Page 30 of The Rat King
My magic was only capable of landing me outside her wards, and the time it took me to trudge through the Wildwood to the town felt never-ending. Who knew what she wanted in exchange for the magic and then there’d be another week of hard riding to make it back to the castle and Avery.
As I arrived, I left the horse with a stableboy, paid him handsomely and made my way into town.
My mother’s home sat at the top of a small hill in the center of the village. A four-foot wrought-iron fence surrounded it, and neatly trimmed hedges were planted on the outside, creating a nice perimeter. The house had four square white columns on the front porch holding up the two-story overhang. A large chandelier hung down from the center holding a dozen candles which were always lit.
The rest of the brick and wood trim was painted white, and large shuttered windows in even rows were on either side of the front door, which was painted a deep green. By all external appearances, the witch’s home was just as pleasant on the inside as it was on the outside, and for the first handful of rooms, that was true, but I knew what lurked beneath the gray slate roof.
As if she was expecting me, my mother, Samara Wrede, opened the door, white silk robes swishing as a mischievous grin lit her finely honed features. Her dark chestnut hair hung freely down her back in a soft sheet, and she held out a jewel encrusted hand in my direction to usher me inside. “My son, you’ve come to visit your mother. How wonderful.”
I followed her inside, biting back a slew of angry and demanding words dying to escape my lips. “Hello, mother,” I said.
“It’s a bit early for company, but my wards alerted me to your presence in my woods. So I put a pot of coffee on and made some tea cakes since I had some time. These are lemon shortbread, and those are madeleines. You so loved those as a boy, and it was no trouble at all. Wasn’t one of your witch’s named Madeleine?”
Play nice. She wants to goad you, but you need something from her. I reached forward and put two teacakes on my plate. It had to be about four in the morning, and I had no interest in food or conversation. I wanted the magic and to get the hell out of here.
“Madeline,” I said, stuffing a bite into my mouth so I wouldn’t be required to respond. Finding Madeline’s body was what broke me. She was the last witch from a kingdom she called Russia. In the end, she kept saying she’d traded one hell for another. But I didn’t think she had a choice. Most of the other witches had known at least something about why they were coming here.
Madeline arrived completely uninformed, frightened, and alone. It struck me as odd that the coven, who I’d understood were supposed to protect their own, had done that to her. I’d even been suspicious of her and confronted her about it once early on, but she wouldn’t talk to me. She hardly talked to anyone or left her room. In my mind, it meant she must have committed some heinous crime to get her sent here. Why else would she cry all the time?
After she’d taken her life, Jetta suggested the woman must have suffered from some illness of the mind that she had long before she came here, but I blamed myself. The day after we buried her, I gave it all to Xavier.
The memory stung as it came and went. As if my mother knew where my thoughts trailed off to, she reached out a hand and placed it gently on my knee as she sat a steaming coffee down at the small table at my feet. “You know you can talk to me, son.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d have taken it for a loving gesture. But she’d been the one taunting me about it moments earlier, and I wasn’t fooled. Best to get why I was here out in the open so I wouldn’t snap at something she said and ruin my chance to gain her aid.
“Good,” I said. “Because that’s why I’m here.”
She sat back in her chair and brought her own cup up to her lips to blow on as she watched me over its rim. Did she know why I was here? The curve of her lips suggested she did, but she didn’t speak as she patiently waited for me to go on.
“I’d like to take the magic you offered before,” I said, and the corners of her lips tipped downward.
“I’m sorry. You what?” she asked.
“Before, you said the terms of the curse were irrevocable, but there was something you could do to make it easier to break. I’m here for it.”
“I know what you refer to. But is that any way to ask your very accommodating mother for it?”
She was mad. My pride stepped forward, but I pushed it out of the way before it could intervene. It already had my legs itching to make their way toward the door. I forced my body into a state of ease.
“You’re right, mother. I’m here for your help,” I said, giving her what she wanted. “I have been unable to beat the curse on my own and Xavier has no chance. I will take whatever help you can offer me.” The words, which I knew I had to say if I wanted her cooperation, made bile rise in my throat, which the acidic coffee did nothing to mask. I’d always been one to admit when I was wrong, but this admission was on a whole different level. Just being here felt like I was betraying myself.
“I’ve been known to give excellent dating advice. Your father and I…” she waved her hand through the air as if she were batting away a fly. “Before that unfortunate situation which tore our family apart, we were quite the love match. Tell me, this new one,” she hesitated.
“Avery,” I supplied.
“Ah yes, Avery. Does she not fancy my second son?” I shook my head. “What about you? Does she see your appeal, my darling?”
I leaned over and ran my hands through my hair. My mother stumped me. I did not wish to discuss my or my pathetic brother’s love life with her, but this conversation had to end with me getting what I needed out of the vexing witch across from me.
“She has no interest in Xavier and she’s admitted she won’t ever fall for him. She’s different with me, so yes, I think I could win her, but there isn’t enough time.”
“And the minor fact that she’s your queen now and married to your brother. You know, that wasn’t your greatest decision, my son.”
The coffee cup in my hand shattered, spilling black coffee everywhere.
“I can’t imagine the pressure you must be feeling. But don’t worry, we’ll figure it out,” she said, kneeling down to pick up the scattered pieces. She set them on the tray she carried the refreshments in on.
She reached into her pocket to retrieve a few small pouches. Selecting one, she replaced the others, then uncinched the ties and poured a pile of a black powder into her hand. Chanting a few short lines, she spread it over the dark stain on her pristine white carpet, and I felt the magic before the stain lifted and disappeared. Witch’s magic was so different from ours it almost mesmerized me.
