders whether they actually believe their own lies.

“Some of us can control an element, maybe two. But no storms and wildfires. No floods to drown crops and livestock.”

“Can you control an element? Is that what happened when you threw the goblet from me?”

Eda shakes her head, but still smiles. Odile’s eyes are bright and curious, her passion for learning anything she can about the world shining through.

“I can move things but it’s difficult. Not something I can really control. I’ve only done it a handful of times, and it's always when danger is great. When there's no other options and my body reacts on its own.”

Odile leans forward again and kisses Eda, this time long and slow. “Thank you, again.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“I’ll be thanking you forever. What about potions? Do you boil babies in order to fly?”

Eda can’t help but laugh at Odile’s childish excitement.

“No, no baby boiling. I’ve never met a witch who can fly. But we all have different abilities.”

“What’s yours?”

“I can turn invisible.”

Odile’s eyes widen. “Can you show me?”

Eda hesitates but… well, why not. She straightens her shoulders, takes a deep breath into her stomach and flicks the switch in her mind that makes her impossible to see.

Odile sits bolt upright, mouth hanging open, gingerly moving her hand forward until her fingers brush Eda’s hair. Eda lets go and becomes visible again, making Odile jump. But her smile is infectious.

“It takes a lot of energy,” Eda says, relaxing, the fear not quite so sharp. Odile hasn’t run screaming yet.

“You don’t have a one eyed, demon dog that follows you around, whispering spells do you?”

Eda’s grin falters a little. “We have Familiars, but that’s not what they are.”

“No one eyed dogs?”

“No demon dogs. But one eyed, yes. It can be any animal but that’s how you can tell. They’ll have been born with one eye.”

Odile has lost a little of her jovial attitude. “So it seems the Witch Finders have some of it true. They just poison it with lies.” Her mouth quirks sardonically. A mockery of a smile.

“I have a Familiar,” offers Eda. Now she is having her secrets heard, it’s intoxicating. She wants to tell her everything.

Odile’s eyes flick back to her, once again fascinated.

“Please tell me it’s something terribly dramatic like a raven.”

“Sorry, just a tabby cat. But I’ll introduce you one day.”

“You better,” says Odile leaning forward and kissing Eda on the mouth. Her soft lips part and she bites Eda’s lower lip, slowly, lightly. Eda sighs. Why did they even bother putting their nightgowns back on?

Odile pushes her backwards, till she’s lying down, hair spread out around her head. Odile looks her up and down, pushing Eda’s nightgown back up over her hips with feather light fingers. She’s grown more confident and self assured.

Odile lays down on her belly and trails kisses up Eda’s inner thigh till her lips reach Eda’s groin.

Eda sinks into the bed as Odile presses the tip of her tongue into her, fingernails grazing up and down her legs. She presses harder, pushing her tongue across Eda’s groin, her clit, until Eda is wet and open, her breath coming sporadically. Odile starts to lick faster, back and forth, occasionally flicking her tongue in a circle and Eda weaves her fingers through her hair, holding Odile down as sweat starts to prickle over her body despite the cold.

When Odile decides to stop licking and start sucking, it all becomes too much and for the third time that night Eda comes, losing herself in throbbing waves of pleasure.

CHAPTER 8

Winter falls over the castle and the smell of smoke infuses everything as fires are lit to keep warm. All the smell reminds Eda of is death and danger. But life has reached a steady rhythm and a routine has somehow been built in this unexpected new life of hers. And while most of it is secret, it is pleasant.

Odile has spent the morning furiously talking with Captain Vinead at her ‘table of plans and papers’ as Eda calls it. Something about grain prices and trading routes that goes over Eda’s head as she sits with Victor by the fire, mending clothes and inhabiting the role of insignificant servant girl. She’s grown fond of Captain Vinead. He’s still terrifying, as any Captain of the guard should be. But from the conversations Eda has overheard, he seems to be more loyal to his Princess than his King. Anything said in private in the King’s chambers and meetings, promptly finds its way to Odile’s ears. Eda also has an inkling that Duncan the door guard has a part in any future plans the Princess and the Captain might make. Eda keeps her nose out of it for the most part. Politics and plotting has never been her strong suit.

She wanders down to the kitchens at noon with an empty tray, going with the mission to make Odile stop long enough to eat something other than yesterday’s leftovers and cold tea.

When she enters she’s hit by the heat and the smells but also the chaos. Everything is in full swing and there’s more servants rushing to and fro than she’s ever seen in here before. Even little Gus, who always whistles or waves to her in greeting, is too busy to do anything but ignore her. Ol’ Malcom is carrying cuts of meat to and fro. Some sort of feast is being prepared but she’s not sure for what. She wasn’t aware of any holidays falling on today.

Eda sticks to the wall and stays out of the way as best as possible, while picking bits of food here and there to add to her tray. Some meat, some bread, apples and cider, subconsciously checking for poison the whole time. Though whoever sent the assassin to kill Odile hasn’t made a second attempt.

Agnes, Martha and a gaggle of the younger girls are furiously shining silverware and serving dishes, while Agnes also shouts orders across the room at her army of cooks and servants. She spares a fraction of a second to nod at Eda in greeting.

“How many do you think they’ll be?” Says one girl.

“More than enough by the amount of food we’re cooking,” says another.

“I meant how many eligible ones,” tuts the first.

“I’m sorry to inform you ladies,” boasts Martha, not sounding sorry at all. “That no matter how many there are they shall all be proposing to me.”

All the girls titter as if it’s terribly funny. All of them except Agnes who rolls her eyes.

“What do you think, Eda?” Says Martha. “How many dashing young Witch Finders will propose to me tonight?”

Eda’s breath hitches for a fraction of a second. But she catches it, keeps her shoulders relaxed, her stance confident, if slightly confused by the question.

“What Witch Finders?”

Martha sighs at her. “Haven’t you heard what’s happening?”

“No Martha. I’ve been far too busy attending to Her Highness this morning.”

The jab stings as Eda intended it to. Martha goes back to polishing and thoroughly ignores her.

Agnes speaks up instead.

“The Witch Finder General is paying a visit to His Majesty tonight. Along with his finest recruits. A feast befitting the man has been ordered at short notice and I shan’t be able to feel my feet for the next month.”

The men who killed her family will be here tonight. The men who want her and all her kind dead will be here tonight. They will be feasting in her new home and she has nowhere to run.

Somehow, she keeps from screaming.

“Do you need another set of hands, Agnes?” She says instead. Casually. Calmly.

Agnes gives her a fond smile. “No my dear. Attend to your Princess.”

Beside her, Martha looks like she’s been slapped. At least that’s some consolation.

Back in the hall leading into the castle Eda hears the faintest meow with her sharp ears. Eyebright lurks beside the wall in a shadow, keeping small and out of sight. She goes to the wall and stands casually, as if she’s waiting for someone as he darts underneath her skirt, perfectly hidden by its floor length hem. Eda starts her walk back to Odile’s chambers, Eyebright keeping perfect step with her beneath her dress, his fur brushing against her ankles. Whatever happens now, she wants her Familiar with her.

As soon as Eda returns to the chambers and Odile takes one look at her face, no matter how carefully crafted her expression is, she knows something is wrong. She flicks her quill down onto the table, clearly dismissing Vinead in the process.

“Tell Jodis the next time you see them I want to talk,” she orders. Vinead stands and bows and leaves. As soon as the door clicks shut, Odile is up from her chair sweeping towards Eda. She takes the tray from her hands and puts it down, wrapping Eda in her arms.

She’s started to shake. When did she start to shake?

“What has happened?” Asks Odile, hands on Eda’s face, her neck. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you know the Witch Finder General is coming?” Eda manages to say.

Odile frowns.

“Who told you that?”

“Agnes. The whole kitchen is in an uproar preparing for a feast. The General and his soldiers will be here by tonight.”

Odile shows not one ounce of panic and in spite of Eda’s raging fear she still has to admire how in control of chaos and setbacks Odile always seems to be. She simply puts a hand on either side of Eda’s face, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Stay by my side. You’re supposed to be my poison taster afterall, there’s every excuse for you to shadow me the entire evening. I won’t let you out of my sight.”

“Can’t I just stay here? Completely out of sight, if your father asks…”

If the King notices that his daughter’s new favourite servant, the one she’s been inseparable from, is suddenly absent the night Witch Finders arrive… What could scream ‘witch’ more?

Odile frowns sadly as she follows Eda’s train of thought.

“Just stay with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“So into the viper’s pit?” laughs Eda weakly.

Odile smirks. “Do you think I’m scared of snakes?”

Victor approaches and sniffs at Eda’s skirt with a low growl.

“Victor,” scolds Odile.

Eyebright dashes out from Eda’s dress and flits up to the top of a bookcase where Victor can’t reach him. He hisses and Victor growls at the intruder of his own small kingdom.

“Speaking of witchcraft,” says Eda. “My Familiar.”

Odile and Eyebright appraise each other.

“Well, we have him on our side then,” says Odile, taking Eda’s face back into her hands. “And me. Always me.”

She closes the gap between them and kisses Eda gently.

“You know I’ll protect you, don’t you?”

Eda burrows into Odile’s neck, soaking in the smell of her, stroking the fabric of her sleeves.

“I know,” and it’s the truth. She kisses Odile’s collarbone, following the line of it with her lips, feeling Odile’s fingers in her hairline at the nape of her neck.

Their lips connect again, opening wider so that Eda can move her tongue further into Odile’s mouth. Despite herself and the danger that’s riding towards their doorstep, her breath quickens. Her fingertips trace just above Odile’s breasts and she can feel the fluttering heartbeat beneath. The breaths that are becoming more shallow. Odile bites Eda’s lip, pulls it into her mouth and releases it with a sigh.

Eda’s hands move lower, cupping Odile’s breasts through her gown, then lower still. Over the small of her back to her buttocks where she squeezes. Odile’s breath catches. Eda grabs fistfuls of fabric, pulling Odile’s dress higher until she can get a hand underneath to feel the soft flesh, skin to skin. She squeezes again and Odile rises onto tip-toe and smiles against Eda’s lips.

“Should I take this off?” Asks Odile. But before Eda can answer that yes, yes she should, both her and Eyebright cock their heads. Brisk footsteps are approaching down the hall towards the Princess’ chambers.

Eda sighs and drops Odile’s skirts so they once again drape the floor and moves away. Odile is confused for only a second before there’s a knock at the door. Then she sighs as well, sounding far more frustrated than Eda.

“Yes?!” She calls out, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

Eyebright, panics Eda, but she looks up at the bookcase and the cat has disappeared.

Jodis glides in, jovial as ever, their smile not faltering as Odile glares at them.

“Judging by your expression, Your Highness, can I assume you’ve already heard about our guests who are soon to arrive?”

“Eda told me,” she replies. “She heard it from the kitchen staff.”

“Ah fabulous,” and Jodis smiles enthusiastically at Eda, fully embracing the chaos swirling around them. “At the risk of having you throw something at me, Highness, I have just passed Vinead who says you’d like to speak with me, but I have just come from your Father’s chambers and he has asked to speak to you immediately.”

“Of course he has,” mutters Odile. She leaves, practically melting the ground beneath her feet.

“Well my dear,” says Jodis to Eda as they’re left behind. “It seems interesting times are afoot.”

CHAPTER 9

Odile is informed by her father that there will be a feast, there will be important guests, and that she will be nothing but a shining light for all to see. This puts her into a fantastically fierce mood and Eda almost feels sorry for any Witch Finders who pluck up enough courage to speak to the Princess.

Almost.

They spend the rest of the afternoon getting ready for the feast. Sounds of horses arriving and men shouting drift up from the courtyard below. Eda does her best to thoroughly ignore them. If she pretends hard enough that tonight she won’t be surrounded by Witch Finders then maybe it will come true. Eyebright has vanished completely from sight and she starts to wonder if his Familiar gift is invisibility to match hers. She wears a simple linen dress, deep green and with long fluted sleeves. It’s the finest thing she’s ever worn, pulled from Odile’s collection, and she feels exposed and clumsy in it. Her wild, dark hair is braided and collected at the nape of her neck. She looks the part of a royal lady’s maid.

Odile looks like, well, like magic. Her dress is satin white, shifting in shades of copper and gold as it reflects the torches and candles lighting the room. A silver girdle set with sapphires and pearls hangs around her waist, while matching jewels decorate a circlet around her head. A single pearl swings from each ear. The puffed sleeves look like they will dissipate at the slightest touch and her slender shoulders and neck glow. She swings a pale blue cloak with white fur trim over her shoulders to keep the freezing night at bay.

Eda can’t stop staring. She looks like a winter goddess. They kiss one last time in the privacy of the chambers, hands grazing cheeks and foreheads touching. But then they have to pull away and go outside.

“Are you alright?” Asks Odile. Eda nods even though she can’t quite feel her legs. Would her aunt and uncle think she’s about to be very brave or very stupid?

One last squeeze of hands and then they open the door. Duncan is there waiting, ready to be Odile’s other shadow for the evening. He bows to her, silent and polite and sunny as always. But Eda muses how still waters run deep. The young guard has been given more and more odd jobs by Captain Vinead recently. He’s being folded into those more loyal to Odile than the King.

Eda takes her place a few steps behind Odile, whose transformation is instant and complete. There is no doubt she’s royalty. It’s the way she holds her chin, the way she breathes. Eda finds herself proud. Proud to be hers and have her.

As they walk through the castle and approach the great hall, the swell of voices grows louder and more dense. Music dribbles through it all; the plucking of strings and a word or two of song. The light gets brighter, more orange and hot, as lanterns and candles multiply. How fitting, thinks Eda. So much fire.

They enter, fashionably late, Duncan slowing and staying further behind and watching everything. Odile sweeps through to her place at the head table beside her father. Voices hush as she passes, bowing and curtsies following everywhere. Eda follows with her head bowed, not looking at anyone, focusing only on the train of Odile’s dress.

King Richard smiles warmly at his daughter as Duncan pulls her chair out for her and she’s seated at the table. Eda wants to snort. Never has she seen such a fake smile. Odile, for her part, positively beams at her Father and manages to seem genuine. All this silent politics… the King returns to eating his chicken leg and watching the guests swirl before him.

Eda takes her place against the wall behind Odile’s chair, clasps her hands in front of her and prepares to spend the next few hours being utterly still.

Odile hasn’t eaten in the great hall since Eda arrived at the castle, there hasn’t been an occasion important enough to warrant the fight involved in the King dragging her from her chambers. It’s the first real look Eda has been able to get of the place. The ceiling is immense, the babble of voices echoing up the stone walls. Enormous oak tables, polished till they shine like mirrors run the length of the room, matching benches alongside them. Men and women are everywhere, wearing their finest clothes and jewels. Anyone important from the surrounding areas has heard the news and gotten here as quickly as possible. Latecomers are still arriving. Food is everywhere and Eda vows to compliment Agnes the next time she sees her. Roast meat, vegetables, wine, bread, cheese, cakes, tarts and every other conceivable treat line the tables. All of it smells delicious. The whole room looks divine.

But the Witch Finders are easy to spot. Maybe not the armies that Eda feared, but enough, at least fifty, scattered throughout the party. They each wear a broad brimmed black hat pulled low over their face and a pair of leather gloves. No matter the weather you’ll never see a Witch Finder without either of these items. And in black from top to toe, of course. It makes them seem more important. They fill the room with the sickly scent of burnt liquorice.

Do they see the blood on their hands from all the deaths they cause? Is that why they all must wear gloves? Eda focuses on keeping her face placid and neutral.

Duncan comes and stands beside her, a few steps away, with a grin and she instantly feels better.

“Time for us to do some people watching,” he says pleasantly. Eda nods with a tight smile, her voice in hiding.

They lapse into silence for a little while before Duncan adds, “I don’t know what, or who, you’re running from, Mistress,” and punctuates it with a serious look as Eda’s stomach drops. “But if someone here distresses you tonight, come to me, yeah?”

It’s the most Eda’s ever heard him say. And the most he’s ever looked like a soldier, a glint of steel in his eyes. Vinead was right to have him watch over Odile; he’s more observant than she gave him credit for. Eda smiles more warmly and nods again which satisfies him. But would he make the same offer if he knew the truth?

A dark figure approaches the head table, black hat and gloves and a goatee that naturally curls into a point. Eyes of such a bright green they could be jewels. And that wicked smile.

“General,” says the King and the Witch Finder General sweeps his black cape into an elaborate bow.

“You’re Majesty,” he says in an almost unnaturally deep voice, smooth as satin. He turns and bows to Eda. “Your Highness.”

Odile smiles and nods her head at him and Eda has to remind herself that she’s just pretending, playing a role. But when she’s so good at pretending it’s hard not to be hurt. It feels like a betrayal.

The General stalks over and sits on the King’s left hand side and Eda feels like she’ll be sick. Of course he will be sitting with them, he’s the most important guest. Now she will have to be in his presence all evening. At least his back is turned. She catches Duncan looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and she chooses to worry about him and his observations later.

“Princess you look simply divine,” drawls the General and Odile looks politely bashful.

“I’d compliment your appearance sir, but that is not what you prize.”

The General laughs deeply. “Indeed. But please Princess, eat!”

“I was simply waiting for our esteemed guest,” she says with a tight smile.

“You flatter me.”

The plan had been for Odile to avoid eating at all if she could, so that Eda could remain still and bring as little attention to herself as possible. But that dissolves as Odile crooks a finger and beckons Eda forward to serve her.

Eda collects food onto a plate in order to taste it. She can already smell it’s poison free but this is all part of the show of normalcy. She takes a small bite of each item as if this is their usual meal time routine.

“Have I seen you before girl?” Says the General, eyes boring into Eda’s neck. She swallows the sliver of food. Odile’s breath shifts ever so slightly, but only Eda can hear.

“No sir,” she says placidly, eyes lowered. “I’m new here.”

Eda smiles, curtsies and backs away to her spot next to Duncan, who keeps looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

~

The night winds down eventually. Those who’ve drunk too much stumble around or stay seated. Others who have overeaten carry themselves off to a bed somewhere. Couples sneak off to dark corners thinking themselves invisible. Eda watches it all from behind the royals and the General. She also watches as Odile’s shoulders droop the later it gets. When it crawls past two in the morning she wants to scoop up Odile and take her to bed, tuck her in and let her sleep. Finally the King rises. The Witch Finder General and Odile follow suit, subtly rolling shoulders and stretching necks.

“Join me in my quarters, General,” says the King. “We can have a better conversation.”

The General bows. “It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty.”

“You can join us,” the King adds to Odile. Her shoulders sag just a fraction more.

“Of course,” she says brightly and crooks a finger at Eda and Duncan to follow her.

“Bring the guard but you can leave your pet behind,” says the King. Odile raises an eyebrow but shrugs.

“Go back to my chambers,” she orders Eda with a brief glance. Eda curtsies as the important people walk off together. Only Duncan looks back at her once more, concern tightening his mouth.

Being separated wasn’t part of the plan. Being alone outside the safety of Odile’s chambers while drunk Witch Finders mill around the castle definitely wasn’t part of the plan. The panic starts to eat at her insides. But she’s good at hiding it as she leaves the great hall and starts the winding trip to Odile’s rooms.

It’s not as bright as when they came down earlier in the evening. Torches and lanterns have guttered out and died, leaving the halls freezing and in shadow. As Eda mounts the first set of stairs she’s sure she hears the tap of footsteps far behind her. She shakes her head instead; she’s just being paranoid and over cautious. As she walks, slightly quicker now, she scans the shadows hoping for a glimpse of Eyebright.

As she approaches the next flight of stairs the footsteps behind her become more than just paranoia.

“Alone so late, mistress?”

Eda freezes, foot on the first step, and looks over her shoulder. A young Witch Finder approaches, face shadowed by his hat but a smile perfectly visible. The exact opposite sort of smile to Duncan’s kind grin.

Eda is frozen to the stair as he stops a few feet from her, assessing her. Like a wolf that’s spotted a rabbit.

“Allow me to escort you to your bed,” he says smoothly and Eda’s stomach churns.

“No thank you.”

The Witch Finder laughs. That’s what sparks Eda’s anger. That fact they always seem to find the fear they cause so funny.

“But mistress, any number of unseemly strangers could be hiding in the corners.”

“Or hiding under their hats,” she retorts. His grin flickers, not happy at the jibe. Heaven forbid he should be caught at his own game.

He takes a step forward and Eda mirrors him, moving a stair further up. The Witch Finder frowns, offended that she’s not jumping on the chance to take him to her bed. The anger in her boils. She wants to set fire to him and watch his hat and gloves melt into his skin.

“It’s been a long few days mistress,” he says, his voice dripping silk. “Travel and investigations galore. Surely you can help a man relax after such hard work.”

Hard work. Killing people like her, and some who were probably not witches at all. Hard work. She clenches her hands into fists to stop them shaking.

He takes another step forward, hand outstretched for hers, that horrid sticky grin back on his face.

“Don’t you want to brag to all the other servant girls you had me between your legs?”

“I’d rather fuck the blacksmith’s axe,” says Eda.

For a beat the Witch Finder is stunned into silence, utterly shocked that he could be rejected at all. Then his anger sets in and his hand flashes out to grab her arm.

But Eda is quick. She turns and runs up the stairs as fast as she can, skirt in her fist, sharp eyes able to see every stair and hazard she might trip over while the Witch Finder slows as he stumbles after her. Rage and the dark trip him up.

The second she reaches the top and turns into the hall she becomes invisible, slamming her back against the wall and holding her breath to avoid making any sound at all.

