“Mama, please.” Elizabeth shook her head in exasperation. “I will notdieif I do not secure a match tonight.”
“Do not be difficult, daughter. This year you must choose. I worry about you. The matrons have already begun totalk.” Her mother said “talk” like it was a nasty curse word. “They've already begun to wonder why the great Ashcroft house has a daughter who’s still unwed!”
Elizabeth sighed, resigning herself to what was sure to be an awkward carriage ride home.
“AndI’mnot married yet because I haven’t found anyone worthy enough to bestow the honour upon,” Charlotte drawled to her mother.
Charlotte’s mother gave a long sigh and Elizabeth burst out laughing.
Both she and Charlotte were in their late twenties and had passed the average age of marriage, of about twenty-four, by a few years now, to the chagrin of both their mothers.
In a mock serious tone, Charlotte continued, “And if there is no gentleman that we deem worthy for such beautiful, amazing young ladies such as ourselves, perhaps we ought to enlist a witch!” Charlotte wiggled her fingers mischievously. “To cast a love spell and—”
“Charlotte! Don’t ever joke about such things,” her mother chastised, looking horrified. Lady Harrison looked about frantically, as if the very birds outside might report their conversation to the queen.
“But, of course, I’m being ridiculous! Don’t take things so seriously, Mother,” Charlotte said with a wry smile.
Elizabeth’s father lifted his face from his book long enough to say, “My dear Charlotte, do not fault your mother for being protective of her flesh and blood. You girls have grown up in a time of light and prosperity, but it has not always been so and may not alwaysbeso. I shudder to think of what would happen toany of my girls,” He gestured to her and her mother, and to Charlotte, who had become as close as a second daughter to him. “if any of you were suspected of such things.” Elizabeth’s father smiled kindly at Charlotte.
Charlotte replied, “Be that as it may, the war is won now. Rhodea is prosperous, and all that mess of magic and witches is far in our past. Surely, we can make a joke inprivate.”
“I’d rather you not joke about things that could turn both our houses from the queen’s favour sooner than you could blink,” said Lady Harrison, her expression serious. “She’s been famously fickle of late.”
Soon the ornate silver gates of Calyx came into view, and everyone hushed. Calyx was the capital of the Rhodean kingdom and home to the royal palace. The city gates were flanked by white stone walls that stretched around the city.
As their carriage drew near, the silver gates swung open, and a line of soldiers rode out on horses, their armour gleaming in the sunlight. The soldiers rode past them in a single file, and a bannerman carried a large blue banner with a white dove that rippled in the wind—the sigil of the queen.
Elizabeth watched their progress, fidgeting with her necklace. Rhodea was a kingdom at peace, where were they all going?
Reaching the foot of the gates, their carriage grinded to a halt. A guard peered in the window and nodded. “Lord Ashcroft.”
Her father inclined his head in answer and soon they were admitted to the city, and Calyx was spread before them like a painting. Hanging baskets bursting with pink and white flowers adorned every street corner and baskets of flowers sat outside every shop. There was a view of the sea in the distance, dotted with the white sails of ships. All around their carriage, the city was loud, and teeming with life, full of busy shops and commoners bustling about their day.
Their carriage continued through the heart of the city and on towards the palace.
They neared a raised platform in the main city square and each person made the sign against evil on their chests. Around them, the noise of the city quieted, and the air grew somber.
The site of the witch trials.
The platform was stained with dried blood and scorch marks, and being given wary looks by passersby. A tall wooden pillar jutted from the centre of the platform, and beside it was a wooden box with a small divot for someone’s head.
Where those suspected of practicing magic were judged for their crimes. The accused were either beheaded, if the gods offered them a kind end, or tied to the pillar and burned until their ear-splitting screams could be heard for leagues.
Having stayed at court before, Elizabeth knew that many were not offered a kind end.
The court had agreed that anyone with magic was an agent of evil and not to be trusted, yet whenever she passed the executioner’s platform, she couldn’t help but wonder if so much death was really needed to stamp out magic.
The women in the carriage exchanged a glance. Though no one in their right mind would accuse a daughter of the high nobility of being a witch, the fear of standing falsely accused of magic was something that every woman in Rhodea shared.
She smiled tightly, and waited for the site of the witch trails to pass out of sight.
Continuing on, past the executioner's platform, the city slowly became merry again and the tension in the air lifted. Children played in the streets once more, and the commoners smiled again, as if happiness was prohibited for a three block radius around the platform.
Their carriage headed towards the outskirts of the city and an enormous palace loomed in the distance, white and pristine. The fields before the palace were covered in hundreds and hundreds of tulips in every shade and colour, making it appear as if the palace rose from a sea of flowers.
Their carriage rolled to a stop outside the palace behind all other parked carriages—they were the last to arrive.
A handsome guard peered in their window. “Lord Ashcroft, sir! Ladies.” The guard nodded at each of them in turn and whispered to a servant, who ran to tell the announcers that they had arrived.
