But that wasn’t my biggest concern. “They tightened security that quickly after your escape?”
Sal raised an eyebrow. “It’s not just us. The brand-new High Sheriff vanished without a trace. The prince is furious, the guards have been given permission to arrest anyone they even remotely suspect of witchcraft. Evidence or no.”
Of course. I hadn’t even considered what Prince John must think of Stefano’s disappearance.
“The others on the wagon told us, the dungeons are already packed to the rafters,” Lavender added, letting her spoon clatter into her empty bowl. “And they’re executing innocent women each day until he’s found.” Her lips tugged down at the corners, the brief joy the meal had brought her already forgotten.
I put my hand over Lav’s, the thought of more innocent lives being stolen making my heart ache. I couldn’t do anything to break the bond any sooner, but maybe if the rebels knew about the executions they could intervene? I pulled my hand back and laced my fingers in my lap as Millie walked towards us.
“I hope you enjoyed that, ladies. I’ve assigned you to the same room, Eleanor will show you there so you can get yourselves settled. And then I’d appreciate your help in the laundry today. You too, Eleanor.”
I rubbedthe linen sheet in my hands against the scrubbing board, slopping warm, sudsy water over the side of the tub. Lavender, Sal and I had been assigned to laundry duty, and apparently today was bed changing day.
I’d already washed a stack of linens and draped them over the ceiling-mounted drying rack, but the pile of dirty laundry next to me had barely shrunk.
Millie had left us in Agatha’s capable hands, and we’d washed in silence for what felt like an age, before Agatha finally trusted us enough to leave us alone. I immediately started interrogating my coven sisters.
“What do you know about this bond? What did you mean when you said I’d need you if I was going to try and remove it?”
Sal threw a wet bedsheet up onto the rack, flinging droplets of water at both me and Lav in the process. “It’s some of the most advanced magic I’ve ever seen. I imagine any disenchantment spell would require a full coven.”
I felt a prickle of sadness at her words; we weren’t a full coven anymore. I could see from Lavender’s shining eyes that she was thinking the same. I blinked away my own tears and cleared my throat.
“We already attempted the disenchantment. It failed.” I unbuttoned the neck of my dress enough to pull it aside and show them both the now almost black mark. Lavender gasped and Sal shook her head.
“What happened? Did you use the wrong materials?” She looked doubtful, and I knew why. I would never have attempted to perform magic, especially magic as important as this, without the exact right ingredients, and Sal knew that.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “We did everything to the letter. The items, the incantation. Everything.” I scrubbed a pillowcase aggressively, frustrated by the whole thing yet again.
“Perhaps the timing was off.”
But I knew I had it right. That feeling, the strange sensation of someone walking over my grave, I got it every single night at exactly midnight. The witching hour. No, it couldn’t have been the timing.
“Or,” Lavender began, then hesitated.
“What?” I asked, eyes narrowing. What didn’t she want to tell me?
“Well,” she said, slowly. “If one party is resistant, it can throw the spell out of balance.”
“Resisting?” I repeated, realising I sounded stupid. But I couldn’t get my head around what she was suggesting.
“If one of you secretly, or subconsciously, wanted to stay bonded, for example.” Lav winced as though I’d struck her, but I just sat there open-mouthed. Finally, I scoffed.
“No. Absolutely not. We both want to be separated just as much as each other. We’re desperate to break the bond, you should have heard us arguing when it failed. There is nothing that man wants more than to be unbound from me—probably so he can try to kill me at the first opportune moment. And frankly, the feeling is mutual.”
I could see the thinly veiled scepticism in both of their expressions, and it made my anger burn all the hotter.
“I have heard one story,” Sal said, putting down the sheet she’d been wringing out. “Years ago. From what I recall, it was another bond, similar if not the same. But something wentwrong and it transformed into a curse. No matter what they did, it couldn’t be broken.” Sal paused, and both me and Lavender hung on her every word, waiting. “Until both parties had learned to stop fighting it and accept the bond. Only then were they able to remove it.”
I squinted. It sounded like an allegory, or an old wives’ tale. “Where did you hear this story, Sal?”
She waved my question away and picked up her washing again. “I can’t remember now, but it might be relevant. You never know.”
Lav stood on her chair to hang a sheet on the drying rack. “Maybe you just weren’t strong enough, hadn’t you both been injured? Maybe once you’re both fully healed, if you try again, it’ll work.”
I wished I was possessed of Lavender’s natural optimism. Unfortunately, I’d lived too many lives and seen too much to feel any sort of positive spin could be applied here. I dunked my last sheet into the now cold and grey water.
Lavender’s voice was paper thin when she spoke again. “Or maybe,” she said, eyes welling. “The bond is so strong because it was intended for Rosemary.” She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “Perhaps it will take all three of us under a solar eclipse to break such a powerful bond.”