A second later the Witch Finder stumbles into the hallway looking around for her, but she’s already gone. As far as he knows she’s run away. Now that he thinks no one is watching, his face is a vicious thing. Eda prays to whoever will listen that he doesn’t get a hold of any other girl in the castle tonight. Or any night.

He gives up and goes back down the stairs, most likely back to the hall to drink some more. Eda waits for another ten minutes before she dares move away from the wall. She keeps herself invisible and heads straight for the King’s chamber. She’s at risk wherever she goes. She may as well jump straight into the lion’s den.

CHAPTER 10

Guards stand at attention outside the King’s door, one of them Duncan, waiting for Odile to emerge. Eda slows her footsteps, her breathing, trying to make as little noise as possible. She has no comparison for how good the average person’s hearing is: she only knows the limits of her own senses. But none of the guards notice the sound or smell of her nearby. Eda creeps as close as she dares to the door, desperate to hear snippets of what’s going on inside. Nothing comes through except the soft murder of voices. Nothing she can make sense of. She sighs internally, stills herself, and prepares to wait. As she does, though, the door swings open and Agnes emerges with an empty tray, having just served the nobles. Before she can change her mind, Eda slips inside as the door closes, grabbing her skirts close so they don’t get trapped.

The King’s chamber is a gloomy place without sunlight coming through the windows. The fire is roaring bright though, heating the space and casting an orange glow on everything. The King sits at the head of the great wooden table, the Witch Finder General and Odile sitting a little further down. Vinead has also joined them but remains standing, furthest away from the King.

Eda keeps her footsteps light and slow as she approaches.

“- Nothing we can’t stamp out,” says King Richard, the wine Agnes must have just served sitting in front of him. “They bicker and whine and the world moves on.”

“My only concern is when little people get big ideas,” says the General, fingers pressed together. “Particularly if there are witches who could help bring those ideas to fruition.”

As Eda catches onto the conversation, she moves behind Odile who is sat very still in her chair, shoulders still sagging from a mix of fatigue, boredom and frustration. Eda fights the urge to reach out and stroke the back of her neck. She moves to Odile’s side, in case she rises suddenly from her seat and knocks into her.

“Surely you have them under control,” says Richard. “I hear of burnings regularly.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, but witches are just another form of cockroaches. Stamp out one and three more surface from their hiding places.”

“And where are you finding them all?” Asks Vinead in his version of polite interest. “Surely all towns are empty of them.”

“The forests,” says the General. “The deeper we travel into the wild places the more we find. They’ve fled to caves and thickets, thinking that they’re safe.”

“Shall we just set fire to the whole forest?” says King Richard. “That would surely speed things up.”

He and the General chuckle but it’s obvious it’s only half in jest.

Eda keeps control of herself even though she wants nothing more than to leap across the table and strangle these men right now. Be done with them. But others would rise in their place.

Odile must sense something shift beside her, just the slightest change. She frowns and looks a little to her left, right through Eda.

“Something bothering you, Princess?” Asks the General, overly familiar and too sweet. Eda wants to kill him for an entirely different reason now. She sees Vinead bristle slightly as well, though the other men don’t notice.

Odile smiles and relaxes back into her chair. “It’s three in the morning, General. I’m tired, it’s dark and I’m not fond of talking about witches.”

She stretches her arms out to the side where her wrist brushes against Eda. Odile doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react at all. She wasn’t stretching; she was testing to see if that shift of air was Eda beside her. Even tired at three in the morning, she’s as sharp as a tack.

“Then I shan’t keep you from your rest. It is indeed a disturbing topic,” he smiles patronisingly at her and Odile looks to her father to be excused from his presence. He nods and coughs absently. Again that small rattle, deep in his chest, hidden and poisonous. Odile rises from the table, Eda dancing out of her way.

“Captain,” says Odile as a goodbye and he bows.

Odile and an invisible Eda walk leisurely to the door where Odile swings it open, taking her time to allow Eda a chance to slip through. Once it’s closed she nods at Duncan who bows and takes the lead, escorting her back to her chambers.

Odile holds her arm out from her side, ever so slightly. Eda latches onto her wrist and they walk the rest of the way holding tight.

A headache is blooming in the base of Eda’s skull from staying invisible for so long. Her aunt and uncle never encouraged her to use her powers, or to practice them. Hiding was key. But now when she needs them she has no stamina. That’s going to change from now on.

Inside Odile’s rooms, as soon as the door clicks shut, Eda becomes visible, leaning on the back of a chair as her vision swims and whirls till she’s steady again. Odile doesn’t leave her side.

“What happened?”

Eda laughs, dry and humourless. “I got cornered by a Witch Finder.”

Odile’s eyes turn to steel and she cups a hand around Eda’s cheek.

“He didn’t think I was a witch. Just a piece of meat.”

Odile almost growls in her chest, she's so furious. “Which one was he? I’ll have him hanged.”

“No,” says Eda, shaking her head but smiling anyway. “That’d be more trouble than it’s worth. And I’d know his smell, not his face, his hat hid most of him.”

Odile looks earnestly at Eda. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough. People aren’t happy and they don’t want any witches to assist them in doing anything about it. They’re killing more and more of us…”

Odile puts her forehead against Eda’s shoulder.

“I just want to fix it,” she says. “But what can I do against a King like that?”

She stares helplessly around the room. Eda licks her lips.

“Can I tell you something I heard?”

Odile quirks an eyebrow, confused, but nods. “What have you heard?”

“A rattle in your father’s chest. It’s deep and small but it’s a poisonous sound.”

Odile goes very still, morphing briefly into her analytical, royal mindset.

“Well…”

There’s nothing more to say. They can’t do anything about it, good or bad. It’s just another piece of information.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Asks Odile, stroking Eda’s hair. All persona fully slips from her. She’s stressed and mentally exhausted.

“I’m fine,” says Eda. She shifts so they’re face to face and smiles. “I love you.”

Odile flushes pink and stares at the floor.

“I love you too.” Odile lifts her face back up, heart skipping beneath her ribs. “I…” she breaks off, flushing brighter.

“What?” Laughs Eda trying to raise Odile’s chin, to meet her eyes. But Odile’s gaze stays firmly on the floor.

“Just… for the rest of the night, I don’t want to be a princess.”

“I release you from your bond of duty,” says Eda solemnly, earning a laugh. “You are free.”

Odile’s hands lace into hers. “I meant, for a little while, I don’t want to be the one in charge.”

Her cheeks are bright and Eda’s own ears flame red, her neck flushing. Suddenly the fire burning in the grate feels too hot. With Odile wanting to be so submissive for a change, Eda suddenly finds herself alert and wanting to take charge. But more so than she has before. Something primal in her has been cracked open. She’s been meek and mild enough for one evening.

Odile is still blushing, embarrassed, but smiles shly when she sees the glint in Eda’s eyes, how she’s straightened her shoulders.

Eda circles behind Odile, running her finger nails gently down Odile’s neck until her skin turns to goose bumps and she shivers. With her hair still braided elaborately, Eda can easily access the lacing holding her dress together. She undoes it slowly pulling until the dress comes loose, leaving Odile in her shift. Eda moves in close behind, pressing her hips into Odile’s buttocks, hands working up her stomach to her breasts. She kisses Odiles neck, deeper and harder until she lets her teeth scrape skin.

Odile gasps but stays still, not moving away from Eda’s teeth. Eda pulls the shift over Odile’s head and drops it to the floor with the dress. Leaving Odile standing naked, shivering slightly, Eda moves around in front of her, a few feet away and starts to unlace her own dress. Odile steps forward.

“No. Stay there.”

Odile’s smiles and does as she’s told. Eda looks her up and down. She takes off her dress and shift, breathing shallow as she watches Odile in the firelight. Inside her stomach is warm and between her legs is growing wider, wetter. She has no intention of moving to the bed tonight.

Instead, Eda approaches Odile again, fingers lightly grazing over her breasts, her nipples hard.

“Have you ever kneeled to anyone before?”

“No.”

“Would you kneel for me?”

A small smile flickers at the edges of Odile’s lips. Slowly, she lowers herself to the ground until she’s kneeling in front of Eda, head now in line with her groin. Eda steps forward again, until Odile’s lips are a breath away. She reaches down and puts a hand on the back of her head and gently pulls forward until Odile’s lips connect and sparks shoot through Eda’ a hips.

Odile grips Eda’s thighs to get her balance. She kisses softly at first, along Eda’s outer lips and groin. Eda tries to keep her breath steady, fails, and grips onto Odile’s braided hair. Odile presses her hands into Eda’s inner thighs so that she widens her stance, then sits back on her heels and turns her kisses upwards. Soft lips slowly get firmer as Odile presses her mouth into Eda. Her tongue snakes out and licks tentatively, making Eda jerk with surprise and pleasure. So the tongue begins again, while Odile moves her hand up Eda’s thigh and spreads her lips apart, her tongue moving in lazy circles around Eda’s clitoris.

Eda’s body is burning from the centre out and she can’t help but push Odile’s mouth harder into her, hips moving in rhythm with her tongue. But when she’s close to coming, she pulls away, releasing Odile’s head. She reaches down and kisses Odile, tasting herself.

Odile licks her lips, looking very pleased with herself.

“Lay down,” orders Eda and Odile promptly obeys, laying on her back on the rug. Eda kneels down beside Odile’s hip and spreads her legs, wanting to watch her face. She runs a finger down Odile’s groin, already wet, until she reaches the labia. She grins at Odile as she pushes her finger inside her and watches as she sighs and shifts. She crooks her finger back and forth just a little and Odile moans this time, eyes closing, back arching. Her passage grows wider and wetter around Eda’s finger, so she slips in a second finger, moving in and out. Odile is warm, and smooth as Eda fingers her, her hips grinding against her hand. Odile reaches out towards Eda’s groin but she slaps her hand away playfully. Not yet.

Carefully, Eda puts a third finger inside Odile, feeling her passage stretch just a little further. Eda looks up to see if she’s hurting Odile, but instead of flinching away she pushes harder into Eda’s hand. So Eda ups the pace, moving her fingers in and out, curling them as she goes, until Odile’s hips have risen from the floor in an effort to match the pace and her hand is over her mouth to stifle her moans.

Before she comes, Eda removes her fingers, glistening wet, and Odile collapses back, breathing hard. Eda kisses Odile’s knee and bites her thigh. Odile hisses in a breath but she’s smiling as she looks through her legs at Eda. “Do that again.”

Eda bites harder, tasting the sweat on her skin and leaving a mark with her teeth. She could eat her alive. But she wants to try something new. She wants them to kiss with a different set of lips. She sits as close to Odile as she can, moving Odile’s leg till her thigh rests against her torso and her knee over her hip. She lifts her own leg over Odile's opposite hip, till they’re interlocked. Seeing what she’s doing, Odile shifts lower, lifting her hips up, eyes boring into Eda’s as their groins touch. Both of them sigh in unison, and both of them are wet enough that they slide easily against each other. They move their hips in slow circles, their labias and clits brushing over one another until they start to press harder, move faster. Eda wishes they were in the wilderness somewhere so she could scream without being heard. She gasps instead, moaning low and biting her lip, nails digging into Odile’s thigh, leaving semi circle marks behind. Odile’s hand is back over her mouth, her eyes squeezed shut and breath erratic. They move faster and harder, rubbing together as hard as they can. The pressure builds inside Eda’s hips until it’s almost too much to bear and then she falls over the edge. Heat rolls up her stomach and her muscles shake violently. It’s enough to get Odile to come as well, her legs shaking as she moans into her hand.

Eda lays down beside Odile in front of the fire as their spasms die away. They don’t find the need to talk. Instead they let their hands brush each other's skin as they catch their breath.

~

She’s only dimly aware that she’s in a dream. Her arms are bound to her sides, her whole body motionless, tied with rope to a wooden plank. She’s dripping wet, the cold biting her skin, her teeth chattering till she thinks they might break. A figure moves forward through the shadows, footsteps silent. He smells of burnt licorice and wears a black hat and gloves. Eda struggles against the ropes but they only squeeze tighter, cutting into her till blood runs mixing with the water on her skin.

The Witch Finder reaches out and grips a lever. Eda tries one last time to struggle free before he pulls with a jolt and suddenly she’s plunged upside down, her head underwater and unable to breathe-

Odile is shaking her awake, lightly slapping her face to bring her around. Eda’s heart hammers against her ribs as she gets her bearings. She’s safe. She’s warm and dry in bed with Odile next to her, her hands stroking her shoulders.

“It was just a dream,” murmurs Odile, trying to comfort her. “Only a dream.”

But Eda worries that it wasn’t just a dream. It felt an awful lot like a premonition.

CHAPTER 11

They leave the chambers together the next morning after a few hours of restless sleep. Eda, though drained and anxious, feels more like herself in her usual dark dress, green cloak and plain braid. Odile, on the other hand, has dressed to intimidate. She is wearing a blood red gown with matching cloak, and is drowning in gold, her fair hair loose for once and flowing around her. Despite looking like a goddess made flesh, she still turns to Eda and whispers “you look beautiful,” in her ear.

Two fresh guards bow to Odile as they leave and start walking down the hall. They don’t get far before Duncan appears, walking to them as fast as he can without breaking into a run. He looks as if he hasn’t slept at all, his lips thin and white. He skids to a stop in front of Odile and Eda, bowing hastily and speaking in a quiet rush.

“Highness, Captain Vinead requests your presence urgently in Jodis’ quarters.”

Odile nods and follows with Eda in tow. Duncan is gripping the hilt of his sword and dread starts to build in Eda’s chest. She’s never seen him flustered before. Odile must be thinking the same thing, she keeps peeking worried glances at Eda out of the corner of her eye.

As they make their way to Jodis’ rooms, the castle is buzzing, like bees drunk on their own honey, stings at the ready. The party atmosphere from the night before is gone and any servants they see keep their heads down, eyes on the floor. Witch Finders still roam around as if they own the place, sharp eyes watching everything. Eda walks closer to Odile so that their arms brush together. If she could just hold her hand…

In Jodis’ quarters things are just as sombre. Captain Vinead’s scowl could cut steel, and Jodis has none of their usual pep. Duncan closes and locks the door, and the five of them are in relative privacy.

“What happened?” asks Odile, arms folded and braced for bad news.

“They’ve charged someone in the castle with witchcraft,” says Jodis and Vinead shakes his head in disgust.

Eda goes numb from head to toe. Odile doesn’t look at her, not even a sliver of a glance.

“Who?”

“We don’t know Highness,” grumbles Vinead. “All we know is it’s a servant. They won’t let me into the dungeons to see who it is. Got told it’s Witch Finder’s business.”

“And how do we know this person is a witch?” asks Odile, anger straightening her spine. “Who has thrown around these accusations?”

Duncan speaks up. “It was the girl who served you before Eda, Highness. Girl named Martha. She told the Witch Finders she’s seen a one eyed cat on the castle grounds. She reckons she knows who it belongs to.”

Eda’s knees start to shake and her blood rushes in her ears, a roaring that drowns out everything else. There are hands on her shoulders as she’s sat down onto a chair, a sharp smell under her nose that makes her shake her head and brings her back to reality.

“-panic attack,” Jodis is saying, putting the cork back in a small vial, eyes roaming over her clammy face. Odile’s hand is pressed between her shoulder blades.

“You’re safe, child,” says Jodis, concerned. But she’s not safe. Not until every Witch Finder is dead. Who is sitting in the dungeons right now? Who did Martha think Eyebright belonged to?

“What do we do?” asks Odile, her hand never leaving Eda’s back, a small part of Eda worrying what that might look like.

“What can we do?” says Vinead. “They’re already building a pyre in the courtyard.”

Eda’s stomach lurches and she lowers her head between her knees. She can’t bear to smell it again; a body burning. Odile crouches down beside her.

“You’re safe, Eda,” repeats Jodis, joining Odile and crouching in front of her. “No Witch Finder’s will harm you. None will know. You’re safe with us.”

Wait…

Eda looks up at Jodis, Vinead and Duncan, all of them looking concerned at how pale her face has turned. Odile has gone very still beside her.

Jodis smiles and shrugs. “I tested the poison that was meant for the Princess in the wine. If you had taken a sip and tasted it, you would have been dead within minutes. So my suspicions grew.”

Duncan shuffles his feet. “And you were so nervous around the Witch Finders last night, Mistress. I may have told my observations to Vinead and Jodis and we… well, discussed some of the possibilities. Which is why I went to check on you as soon as we heard the news this morning.”

Eda feels like she might simultaneously vomit from fear and float from relief. They know and they’re not hauling her out to the pyre. They’re protecting her. Odile has stood up beside Eda, a protective hand on her shoulder.

“And what about you,” says Odile to Vinead. He shrugs.

“She saved your life and she brings you joy. Anyone who can’t see that you’re completely besotted with each other is a blind fool.”

He shrugs again as if he is simply stating that it may rain this afternoon, not that the three of them know both of Odile’s and Eda’s secrets. They know and have not come at them with flames and swords.

Odile laughs, once and hearty, and shrugs herself. A grin creeps onto Vinead’s face. Eda embraces the floating feeling.

“Still,” she says, rubbing her face, “we can’t let them burn someone.”

“Your father won’t stop them,” sneers Jodis, fussing with bottles and flasks, keeping their hands busy. “He’d light the fire himself.”

“A distraction?” asks Duncan. “Create enough of a diversion till whoever they’ve charged can get away?”

“Maybe…” says Vinead, but he’s got thoughts ticking over in his head. A plan is brewing in there somewhere.

“I’ll help you,” says Odile to him before turning on Duncan with a finger pointed. “And you, you do not leave her side or I'll throw you on the pyre as well. Understood?”

Duncan nods quickly. “Yes, Highness.”

“What are he and I doing?” Asks Eda, her voice coming back, her knees no longer shaking.

Odile takes a deep breath. “You two are going to be present for the burning.”

“What?!” Eda stands knocking over the chair. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Anyone who doesn’t show up to watch the witch burn will be suspected themselves. Maybe not of being a witch but of having sympathies at least. Vinead and I are the only ones who can get away with not showing up and having our reputations remain intact.”

“I’m not going to watch another witch burn,” fumes Eda. Meanwhile Vinead, Jodis and Duncan watch on with interest as she scolds Odile. If they were only guessing at the nature of their relationship before, it’s been confirmed now.

“No,” says Odile. “You’re not. Vinead and I will be creating a diversion, so you can turn invisible and set her free.”

“What sort of diversion?”

“A big one.”

“Oh my word…” Eda picks her chair up and sits back down with her arms crossed.

“A very big one,” adds Vinead. Jodis is struggling not to smile.

~

They leave Jodis’ quarters separately, Odile and Vinead heading in one direction and Duncan and Eda in the other. They just have to trust that the Captain and the Princess know what they’re doing.

Odile is right. If Eda doesn’t go to see the witch burn then she’ll only make herself look suspicious. But as they walk towards the courtyard to await the execution someone calls Eda’s name from behind.

Ol’ Malcolm is running towards her as fast as his old legs can take him, waving his arm. His wrinkled face is pale and his lips are nearly blue as he barrels into her and Duncan.

“It’s Agnes,” he says. “They’ve charged Agnes with witchcraft.”

~

Unbeknownst to any of them, Eyebright slips from the shadows and follows after Odile. He’s been watching and listening, and he has a plan too.

CHAPTER 12

Directly against Odile’s orders, Eda and Duncan separate. She slips invisible while Duncan stands at attention at the kitchen doors, looking like he’s meant to be there and she sneaks inside.

It’s a sombre place without Agnes barking orders at everyone. No one chatters. No one smiles. Martha stands completely alone, relegated to the far corner. No one speaks to her, looks at her, and if they do it’s with utter disgust. She thought she’d get glory for her betrayal of their mistress and instead she’s gotten what she deserved. Eda walks quickly and quietly through the servants till she’s standing behind Martha. She’s never cursed anyone before, but she’s not going to let Martha get away with this unscathed. Reaching out a hand, Eda quickly draws a cross on the back of Martha’s neck with her thumb. Martha yelps and jumps, flapping at her neck as if a bug has crawled over her. Half the people in the kitchen ignore her. The other half shout out in a chorus of ‘Shut up.’ Which Martha does, keeping her head low.

Eda waits for someone to leave the kitchen and slips out behind them, tugging on Duncan’s sleeve to let him know she’s back and they can move to somewhere safe to turn visible again. The fury in her settles just a little. She’ll let the curse stew and see what comes of it. Because a cross isn’t just a cross. It’s a target.

~

Odile and Vinead are still nowhere to be seen when a bell is tolled and castle guards and Witch Finders start herding people to the courtyard. The fact they’re so desperate for an audience makes Eda’s blood curdle. Duncan doesn’t leave her side and they keep Ol’ Malcolm with them as the crowd swells. The old man has tears streaming down his cheeks.

Witch Finders are infuriatingly fast when it comes to carrying out their sentences. The pyre they built so quickly stands tall, surrounded by kindling and logs coated in tar. They want it to burn as hot as possible.

Finally the King makes an appearance, accompanied by the Witch Finder General. Behind them come two lesser Witch Finders, hauling Agnes along who is wearing nothing but a shift and chains. Her face is bruised and her fingers look broken. They’ve shaved off all her hair in an effort to humiliate her. Eda holds Ol’ Malcom’s hand. He squeezes tight.

The King stands before the crowd as Agnes is tied to the pyre behind him. Her head is high and proud. The Witch Finder General says something to her that Eda can’t hear; Agnes only smiles in return.

