Page 66 of Born of Starlight
“These trees, who maintains them?” I yelled the question over my shoulder. “Plum trees only live a few dozen years at most…”
“My family charmed the orchard. The fruit from the trees never rots, even when picked. The trees are forever bountiful—it’s an ancient spell. Lost in the purges of scrolls during the Great Wars.”
Fen continued, “They were lords, my parents. They were both powerful enough to be threats to this new world. They wielded dark magic…but they were peaceful.”
Dark magic-wielders who used Death or Shadows forgood?It hadn’t ever been done. At least, not to my knowledge.
“My mother used to make sacrifices every year. Usually, a cow from our herd. Each time, using dark magic to help feed the needy. She enchanted this orchard to feed Belray one cold winter when food stores ran very low. Hundreds would have died. It took a herd of twenty cows to wield this much dark magic. She didn’t care about the cost if it helped someone. She didn’t care whether it would pose a risk of becoming a target for the Phynnic either. Which it did ultimately.”
“She sounds like a lovely woman,” I mused.
“She was,” Fen corrected. His sadness was potent. “An old friend visited me once. She told me my parents had lost their heads for these trees, for their use of dark magic here. Before then, I had always hoped they had made it to the Wastelands after the Great Wars and found some way to survive.”
The weight of his words struck me. I had spent many years trying to counteract the use of all magic in the realm. Controlling the spread, doling out judgment to those who disobeyed the Order, to ensure it never grew strong in the Corridors of Henosis as it had been in the Old World. It may not have been me who killed his family, yet I would have condoned it as necessary just weeks ago.My Sisters would have deemed it necessary.
That thought sent a chill down my spine.
The weight of my own guilt made me dizzy. My hand found the tree trunk between the bountiful branches of plums to balance myself. When I touched the rough bark, my body crumpled under the strength of a conjured image so vivid it flooded every crevice of my senses.
I sat clutching that tree, but Fenris and Emmerick were nowhere to be seen.
“Fen? Emmerick?” I called to them, but my voice sounded like a ripple through water. I could only wander and observe in this unwelcome vision.
Getting to my feet, I stepped around the tree to see an ivory-skinned woman clutching a branch on the other side. She stood there with the grand estate behind her in its former glory, making a beautiful backdrop of ivy-laden stone. The woman had long dark hair like mine and a similar frame—wider than average hips, tapered waist, narrow shoulders.Was that me? No,she wore a torn tunic and tattered skirts with an apron.A farm worker.She was shaking the branch and capturing fallen fruit into her apron pockets.
The woman glanced around nervously.
A sweetly poisonous voice called to her as she stepped away from the tree. “What is the name of the thief who steals from this orchard?”
The dark-haired woman stilled as Firose’s petite figure approached from the estate’s arched gate. A golden silk robe trailed behind my Sister, her hair was braided into a crown, her small nose tipped up and her rosy lips curved in a cruel smile.
I wanted to ask her why she was in Fenris’ family orchard but had no voice.
“Adalasia…Addie Bennett. My lady, High Enchantress Firose.”Adalasia Bennett.
I was looking at my birth mother; how did I not see it immediately?Our matching chin, nose and eyes. I was a portrait of her, only she was more beautiful than I’d ever imagined.
Adalasia fell to her knees. The plums fell from her apron and scattered to the ground around her tattered skirts.
“My lady, I apologize. My husband, he is growing weak with hunger. It will never happen again. I promise you. I promise—”
“I could have you hung in the town square.” Firose circled my mother like a Lynx. “You will pay for the fruit with your life now.”
“No! Please,” my mother begged.
Firose looked down at her with calculation and interest. It was the same expression she sometimes gave me when I showed her my blue flames or conjured something from the moonstone.
“If you are unwilling to die for your crimes, then let’s make a bargain,” Firose cooed. ”You will agree to forfeit your firstborn to me, or you meet Death today. The choice is yours.”
My mother’s hands met the ground at Firose’s feet. “Please, I will work more hours for no pay—I will do anything you wish.”
Firose only deepened her smile. “I told you my conditions.”
Adalasia’s shoulders crumpled as she heaved out a teary question. “Is there no other payment you will accept? What do you need with the child of a commoner?”
Firose tilted her head. “We have never met, Mrs. Bennett. Nor does anyone know that I took ownership of this estate. Yet you called me by my name. Did you not?”
My mother stilled as if realizing her own mistake.
