They looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. After a few moments, Sal nodded and rested her head back against the wall, eyes closed.
“It’s called the Life Bond Enchantment,” Lavender said. She moved closer, kneeling almost within reach. “It’s one of the most advanced and complicated spells we have, and only the strongest, most powerful witches can perform it with any degree of success. It’s designed to connect the life forces of two people, usually when one is on the brink of death, to give them some of the caster’s vitality and bring them back to full health. It leaves a mark on both parties and creates an unbreakable bond thatmakes both individuals stronger when they’re together. They can draw from each other’s life force, energy, and if it’s done between two witches, their power.”
Without opening her eyes, Sal added, “The pain and weakness you’re feeling, that’s caused by being separated from the other half of the bond. She fled, and you’ll never find her.”
I licked my lips. This was worse than I had imagined. “What happens if you’re separated for too long? Or by too great a distance?”
Sal opened her eyes then and stared at me, her cold gaze boring into my skull, intensifying the pain. “You die. And so does she.”
So, the witch had made a mistake in tying her life force to mine—or else why did she flee? She must have known this would happen; must be feeling some of the same symptoms. I could only assume she had been attempting to bring the young blond girl back with the enchantment, and as the girl had been dead and I was the nearest, severely injured, living thing, the spell had instead rebounded into me.
And now we were irrevocably tied to each other, if any of this were to be believed. And if the knife twisting in my heart told me anything, it was that the witch was telling the truth.
“You said the bond is unbreakable. That can’t be true, there must be some way to break it. If one of us were to die, for example.” I could simply find Morgaine and kill her, that would surely free me from this curse.
“If one of you dies,” Lavender said, a sad glint to her eyes in the dim light. “You both die.”
I shook my head, raking my fingers through my hair. This couldn’t be it, this was not how I was supposed to die. Bonded to some wicked witch and fated to die whenever she did; hanged, or drowned, or stoned to death by my own men. The irony of the situation was not lost on me.
“There is one way,” Sal murmured, and I pressed against the bars, desperate to hear it. “There is a ritual.”
Lavender shook her head. “It’s too complicated, and it hasn’t even been proven to work. And he would need to perform it with Morgaine; I can’t see how that would happen.”
“What is it? Tell me the ritual, I will find Morgaine and we will do it. Whatever it is, just tell me.” I heard the desperation in my own voice, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t hide it now. I wanted out of the bond, and I could only assume Morgaine did, too.
“Morgain knows it. She’s the High Priestess, she knows all of the spells and disenchantments. Find her, and convince her to help you break the bond.”
I turned to leave before pausing. “Where would she be hiding?”
“With another coven?” Lavender suggested.
Sal shook her head. “She knows that’s the first place the sheriff’s men will look. She’s too smart for that. She’ll be somewhere hidden, somewhere secret that the guards would never expect her to be.”
I turned on my heel, ready to set out and find the witch who had cursed me to die beside her.
“What about our way out?” Sal called after me, a hint of panic in her croaky voice.
I pulled my dagger from my belt and slid it under the bars towards her. As I walked away, I said over my shoulder into the dimness, “There is only one way out. At your own hand, or at the executioner’s.”
9
MORGAINE
Iwoke to the faint sound of hustle and bustle, my eyes fluttered open to find an unrecognisable ceiling above me. The smell of cooking drifted under the door, making my stomach clench with hunger.
Where was I, and how had I gotten here? The last thing I remembered was dashing through the trees, the pain of my grief tearing a hole in my chest with every step. I must have pushed my body too hard and passed out, been found by a kindly villager and carted back to their home to recuperate.
The door creaked open as I swung my legs over the side of the bed, looking for my shoes.
“You’re awake,” a small, dark-haired young woman said. She sounded genuinely delighted to see me feeling better.
And I did feel a little better. I pressed a hand to my chest where the pain had been after seeing Rosemary killed by the sheriff’s witch hunters. I still felt broken inside, but the physical pain had eased.
“You really scared us for a while there,” the woman—barely more than a girl—added. “How are you feeling? Are you up to eating something?”
I stood and smoothed my filthy, rumpled dress, battling the lightheaded sensation that swooped down on me. “Fine, thank you. Would you mind telling me where I am?”
She faltered. “I, well, we assumed when we found you that you were running from something. Or someone. That you needed help.” A line formed between her brows as she tucked a strand of straight, dark hair behind her ear. “They found you lying at the side of the forest road, you were unconscious and very pale. So, they brought you to the Burrow and nursed you back to health.”