The crowd bows to the King, but it’s in silence and it's begrudgingly. None of them want to see Ages burned. None of them want this to happen. Which gives Eda a strange sort of hope for the future of witches. But it’s snuffed out when the King steps aside for the General, who addresses the crowd.

“Last night this abomination was brought to our attention.”

Ol’ Malcolm shakes his head sadly and squeezes Eda’s hand.

“For too long she has been in your home, by your sides, pretending to be one of you.”

“She is one of us,” whispers someone behind Eda to a murmur of agreement.

“And now,” continues the General, unaware of the mutiny simmering. “She will be banished from this life, and we may all rest a little easier for it. Anything to say for yourself, witch?”

Agnes takes a deep breath and blows, the air knocking off his hat and throwing him to the ground. Eda wants to cheer. And cry. Agnes really is a witch. Which explains why her food was always so delicious. She could taste and smell better than anyone else.

Where are Odile and Vinead? Where is this diversion? Duncan grabs onto Eda’s other hand as the General gets up and dusts his hat off, planting it back on his head with a scowl. He snatches a burning torch from a servant and sets it against the kindling.

~

Vinead got his hands on a new invention called blackpowder. He paid a trader a small fortune for it and has it stashed throughout the castle in secret places. He tells Odile how flammable it is, that it will blow a hole through a wall with enough of it. He was planning to use it for a new weapon he had in mind and none of his soldiers know of its existence, not even Duncan. Hopefully it's enough to make a big enough diversion for Eda to save Agnes, but the blackpowder is stored in small batches throughout the castle for this reason, so that it doesn’t all blow at once. They don’t have time to collect it all and avoid suspicion, running back and forth. Four ten pound bags is all they have. It’ll have to be enough because they’ve run out of time.

They’re in Vinead’s quarters, a room at the top of a corner tower. Not only is it ideal to be seen and heard by everyone in the courtyard, but Vinead can easily deny involvement. Why would he set fire to his own belongings?

They pile the bags under the window and have made a small trail of blackpowder to the door.

“How big will the explosion be?” Asks Odile, starting to panic. She’s worried about Eda getting caught. She’s worried about Agnes burning alive. She’s worried about how her father doesn’t seem to realise how hated he is and how much worse this will make it.

“I have no idea,” answers Vinead solemnly. “I’ve only tested small amounts, and it makes a pretty spark but I’m not sure how much damage it will actually do. Even the trader said it wasn’t the best quality, that they’re still refining the process.”

They peek out the window where Agnes has been tied to the pyre and the Witch Finder General is giving a speech.

“Now or never,” says Vinead and they turn to leave. They both stop when they see a one eyed tabby cat sitting in the middle of the room. He meows in greeting.

“That’s Eda’s Familiar,” says Odile, going cold, her gut screaming that something’s about to happen but unable to tell what. Why is he here and not watching over his mistress?

“Did she send it?” Asks Vinead, voice cautious, quiet.

“I don’t know.”

Eyebright blinks slowly, the edges of his fur starting to glow white. A wind picks up around him, swirling around his feet like a tornado while lightning sparks flare. The ball of wind and lightning grows brighter and faster as Eyebright stands, arches his back and hisses.

Vinead grabs Odile by the arm.

“Run.”

~

Eda’s feeling… odd. As if a string that’s connecting her into the castle has been pulled tight and plucked, sending a vibration down her spine. As if lightning is about to strike the earth.

A cataclysmic boom explodes above them. The corner tower of the castle, the one closest to the courtyard, erupts in a cloud of fire, brick and light. People scream and run, as stones, rubble and ash fall from the sky. The entire top half of the tower is gone, the bottom crumbling. Flames catch onto any foothold, jumping to flags and banners.

Eda doesn’t waste a second. In the chaos she pulls her hands free of Duncan and Ol’ Malcolm, crouches down between them and turns herself invisible. The crowd is scattering. The roaring from the explosion has deafened everyone and only the occasional scream cuts through as they’re all covered with ash, faces and shoulders becoming sliced and bloodied from falling stone.

Eda shoves her way to the pyre as fast as she can, knocking people aside with elbows and knees. Noone notices their attacker is invisible in all the chaos. The King has been whisked away by guards and the Witch Finders stand useless. They point and shout, looking angry, but not herding anyone to safety, not getting water to put out spot fires.

The flames at the pyre are eating closer towards the hem of Agnes’ shift. She’s leaned her head back and is almost smiling, looking at peace with herself. Eda runs behind and yanks hard at the chains, the adrenaline pumping through her making her magic strong enough to break the padlock in two, sending the chains falling to the ground. Agnes looks around her, her peace shattered, confusion and panic starting to creep in. Eda grabs her hand and puts her lips to her ear.

“It’s Eda. Run.”

Saying nothing else, she tugs Agnes away from the pyre, out of the flames, picks up her skirt and runs. Agnes keeps up as they race to the gates of the castle courtyard. The guards have abandoned their posts to rush to the explosion so Eda and Agnes are able to dart through without being stopped, into the chaos of the outer courtyard and out through the main gate, onto the road.

They don’t stop running.

To be continued in book 2:

Forests of Ash

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dottie Graham is an author from rural Australia, where her obsession with the history of witchcraft and witch trials grows daily.

This is her first

BLOOD COLOURED FLAMES

BY

DOTTIE GRAHAM

CONTENTS:

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

Copyright © 2021 Dottie Graham

All rights reserved.

CHAPTER 1

She smells the smoke first. With autumn setting in and stripping the forest bare, Eda wandered further than usual from home, looking for berries and roots to add to her aunt and uncle’s winter supply. But now her head snaps up, dark hair flying in her face as she catches the scent of something burning. She grips the handle of her basket till her knuckles turn white. She strains her ears but can’t hear anything; her nose has always been strongest, the witch’s blood in her veins helping her to smell further, hear more, every sense heightened.

When you’re a witch, the smell of burning is never a good thing. Panic settles deep inside Eda’s stomach and she runs towards home. The smell gets stronger and then the noises come. Shouting, horses, crackling flames. Screaming. A column of smoke is now visible, climbing into the sky.

She turns herself invisible, slipping out of sight and forcing herself to slow her steps, to not make any loud noises, to not be noticed. As she leaves the edge of the forest to where her small home should be standing, her suspicions are confirmed.

Witch Finders are everywhere, black and red flags flying from their horses. Black hats pulled over their faces, all of them wearing black gloves. The cottage is now a pyre, burning so hot and bright it's like a star has fallen to earth. There’s no doubt her aunt and uncle are inside. She heard the screams through the roaring of the flames… but they’re not screaming any more.

~

Eda walks along the forest road, going so slowly she’s barely walking at all. But two weeks of travelling by foot, and the last two days without food at all, have left her hollowed out. Her bones ache. There’s a drumbeat in her head.

She could probably find food if she used her magic. She could sniff it out, try to summon it to her with a spell. But the thought of using magic makes her sick. Makes her empty stomach spin. She’s too weak to turn herself invisible and if anyone sees, even suspects that they saw her draw a rune and mutter a word or two… well all the running would have been for nothing. Her stomach wouldn’t be full for very long before they strapped her to a pyre and fanned the flames.

So she doesn’t use her magic to find food. She stays hungry and exhausted. Her exhaustion is the reason for such a stupid reckless idea. That, and she has nothing left to lose.

The plan is to go to the castle and beg for work. Scrubbing floors. Feeding pigs. She’ll throw herself at any task available. She’ll have a roof over her head and food to eat. (The roof may leak, the food might be mouldy but it’s better than what she has now). But the very reckless, very stupid part of the plan is that if the King is looking for witches and sending out his Witch Finders to round them up… the last place he will look is in his own castle.

So she walks. Her long black hair whips around her face in the biting wind, the closest thing she has to a shawl. Her lips are cracked, red against her pale skin. Her dark eyes are too bright in their sockets. Her gown is torn and muddy, leaves stuck in the rough weave from burying herself in leaf litter at night, desperate to stay warm. Her basket is long gone.

She can’t bear to make a fire.

So now she walks. But she’s so very tired.

~

“Girly?”

She blinks and she’s laying on her back with the sky and trees above. A gnarled face is looking down at her. Wrinkles and a tooth or two, a woollen cap pulled over his head.

“Ah, you is alive. Well, wasn’t expecting that.”

“Castle,” says Eda. She was trying to get to the castle. Why was she trying to get to the castle again?

“Well ain’t you lucky that that’s where Ol’ Malcom was heading. Come on then.”

Without any more chit-chat Malcolm hoists her up under her arms, hooks her knees over his other arm and carries her to a cart waiting a few yards up the road. A mule is strapped to it looking at Eda with twitching ears. Her head swims as he sits her down amongst cages of chickens that peck and cluck and stare at her. He walks off to the front of the cart. Eda’s hands are shaking. She doesn’t remember falling down on the road.

“Girly,” says Malcom, every word a soft rumble. He’s back and holding out a hunk of thick black bread and a flask of water to her. She reaches like a child, takes both the bread and the flask and cradles them in her lap.

“You’ll be alright girly,” he says, tapping the edge of the cart with his palm. He climbs in the front and orders the mule into action. The wheels start turning and Eda is bounced around with the chickens. The smell of the bread is divine. The flour and yeast and the oven scorch on the crust. She sinks her teeth into the bread, rips, chews, swallows. She eats as fast as she can, sipping water when she can catch her breath, and slowly she starts to feel a little less closer to death.

As the sun gets lower in the sky and the trees thin, Eda can see the castle walls rising above everything. Her sharp witch’s eyes can pick out each brick and the face of each guard as they watch from the top of the walls. The walls are taller than she’d imagined. Thick and strong, built to withstand armies and whatever weapons they brought with them. Ol’ Malcolm steers his cart steady along the road, nonplussed by the massive scale of it all. They pass by simple one room houses of the village that surrounds the outer walls. Women beeline this way and that, always with something to do. Children play and squeal. Men build or talk or carry things to and fro. Eda can’t remember ever being around this many people.

She’s always been in hiding, just her aunt and uncle for company. Her mother was taken by Witch Hunters when she was just a few weeks old. After that, Aunt June and Uncle Elias retreated further into the forest, taking their new charge with them. Twenty years they had kept her safe. Taught her everything there was to know about the plants and animals around them. Taught her how to control herself, use her magic and her more than human senses to smell if someone was sick and sniff out the herbs that would help them. Or, if needed, find the plants that would take someone’s breath away for good.

Now she’s in the lion’s den, the outer walls of the castle soaring above her as the cart approaches the gate.

Try thinking then doing, Aunt June would always say. You always do the doing part first and leave the thinking till it’s too late. It hurts Eda’s heart to think that she’ll never hear her say it again.

The gates of the castle stand open, closed only at night or when there’s danger looming. The guards on duty let Ol’ Malcolm through without question or fanfare and he doffs his woolen cap to them. So he’s a regular here, thinks Eda. Good. She thanks whatever god was responsible for sending him and his cart her way. Alert from the food and water she takes in everything around them. More small homes, market stalls and animal pens take up this outer ring of the fortress. More people mill around, going about their day.

How many of them fear flames and shackles, Eda wonders bitterly. The women in their beautiful gowns. Simple things, yes, but bright and clean. Women weaving and knitting and chasing after children. Laughing. The men working with all manner of beast and trinket. Carving and hammering and smiling at their wives and daughters. Greeting friends and neighbours that pass by.

Never has Eda felt so dirty. So alone.

Ol’ Malcolm’s cart nears the inner wall of the fortress behind which the castle towers rise into the sky, seeming to scrape the clouds.

“You got family here, girly?” Asks Ol’ Malcolm casually as they approach a second gate, this one closed and more heavily guarded.

“No,” says Eda, her voice rough from lack of use. Rough from sadness. She has no more family.

Ol’ Malcom doesn’t turn to look at her, but tilts his head to the side in acknowledgement. He heard the sadness.

“Got work waiting for ya?”

“I was hoping to ask for some,” she says quietly and now her plan seems even more stupid than before. How many people must knock at these gates a day, begging for work?

Another tilt of Ol’ Malcolm's head. He scratches his neck as they roll to a stop at the doors and two guards approach, swords glinting at their sides, while another two start the process of opening the heavy gates. One guard bends forward to inspect under the cart. The other looks at Eda for longer than necessary. She feels her skin start to prickle. He smells of sweat mostly but she can catch the edge of alcohol around him, stained into his breath from constant consumption.

“Who’s this, then,” he says with a smile and Eda frowns. It’s the same sort of smile the Witch Hunters wear when they’re toying with their captives. She can see the start of rot around the edges of his teeth.

“New kitchen girl,” says Ol’ Malcolm and Eda hopes the surprise doesn’t show on her face.

“Thought you were going to get chickens, old man, not a new girl,” says the guard, joined by his companion who has finished inspecting under the cart.

“Ask Agnes, it’s her business.”

Eda’s heart thumps out of time in panic at the obvious lie. But the guards think nothing of it. The one whose soul smells of alcohol shrugs and reaches forward, lifting Eda’s chin.

“You’d be prettier if you smiled,” he says with a chuckle, pulling his hand away.

“Touch me again,” Eda says, “and I’ll bite off your fingers.”

The smile falls from the guard’s face and his friend’s mouth drops open in shock. Ol’ Malcolm clucks the mule into action and drives through the inner gate. The guard scowls at her as the gates close on him. When they slam shut Ol’ Malcolm chuckles deep in his throat.

“Yeah girly, I think you and Agnes will get along just fine.”

“Who’s Agnes?”

“Your new boss if I’ve got any say in the matter. She’s tough but fair. Runs the kitchens.”

Any more questions fizzle out on Eda’s tongue as she looks up at the castle. Towers and flags reach into the sky. The villagers of the outer courtyard have been replaced by soldiers and knights. Horses are led to and fro and a blacksmith’s hammer bangs in even bursts. And the smells. Smoke and bodies and steel. Horses, dogs, men, dirt, but in the distance something finer. Incense and linen waft from the windows of the castle. And food. The smell of roasting meat makes her stomach growl in desperation.

“Why are you helping me,” Eda asks quietly, almost hoping he didn’t hear. But he did. Ol’ Malcolm is a lot sharper than most, it seems. He turns to look at her over his shoulder.

“I don’t think you realise how frail you look girly,” he says looking back at her. No pity. Just facts. He doesn’t smell of alcohol. He smells of straw and feathers. Eda feels like a strong wind could snap her in half so she must look worse than she imagined.

“My name is Eda,” she says. Ol’ Malcolm tips his hat.

“Pleasure,” he says. “I sure am glad you weren’t dead on that road. That’d sure be a shame. Wouldn’t have got to see the look on that guard’s face when you threatened to bite him just now.”

Eda allows the ghost of a smile to crawl onto her lips.

CHAPTER 2

Ol’ Malcolm parks the cart next to a small stable where two scrawny boys appear from nowhere and get to work unloading the chickens and releasing the mule from its harness. He heaves himself up from the cart, bones clicking and crunching as he stretches. Eda unfolds herself, her own limbs stiff and sore as she clambers out of the cart. She wobbles on her feet, steadying herself with a hand against the stone wall. Ol’ Malcolm trudges up to a green door with a brass knocker set into the wall and bangs his fist three times. “Agnes!”

Almost immediately the door flies open and a plump, middle aged woman stands there with her fists on hips. She’s clean as a pin with her hair wrapped up in a veil and a spotless apron draped around her neck.

“You get my chickens?” she says as a greeting and Ol’ Malcolm nods.

“Boys are putting ‘em away. Got you something else as well.” He flourishes a hand at Eda and she feels the blood drain from her cheeks as Agnes looks her up and down and frowns. Eda attempts a curtsey but stumbles and has to right herself against the wall.

Agnes turns her glare back to Ol’ Malcolm and folds her arms. He takes a step closer to her while Eda tries not to fall over. The sun is setting, the wind is picking up and eating the bread Ol’ Malcolm gave her feels like a lifetime ago.

“Found her half dead in the middle of the road,” he says to Agnes under his breath, but Eda can hear clearly as if he were next to her. “You were complaining about needing more hands weren’t you?”

Agnes sighs sharply out of her nose. But her arms unfold and rest back on her hips.

“What’s your name, girl?”

“Eda.”

“You a worker?”

“Yes ma’am.” Please, please take me. Thinks Eda, desperate. I won’t survive another night outside.

Agnes wanders over to her, graceful and broad. “You obedient?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“What work are you good at?”

“Anything you want me to do ma’am.”

That answer seems to please Agnes who gives a curt nod and turns back to her door with a flick of her fingers over her shoulder. Ol’ Malcolm jerks his head at Eda. Go, before she changes her mind.

Eda follows, a hand trailing the wall to steady herself and nods to Ol’ Malcolm as she passes. He doffs his tatty cap at her, whistling as he walks away. As if he didn’t just stick his neck out for a girl he doesn’t know.

He has no idea he just saved a witch. Eda hopes he never finds out.

She follows Agnes through the green door which is then shut behind her. They stand in an enormous kitchen, the warmth swirling around them from the fires, the ceiling high and bright with windows and chimneys to let the smoke out. Pots and pans of every size hang from the walls, while barrels of vegetables overflow. A boy turns a pig on a spit and girls Eda’s age and younger pluck chickens and ducks, peel potatoes, gather water. And oh the smell. Spices and meat and gravy. Bread and dough rising. Even the coals in the fire smell sweet. It’s the most delicious room Eda has ever been in.

A young woman, only a little older than Eda, stands at a wooden bench chopping pumpkins into squares. Her eyes are sharp, scraping Eda up and down, her pale curly hair peeking out from under her cap.

“Martha,” says Agnes, and the girl stands to attention. “Go get me a fresh bucket of water, rags and soap.”

Martha does as she’s told but watches Eda as she leaves to fetch her list. The smile at the corner of her mouth doesn’t seem friendly at all.

“Come here, child,” says Agnes sternly, standing in front of a small fire in the corner. Sternly, but not unkindly. Agnes assesses her up and down. Eda tries to look as capable and bright eyed as possible. Which is hard when she’s swaying from side to side like she’s on a ship.

Agnes nods, as if she’s just solved a problem. “No, I shall find a use for you,” she says, more to herself than Eda. Relief washes over Eda, walls and food and a floor to sleep on. That’s all she wanted. She can worry about Witch Finders another day. For today, just for today, she can rest.

Martha reappears and thunks a bucket of water at Eda’s feet, handing soap and clean cloths to Agnes.

“Wash,” says Agnes. “You’re in the King’s castle, this ain’t no ordinary servant’s job. If His Majesty wanted to look at dirt he’d go outside and stare at the ground. And I don’t want to look at dirt neither. And off with those rags you call a dress. Wash in front of the fire so you don’t keel over from a chill, dead body in here is the last thing I need.”

Agnes stays standing in front of her, hand outstretched, waiting for Eda’s dress.

Eda sighs, her toes curling against the stone floor. But Ol’ Malcolm was right. Agnes is unforgiving but if Eda ran the King’s kitchen she’d be unforgiving as well. This is a different world. Everything is more important. More dangerous. And if she’s going to pass as an ordinary person and get as little attention as possible she’s going to have to play by the rules.

She pulls her dress over her head, the threadbare shift sticking and coming with it. Agnes helps yank the tangle of fabric over her head, promptly throwing it into the fire where it fizzles and pops before catching flame.

Martha folds her arms and stares. So she’s one of those. Humiliation and bullying are her bread and butter. Eda will have to watch herself around her, make sure she doesn’t get even a whiff of her magic. Martha’s the sort who would betray you in a second if it meant a moment's entertainment.

The skin over Eda’s breasts turns to goosebumps as she instinctively crosses her arms over her chest, more from cold than shame. Martha giggles.

“Back to work,” Agnes snaps at her, tossing a rag in her direction. Martha sighs and trots off, pleased with herself. Agnes hands a cloth to Eda instead of throwing it, and a hunk of waxy soap that smells of old candles.

“Top to toe,” she says. “Don’t care if you’re scrubbing all afternoon, I want not a speck left.”

Eda does as she says, dunking the cloth in the bucket of water. She doesn’t want to feel like the dirty smudge in the corner of this spotless kitchen. The stone practically sparkles. She wipes herself with rag and soap. Agnes stays by her side, scrubbing her back and shoulders, her hair, all the places Eda can’t reach by herself. Twice she gets one of the small girls plucking birds to go and get a fresh bucket of water. Eda’s skin turns pink from the effort, but she feels reborn. Eventually the water that runs off her is clear, not black with dirt and soot. Her hair hangs in a curtain down her back, free from leaves and twigs. Her feet feel like they could carry her anywhere.

Agnes vanishes and reappears periodically, either to fetch something or to direct another servant about their tasks. Everyone leaves Eda alone except for a curious stare or two. Plenty of them had their fair share of scrubbing when they first arrived too. They’re all busy and as far as they’re concerned she’s just another peasant girl wandered in from the wilderness. Eda is more than happy for them to believe that as she drips dry next to the fire, the heat burning the water from her in a steam cloud. She tries hard not to think of the last fire she saw...

Agnes is once again by Eda’s side, a folded shift and dress in her hands. They smell of dust and darkness, as if they are kept spare in a cupboard, just in case someone needed them. They’re plain and cream coloured, rough linen and wool but as Agnes tugs them over Eda’s head without fanfare, Eda feels like a different person. Clean and respectable. A servant in the royal kitchen. Not a witch. Not an orphan.

