I had been hunted and persecuted over and over, for five hundred years, and I was angry.
I stood at the threshold of my sisters’ bedroom, watching them sleep peacefully for what could be the last time. I couldn’tbring myself to wake them, so I lit a candle and set about quietly making a cauldron of tea and checking the protection charms and enchantments I had placed around the cottage. Kipper kept me company while I worked, prowling around the cottage and mewing piteously until I tossed him a piece of dried chicken skin from his treat jar.
Rose was the first to wake, just before dawn when the sky remained dark with streaks of red and orange. She swept the floors as I made the porridge, humming a tune she’d picked up from somewhere. It was a pretty little song, especially in her sweet voice, and I found myself swallowing hard and blinking away the stinging in my eyes at the thought of leaving her. I had told myself time and again not to let these witches into my heart, but they’d managed to burrow their way in despite my best efforts.
Once Lavender and Sal were awake, I sat them all down and explained everything; what had happened at the market, and what I had heard at the castle.
“Pah, it’s utter nonsense,” Sal said, gruffly. “The boy is just trying to impress the prince with all this tough talk. I’ll bet nothing changes around here and it’s nought but bluff and bluster. We’ve seen this all before.”
Lavender looked less convinced. She wrung her hands in her lap. “I heard he’s been brought over from abroad by Prince John because he’s a champion witch hunter and no one can best him. If he’s that good, and he’s trying to impress, how long will it be until someone is hanged? Witch or not?”
I nodded. “Good point, Lavender. It isn’t certain that the sheriff will correctly identify us as witches, but he’s known for capturing and killing women accused of witchcraft, so the risk of someone being killed is high. Especially in these first days and weeks. My fear,” I pressed a hand to my heart and took a deep breath. “Is that he already suspects me after our interaction atthe market. He didn’t appear to separate the innocent comfort of good luck charms from the magic of talismans, and that is my concern. If the folklore where he comes from is different, or if his high success rate in catching witches is actually due to a no tolerance stance on superstitions, then we could be in real danger.” I sighed and rubbed a hand over my face. “I am sorry. I never meant to put any of you in harm’s way.”
Lavender reached over and put a hand on top of mine. “We all knew this life was a risky one, and yet we still chose it. You’re not to blame for any of this.”
Sal snorted. “We no more chose this life than the magic chose us. It simply is what it is.”
I nodded, but I had known many witches over the centuries who had chosen to reject their power and live a quiet, simple life. Out of fear, maybe, or self-preservation. The ones who accepted the calling were, to me, the bravest of us.
“What will we do?” Rosemary asked, voice wobbling. “And what will happen to Kipper?” She sat cross-legged on the floor with the black cat curled tightly in her lap, stroking his sleek coat with her fingertips.
“I—” My words died in my throat as the eerily familiar sound of thundering horse hooves reached my ears. I felt as though a bucket of icy water had been thrown in my face. “Go!” I stood and gestured for Rosemary to hide in the bedroom while Sal, Lavender and I dealt with whatever this was. There was a trapdoor under a rug beneath one of the beds, big enough for all of our most precious magical artifacts and one person to hide. I knew she’d be safe there.
I snatched up my basket from beside the door and stepped outside, looking for all the world like a woman off to harvest her vegetable garden. Except our vegetable garden had already been picked over and even the flower beds Sal tended looked sparse.
A chill ran through the early spring air, clear and crisp, even as the sun shone weakly in the blue-grey sky. The scent of pine and earth filled my nostrils, grounding me.
The first horse to stop outside our rickety gate I would have recognised anywhere. The majestic black stallion I’d seen galloping down the forest road. And its rider: the dark, curly-haired High Sheriff. Not far behind him, three other guards arrived just moments later. One with tanned skin and russet hair tied all three horses to the hitching post while the other two began to slowly walk around the perimeter, keen eyes taking in everything.
The sheriff approached the gate and said in his smooth, accented English, “Good morning, Miss Laffay. How are you this fine day?”
I clenched my fists to keep my hands from trembling. “Quite well, sir. And yourself?” I walked over to a rosebush and pretended to check it, knowing there were no rosebuds to be seen.
“I am well indeed, thank you for asking. Ignore my men, the prince insists I am attended at all times.” He waved at them as if to dismiss them, but none of the three men stopped what they were doing. “I have come for a quick chat after our meeting yesterday at the market. I fear I may have offended you. I had to ask around to get your address—it is rather remote out here by the forest, isn’t it?”
I heard the underlying message in his words. He thought we were hiding out here, away from the rest of the village. I had been right, he did suspect me of witchcraft. I had to protect my sisters. I would be fine if the sheriff took me in—I was immortal, after all. But the thought of Lavender, Sal, or sweet little Rosemary being held in the castle dungeons, tortured for information, and executed, felt like a punch to the gut.
I schooled my features and forced my tone to remain measured. “We like our space, and it’s only a short ride to town, as you’ll have discovered.”
The sheriff chuckled; made all the more sinister by the light, jovial sound and relaxed way he pushed his hair out of his eyes and scratched his stubbly jaw. This man was not afraid of witches; he’d killed too many of us for that.
He reached a hand towards the garden gate. “May I?”
I hesitated, but only for a second. “Be my guest.” I trusted Sal and Lavender to have secreted all of our remaining craftwares away while I distracted the uniformed men.
At the same time the High Sheriff opened the gate and stepped through, I heard the front door of the cottage creak open. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Lavender on the threshold, wrapping a knitted shawl around herself. I clenched my jaw to keep from barking at her to go back inside.
“Good morning,” the sheriff called out to her, a smile I knew to be fake smoothing his features and making him look younger, almost boyish. “You must be Miss Laffay’s sister.”
“Good day, sir,” Lavender replied, her voice sounding strained to my ears. I only hoped the sheriff couldn’t hear the stress fractures in her tone. She looked to me then. “Morgaine?”
I ignored her. I’d noticed the sheriff had left the gate open and two of his lackeys had followed him into the garden, taking up position behind him among the rockery. My knuckles turned bone white on the handle of my basket, a spark of lightning coursing through my blood.
“I’m afraid we were just on our way to the forest to forage for berries, so we’ll be going now.” I made as if to leave, forcing the sheriff and his men to turn and face me as I put a hand on the gate. “I appreciate you taking the time to come here and apologise, Sheriff, it truly wasn’t necessary. No offence was taken.”
He gave me an indulgent smile, eyes cast down for a few seconds until he looked up at me through his long, dark lashes and said, “I just need a moment more of your time, Miss Laffay. Why don’t we step inside? Perhaps your sister could brew a pot of tea for us all? This won’t take long.”
Sal appeared beside Lavender now, her expression deliberately blank, but I saw the tension in her shoulders. I tried to shake my head but I could hardly move, so I tried to convey my meaning with my eyes. “Sal, take Lavender foraging in the woods while I have a private conversation with the High Sheriff.”