Agnes takes a step back and inspects her handiwork with a nod. “You will sit at that bench for the rest of the evening,” she says pointing to the smaller wooden table, the one meant for food for the servants, not the royal family. “You will eat what you’re given and you will watch and learn what happens here of an evening. You will sleep next to this fire with the little children. You’re new, and you’re at the bottom of the ladder so no complaints. Then tomorrow you will begin work proper. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am. Thank you ma’am,” says Eda, meaning every word. She’ll do whatever this pristine, fierce woman says.

Agnes nods. “Good.”

CHAPTER 3

“Miss Eda.”

It’s before dawn and the embers cast a soft glow on the world. Even the roosters aren’t awake just yet. One of the small boys, Gus, is shaking her shoulder, his face a smattering of freckles.

“Time to wake,” he says before disappearing off to his first tasks of the day.

Eda sits up, blinking hard. She fell asleep last night in the pile of small children in front of the fire, all of them too tired to care too much about Eda. And Eda was content to be folded into their simple acceptance.

Martha, with her sharp eyes, kept scowling at her until it was time for everyone to retire for the night. Eda was happy to curl up on the floor with the children rather than follow the more senior kitchen servants to their shared room down a hall off the kitchen.

She shakes herself awake, stands, slaps her face until she feels somewhat alive.

Agnes walks in, already dressed to perfection, neat as if she slept standing up. A trickle of tired servants follows behind her, ready to start the day.

“You ready to work, girl?” Says Agnes, handing Eda an empty bucket.

“Yes ma’am,” says Eda politely. Her time for rest is over.

~

She ferries buckets of water here and there for hours on end, from the well in the courtyard next to the mules stable, to the kitchen, to the animal troughs, back to the kitchen, till her fingers ache and there’s a bruise forming on her thigh from the rim of the bucket hitting it again and again. While Agnes is relentless in her list of tasks, and unforgiving about any bruises or sore fingers, she hands bits of food to Eda every time she passes. A leftover pie crust. A piece of chicken. A slice of bread thick with butter. Everything she’s handed is delicious, the best of everything she’s ever eaten. Agnes has a special touch when it comes to cooking. No wonder, really, if she’s responsible for cooking for the King. Eda doubles her efforts with each piece of food, desperate to please this woman. Desperate to stay where there’s warmth and food.

A tabby cat with one eye and a lazy tail watches her from a window sill where it warms itself.

Don’t be a Familiar, begs Eda inside the safety of her thoughts. Don’t attach yourself to me. Don’t give me away. Just be an ordinary cat, alright? If you just stay ordinary I will feed you all the kitchen scraps your heart could desire.

But that one eyed stare is sending prickles up her spine...

She leaves the cat behind, the ordinary cat that is definitely not a Familiar looking for a mistress, and is off on her next task. Agnes has thrown soap and a coarse brush in her direction and wants the castle entrance scrubbed clean. Gus shows her the way, zipping away from his own duties at the speed of light to help her. He shows her through a backdoor into a hall, sunlight pouring in and lighting up the thick tapestries that line the walls. While the door back to the kitchens is set into the wall, the hall stretches north and south, one end opening in the inner courtyard, the other leading into the castle proper.

“This is where she means,” Gus says, the gap in his teeth whistling on his S’s. “Best to start at the inside and work your way out.”

“Thank you Gus,” she says, with a proper smile and he nods, leaving her to her business. He’s the leader of the little ones, and as she now sleeps by the fire with them he’s adopted her as one of his minions. Never mind that she’s two feet taller and ten years older. He bounds off back to his own duties and Eda carries her bucket towards the inside of the castle.

She stops before her toes touch the edge of the castle interior. The entrance chamber is enormous, the ceiling reaching sky high, stairs leading into the walls to spin in all directions. More halls leading off to different rooms on the ground floor. With her ears pricked she can hear footsteps and laughing and cursing. Soldiers boots and the soft whisper of rich ladies slippers. She’s been working for hours but it’s still before noon. The powerful people are still getting ready for the day.

She focuses on scrubbing the stones. Tries to not listen deep into the castle, not see every miniscule speck of dirt on the floor. Tries not to think of her uncle's screams over the sounds of the house burning to the ground. She is here. It is now. She is a normal girl scrubbing the floor and she will go to bed and do it all again tomorrow. And there definitely is not a one eyed tabby cat looking for a mistress.

She’s halfway down the hallway, getting closer to the outside light, when traffic starts to pick up. Ladies maids and soldiers pass her by. Mostly they ignore her. Some of the soldiers whistle or mention her getting on her knees for other reasons, so she ignores them and they laugh. She keeps her head down and scrubs.

Then the softest of scents moves forward from the entrance hall. Blooming roses and vanilla. All the feet walking past stop where they are. Eda looks up and over her shoulder.

As isolated as Eda and her family were in their forest cabin, they still gathered stories wherever they could manage, and she’s heard all about Princess Odile. The fairest, the gentlest, a golden flower. Eda always figured they were exaggerating for flattery but the young woman walking down the hallway is all of that and more. She’s bluebells and lambs wool. Her white blonde hair is braided around her head, framing her angular jaw and high brow, blue eyes wide in her striking face. Her gown is light blue silk, loose and billowing around her as she walks, a silver girdle hanging around her slim waist. Her lips are pink.

Eda stands and stays still like everyone else, people curtseying as the princess walks past them, her footsteps silent even to Eda’s ears. Eda holds her scrubbing brush in her hand, dripping. Everyone else averts their eyes out of respect but she can’t help herself. She can’t look away. Her neck turns hot and red, the blush spreading over her face. A different sort of blush blooms through her stomach.

As Princess Odile walks past her, Eda curtsies, still staring. Odile turns her head a fraction and their eyes meet. Her beautiful blue eyes. The smallest smile flickers at the edge of her lips, before she blinks and looks away. Then she’s walking on, with everyone curtseying, not looking at her. But how can you not look at her?

The spell is broken as the Princess leaves the hallway into the courtyard and disappears from view.

~

“Is that hallway sparkling?” Asks Agnes as soon as Eda returns for the evening. Honesty is the best policy when it comes to the kitchen mistress.

“As good as I could get it with people still walking through. I can make it better tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother. That hall is the bane of my existence, it never gets fully clean. Just wanted to test you, see how much effort you’d put in. You’ll be rotated onto something else tomorrow.”

“Yes ma’am.” Eda collapses onto a stool by the servants table, her knuckles raw and her knees smarting. She rolls her shoulders, her hair coming loose from its mess of a braid. She should probably feel a little bitter about it, but finds she can’t blame Agnes. She’s probably sick to death of hiring lazy servants.

In the chaos of the dinner preparations dishes are being served onto plates and platters, the little ones are racing back and forth with their orders, maids and runners move back and forth to take their meals to their respective masters and mistresses.

Gliding past, Agnes hands her a piece of bread and butter, the crust thick and knobbly. Eda is slapped with a memory of her aunt handing her a slice of bread dripping with honey in their kitchen.

“Thank you ma’am,” she manages to say quietly, before shoving the bread in her mouth trying to swallow away tears. It doesn’t quite work, she can still feel the tears pricking her eyes so she finds herself talking instead.

“I saw the Princess today,” says Eda. She’s not really sure why she says it. It mustn’t be anything extraordinary to see the Princess when she lives here. But it was extraordinary for Eda. She can still feel the heat in her neck and hopes desperately no one else notices. That no one asks why she’s blushing.

“That reminds me,” says Agnes. “Martha!” she barks.

Martha, who has been preparing a tray of food for someone’s dinner, snaps her head up. “Yes Ma’am?”

“Eda will accompany you as you serve the Princess tonight.”

Eda’s heart jumps into her throat in panic. She needs to avoid attention as much as possible, not dive straight into it. Not to mention she wants to avoid the butterflies in her stomach that exploded into life when she saw the Odile in the flesh. She certainly doesn’t want Martha to potentially notice any heat in her face with those sharp eyes of hers.

Martha scowls at Eda. She’s not happy about Agnes’ orders either.

“I don’t need help,” she snips.

“You will if you ever fall ill or get run over by a horse,” drawls Agnes. “Or are you invincible all of a sudden?”

Martha bites her tongue and picks up her tray.

A male servant Eda hasn’t seen before, with ears that stick out at right angles from his head, reaches over Martha’s shoulder and places a jug of wine down on the Princess’ dinner tray.

“Forgot that,” he says before disappearing. Martha harrumphs a thank you and purses her lips.

“Come on then.” She sets off at a trot not waiting for Eda.

As she follows behind Martha, Eda runs her hands over her braid, trying to tame her flyaway hair. She rubs the backs of her wrists over her cheeks hoping there’s not dirt on her face. Her heart thumps in an erratic, panicked beat. She’s about to be in the presence of someone who could have her burned in an instant if they even suspected what she was. The King could be there, sitting with his only child, and Eda’s stomach heaves. And there’s a smell in the air that’s making her feel even more sick. Something metallic and sharp wafts around her and she can’t tell where it’s coming from. But it’s dank and oozing. It’s making her head spin.

Through the entrance hall with its high beams and candlelight, Martha leads her to the left and up another two flights of stairs, lit by glimmering candles as dusk settles. She thoroughly ignores Eda behind her and Eda doesn’t mind. She’s as unhappy as Martha about their orders. But there’s no thought of defying Agnes in either of them. They walk briskly down a long hall bigger than any they’ve been through yet. Despite herself, Eda peers curiously at the paintings and lanterns that line the walls. Fine, beautifully crafted things.

Two guards in red and chainmail stand to attention outside a heavy wooden door, pikes in hand. One looks bored but the other smiles and nods at them.

Martha curtsies to them and Eda follows her example.

“I’m to teach her,” says Martha, stabbing her head in Eda’s direction and the guards part and let them through, the guard that smiled opening the door for them.

“Thank you,” says Eda, but she’s sure he didn’t hear. Her throat is dry and her tongue feels like it will drop into her stomach at any minute.

Martha’s pace slows as they enter the Princess’ chambers. An open sitting room welcomes them, a fire crackling in the large stone fireplace. Soft chairs and cushions are scattered everywhere. And the books. So many books. Piles and piles on every surface. Gorgeous leather bound things with such fine writing. Eda can’t imagine how anyone could ever decipher what they said. The letters mean nothing to her. Even if she could read, that acrid smell is stronger now they’ve stopped moving and it’s making her eyes tear up. Surely Martha can catch just a hint of it?

A giant wolf hound with a shaggy coat lopes over, panting and wanting attention. Martha ignores him and places the tray and jug of wine on a circular oak table. There’s just space enough for the food, the rest of the surface is taken up with papers, scrolls and quills. She turns back to Eda, motioning to leave, when the gentle scent of vanilla floats in as Odile enters the room. She’s still wearing the blue dress Eda saw her in earlier but her perfect braids are now crooked and fluffed as if she’s been laying down.

She smiles politely at them and Eda melts. It’s a beautiful smile, stretching her bow shaped lips into her cheeks.

Martha and Eda curtsey low. The wolf hound takes the opportunity to lick Eda’s nose.

“Victor likes you,” says Odile, wandering to the table where the tray was placed.

“I like him,” says Eda without thinking. Martha shoots her a venomous glare but the Princess laughs.

Martha curtsies low again. “Enjoy your dinner, Your Highness,” she says in a sickly sweet voice, before turning on her heel towards the door. She tugs sharply at Eda’s skirt as she passes, follow now, and leaves promptly, not waiting for her.

Eda doesn’t follow. That smell is bothering her. It’s all sorts of wrong, it smells like death. It smells like poison. As Odile pours wine from the jug they just delivered into a silver goblet the smell blooms and explodes. Time slows as Odile lifts the goblet to her lips. Eda knows deep somewhere inside her soul, that if she takes a sip that smell will course through her veins and snuff out her life. Eda’s body acts without permission. Her hand flicks out, fingers splayed and the goblet goes flying from Odile’s hand. It shatters against the wall, spraying wine onto the floor.

Odile stares at her, eyes wide and frozen.

Shit. Eda’s heart stops.

“You-” Odile starts to say but Eda, who is still shifting through survival mode, still on high alert from the smell of poison and the murder that almost took place, notices the dog sniffing at the puddle of wine.

“No!” She yelps, leaving forward and tugging by the dog back by his fur, who yelps in turn. “It’s poison, don’t touch it.”

The guards from outside have run in during the chaos, Martha behind them, swords drawn. They glance from Odile standing frozen, to the puddle of wine, to Eda wrestling the wolfhound away from it. Their swords tilt towards Eda and her stomach rolls. Either they’ll think her an assassin or a witch or both. She’ll be executed. It’s done.

“The girl looked ill,” says Odile, snapping all of them to attention, her voice both soft and absolute. The voice of royalty. “I insisted she take a sip of wine and as soon as she tasted it she threw it across the room. Poison, yes?” She looks to Eda for confirmation. So Eda nods. What is the Princess doing? Why isn’t she screaming witchcraft? Why is she defending her?

“You,” continues Odile, jutting her chin at the previously bored looking soldier. “Go tell my father what has happened. You will stay and guard the door,” she says to the kind guard who nods, turns and leaves the chambers. The bored guard grabs Martha by the arm as he does the same. She follows him, mute and terrified, until the door slams shut and Eda and Odile are alone.

Odile stares at her feet without blinking. She can barely hear over her heart thumping in her ears. But gods, that smell. Now the tainted wine covers the floor, the wall, and the stink makes Eda want to vomit. She sinks down to her knees. The dog licks her cheek.

Odile, stepping nimbly to avoid any patches of wine, comes closer and crouches down. She reaches a hand out and Eda flinches away. Surely she’ll strike? Maybe even strangle her? Odile simply pulls her hand back.

“I won’t hurt you,”she says, looking scared and shaky, the impenetrable mask of royalty has slipped from her face.

“You know what I am…” says Eda. The panic has gotten too much and now her body is numb. Frozen.

Odile offers her a smile. But it’s a sad little smile. “Well, we all have secrets.”

The door opens with a bang and men come storming in. Instantly Odile’s face snaps back to that of a crown princess. No fear. No sadness. She stands tall and straight while Eda remains on the floor, the dog still nuzzling her. She strokes its fur.

“Captain,” she says and a terrifying bearded man in full soldier's armour bows to her. His beard is unkempt and his dark eyes rake over the room, taking in everything, scouting for further danger. He stands over the puddle of spilled wine, inspects the jug that shattered on the floor.

A smaller man in fine, grey robes and spectacles is behind him, his bald head shiny, slim hands clasped in front of him. Or is it a woman? Eda isn’t entirely sure.

“Doctor,” commands Odile and the bald person looks to her politely. “The girl is the one who tasted the poisoned wine and it has made her ill. Tend to her.”

The doctor, who is neither a man or a woman, flurries to Eda and crouches at her side. They smell of coals and spices, too many spices to separate one from the other. They place cool fingertips on the hollow under her jaw.

“Yes, poor girl, your heart is racing,” they mutter, measuring the heat of her forehead with the back of their hand. Eda figures it’s wise not to mention her heart is only racing because she’s afraid of getting tied to a burning pyre. Let them think she’s been mildly poisoned, she can blame any odd behaviour on it.

“Captain Vinead,” says the doctor, pulling a small vial out of their sleeve. “Would you mind terribly collecting a sample for me?”

The captain straightens and holds out a leather gloved hand. The doctor throws him the vial, which Vinead catches easily, and scoops a few droplets of poison wine into it before sealing it tightly with the cork.

“Your Father requires your presence in his chambers, your Highness” says Vinead with a tip of the head to Odile. Eda is surprised by his voice. It’s smooth as satin and friendly around the edges. A voice from someone you can trust.

“Yes I assumed he would,” Odile sighs, whistling so her dog comes obediently to her side. After one final lick of Eda’s face, that is.

The doctor pats Eda gently on her shoulder. “Can you walk, my child?”

Eda nods, not sure she can speak, anxiety tying her tongue in knots. The doctor offers their long scholar’s hands to her and helps her up. Her knees shake and her vision swims. She’s not sure whether it’s from terror or exhaustion at this point.

“Off to my quarters and we shall get you well, yes?” Hums the doctor. “Water, water and more water to clean out your system. Yes, that is where we shall start.”

“His Majesty wants the girl there too,” interrupts Vinead. The doctor halts and scowls at him.

“She is clearly unwell.”

Vinead shrugs, but looks sympathetically at Eda as he leaves the chambers, followed by the Princess.

The doctor tuts and follows after them, supporting Eda with a surprising strength.

“I suppose we are going as well,” they say. “Now if you feel the need to vomit whilst in the presence of dear King Richard, please do go ahead. It will mean we can leave his presence sooner.”

Eda surprises herself by laughing.

CHAPTER 4

After a brisk walk down several hallways and up another flight of stairs, their strange little group, including Victor the wolfhound and the kind guard who has followed along, arrives at the heavy oaken doors of the Royal Chambers. The guards standing watch let them in without hesitating, Captain Vinead taking the lead. Eda thinks about vomiting on the King’s floor. With the way she’s feeling it's a distinct possibility.

The room they enter puts even Odile’s chambers to shame. Priceless tapestries line the walls and rugs adorn the floor. Bottles of wine and smoking pipes glitter in the firelight. Oak chairs and a table built to be impressive. But there’s a dense layer of unease soaked into the room. Eda can’t see a single book.

The King is there, dressed in black and red. Beneath his salt and pepper goatee and fierce eyebrows he is scowling. He rakes his eyes over each of them as they enter. A nod at Odile is the only acknowledgement of the danger she was just in. Jodis is the only one with a spring in their step.

More guards and soldiers are gathered by the King, the one from the door still with a firm grip on Martha's arm. She’s pale and terrified, trembling in the middle of all these men. She might be unpleasent but she doesn’t deserve the fear of being blamed for an assassination attempt. Eda can’t help but feel for her. They congregate in the middle of the room, King Richard watching everyone with hawk eyes.

“Tell me from the beginning,” he says to Odile. Eda waits for the truth to come tumbling from her lips.

“The girl looked unwell. Half starved. I insisted she have a sip of the wine that was brought and as it touched her lips she threw it across the room. Poison.”

Odile is calm and in control, but Eda watches as her hand compulsively stroking Victor’s fur.

“And what are you in all this?” snaps Richard, flicking a finger at Martha who is thrust forward roughly by the guard. She’s lost her tongue, too terrified to speak.

“She always brings Her Highness her meals,” offers the kind guard behind Eda.

“Then why were you there as well? Is it a terribly difficult job?”

“The kitchen mistress told Martha to train me,” says Eda, her voice low, slow and calm. It surprises her, how serene she sounds. Jodis squeezes her arm in encouragement. “I’m new. I’m being trained as a girl of all sorts.”

“And a poison taster, apparently?”

Don’t call it a gift. Witches have gifts. “A talent, Your Majesty. Nothing but a party trick until today.”

The King harrumphs but the answer seems to satisfy him. He looks Martha up and down like she’s a hunk of rotten meat. “Quite spoiled your plans then didn’t she, girl?”

Martha quails, the guard gripping her arm the only reason she’s not on the floor.

“It was a man,” says Eda. “He leant over Martha and put the wine on the tray. He had ears that stuck out from his head. She never touched the wine.”

Richard scrutinises Eda again. But her calmness and surety has, somehow, seemed to win him over. He nods at Captain Vinead.

“Find this man. And take her back to where she belongs.” He glares at Martha who is taken away. But it appears she’s safe from the gallows.

Jodis moves to leave as well, taking Eda along too.

“You stay,” snaps the King. Jodis sighs so lightly Eda’s the only one who hears. But they stop. They stay.

The King coughs quietly into the back of his hand, but it doesn’t sound right, not to Eda. There’s a rattle deep in his chest, the way he breathes… that cough means nothing good.

The King turns his attention to Eda and her knees nearly give way. “You’ll serve Odile from now on. Put that talent of yours to use.”

Odile bristles. “I like my independence, thank you-”

“Independence is the least of your priorities. She will be a permanent lady’s maid and you won’t be alone again.”

And with that, they are finally dismissed.

~

Odile is taken back to her chambers by the kind guard while Jodis sweeps Eda away, down flight after flight of stairs till they arrive at a small red door.

“Come, my dear, let's get you feeling better.”

The doctor's quarters feel like a different world from the rest of the castle. Plants and bottles, trinkets, candles and glass are arranged on every available surface. By the wall three cots are lined up, ready to take patients. Stairs lead up to a loft where the doctor must sleep, made private by thick orange curtains. Jodis places her on one of the cots and glides to a shelf, picking from jars of herbs and ingredients.

Eda drinks all the water the doctor instructs her to, mixed with herbs to settle her stomach and calm her heart. Although she’s not actually been poisoned, it helps. Her racing thoughts slow and her body relaxes. The anxiety that’s been eating her alive for weeks settles into dormancy. The doctor seems pleased by the change in her, but doesn’t hover, leaving her to sit quietly on the bed.

“Um, sorry?” says Eda, embarrassed but wanting to clear something up before it gets any more awkward to ask. Jodis’ head pops up from the bottles they’ve been inspecting.

“Yes my dear?”

“Please don’t take offence, but-”

“He, my dear.”

Eda falls silent, but Jodis smiles serenely. “I’m a he. Or a she. Both, neither, in the middle.”

“A they, then,” says Eda quietly, her embarrassment fading, reassured by Jodis’ gentle tone.

“A they,” says Jodis with a calm smile, now preparing food. “Indeed I am a they. And I’m the best healer there is, not to brag but let us face facts. The King pretends I’m a man because he only wants the best in his inner circle, so we all humour him so I can keep a job.”

Eda can’t help but smile at their ease and matter of factness. It’s both calming and refreshing. Jodis glides back towards the bed, handing her a cup of sweet tea and bun.

“And you, my dear,” they say, placing a gentle hand on Eda’s shoulder, “are safe with me.” They look her in the eye and Eda’s throat tightens. Because of course they can see right through her. Not about being a witch, perhaps, but certainly the other part of herself she keeps hidden. The way she couldn’t help but keep snatching glances of Odile and the blush that crept up her neck. She looks down at the bun in her lap and nods. Jodis squeezes her shoulder and leaves her alone to eat and rest.

~

Once the doctor is deep in sleep, their snores floating down from the loft above, Eda sneaks out, tiptoeing across grass and sticking to the darkest shadows. She finds a secluded corner that’s painted in darkness and sits outside in the cold. It was a mistake ever coming here. Hiding in plain sight means you’re still in sight. Always. Now if the Witch Finders come to the castle to report to their King she won’t be hidden in the kitchens or scrubbing dark corners, she’ll be in their firing line, right next to Odile. And if she takes off and leaves now, after being given such a desirable position, then suspicions will be raised. Why would a nothing servant girl run away from such an opportunity? And if they go looking for her, they’ll know her face. Before she was anonymous at least. Now she’s known.

Eda rests her head on her knees. This is bad. This is very, very bad. She presses her knuckles into her eyelids until stars swim; tries to focus on the scents in the night air around her, the freezing wind on her skin.

But her thoughts keep circling back to Odile. She protected Eda. Said nothing. More, she spun lies instead of the truth. All to protect a witch.

The only thing that keeps Eda running from thoughts of funeral pyres and hangings is that Odile would have some explaining to do herself if Eda’s secret was revealed. Because it is now their secret.

Gods, to be able to go to bed and not wake up until all the Witch Finders were dead and gone.To have the wind whip round her till she’s numb. Instead she thinks of Odile, not as terrified of her as she should be. She thinks of those big blue eyes, almost too big for her face. About how she wants to run her thumb over the delicate hollow beneath those eyes, over her lips, her earlobe, down her collarbone and beyond. How these are all stupid thoughts to be having. Dangerous thoughts at the best of times, let alone the mess she’s gotten herself into. But she still finds herself moving her finger over her own collarbone, skin feverish despite the wind, moving lower and lower until she’s moving her finger over the shape of her breast through her dress. Her nipples are hard under her fingers, chest goosebumped. Without her say so, her body shifts, sitting cross legged, her dress stretched across her knees.

She listens hard and far. No one is around. No guards are watching this secluded corner. Sensible people are inside, in their beds. Eda tried doing the sensible thing and that got turned on its head. Well, maybe she shouldn’t be cowering and hiding, trembling until a Witch Finder stumbles upon her. Maybe she should stoke up that pride her aunt always said would get her into trouble.

She’s in trouble anyway. She didn’t have to hide her witchcraft in front of her family, but she always hid her desires and heart’s wanderings… She’s so thoroughly tired of pretending to be something she’s not.

In the silence and the dark Eda becomes invisible, flicking on the ability like a switch, and lets her fingers trail down her leg. Grabbing the fabric, she pulls her skirt over her knees, her back leaning against the brick wall, sending chills down her spine. Her hand slides up her inner thigh till it stops between her legs. She’s warm and wet and, throwing caution to the wind, her fingers slip inside. She sighs. It’s a thrill and a relief. Pulling her fingers out, she strokes herself slowly, circling now and again in a steady rhythm. Her mind wanders up to Odile’s quarters. Eda imagines her wearing that beautiful blue dress, how it must unfasten at the back and slip from her shoulders to the floor, leaving Odile in a thin shift, practically see through, the curves and lines of her almost visible. Eda would lay her down on that bed and kneel above her just to see those lips open in a sigh. She’d peel the delicate shift over her head till Odile lay naked and bare, hair loose, and run her fingers over her breasts, her stomach, her hips. She’d stroke between her legs, fingers entering her, curling forwards and back until Odile begged for her to stop, to keep going, to kiss her… And Eda would remove her fingers and lower her head between Odile’s thighs until she was kissing the centre of her. She’d open her mouth and lick her from one end to the other and kiss and caress till her chin was wet. Odile would shake and writh and beg for more, her fingers tangled in Eda’s hair.

Heat rolls over Eda’s stomach and up her ribs as her fingers rub back and forth, finally letting the release crash through her till she’s shaking and breathless against the wall. She listens and waits. No one is coming so she makes herself visible again. She doesn’t make a sound as she gets up and heads back to the doctor’s quarters.

The one eyed tabby cat is waiting by the door, a lump of shadow in the darkness, its eye sparkling. Eda smiles at him and scratches his ear. If she names the cat then it really will be her Familiar, sealed and bonded. Another thing to mark her as a witch. She’s sick of being cautious. It’s gotten her nowhere but into trouble so far. If this is her Familiar then so be it.

“We’re both more than we seem, aren’t we? What do you think of Eyebright as a name?”

The cat purrs his assent.

CHAPTER 5

Eda’s bravado from the previous evening has well and truly fled. After waking and washing in Jodis’ quarters and being declared well, she makes her way to the kitchens to begin her new role as personal maid to the princess. The man who put the poisoned wine on Martha’s tray was found two miles outside the castle walls and was executed before the rumours could properly start.

While everyone else fusses over Eda and her close call with poison, Martha’s glare cuts her to the bone. Eda leaves the attention, both good and bad, as quickly as she can. She heads for the interior of the castle and Odile’s rooms carrying a tray of breakfast. Fruit arranged on a silver platter, small scones with fresh butter and cream. Eda smells not a whiff of poison. Despite everything, she has a job to do and she intends to do it well. The Princess will be safe from poison if she has anything to do with it. But her knees shake as she navigates the stairs and hallways to the door guarded by soldiers. While the one on the left looks her up and down as if she were the meal, the guard on the right recognises her from the evening before, smiles kindly and opens the door for her. Eda smiles back at him.

“Thank you,” she says, loud enough for him to hear her this time, and he beams. The door clicks shut behind her.

The fire smoulders low in the grate, Victor splayed out and snoring, warming his belly in front of the embers. Eda places the tray down on the table just as Martha did the night before. Martha. Now she has to keep a closer eye on that girl. She’ll be looking for any chance of revenge.

Any sign or smell of the poisoned wine has been cleaned up overnight and now the chambers smell floral and sweet instead of like tar. Eda stands awkwardly and takes a better look around. Another door leads off to a separate room which Eda assumes is the bedchamber that Odile entered from last evening. Her Uncle’s house was one room in total. She turns and watches Victor sleeping by the fire, belly falling and rising with his snores, not a care in the world.

“Good morning.”

Eda jumps, hand flying to her mouth to swallow a yelp as she spins around. Odile stands by the now open bedchamber door, hands raised in truce. It’s rare for Eda to meet someone as silent and smooth as Odile, someone who can sneak up on her. She’s not used to it. She remembers herself and curtsies.

“Apologies,” says Odile, lowering her hands. “I frightened you.”

She’s wearing a green gown today, the neckline scooping along her shoulders, displaying her collarbones and the delicate silver chain that sits in the hollow of her throat. Her feet are bare beneath her skirt, her pale hair braided down her back and loose from sleeping.She’s not yet fully dressed as a princess for the day. She’s simpler, more herself. She looks so much like the Odile from her fantasies last night that Eda turns away, heart galloping, legs burning. She prays that her face isn’t turning red with the embarrassing blush that likes to creep up her neck. The blush that would always have her aunt teasing, “someones thinking about their future husband!”

Ha. She was never thinking about husbands.

Odile approaches the table quietly and sits down, waiting for Eda to look at her. Which eventually she has to. Eda raises her eyes and resolves to keep them firmly on Odile’s face and not an inch lower.

“Goodmorning, Your Highness,” her voice steady, thank the gods.

“Please, sit,” says Odile, waving a hand at the chair opposite her.

Eda hesitates. She’s not an equal. Under no ordinary circumstances would someone like her ever sit at the same table as a princess. Odile seems to read the thoughts flickering across her face as she picks up a plate with sweet biscuits and places it in front of herself.

“We’re in rather a unique situation aren’t we?” Her voice doesn’t have the royal surety woven through it this morning. For now it is just a young woman’s voice, tired from a lack of sleep and a stressful night.

Eda’s glances at the door. She can hear the soft mumblings of the guards outside but has no idea how far their ordinary hearing might carry.

“Our conversations are safe in here,” says Odile, turning a biscuit to crumbs between her fingers, observant again. “You are safe in here.” She pierces Eda with a sincere gaze.

Eda squares her shoulders. Let us get this pretending over with. “I am a witch, Your Highness.”

It feels good to say it. Terrifying but good. It might be the first time she’s ever said it out loud.

“Yes,” says Odile, still clearly daunted by the truth of it. Daunted but somehow not at all afraid. “And you saved my life. And Victor’s,” she nods at the wolfhound still soundly asleep in front of the fire. “So the least I can do to repay you is keep your secret. We shall only speak truths in here.”

She doesn’t eat any of the food, just plays with it. There are dark circles under her eyes. If she was going to reveal Eda she would have done it straight away. And the longer she waits to run out of the room and scream the truth only implicates Odile further, only makes it harder for her. Eda takes a deep breath and decides to jump fully into the situation she’s found herself in. She sits down at the table.

Odile smiles a little, gods she looks tired, and gestures to the rest of the food on the tray that Eda set down. “Eat, please. They always send more than I could possibly eat.”

To be polite more than anything else, Eda takes a small plate piled with apple tarts from the tray, sticky with sugar glaze. She takes a bite and could cry. It’s the finest thing she’s ever eaten. All of Agnes’ cooking is delicious but this is divine. She wishes she could travel back as a vision and tell her past self, wandering and starving in the forest, that soon she would eat the finest food in the kingdom. Keep walking girl, soon you will eat apple tarts.

Eda’s chewing slows and she places the pastry back on her plate when she notices Odile watching her calmly from across the table, a small smile tugging at her lips. Eda swallows.

“Eat your fill,” says Odile. “I saw you yesterday morning, scrubbing the entrance floors. You looked thin enough to snap in two.”

Eda blinks in surprise. She’d convinced herself that the look and the smile Odile had given her were just her imagination. Wishful thinking. Apparently not.

“I’m surprised you noticed someone like me. I think I was still holding my scrubbing brush.”

Odile shrugs.

“I hadn’t seen you around before and thought… well I couldn’t believe quite how lovely you were.” She laughs a little, as if she’d made a joke, trampling the power out of the words. But Eda sees the tremor in her fingers as she picks at her food. Hears Odile swallow nervously.

We all have secrets, she’d said last night. Oh. Oh…

To another dirt poor servant girl, one who dreamed of having a husband someday, this would come across as nothing more than a flattering compliment from Her Highness.One girl telling another they were pretty. But to Eda… she recognises the tone of those words. The desperation underlining it all. The loneliness. Please understand what I’m saying. Then again, please don’t understand. Please don't reveal me. Please don’t hate me.

Oh.

Well… Odile already knows Eda is a witch. So, Eda can throw herself in and maybe come out of it with more than just fantasies and dreams... Or, she can pretend she didn’t hear the undertone and carry on alone.

If she ends up on the Witch Finder’s pyre she knows which choice she would regret more.

“I…” she falters but plows on; what does she have left to lose? “I couldn’t understand how anyone could take their eyes from you,” she says, the aching she’s felt over the last day seeping into her voice, a bursting valve cracked open. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you-”

She stumbles to a halt as Odile’s breath sharpens, her expression hardens, and for a second Eda thinks she’s made a terrible mistake.

“Don’t make fun of me,” says Odile, eyes hurt, the tremor back in her fingers. The royal sharpness is back in her voice. “Don’t play pretend either. It’s not becoming. I said truths only, didn’t I?”

Relief floods down Eda’s limbs, because Odile didn’t deny it, so it’s true. She’s like her, a keeper of the same secret. But sorrow follows, that Odile thinks Eda would tease her about something so serious. Almost as serious as witchcraft.

Eda puts her hand on the table, inches from Odile’s, her own fingers shaking slightly. Not proper etiquette for a servant and a princess, but they’re far beyond that now. She licks her lips as she thinks of what to say to sound convincing.

“I’ve always been in two different types of danger. Had two different secrets.”

Odile is staring at the plate before her, still as stone. But the hardness around her jaw has softened a little. So Eda keeps going. “I really did think about you all day…” she gets braver, and allows her eyes to follow the line of Odile’s exposed shoulders. “I thought about you all night…”

And at that she looks down at the table, face burning red. Her ears feel like they’re on fire. She sneaks a glance back up at Odile who is staring straight back, her own cheeks flushed pink. There’s not as much fear in her eyes now. There’s something almost like hope shining through.

Eda keeps talking before the words run away from her, she hasn't talked this much since… well since her aunt and uncle were still alive.

“I thought… I thought well, this is just a crush. Just a nice little crush to pass the time with. I can handle that. No one would ever need to know. It would just be some thoughts I could keep to myself. Some alternate reality I could imagine…”

Maybe it’s the relief of being able to speak her whole truth for the first time in her life, witch and woman lover. Maybe she still needs to eat more, her body exhausted and starved. Maybe it’s the trauma of her family and home burning before her eyes finally catching up with her. Whatever it is, Eda finally cries, the table in front of her blurring.

“But then you protected me. You didn’t tell them what I was. And it can never be just a little crush after that.” Her voice fades into a whisper then disappears altogether. Tears fall from her chin onto the table that she can barely see. Now she’s done it. Taken the plunge and probably ruined everything. She’s never opened herself up like this and it feels like she’s been flayed alive.

But then she feels fingertips on the back of her hand. Shaking fingertips, warm to the touch, that settle lightly on her skin. Eda blinks, tears falling and clearing her vision as she looks up at Odile who has stretched out her hand to hers. There’s such a look of concentration on her face you’d think she was battling life and death as she lightly stroked Eda’s hand, her fingers, her wrist. Eda slowly, ever so slowly so as not to scare Odile away, flips her hand over so her palm faces upwards. Odile continues running her fingers over her skin, over the creases and her palm lines, and Eda wants nothing more than to close her fingers and hold Odile’s hand in her own.

A knock on the door jolts them like a lightning bolt, both of them snatching their hands back. Victor finally wakes in front of the fire with a snort.

They look at each other for a brief second before Odile’s royal persona takes full effect. “Dry your face,” she tells Eda, and Eda obeys, wiping her cheeks with her sleeves, sniffing and getting up to go to the fire. If she stands there, she’ll have a reasonable excuse for red cheeks and bright eyes.

“Yes?!” Calls Odile the second they’ve collected themselves and the door swings open. Jodis enters, robes billowing as they carry in several bottes cradled in their arms. They bow to Odile and smile at Eda. Eda smiles back, knowing full well that Jodis’ eyes are scanning everything and most likely piecing together whatever clues they find. But this doesn’t worry her. Jodis, so rarely amongst humanity, is truly trustworthy. Truly kind.

Odile also relaxes in their presence. The royal persona is still there but a watered down version.

“What is it Jodis?” Asks Odile, letting the tiredness come through her voice, settling back into playing with her food.

“I am actually here for your new maid, Your Highness,” they say, strolling over to Eda by the fireplace, scruffing Victor’s belly with their foot as they pass. They hold out the first bottle to Eda.

“This is chamomile. One spoonful in warm water before bed will help you sleep. Don’t think I didn’t hear you up and wandering at all hours last night.” Eda presses her lips together, eternally grateful that she went outside and out of earshot to tend to herself last night. But she takes the bottle.

“This is mint,” continues Jodis, handing her a second bottle. “Again, a spoonful in water, warm or cold, should any residual poison be in your system upsetting your stomach. But I do think you’re out of the woods in that regard.”

They hold out a third bottle which Eda takes obediently.

“That, my dear, is for a panicked heart. If you don’t calm your worries and your pulse, you’ll drop dead of a heart attack by thirty and frankly the cemetery is getting overcrowded so it would be far more convenient if you stayed alive.”

Odile laughs. “Your bedside manner is impeccable as always, Jodis.”

“I know,” they say, with that sardonic smile of theirs.

“Can you do me a favour,” says Odile and Jodis cocks their head in assent.

“Anything, Madam.”

“I would rather not have visitors today. Frankly I don’t intend on leaving this room. Both my new companion and I have had enough excitement, I think.”

Jodis bows. “I shall keep the vultures at bay, even the royal ones,” they say, turning dramatically and making to leave. “Send Eda should you need anything, your Highness. I shall spread the word that you’re not to be disturbed.”

“Thank you, Jodis,” says Odile and the doctor waves a hand in lazy acknowledgement, opens the door and exits. Once the door closes behind them Eda strains her hearing as best as she can and hears Jodis keeping their promise and telling the guards that the Princess is distressed and exhausted by the events of the previous evening and is not to be bothered by anyone. Her new maid will take care of anything she might need. A smile tugs at Eda’s lips, her arms cradling her bottles of medicine.

He turns back to the table where Odile is steadfastly avoiding her gaze. Was it really only a few minutes ago that they were caressing hands like lovers? But Eda needs to put her bottles down before she drops them and they shatter so she moves back to the table and places them gently down. Odile stands and starts pacing the room, attempting to seem relaxed and deep in thought but clearly wound tight as a spring. Neither of them speak. Eda wonders if they’ll ever be able to look each other in the eye again, let alone wind their fingers in one another’s.

The awkward silence is broken by Victor whose belly has grown too hot by the fire. He gets up, stretches and pads his way over to one of the long, overstuffed sofas. Without further ado he climbs up, lays himself out and promptly falls back asleep.

Both of them watch the utter ease of the giant dog, catch each other's eye across the room and laugh. The tension shatters and Eda finds that she can breathe again. She inspects the bottles Jodis gave her more closely, not to avoid looking at Odile, but out of genuine curiosity.

“Jodis is quite the genius,” she says, placing the chamomile mixture back down.

“They are,” agrees Odile. “And the clown. And the viper. It depends what mood you catch them in.” She smiles fondly, absently scratching Victor’s ear. The silence returns, but it’s more comfortable this time, the crackle of the fire in the cool autumn air almost musical. And Odile wasn’t lying when she’d told Jodis they had had enough excitement. The past twenty-four hours feel like a month condensed into a day.

“What were you doing wandering around outside last night?” says Odile as a joke, attempting to break the silence before it has a chance to turn awkward again. But that stupid blush flares up Eda’s neck. She’s sure steam must be coming out of her ears.

“Didn’t you say you thought about me all night?” says Odile, quietly, shyly. Her own cheeks have turned bright pink, gathering enough information from Eda’s blush to take a guess at the answer. She’s fidgeting from foot to foot and Eda can hear her breath and heartbeat working over time, the scent of sweat prickling at her neck.

Eda, although the lowest of society’s low, a poor young woman and a witch to boot, has always known who she was. She has always dreamed of wives, never of husbands. And when those thoughts and dreams snuck up on her and her body reacted, she took it in stride. Went off on her own and explored it. Embraced it and left no part of her own body untouched. She’s never touched or been touched by anyone else but she knows what to do. She’s not innocent by any stretch of the imagination.

But looking at Odile across the room, Eda doesn’t think that’s the case for the Princess. She may not have touched another person and she may have never even touched herself. Eda makes a conscious effort to gentle and soften every fibre in her body. Part of her wants nothing more than to throw Odile on the bed and live out her fantasies from the previous night. To ravish her into oblivion. But if Eda’s suspicions are correct, that Odile hasn’t even pleasured herself before, then a different, more sensitive approach is needed.

Taking a deep breath and straightening her shoulders, Eda walks over to the princess stopping only a foot away, enough space to be intimate, enough space for Odile to back away if it’s too much.

“I did think about you last night,” says Eda quietly. Odile stares at Victor, arms folded across her torso, but she smiles and peeks up from Eda under her lashes.

“I did other things too,” says Eda, reaching out and barely grazing Odile’s sleeve with the backs of her fingers. Gods, the silk is soft. She desperately wants to know what the skin underneath feels like.

Odile’s breath hitches and shallows. She remains frozen. Her eyebrows crease ever so slightly.

“Did you think of me while you were doing these other things?” She says, sounding almost hurt, as if the conversation isn’t going where she wanted it to.

Eda’s suspicions are at least partly confirmed. The princess is more sheltered, more innocent than her. She didn’t connect a very obvious set of dots. But that’s fine. What else could you expect from someone in her circumstances? Who did she ever have to teach her? Eda takes several steps backwards in her head. No throwing her down on beds then. Simpler. Slower.

“Yes Princess, I thought about you all the while.”

“Just Odile. I want to be just Odile here. With you.”

“Odile.”

“Eda.”

They both smile. It’s so simple. And neither of them thought it could ever be theirs.

Eda presses the backs of her fingers slightly firmer onto Odile’s sleeve now that she hasn’t pulled away, now her shoulders are looser.

“This is very, very stupid,” says Odile. But she still doesn’t pull away.

“Yes,” agrees Eda. “But so is using witchcraft in front of you and I’m somehow doing just fine.”

Odile huffs a laugh. She keeps looking at Eda’s fingers stroking her arm. Her own hand reaches out and lays on top of Eda’s and, at last, their fingers interlock.

“The something else that I was doing, while I thought of you, that’s why I was outside last night, I didn’t want Jodis to hear.”

“Hear what?” Odile seems worried again and Eda’s heart breaks slightly that she seems to have so little trust in her, in anyone. Eda resolves to be trustworthy to her, if nothing else. Truths only.

“I thought of you and I was touching myself,” says Eda. Odile shakes her head, still not understanding, but now aware that she is missing something, embarrassment blooming on her beautiful face. Eda steps in to squash it before Odile’s confidence cracks. She squeezes Odile’s hand and lifts it to her mouth, grazing her lips across her warm knuckles. Always her hands seem to be warm.

“Would you like me to show you what I was doing?” Says Eda, looking her in the eye. Trust me. I would never tease you. Never.

Odile nods and takes the lead this time, holding Eda’s hand and tugging her to the door on the left which Eda correctly guessed was her bedchamber. Inside, the bright morning light softens the room through the high glass windows. Odile tugs the curtains closed even though this high up anyone is unlikely to see them through the window. The bed is a beautiful thing, more than Eda could have imagined. A wide, high mattress piled with blankets, pillows neatly stacked. Four posters mark the corners with gossamer fabric draped between. More books line the floors, the walls. Paper, quills and candles. But it’s Odile that keeps stealing Eda’s focus. Their hands are still clasped tight.

“I’ve-” Odile starts, then coughs. Gaze focused on the floor again.

“I’ve never been with another person,” offers Eda. Odile looks back up. “Have you?”

“No,” says Odile, fingers gripping tight.

“That’s fine,” says Eda, smiling and shaking her head. “I can teach you. I only ask so I can teach you. It doesn’t matter either way, Odile.” She takes her other hand and strokes her cheek, her palm fitting over Odile’s delicate cheekbone. Odile relaxes a little, comforted by Eda’s words.

Eda steps closer, until she can feel Odile’s breath on her face. Their breasts almost touch and glancing down Eda can see Odile’s nipples make an appearance through her dress, which sets her own on edge and a fire blooming in her stomach.

“Have you ever thought about being with another?” Asks Eda, fingers trailing down her neck onto that gorgeous, bare shoulder that she wants to sink her teeth into.

“Yes,” says Odile after a pause, her pulse jittering under her skin.

“Have you been with yourself?”

She frowns again. Shakes her head.

“You’re not stupid,”says Eda, fingers moving back up to Odile’s chin over her lips. “I know that. But you can’t learn everything in books.”

Odile takes a deep breath and appears to make a decision. “You teach me this and I’ll teach you other things.”

Eda smiles. “Can you teach me how to read?”

Odile smiles, genuine and wide. “Yes.”

“Okay,” and they’re both smiling, another barrier of shyness and embarrassment knocked down. They’ve both been so desperate for connection and now that they have it it’s making them giddy.

Eda moves forward just another inch and this time their breasts graze against each other. Odile moves into her, and as they’re the same height, the friction makes Eda’s breasts grow even harder. She unlaces her fingers from Odile’s and strokes her shoulders and neck with feather lightness.

“Last night, when I was thinking of you, I went outside to the most quiet, private area I could find and sat against the wall. Then I thought of you some more.”

Odile leans in and presses the tip of her nose to Eda’s and they breath each other’s breaths.

“I thought about taking off your dress and kissing you all over,” and at that she presses her lips forward and kisses Odile on the mouth. Softly. Slowly. Gods, she tastes like spring rain.

“Then I started touching myself,” she continues, lowering a hand down Odile’s chest till her shaking fingers lay atop her breast, so much more full than her own. Something shivers deep inside her and her whole body grows hot. She can feel her vagina blooming wide.

“I touched my breast,” she says, breathless, circling her fingers. Odile puts her hand over Eda’s and pushes her hand in harder. Eda grips and massages Odile between her fingers and Odile’s breathing takes on a staggering offbeat rhythm. She moves her own fingers onto Eda’s flatter breast, feeling gingerly through her dress, rubbing her fingers over Eda’s nipple. Eda feels a thrum up her abdomen.

Odile keeps her face close to Eda’s. “What else did you touch?”

Eda lowers her hand. Leaving Odile’s breast behind, she places her other hand in the small of her back, holding her steady. With her other hand she strokes down her stomach until she reaches her groin. Though there’s not much she can do over the dress.

“I touched here,” she says. Pushing Odile’s back inwards until their hips touch. Odile’s hands make their way up to Eda’s neck.

“I thought of you naked on the bed,” says Eda, not quite believing that this isn’t all in her head right now. “And I pulled up my dress and put my fingers inside myself.”

Odile’s breath is ragged, her fingers start tracing Eda’s lips as she speaks.

“Then once my fingers were wet, I rubbed the outside, over and between the lips, over the most sensitive parts, and I rubbed faster and harder, thinking of you the whole time, until I came. And I wanted to scream, it felt so good. Did you know you could do that to yourself?”

Odile shakes her head. “But I want you to do it to me.”

She takes a step backwards and looks Eda up and down.

“Take off your dress,” she says, just a hint of her royal voice making an appearance. The order makes Eda smile, and it makes her wet. If she were to ever bed someone, she’s always imagined herself as the bossy one. But that might change…

She obeys Odile, her body’s actions raving ahead of any thoughts, unlacing the front of her dress and letting it fall to the floor. She pulls her shift over her head and stands naked. It’s now that the self-consciousness kicks in. She’s been hungry for weeks, exhausted and afraid, and it’s showing in her body. She’s more flat chested than ever and her bones stick out in odd places.

But Odile steps forward and kisses her. “You’re so beautiful, do you know that?” She says against her lips.

“Off,” says Eda, tugging at Odile’s neck line. Her dress is more complicated than Eda’s, so she spins around and Eda unlaces the back to speed up the process. She pulls it and Odile’s underdress off as one, over her shoulders and down to her hips. Eda presses up against her back, reaches around and massages Odile’s full breasts, rubbing her nipples between her fingers till Odile gasps, reaching back and grabbing at Eda’s thigh. She spins back around, and Eda watches her breasts rise and fall with her breathing and she never ever wants to look away. Odile pulls her dress off over her hips and steps out, her body a continuous curve, all her hair blonde, skin like milk. She walks slowly to the bed and sits on the edge, her braid pooling on the mattress behind her, and watches Eda approach. Odile moves herself to the middle of the bed and Eda climbs on after her, sinking into the mattress. She lifts Odile’s legs so that her knees sit either side of her own crossed ones. So that Eda can see all of her.

There’s no doubt left that Odile is enjoying herself. Eda runs a thumb over the lips of her labia and she’s wet and glistening. She grazes a finger tip over Odile’s clit which makes her jerk and gasp, clamping a hand over her mouth in surprise, muffling a squeal. Eda begins to rub firmly but slowly, moving her fingers up and down, occasionally dipping them inside Odile who’s passage grows wider and wetter by the minute. Gradually, Odile begins to move her hips in time with Eda’s fingers, grinding into her hand. But then she stops suddenly, sitting upright, and Eda pulls her hand away, worried that she’s hurt her.

“Don’t stop,” says Odile, a trickle of sweat running between her breasts. She puts her hands between Eda’s legs, watching carefully as she strokes Eda’s own throbbing clit. Eda flinches uncontrollably. It’s different when someone else does it.

Eda starts stroking Odile again, harder this time, and Odile matches her for firmness and speed until they’re pressed together, gasping for air with sweat beading on their brows and chests. It’s not long until they’ve reached their limits and Odile comes first, nails digging into Eda’s back as her muscles convulse and she lets out a moan that tips Eda over the edge. The wave starts in her thighs and rolls all the way to the top of her head, her core shaking uncontrollably as Odile presses her fingers hard into her one last time. Her mouth against Odile’s neck, Eda lets out a moan of her own, barely able to breathe afterwards.

They stay like that for a while, letting the tremors stop and their breathing come back. Eda runs her hands over Odile’s back, while Odile kisses her shoulder. Eventually, they float back to reality, still clasped together and never wanting to let go.

CHAPTER 6

It’s evening before they disentangle themselves from each other, Eda’s howling stomach finally winning the battle of wills. She dresses and Odile watches her from the bed, winding and unwinding a tangle of hair around her fingers.

“I have to return to reality tomorrow,” she says sadly.

“That’s tomorrow,” counters Eda, sitting on the edge of the bed to lace up the front of her dress.

What is she doing? Bedding the princess who also knows she’s a witch. She named a Familiar who could be anywhere in the castle. The King himself knows she exists. And she’s already made an enemy of Martha, which would be bad enough on its own. So much for lying low.

Gentle fingers scrape through her hair pulling it off her face as Odile sits up behind her, taming Eda’s mane into a braid down her back.

But to hell with it… thinks Eda. She’s found someone. If they can pull this off then it’s worth every risk.

Odile finishes braiding and rests her chin on Eda’s shoulder.

“We’re mad aren’t we?”

Eda laughs. At least she’s not alone in her thoughts.

“I think we must be.”

“I never said thank you. For saving my life.”

Eda shifts to look at her. “I never thanked you either. For protecting mine.”

“Well, we can call it even, then.” She smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind Eda’s ear.

~

Eda takes her time making her way to the kitchens to forage for food. She keeps a lookout for Eyebright, wondering where he might have gone to. Is he a secret finder? A treasure hoarder? Can he smell lies and truth on people? What sort of Familiar did she go and lump herself in with? She should know herself better by now, since when did anything but chaos follow her.

A hand is clamped over her mouth and the point of a blade scrapes against her neck as Eda is shoved into a dark corner and up against a wall. Martha stands in front of her, knife at the ready, hand still over Eda’s mouth. Her face is vicious and cruel. Eda goes very still, even her breathing slows. Chaos.

“I should kill you right now,” spits Martha. Eda bites at her finger making Martha yelp and pull her hand away. But her knife jabs forward, scraping Eda’s throat.

“You think you can come into my kitchen and disrupt everything? Take my job?”

“It’s Agnes’ kitchen,” says Eda, voice calm and reasonable. She won’t stoop to Martha’s hissing. “And I saved your life, you’re lucky I noticed who gave you that jug of wine or you’d be the one swinging from a rope.”

Martha’s hands shake, her face a furious red.

“You’re nothing.”

“I never said I wasn’t,” says Eda. She waits and Martha’s nerve fails her. If she killed Eda now she’d only get herself hung. So she sheaths her knife and stalks away.

Eda runs her neck and lets out the breath she was holding. Brilliant. She’s going to have to watch Martha like a hawk from now on. That won’t be the last of it.

There’s a soft meow and Eyebright creeps out, checking the coast is clear before padding to Eda’s ankles. She kneels down and scratches behind his ear.

“Watch her for me?” She asks and Eyebright nips her finger and meows an agreement. His ability will reveal itself in time. For now he can help her avoid having her throat cut.

CHAPTER 7

Eda spends the following weeks navigating her new life. It’s unsettling, having people look at her, recognise her, know who she is and her role in the castle. And gossip spreads as it always does.

She saved the princess from being poisoned. Barely survived, the Doctor had to care for her, the King promoted her himself, just an orphan peasant girl too…

Luckily the word witch hasn’t attached itself to any of the rumours. She’s just lucky and skilled. Not a sorceress.

Eyebright is smart enough to avoid her during daylight hours and only approaches when she’s alone in the dead of night. Nothing particularly special about him has become obvious yet, just the basic Familiar traits. His single minded loyalty, his apparent understanding of everything she says and of course his single eye. One morning while Eda fetched breakfast, Agnes was in a rampage, threatening to find out who it was that put a dead mouse in Martha’s bed overnight. Eda had run away trying not to laugh, knowing full well who the four legged culprit was.

Slowly, passing by the guards at the Princess’ door no longer feels quite so strange. Especially as Duncan, the kind guard who smells of baking, is the one most often there. He’s polite and quiet, and if the rotating series of second guards ever licks his lips at Eda, or says something vile, he gets a prompt kick to the back of the knee and he’s never seen guarding Odile’s door again.

Odile spends her days performing the role of crown princess. Appearing where she’s told to appear by the King. He says it’s to raise morale. To make an appearance. To use her popularity to curry favour with the people he’s over taxing and scrutinising with Witch Finders. The people who are like Eda, who live day to day in fear that it’s their last. He sends his daughter to soothe the ripples. Which Odile does happily, because she genuinely cares. She lays hands on the sick who are desperate for any help they can get. She listens. She acknowledges their existence and pain. She gives them hope that the future will be better.

In her spare time Odile loses herself in her books and manuscripts, learning all she can. Captain Vinead brings her shipping and tax reports, business exchanges and rumours of secret deals. She learns it all. People assume because she is kind, because she is beautiful, that she doesn’t have ambition burning in her soul.

“My father won’t live forever,” she tells Eda one afternoon, ink splattering her fingers as she scribbles her quill furiously across a page. “I intend to be better than him. Better than any king.”

Eda debates within herself if she should mention the brief rattle she heard deep in the King’s chest, that Odile’s time as ruler might not be as far away as any of them thinks. But she says nothing. She can’t be sure of what she heard. And she doesn’t want to add complications to Odile’s already tenuous relationship with her father.

Their relationship, however, blooms like night-flowers. Sweet and secret. A small sleeping cot meant for Eda is placed in the living chamber for appearances sake, but in the evenings they crawl into Odile’s bed, hiding from the cold under the blankets as they pull each other's clothes off. Sleep is a distant thought as they wrap themselves around and inside one another. They learn each other's bodies, the curves and the lines. The sweetest spots. They fall asleep with tangled legs.

On one such evening, or early morning really, Eda lays with her head against Odile’s stomach. Odile gently strokes her hair. The candles gutter in their sconces. They wait for their breath to come back and their hearts to stop racing.

“Can you teach me any magic?” Asks Odile, out of the blue. Eda’s heart stops all together for a beat or two before gasping back to life. Her head snaps up and Odile pulls her hand away, surprised by the violent reaction.

“No,” snaps Eda, not sure if what she’s feeling is panic or rage. “You’re born with it or you’re not. Even if I could teach you I never would.”

Odile’s expression turns apologetic as Eda sits up.

“Can you teach me about magic?”

Eda wraps her arms around her knees.

“It’s not something you need to know anything about.”

Odile grabs Eda’s chin tightly between her forefingers and holds her gaze. It’s less the gaze of a lover and more one of a ruler.

“The only information I have on witches and magic is what I hear from my father and the Witch Finders. I'd rather hear it from you. I doubt they actually know what they’re talking about.”

Still, Eda shakes her head no. For weeks she has neatly avoided the subject of being a witch. Any time Odile tiptoes towards asking a question Eda promptly runs away; either changing the subject or distracting Odile with more pleasant activities.

And it’s not panic or rage she’s feeling; it’s grief rising to surface.

“It’s too dangerous,” she says, voice small. “The more you know, the more danger you will be in.”

“And this isn’t dangerous?” Says Odile, gesturing to herself, naked with another woman in her bed. Eda lets her hair fall over her face, hiding as much as she can. Odile sighs and shuffles closer.

“It’s all dangerous. And you’re the one living it. Dancing with the danger, daily. The more I know, actually know, not the nonsense the Witch Hunters spread, then the better I can protect you.”

“They already got my family…” whispers Eda, the words hurting on their way out of her mouth. “I can’t lose you too.”

Odile’s hand snakes through Eda’s curtain of hair and lifts her chin up again to look her in the eye.

“I am safe,” she says, not letting go of Eda’s chin, not letting her look away. “So they come for me and I tell them that I was bewitched, I never had control of myself, all of this was an enchantment. I can protect myself, Eda, but I cannot protect you as well unless I know what you’re truly capable of. I can’t plan for all possibilities if I don't know what ingredients I have at my disposal.”

Forever calculating every angle and escape route. A true politician. A true queen.

Eda has that flayed open feeling again. The thought of talking openly about her magic makes her sick. Her aunt and uncle hid from the world as best as they could and it still got them burned alive. What happens when she lets the secrets she’s kept her entire life through her lips and into the open. Even if it is to Odile.

When Eda remains silent Odile asks, “Do you trust me.”

“I love you.”

“Yes. And I love you.” She strokes the back of her hand down Eda’s cheek. “But I asked if you trust me?”

It just makes Eda fall in love with her a little more. Because Odile understands the difference between words like love and trust. She can pick it apart and ask the proper question. Eda gives the truthful answer.

“Yes. Always.”

Odile smiles, pecks a kiss on her lips and swings out of bed to gather up their nightgowns from the floor. She throws Eda’s to her and climbs back on the bed as she dresses.

“Promise me though,” says Eda. “Never write any of this down. Do not tell another soul.”

“I promise,” says Odile, deadly serious. Eda feels a little less sick knowing how well Odile keeps her promises.

“Is it true you control the weather?” Is the first question Odile asks, a million more bubbling up inside her.

“No,” says Eda, unable to help smiling at the ridiculous claims put about by the Witch Finders. She wonders whether they actually believe their own lies.

“Some of us can control an element, maybe two. But no storms and wildfires. No floods to drown crops and livestock.”

“Can you control an element? Is that what happened when you threw the goblet from me?”

Eda shakes her head, but still smiles. Odile’s eyes are bright and curious, her passion for learning anything she can about the world shining through.

“I can move things but it’s difficult. Not something I can really control. I’ve only done it a handful of times, and it's always when danger is great. When there's no other options and my body reacts on its own.”

Odile leans forward again and kisses Eda, this time long and slow. “Thank you, again.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“I’ll be thanking you forever. What about potions? Do you boil babies in order to fly?”

Eda can’t help but laugh at Odile’s childish excitement.

“No, no baby boiling. I’ve never met a witch who can fly. But we all have different abilities.”

“What’s yours?”

“I can turn invisible.”

Odile’s eyes widen. “Can you show me?”

Eda hesitates but… well, why not. She straightens her shoulders, takes a deep breath into her stomach and flicks the switch in her mind that makes her impossible to see.

Odile sits bolt upright, mouth hanging open, gingerly moving her hand forward until her fingers brush Eda’s hair. Eda lets go and becomes visible again, making Odile jump. But her smile is infectious.

“It takes a lot of energy,” Eda says, relaxing, the fear not quite so sharp. Odile hasn’t run screaming yet.

“You don’t have a one eyed, demon dog that follows you around, whispering spells do you?”

Eda’s grin falters a little. “We have Familiars, but that’s not what they are.”

“No one eyed dogs?”

“No demon dogs. But one eyed, yes. It can be any animal but that’s how you can tell. They’ll have been born with one eye.”

Odile has lost a little of her jovial attitude. “So it seems the Witch Finders have some of it true. They just poison it with lies.” Her mouth quirks sardonically. A mockery of a smile.

“I have a Familiar,” offers Eda. Now she is having her secrets heard, it’s intoxicating. She wants to tell her everything.

Odile’s eyes flick back to her, once again fascinated.

“Please tell me it’s something terribly dramatic like a raven.”

“Sorry, just a tabby cat. But I’ll introduce you one day.”

“You better,” says Odile leaning forward and kissing Eda on the mouth. Her soft lips part and she bites Eda’s lower lip, slowly, lightly. Eda sighs. Why did they even bother putting their nightgowns back on?

Odile pushes her backwards, till she’s lying down, hair spread out around her head. Odile looks her up and down, pushing Eda’s nightgown back up over her hips with feather light fingers. She’s grown more confident and self assured.

Odile lays down on her belly and trails kisses up Eda’s inner thigh till her lips reach Eda’s groin.

Eda sinks into the bed as Odile presses the tip of her tongue into her, fingernails grazing up and down her legs. She presses harder, pushing her tongue across Eda’s groin, her clit, until Eda is wet and open, her breath coming sporadically. Odile starts to lick faster, back and forth, occasionally flicking her tongue in a circle and Eda weaves her fingers through her hair, holding Odile down as sweat starts to prickle over her body despite the cold.

When Odile decides to stop licking and start sucking, it all becomes too much and for the third time that night Eda comes, losing herself in throbbing waves of pleasure.

CHAPTER 8

Winter falls over the castle and the smell of smoke infuses everything as fires are lit to keep warm. All the smell reminds Eda of is death and danger. But life has reached a steady rhythm and a routine has somehow been built in this unexpected new life of hers. And while most of it is secret, it is pleasant.

Odile has spent the morning furiously talking with Captain Vinead at her ‘table of plans and papers’ as Eda calls it. Something about grain prices and trading routes that goes over Eda’s head as she sits with Victor by the fire, mending clothes and inhabiting the role of insignificant servant girl. She’s grown fond of Captain Vinead. He’s still terrifying, as any Captain of the guard should be. But from the conversations Eda has overheard, he seems to be more loyal to his Princess than his King. Anything said in private in the King’s chambers and meetings, promptly finds its way to Odile’s ears. Eda also has an inkling that Duncan the door guard has a part in any future plans the Princess and the Captain might make. Eda keeps her nose out of it for the most part. Politics and plotting has never been her strong suit.

She wanders down to the kitchens at noon with an empty tray, going with the mission to make Odile stop long enough to eat something other than yesterday’s leftovers and cold tea.

When she enters she’s hit by the heat and the smells but also the chaos. Everything is in full swing and there’s more servants rushing to and fro than she’s ever seen in here before. Even little Gus, who always whistles or waves to her in greeting, is too busy to do anything but ignore her. Ol’ Malcom is carrying cuts of meat to and fro. Some sort of feast is being prepared but she’s not sure for what. She wasn’t aware of any holidays falling on today.

Eda sticks to the wall and stays out of the way as best as possible, while picking bits of food here and there to add to her tray. Some meat, some bread, apples and cider, subconsciously checking for poison the whole time. Though whoever sent the assassin to kill Odile hasn’t made a second attempt.

Agnes, Martha and a gaggle of the younger girls are furiously shining silverware and serving dishes, while Agnes also shouts orders across the room at her army of cooks and servants. She spares a fraction of a second to nod at Eda in greeting.

“How many do you think they’ll be?” Says one girl.

“More than enough by the amount of food we’re cooking,” says another.

“I meant how many eligible ones,” tuts the first.

“I’m sorry to inform you ladies,” boasts Martha, not sounding sorry at all. “That no matter how many there are they shall all be proposing to me.”

All the girls titter as if it’s terribly funny. All of them except Agnes who rolls her eyes.

“What do you think, Eda?” Says Martha. “How many dashing young Witch Finders will propose to me tonight?”

Eda’s breath hitches for a fraction of a second. But she catches it, keeps her shoulders relaxed, her stance confident, if slightly confused by the question.

“What Witch Finders?”

Martha sighs at her. “Haven’t you heard what’s happening?”

“No Martha. I’ve been far too busy attending to Her Highness this morning.”

The jab stings as Eda intended it to. Martha goes back to polishing and thoroughly ignores her.

Agnes speaks up instead.

“The Witch Finder General is paying a visit to His Majesty tonight. Along with his finest recruits. A feast befitting the man has been ordered at short notice and I shan’t be able to feel my feet for the next month.”

The men who killed her family will be here tonight. The men who want her and all her kind dead will be here tonight. They will be feasting in her new home and she has nowhere to run.

Somehow, she keeps from screaming.

“Do you need another set of hands, Agnes?” She says instead. Casually. Calmly.

Agnes gives her a fond smile. “No my dear. Attend to your Princess.”

Beside her, Martha looks like she’s been slapped. At least that’s some consolation.

Back in the hall leading into the castle Eda hears the faintest meow with her sharp ears. Eyebright lurks beside the wall in a shadow, keeping small and out of sight. She goes to the wall and stands casually, as if she’s waiting for someone as he darts underneath her skirt, perfectly hidden by its floor length hem. Eda starts her walk back to Odile’s chambers, Eyebright keeping perfect step with her beneath her dress, his fur brushing against her ankles. Whatever happens now, she wants her Familiar with her.

As soon as Eda returns to the chambers and Odile takes one look at her face, no matter how carefully crafted her expression is, she knows something is wrong. She flicks her quill down onto the table, clearly dismissing Vinead in the process.

“Tell Jodis the next time you see them I want to talk,” she orders. Vinead stands and bows and leaves. As soon as the door clicks shut, Odile is up from her chair sweeping towards Eda. She takes the tray from her hands and puts it down, wrapping Eda in her arms.

She’s started to shake. When did she start to shake?

“What has happened?” Asks Odile, hands on Eda’s face, her neck. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you know the Witch Finder General is coming?” Eda manages to say.

Odile frowns.

“Who told you that?”

“Agnes. The whole kitchen is in an uproar preparing for a feast. The General and his soldiers will be here by tonight.”

Odile shows not one ounce of panic and in spite of Eda’s raging fear she still has to admire how in control of chaos and setbacks Odile always seems to be. She simply puts a hand on either side of Eda’s face, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Stay by my side. You’re supposed to be my poison taster afterall, there’s every excuse for you to shadow me the entire evening. I won’t let you out of my sight.”

“Can’t I just stay here? Completely out of sight, if your father asks…”

If the King notices that his daughter’s new favourite servant, the one she’s been inseparable from, is suddenly absent the night Witch Finders arrive… What could scream ‘witch’ more?

Odile frowns sadly as she follows Eda’s train of thought.

“Just stay with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“So into the viper’s pit?” laughs Eda weakly.

Odile smirks. “Do you think I’m scared of snakes?”

Victor approaches and sniffs at Eda’s skirt with a low growl.

“Victor,” scolds Odile.

Eyebright dashes out from Eda’s dress and flits up to the top of a bookcase where Victor can’t reach him. He hisses and Victor growls at the intruder of his own small kingdom.

“Speaking of witchcraft,” says Eda. “My Familiar.”

Odile and Eyebright appraise each other.

“Well, we have him on our side then,” says Odile, taking Eda’s face back into her hands. “And me. Always me.”

She closes the gap between them and kisses Eda gently.

“You know I’ll protect you, don’t you?”

Eda burrows into Odile’s neck, soaking in the smell of her, stroking the fabric of her sleeves.

“I know,” and it’s the truth. She kisses Odile’s collarbone, following the line of it with her lips, feeling Odile’s fingers in her hairline at the nape of her neck.

Their lips connect again, opening wider so that Eda can move her tongue further into Odile’s mouth. Despite herself and the danger that’s riding towards their doorstep, her breath quickens. Her fingertips trace just above Odile’s breasts and she can feel the fluttering heartbeat beneath. The breaths that are becoming more shallow. Odile bites Eda’s lip, pulls it into her mouth and releases it with a sigh.

Eda’s hands move lower, cupping Odile’s breasts through her gown, then lower still. Over the small of her back to her buttocks where she squeezes. Odile’s breath catches. Eda grabs fistfuls of fabric, pulling Odile’s dress higher until she can get a hand underneath to feel the soft flesh, skin to skin. She squeezes again and Odile rises onto tip-toe and smiles against Eda’s lips.

“Should I take this off?” Asks Odile. But before Eda can answer that yes, yes she should, both her and Eyebright cock their heads. Brisk footsteps are approaching down the hall towards the Princess’ chambers.

Eda sighs and drops Odile’s skirts so they once again drape the floor and moves away. Odile is confused for only a second before there’s a knock at the door. Then she sighs as well, sounding far more frustrated than Eda.

“Yes?!” She calls out, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

Eyebright, panics Eda, but she looks up at the bookcase and the cat has disappeared.

Jodis glides in, jovial as ever, their smile not faltering as Odile glares at them.

“Judging by your expression, Your Highness, can I assume you’ve already heard about our guests who are soon to arrive?”

“Eda told me,” she replies. “She heard it from the kitchen staff.”

“Ah fabulous,” and Jodis smiles enthusiastically at Eda, fully embracing the chaos swirling around them. “At the risk of having you throw something at me, Highness, I have just passed Vinead who says you’d like to speak with me, but I have just come from your Father’s chambers and he has asked to speak to you immediately.”

“Of course he has,” mutters Odile. She leaves, practically melting the ground beneath her feet.

“Well my dear,” says Jodis to Eda as they’re left behind. “It seems interesting times are afoot.”

CHAPTER 9

Odile is informed by her father that there will be a feast, there will be important guests, and that she will be nothing but a shining light for all to see. This puts her into a fantastically fierce mood and Eda almost feels sorry for any Witch Finders who pluck up enough courage to speak to the Princess.

Almost.

They spend the rest of the afternoon getting ready for the feast. Sounds of horses arriving and men shouting drift up from the courtyard below. Eda does her best to thoroughly ignore them. If she pretends hard enough that tonight she won’t be surrounded by Witch Finders then maybe it will come true. Eyebright has vanished completely from sight and she starts to wonder if his Familiar gift is invisibility to match hers. She wears a simple linen dress, deep green and with long fluted sleeves. It’s the finest thing she’s ever worn, pulled from Odile’s collection, and she feels exposed and clumsy in it. Her wild, dark hair is braided and collected at the nape of her neck. She looks the part of a royal lady’s maid.

Odile looks like, well, like magic. Her dress is satin white, shifting in shades of copper and gold as it reflects the torches and candles lighting the room. A silver girdle set with sapphires and pearls hangs around her waist, while matching jewels decorate a circlet around her head. A single pearl swings from each ear. The puffed sleeves look like they will dissipate at the slightest touch and her slender shoulders and neck glow. She swings a pale blue cloak with white fur trim over her shoulders to keep the freezing night at bay.

Eda can’t stop staring. She looks like a winter goddess. They kiss one last time in the privacy of the chambers, hands grazing cheeks and foreheads touching. But then they have to pull away and go outside.

“Are you alright?” Asks Odile. Eda nods even though she can’t quite feel her legs. Would her aunt and uncle think she’s about to be very brave or very stupid?

One last squeeze of hands and then they open the door. Duncan is there waiting, ready to be Odile’s other shadow for the evening. He bows to her, silent and polite and sunny as always. But Eda muses how still waters run deep. The young guard has been given more and more odd jobs by Captain Vinead recently. He’s being folded into those more loyal to Odile than the King.

Eda takes her place a few steps behind Odile, whose transformation is instant and complete. There is no doubt she’s royalty. It’s the way she holds her chin, the way she breathes. Eda finds herself proud. Proud to be hers and have her.

As they walk through the castle and approach the great hall, the swell of voices grows louder and more dense. Music dribbles through it all; the plucking of strings and a word or two of song. The light gets brighter, more orange and hot, as lanterns and candles multiply. How fitting, thinks Eda. So much fire.

They enter, fashionably late, Duncan slowing and staying further behind and watching everything. Odile sweeps through to her place at the head table beside her father. Voices hush as she passes, bowing and curtsies following everywhere. Eda follows with her head bowed, not looking at anyone, focusing only on the train of Odile’s dress.

King Richard smiles warmly at his daughter as Duncan pulls her chair out for her and she’s seated at the table. Eda wants to snort. Never has she seen such a fake smile. Odile, for her part, positively beams at her Father and manages to seem genuine. All this silent politics… the King returns to eating his chicken leg and watching the guests swirl before him.

Eda takes her place against the wall behind Odile’s chair, clasps her hands in front of her and prepares to spend the next few hours being utterly still.

Odile hasn’t eaten in the great hall since Eda arrived at the castle, there hasn’t been an occasion important enough to warrant the fight involved in the King dragging her from her chambers. It’s the first real look Eda has been able to get of the place. The ceiling is immense, the babble of voices echoing up the stone walls. Enormous oak tables, polished till they shine like mirrors run the length of the room, matching benches alongside them. Men and women are everywhere, wearing their finest clothes and jewels. Anyone important from the surrounding areas has heard the news and gotten here as quickly as possible. Latecomers are still arriving. Food is everywhere and Eda vows to compliment Agnes the next time she sees her. Roast meat, vegetables, wine, bread, cheese, cakes, tarts and every other conceivable treat line the tables. All of it smells delicious. The whole room looks divine.

But the Witch Finders are easy to spot. Maybe not the armies that Eda feared, but enough, at least fifty, scattered throughout the party. They each wear a broad brimmed black hat pulled low over their face and a pair of leather gloves. No matter the weather you’ll never see a Witch Finder without either of these items. And in black from top to toe, of course. It makes them seem more important. They fill the room with the sickly scent of burnt liquorice.

Do they see the blood on their hands from all the deaths they cause? Is that why they all must wear gloves? Eda focuses on keeping her face placid and neutral.

Duncan comes and stands beside her, a few steps away, with a grin and she instantly feels better.

“Time for us to do some people watching,” he says pleasantly. Eda nods with a tight smile, her voice in hiding.

They lapse into silence for a little while before Duncan adds, “I don’t know what, or who, you’re running from, Mistress,” and punctuates it with a serious look as Eda’s stomach drops. “But if someone here distresses you tonight, come to me, yeah?”

It’s the most Eda’s ever heard him say. And the most he’s ever looked like a soldier, a glint of steel in his eyes. Vinead was right to have him watch over Odile; he’s more observant than she gave him credit for. Eda smiles more warmly and nods again which satisfies him. But would he make the same offer if he knew the truth?

A dark figure approaches the head table, black hat and gloves and a goatee that naturally curls into a point. Eyes of such a bright green they could be jewels. And that wicked smile.

“General,” says the King and the Witch Finder General sweeps his black cape into an elaborate bow.

“You’re Majesty,” he says in an almost unnaturally deep voice, smooth as satin. He turns and bows to Eda. “Your Highness.”

Odile smiles and nods her head at him and Eda has to remind herself that she’s just pretending, playing a role. But when she’s so good at pretending it’s hard not to be hurt. It feels like a betrayal.

The General stalks over and sits on the King’s left hand side and Eda feels like she’ll be sick. Of course he will be sitting with them, he’s the most important guest. Now she will have to be in his presence all evening. At least his back is turned. She catches Duncan looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and she chooses to worry about him and his observations later.

“Princess you look simply divine,” drawls the General and Odile looks politely bashful.

“I’d compliment your appearance sir, but that is not what you prize.”

The General laughs deeply. “Indeed. But please Princess, eat!”

“I was simply waiting for our esteemed guest,” she says with a tight smile.

“You flatter me.”

The plan had been for Odile to avoid eating at all if she could, so that Eda could remain still and bring as little attention to herself as possible. But that dissolves as Odile crooks a finger and beckons Eda forward to serve her.

Eda collects food onto a plate in order to taste it. She can already smell it’s poison free but this is all part of the show of normalcy. She takes a small bite of each item as if this is their usual meal time routine.

“Have I seen you before girl?” Says the General, eyes boring into Eda’s neck. She swallows the sliver of food. Odile’s breath shifts ever so slightly, but only Eda can hear.

“No sir,” she says placidly, eyes lowered. “I’m new here.”

Eda smiles, curtsies and backs away to her spot next to Duncan, who keeps looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

~

The night winds down eventually. Those who’ve drunk too much stumble around or stay seated. Others who have overeaten carry themselves off to a bed somewhere. Couples sneak off to dark corners thinking themselves invisible. Eda watches it all from behind the royals and the General. She also watches as Odile’s shoulders droop the later it gets. When it crawls past two in the morning she wants to scoop up Odile and take her to bed, tuck her in and let her sleep. Finally the King rises. The Witch Finder General and Odile follow suit, subtly rolling shoulders and stretching necks.

“Join me in my quarters, General,” says the King. “We can have a better conversation.”

The General bows. “It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty.”

“You can join us,” the King adds to Odile. Her shoulders sag just a fraction more.

“Of course,” she says brightly and crooks a finger at Eda and Duncan to follow her.

“Bring the guard but you can leave your pet behind,” says the King. Odile raises an eyebrow but shrugs.

“Go back to my chambers,” she orders Eda with a brief glance. Eda curtsies as the important people walk off together. Only Duncan looks back at her once more, concern tightening his mouth.

Being separated wasn’t part of the plan. Being alone outside the safety of Odile’s chambers while drunk Witch Finders mill around the castle definitely wasn’t part of the plan. The panic starts to eat at her insides. But she’s good at hiding it as she leaves the great hall and starts the winding trip to Odile’s rooms.

It’s not as bright as when they came down earlier in the evening. Torches and lanterns have guttered out and died, leaving the halls freezing and in shadow. As Eda mounts the first set of stairs she’s sure she hears the tap of footsteps far behind her. She shakes her head instead; she’s just being paranoid and over cautious. As she walks, slightly quicker now, she scans the shadows hoping for a glimpse of Eyebright.

As she approaches the next flight of stairs the footsteps behind her become more than just paranoia.

“Alone so late, mistress?”

Eda freezes, foot on the first step, and looks over her shoulder. A young Witch Finder approaches, face shadowed by his hat but a smile perfectly visible. The exact opposite sort of smile to Duncan’s kind grin.

Eda is frozen to the stair as he stops a few feet from her, assessing her. Like a wolf that’s spotted a rabbit.

“Allow me to escort you to your bed,” he says smoothly and Eda’s stomach churns.

“No thank you.”

The Witch Finder laughs. That’s what sparks Eda’s anger. That fact they always seem to find the fear they cause so funny.

“But mistress, any number of unseemly strangers could be hiding in the corners.”

“Or hiding under their hats,” she retorts. His grin flickers, not happy at the jibe. Heaven forbid he should be caught at his own game.

He takes a step forward and Eda mirrors him, moving a stair further up. The Witch Finder frowns, offended that she’s not jumping on the chance to take him to her bed. The anger in her boils. She wants to set fire to him and watch his hat and gloves melt into his skin.

“It’s been a long few days mistress,” he says, his voice dripping silk. “Travel and investigations galore. Surely you can help a man relax after such hard work.”

Hard work. Killing people like her, and some who were probably not witches at all. Hard work. She clenches her hands into fists to stop them shaking.

He takes another step forward, hand outstretched for hers, that horrid sticky grin back on his face.

“Don’t you want to brag to all the other servant girls you had me between your legs?”

“I’d rather fuck the blacksmith’s axe,” says Eda.

For a beat the Witch Finder is stunned into silence, utterly shocked that he could be rejected at all. Then his anger sets in and his hand flashes out to grab her arm.

But Eda is quick. She turns and runs up the stairs as fast as she can, skirt in her fist, sharp eyes able to see every stair and hazard she might trip over while the Witch Finder slows as he stumbles after her. Rage and the dark trip him up.

The second she reaches the top and turns into the hall she becomes invisible, slamming her back against the wall and holding her breath to avoid making any sound at all.

A second later the Witch Finder stumbles into the hallway looking around for her, but she’s already gone. As far as he knows she’s run away. Now that he thinks no one is watching, his face is a vicious thing. Eda prays to whoever will listen that he doesn’t get a hold of any other girl in the castle tonight. Or any night.

He gives up and goes back down the stairs, most likely back to the hall to drink some more. Eda waits for another ten minutes before she dares move away from the wall. She keeps herself invisible and heads straight for the King’s chamber. She’s at risk wherever she goes. She may as well jump straight into the lion’s den.

CHAPTER 10

Guards stand at attention outside the King’s door, one of them Duncan, waiting for Odile to emerge. Eda slows her footsteps, her breathing, trying to make as little noise as possible. She has no comparison for how good the average person’s hearing is: she only knows the limits of her own senses. But none of the guards notice the sound or smell of her nearby. Eda creeps as close as she dares to the door, desperate to hear snippets of what’s going on inside. Nothing comes through except the soft murder of voices. Nothing she can make sense of. She sighs internally, stills herself, and prepares to wait. As she does, though, the door swings open and Agnes emerges with an empty tray, having just served the nobles. Before she can change her mind, Eda slips inside as the door closes, grabbing her skirts close so they don’t get trapped.

The King’s chamber is a gloomy place without sunlight coming through the windows. The fire is roaring bright though, heating the space and casting an orange glow on everything. The King sits at the head of the great wooden table, the Witch Finder General and Odile sitting a little further down. Vinead has also joined them but remains standing, furthest away from the King.

Eda keeps her footsteps light and slow as she approaches.

“- Nothing we can’t stamp out,” says King Richard, the wine Agnes must have just served sitting in front of him. “They bicker and whine and the world moves on.”

“My only concern is when little people get big ideas,” says the General, fingers pressed together. “Particularly if there are witches who could help bring those ideas to fruition.”

As Eda catches onto the conversation, she moves behind Odile who is sat very still in her chair, shoulders still sagging from a mix of fatigue, boredom and frustration. Eda fights the urge to reach out and stroke the back of her neck. She moves to Odile’s side, in case she rises suddenly from her seat and knocks into her.

“Surely you have them under control,” says Richard. “I hear of burnings regularly.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, but witches are just another form of cockroaches. Stamp out one and three more surface from their hiding places.”

“And where are you finding them all?” Asks Vinead in his version of polite interest. “Surely all towns are empty of them.”

“The forests,” says the General. “The deeper we travel into the wild places the more we find. They’ve fled to caves and thickets, thinking that they’re safe.”

“Shall we just set fire to the whole forest?” says King Richard. “That would surely speed things up.”

He and the General chuckle but it’s obvious it’s only half in jest.

Eda keeps control of herself even though she wants nothing more than to leap across the table and strangle these men right now. Be done with them. But others would rise in their place.

Odile must sense something shift beside her, just the slightest change. She frowns and looks a little to her left, right through Eda.

“Something bothering you, Princess?” Asks the General, overly familiar and too sweet. Eda wants to kill him for an entirely different reason now. She sees Vinead bristle slightly as well, though the other men don’t notice.

Odile smiles and relaxes back into her chair. “It’s three in the morning, General. I’m tired, it’s dark and I’m not fond of talking about witches.”

She stretches her arms out to the side where her wrist brushes against Eda. Odile doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react at all. She wasn’t stretching; she was testing to see if that shift of air was Eda beside her. Even tired at three in the morning, she’s as sharp as a tack.

“Then I shan’t keep you from your rest. It is indeed a disturbing topic,” he smiles patronisingly at her and Odile looks to her father to be excused from his presence. He nods and coughs absently. Again that small rattle, deep in his chest, hidden and poisonous. Odile rises from the table, Eda dancing out of her way.

“Captain,” says Odile as a goodbye and he bows.

Odile and an invisible Eda walk leisurely to the door where Odile swings it open, taking her time to allow Eda a chance to slip through. Once it’s closed she nods at Duncan who bows and takes the lead, escorting her back to her chambers.

Odile holds her arm out from her side, ever so slightly. Eda latches onto her wrist and they walk the rest of the way holding tight.

A headache is blooming in the base of Eda’s skull from staying invisible for so long. Her aunt and uncle never encouraged her to use her powers, or to practice them. Hiding was key. But now when she needs them she has no stamina. That’s going to change from now on.

Inside Odile’s rooms, as soon as the door clicks shut, Eda becomes visible, leaning on the back of a chair as her vision swims and whirls till she’s steady again. Odile doesn’t leave her side.

“What happened?”

Eda laughs, dry and humourless. “I got cornered by a Witch Finder.”

Odile’s eyes turn to steel and she cups a hand around Eda’s cheek.

“He didn’t think I was a witch. Just a piece of meat.”

Odile almost growls in her chest, she's so furious. “Which one was he? I’ll have him hanged.”

“No,” says Eda, shaking her head but smiling anyway. “That’d be more trouble than it’s worth. And I’d know his smell, not his face, his hat hid most of him.”

Odile looks earnestly at Eda. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough. People aren’t happy and they don’t want any witches to assist them in doing anything about it. They’re killing more and more of us…”

Odile puts her forehead against Eda’s shoulder.

“I just want to fix it,” she says. “But what can I do against a King like that?”

She stares helplessly around the room. Eda licks her lips.

“Can I tell you something I heard?”

Odile quirks an eyebrow, confused, but nods. “What have you heard?”

“A rattle in your father’s chest. It’s deep and small but it’s a poisonous sound.”

Odile goes very still, morphing briefly into her analytical, royal mindset.

“Well…”

There’s nothing more to say. They can’t do anything about it, good or bad. It’s just another piece of information.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Asks Odile, stroking Eda’s hair. All persona fully slips from her. She’s stressed and mentally exhausted.

“I’m fine,” says Eda. She shifts so they’re face to face and smiles. “I love you.”

Odile flushes pink and stares at the floor.

“I love you too.” Odile lifts her face back up, heart skipping beneath her ribs. “I…” she breaks off, flushing brighter.

“What?” Laughs Eda trying to raise Odile’s chin, to meet her eyes. But Odile’s gaze stays firmly on the floor.

“Just… for the rest of the night, I don’t want to be a princess.”

“I release you from your bond of duty,” says Eda solemnly, earning a laugh. “You are free.”

Odile’s hands lace into hers. “I meant, for a little while, I don’t want to be the one in charge.”

Her cheeks are bright and Eda’s own ears flame red, her neck flushing. Suddenly the fire burning in the grate feels too hot. With Odile wanting to be so submissive for a change, Eda suddenly finds herself alert and wanting to take charge. But more so than she has before. Something primal in her has been cracked open. She’s been meek and mild enough for one evening.

Odile is still blushing, embarrassed, but smiles shly when she sees the glint in Eda’s eyes, how she’s straightened her shoulders.

Eda circles behind Odile, running her finger nails gently down Odile’s neck until her skin turns to goose bumps and she shivers. With her hair still braided elaborately, Eda can easily access the lacing holding her dress together. She undoes it slowly pulling until the dress comes loose, leaving Odile in her shift. Eda moves in close behind, pressing her hips into Odile’s buttocks, hands working up her stomach to her breasts. She kisses Odiles neck, deeper and harder until she lets her teeth scrape skin.

Odile gasps but stays still, not moving away from Eda’s teeth. Eda pulls the shift over Odile’s head and drops it to the floor with the dress. Leaving Odile standing naked, shivering slightly, Eda moves around in front of her, a few feet away and starts to unlace her own dress. Odile steps forward.

“No. Stay there.”

Odile’s smiles and does as she’s told. Eda looks her up and down. She takes off her dress and shift, breathing shallow as she watches Odile in the firelight. Inside her stomach is warm and between her legs is growing wider, wetter. She has no intention of moving to the bed tonight.

Instead, Eda approaches Odile again, fingers lightly grazing over her breasts, her nipples hard.

“Have you ever kneeled to anyone before?”

“No.”

“Would you kneel for me?”

A small smile flickers at the edges of Odile’s lips. Slowly, she lowers herself to the ground until she’s kneeling in front of Eda, head now in line with her groin. Eda steps forward again, until Odile’s lips are a breath away. She reaches down and puts a hand on the back of her head and gently pulls forward until Odile’s lips connect and sparks shoot through Eda’ a hips.

Odile grips Eda’s thighs to get her balance. She kisses softly at first, along Eda’s outer lips and groin. Eda tries to keep her breath steady, fails, and grips onto Odile’s braided hair. Odile presses her hands into Eda’s inner thighs so that she widens her stance, then sits back on her heels and turns her kisses upwards. Soft lips slowly get firmer as Odile presses her mouth into Eda. Her tongue snakes out and licks tentatively, making Eda jerk with surprise and pleasure. So the tongue begins again, while Odile moves her hand up Eda’s thigh and spreads her lips apart, her tongue moving in lazy circles around Eda’s clitoris.

Eda’s body is burning from the centre out and she can’t help but push Odile’s mouth harder into her, hips moving in rhythm with her tongue. But when she’s close to coming, she pulls away, releasing Odile’s head. She reaches down and kisses Odile, tasting herself.

Odile licks her lips, looking very pleased with herself.

“Lay down,” orders Eda and Odile promptly obeys, laying on her back on the rug. Eda kneels down beside Odile’s hip and spreads her legs, wanting to watch her face. She runs a finger down Odile’s groin, already wet, until she reaches the labia. She grins at Odile as she pushes her finger inside her and watches as she sighs and shifts. She crooks her finger back and forth just a little and Odile moans this time, eyes closing, back arching. Her passage grows wider and wetter around Eda’s finger, so she slips in a second finger, moving in and out. Odile is warm, and smooth as Eda fingers her, her hips grinding against her hand. Odile reaches out towards Eda’s groin but she slaps her hand away playfully. Not yet.

Carefully, Eda puts a third finger inside Odile, feeling her passage stretch just a little further. Eda looks up to see if she’s hurting Odile, but instead of flinching away she pushes harder into Eda’s hand. So Eda ups the pace, moving her fingers in and out, curling them as she goes, until Odile’s hips have risen from the floor in an effort to match the pace and her hand is over her mouth to stifle her moans.

Before she comes, Eda removes her fingers, glistening wet, and Odile collapses back, breathing hard. Eda kisses Odile’s knee and bites her thigh. Odile hisses in a breath but she’s smiling as she looks through her legs at Eda. “Do that again.”

Eda bites harder, tasting the sweat on her skin and leaving a mark with her teeth. She could eat her alive. But she wants to try something new. She wants them to kiss with a different set of lips. She sits as close to Odile as she can, moving Odile’s leg till her thigh rests against her torso and her knee over her hip. She lifts her own leg over Odile's opposite hip, till they’re interlocked. Seeing what she’s doing, Odile shifts lower, lifting her hips up, eyes boring into Eda’s as their groins touch. Both of them sigh in unison, and both of them are wet enough that they slide easily against each other. They move their hips in slow circles, their labias and clits brushing over one another until they start to press harder, move faster. Eda wishes they were in the wilderness somewhere so she could scream without being heard. She gasps instead, moaning low and biting her lip, nails digging into Odile’s thigh, leaving semi circle marks behind. Odile’s hand is back over her mouth, her eyes squeezed shut and breath erratic. They move faster and harder, rubbing together as hard as they can. The pressure builds inside Eda’s hips until it’s almost too much to bear and then she falls over the edge. Heat rolls up her stomach and her muscles shake violently. It’s enough to get Odile to come as well, her legs shaking as she moans into her hand.

Eda lays down beside Odile in front of the fire as their spasms die away. They don’t find the need to talk. Instead they let their hands brush each other's skin as they catch their breath.

~

She’s only dimly aware that she’s in a dream. Her arms are bound to her sides, her whole body motionless, tied with rope to a wooden plank. She’s dripping wet, the cold biting her skin, her teeth chattering till she thinks they might break. A figure moves forward through the shadows, footsteps silent. He smells of burnt licorice and wears a black hat and gloves. Eda struggles against the ropes but they only squeeze tighter, cutting into her till blood runs mixing with the water on her skin.

The Witch Finder reaches out and grips a lever. Eda tries one last time to struggle free before he pulls with a jolt and suddenly she’s plunged upside down, her head underwater and unable to breathe-

Odile is shaking her awake, lightly slapping her face to bring her around. Eda’s heart hammers against her ribs as she gets her bearings. She’s safe. She’s warm and dry in bed with Odile next to her, her hands stroking her shoulders.

“It was just a dream,” murmurs Odile, trying to comfort her. “Only a dream.”

But Eda worries that it wasn’t just a dream. It felt an awful lot like a premonition.

CHAPTER 11

They leave the chambers together the next morning after a few hours of restless sleep. Eda, though drained and anxious, feels more like herself in her usual dark dress, green cloak and plain braid. Odile, on the other hand, has dressed to intimidate. She is wearing a blood red gown with matching cloak, and is drowning in gold, her fair hair loose for once and flowing around her. Despite looking like a goddess made flesh, she still turns to Eda and whispers “you look beautiful,” in her ear.

Two fresh guards bow to Odile as they leave and start walking down the hall. They don’t get far before Duncan appears, walking to them as fast as he can without breaking into a run. He looks as if he hasn’t slept at all, his lips thin and white. He skids to a stop in front of Odile and Eda, bowing hastily and speaking in a quiet rush.

“Highness, Captain Vinead requests your presence urgently in Jodis’ quarters.”

Odile nods and follows with Eda in tow. Duncan is gripping the hilt of his sword and dread starts to build in Eda’s chest. She’s never seen him flustered before. Odile must be thinking the same thing, she keeps peeking worried glances at Eda out of the corner of her eye.

As they make their way to Jodis’ rooms, the castle is buzzing, like bees drunk on their own honey, stings at the ready. The party atmosphere from the night before is gone and any servants they see keep their heads down, eyes on the floor. Witch Finders still roam around as if they own the place, sharp eyes watching everything. Eda walks closer to Odile so that their arms brush together. If she could just hold her hand…

In Jodis’ quarters things are just as sombre. Captain Vinead’s scowl could cut steel, and Jodis has none of their usual pep. Duncan closes and locks the door, and the five of them are in relative privacy.

“What happened?” asks Odile, arms folded and braced for bad news.

“They’ve charged someone in the castle with witchcraft,” says Jodis and Vinead shakes his head in disgust.

Eda goes numb from head to toe. Odile doesn’t look at her, not even a sliver of a glance.

“Who?”

“We don’t know Highness,” grumbles Vinead. “All we know is it’s a servant. They won’t let me into the dungeons to see who it is. Got told it’s Witch Finder’s business.”

“And how do we know this person is a witch?” asks Odile, anger straightening her spine. “Who has thrown around these accusations?”

Duncan speaks up. “It was the girl who served you before Eda, Highness. Girl named Martha. She told the Witch Finders she’s seen a one eyed cat on the castle grounds. She reckons she knows who it belongs to.”

Eda’s knees start to shake and her blood rushes in her ears, a roaring that drowns out everything else. There are hands on her shoulders as she’s sat down onto a chair, a sharp smell under her nose that makes her shake her head and brings her back to reality.

“-panic attack,” Jodis is saying, putting the cork back in a small vial, eyes roaming over her clammy face. Odile’s hand is pressed between her shoulder blades.

“You’re safe, child,” says Jodis, concerned. But she’s not safe. Not until every Witch Finder is dead. Who is sitting in the dungeons right now? Who did Martha think Eyebright belonged to?

“What do we do?” asks Odile, her hand never leaving Eda’s back, a small part of Eda worrying what that might look like.

“What can we do?” says Vinead. “They’re already building a pyre in the courtyard.”

Eda’s stomach lurches and she lowers her head between her knees. She can’t bear to smell it again; a body burning. Odile crouches down beside her.

“You’re safe, Eda,” repeats Jodis, joining Odile and crouching in front of her. “No Witch Finder’s will harm you. None will know. You’re safe with us.”

Wait…

Eda looks up at Jodis, Vinead and Duncan, all of them looking concerned at how pale her face has turned. Odile has gone very still beside her.

Jodis smiles and shrugs. “I tested the poison that was meant for the Princess in the wine. If you had taken a sip and tasted it, you would have been dead within minutes. So my suspicions grew.”

Duncan shuffles his feet. “And you were so nervous around the Witch Finders last night, Mistress. I may have told my observations to Vinead and Jodis and we… well, discussed some of the possibilities. Which is why I went to check on you as soon as we heard the news this morning.”

Eda feels like she might simultaneously vomit from fear and float from relief. They know and they’re not hauling her out to the pyre. They’re protecting her. Odile has stood up beside Eda, a protective hand on her shoulder.

“And what about you,” says Odile to Vinead. He shrugs.

“She saved your life and she brings you joy. Anyone who can’t see that you’re completely besotted with each other is a blind fool.”

He shrugs again as if he is simply stating that it may rain this afternoon, not that the three of them know both of Odile’s and Eda’s secrets. They know and have not come at them with flames and swords.

Odile laughs, once and hearty, and shrugs herself. A grin creeps onto Vinead’s face. Eda embraces the floating feeling.

“Still,” she says, rubbing her face, “we can’t let them burn someone.”

“Your father won’t stop them,” sneers Jodis, fussing with bottles and flasks, keeping their hands busy. “He’d light the fire himself.”

“A distraction?” asks Duncan. “Create enough of a diversion till whoever they’ve charged can get away?”

“Maybe…” says Vinead, but he’s got thoughts ticking over in his head. A plan is brewing in there somewhere.

“I’ll help you,” says Odile to him before turning on Duncan with a finger pointed. “And you, you do not leave her side or I'll throw you on the pyre as well. Understood?”

Duncan nods quickly. “Yes, Highness.”

“What are he and I doing?” Asks Eda, her voice coming back, her knees no longer shaking.

Odile takes a deep breath. “You two are going to be present for the burning.”

“What?!” Eda stands knocking over the chair. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Anyone who doesn’t show up to watch the witch burn will be suspected themselves. Maybe not of being a witch but of having sympathies at least. Vinead and I are the only ones who can get away with not showing up and having our reputations remain intact.”

“I’m not going to watch another witch burn,” fumes Eda. Meanwhile Vinead, Jodis and Duncan watch on with interest as she scolds Odile. If they were only guessing at the nature of their relationship before, it’s been confirmed now.

“No,” says Odile. “You’re not. Vinead and I will be creating a diversion, so you can turn invisible and set her free.”

“What sort of diversion?”

“A big one.”

“Oh my word…” Eda picks her chair up and sits back down with her arms crossed.

“A very big one,” adds Vinead. Jodis is struggling not to smile.

~

They leave Jodis’ quarters separately, Odile and Vinead heading in one direction and Duncan and Eda in the other. They just have to trust that the Captain and the Princess know what they’re doing.

Odile is right. If Eda doesn’t go to see the witch burn then she’ll only make herself look suspicious. But as they walk towards the courtyard to await the execution someone calls Eda’s name from behind.

Ol’ Malcolm is running towards her as fast as his old legs can take him, waving his arm. His wrinkled face is pale and his lips are nearly blue as he barrels into her and Duncan.

“It’s Agnes,” he says. “They’ve charged Agnes with witchcraft.”

~

Unbeknownst to any of them, Eyebright slips from the shadows and follows after Odile. He’s been watching and listening, and he has a plan too.

CHAPTER 12

Directly against Odile’s orders, Eda and Duncan separate. She slips invisible while Duncan stands at attention at the kitchen doors, looking like he’s meant to be there and she sneaks inside.

It’s a sombre place without Agnes barking orders at everyone. No one chatters. No one smiles. Martha stands completely alone, relegated to the far corner. No one speaks to her, looks at her, and if they do it’s with utter disgust. She thought she’d get glory for her betrayal of their mistress and instead she’s gotten what she deserved. Eda walks quickly and quietly through the servants till she’s standing behind Martha. She’s never cursed anyone before, but she’s not going to let Martha get away with this unscathed. Reaching out a hand, Eda quickly draws a cross on the back of Martha’s neck with her thumb. Martha yelps and jumps, flapping at her neck as if a bug has crawled over her. Half the people in the kitchen ignore her. The other half shout out in a chorus of ‘Shut up.’ Which Martha does, keeping her head low.

Eda waits for someone to leave the kitchen and slips out behind them, tugging on Duncan’s sleeve to let him know she’s back and they can move to somewhere safe to turn visible again. The fury in her settles just a little. She’ll let the curse stew and see what comes of it. Because a cross isn’t just a cross. It’s a target.

~

Odile and Vinead are still nowhere to be seen when a bell is tolled and castle guards and Witch Finders start herding people to the courtyard. The fact they’re so desperate for an audience makes Eda’s blood curdle. Duncan doesn’t leave her side and they keep Ol’ Malcolm with them as the crowd swells. The old man has tears streaming down his cheeks.

Witch Finders are infuriatingly fast when it comes to carrying out their sentences. The pyre they built so quickly stands tall, surrounded by kindling and logs coated in tar. They want it to burn as hot as possible.

Finally the King makes an appearance, accompanied by the Witch Finder General. Behind them come two lesser Witch Finders, hauling Agnes along who is wearing nothing but a shift and chains. Her face is bruised and her fingers look broken. They’ve shaved off all her hair in an effort to humiliate her. Eda holds Ol’ Malcom’s hand. He squeezes tight.

The King stands before the crowd as Agnes is tied to the pyre behind him. Her head is high and proud. The Witch Finder General says something to her that Eda can’t hear; Agnes only smiles in return.

The crowd bows to the King, but it’s in silence and it's begrudgingly. None of them want to see Ages burned. None of them want this to happen. Which gives Eda a strange sort of hope for the future of witches. But it’s snuffed out when the King steps aside for the General, who addresses the crowd.

“Last night this abomination was brought to our attention.”

Ol’ Malcolm shakes his head sadly and squeezes Eda’s hand.

“For too long she has been in your home, by your sides, pretending to be one of you.”

“She is one of us,” whispers someone behind Eda to a murmur of agreement.

“And now,” continues the General, unaware of the mutiny simmering. “She will be banished from this life, and we may all rest a little easier for it. Anything to say for yourself, witch?”

Agnes takes a deep breath and blows, the air knocking off his hat and throwing him to the ground. Eda wants to cheer. And cry. Agnes really is a witch. Which explains why her food was always so delicious. She could taste and smell better than anyone else.

Where are Odile and Vinead? Where is this diversion? Duncan grabs onto Eda’s other hand as the General gets up and dusts his hat off, planting it back on his head with a scowl. He snatches a burning torch from a servant and sets it against the kindling.

~

Vinead got his hands on a new invention called blackpowder. He paid a trader a small fortune for it and has it stashed throughout the castle in secret places. He tells Odile how flammable it is, that it will blow a hole through a wall with enough of it. He was planning to use it for a new weapon he had in mind and none of his soldiers know of its existence, not even Duncan. Hopefully it's enough to make a big enough diversion for Eda to save Agnes, but the blackpowder is stored in small batches throughout the castle for this reason, so that it doesn’t all blow at once. They don’t have time to collect it all and avoid suspicion, running back and forth. Four ten pound bags is all they have. It’ll have to be enough because they’ve run out of time.

They’re in Vinead’s quarters, a room at the top of a corner tower. Not only is it ideal to be seen and heard by everyone in the courtyard, but Vinead can easily deny involvement. Why would he set fire to his own belongings?

They pile the bags under the window and have made a small trail of blackpowder to the door.

“How big will the explosion be?” Asks Odile, starting to panic. She’s worried about Eda getting caught. She’s worried about Agnes burning alive. She’s worried about how her father doesn’t seem to realise how hated he is and how much worse this will make it.

“I have no idea,” answers Vinead solemnly. “I’ve only tested small amounts, and it makes a pretty spark but I’m not sure how much damage it will actually do. Even the trader said it wasn’t the best quality, that they’re still refining the process.”

They peek out the window where Agnes has been tied to the pyre and the Witch Finder General is giving a speech.

“Now or never,” says Vinead and they turn to leave. They both stop when they see a one eyed tabby cat sitting in the middle of the room. He meows in greeting.

“That’s Eda’s Familiar,” says Odile, going cold, her gut screaming that something’s about to happen but unable to tell what. Why is he here and not watching over his mistress?

“Did she send it?” Asks Vinead, voice cautious, quiet.

“I don’t know.”

Eyebright blinks slowly, the edges of his fur starting to glow white. A wind picks up around him, swirling around his feet like a tornado while lightning sparks flare. The ball of wind and lightning grows brighter and faster as Eyebright stands, arches his back and hisses.

Vinead grabs Odile by the arm.

“Run.”

~

Eda’s feeling… odd. As if a string that’s connecting her into the castle has been pulled tight and plucked, sending a vibration down her spine. As if lightning is about to strike the earth.

A cataclysmic boom explodes above them. The corner tower of the castle, the one closest to the courtyard, erupts in a cloud of fire, brick and light. People scream and run, as stones, rubble and ash fall from the sky. The entire top half of the tower is gone, the bottom crumbling. Flames catch onto any foothold, jumping to flags and banners.

Eda doesn’t waste a second. In the chaos she pulls her hands free of Duncan and Ol’ Malcolm, crouches down between them and turns herself invisible. The crowd is scattering. The roaring from the explosion has deafened everyone and only the occasional scream cuts through as they’re all covered with ash, faces and shoulders becoming sliced and bloodied from falling stone.

Eda shoves her way to the pyre as fast as she can, knocking people aside with elbows and knees. Noone notices their attacker is invisible in all the chaos. The King has been whisked away by guards and the Witch Finders stand useless. They point and shout, looking angry, but not herding anyone to safety, not getting water to put out spot fires.

The flames at the pyre are eating closer towards the hem of Agnes’ shift. She’s leaned her head back and is almost smiling, looking at peace with herself. Eda runs behind and yanks hard at the chains, the adrenaline pumping through her making her magic strong enough to break the padlock in two, sending the chains falling to the ground. Agnes looks around her, her peace shattered, confusion and panic starting to creep in. Eda grabs her hand and puts her lips to her ear.

“It’s Eda. Run.”

Saying nothing else, she tugs Agnes away from the pyre, out of the flames, picks up her skirt and runs. Agnes keeps up as they race to the gates of the castle courtyard. The guards have abandoned their posts to rush to the explosion so Eda and Agnes are able to dart through without being stopped, into the chaos of the outer courtyard and out through the main gate, onto the road.

They don’t stop running.

To be continued in book 2:

Forests of Ash

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dottie Graham is an author from rural Australia, where her obsession with the history of witchcraft and witch trials grows daily.

This is her first novel.