“They already chose someone.”
Maddox blew a breath.“Narcissa and Father never tell me anything.”
“That’s because you probably won’t care,” I said.Royal business wasn’t something I thought Maddox would be interested in.From what I knew about him, he’d joined the Royal Guard against his will rather than from his own curiosity.
“Would a member of the Guard need to accompany you during the assignment?”Maddox asked.
“Hardly!Witch Village is the safest place you could go.”The only attack one might expect from the village was an old neighbor asking nosey questions or a jinx on a reclusive witch’s property, the latter of which would be far more traumatizing to a human than to a witch.“Perhaps the emissary might be more comfortable with a guard,” I amended.
“Perfect!Then I’ll go,” Maddox said.
I sat back.“You’re not in the Royal Guard anymore.”
“I can be again,” he said readily, surprising me.“I’ll just ask Father.He’ll be thrilled.And as a newly proclaimed writer, I should expand my horizons, don’t you think?”
“I thought you hated being a guard!And how are you supposed to write if you’re watching the emissary?”I asked, growing increasingly wary.Horsefeathers, the last thing I wanted was to run into my family and have to introduce Maddox to Ma.
“You said Witch Village is the safest place anyone can be.There’ll be plenty of time,” Maddox said, polishing off a forkful of brussels sprouts.“So it’s set!I’ll join you on Monday.”
Taking one human stranger down to Witch Village would draw enough attention.Buttwo?And Maddox, of all people.Ma would hear our bickering the moment we stepped through the passageway.
Panic rose within me like a wave; I struggled to keep it under control.Then, it settled into a thought.
What if Ididn’tgive a proper tour?What if I found someplace in the village to stay, away from prying eyes and ears, and bunkered down with the emissary and Maddox until two weeks were up?Humans were easily impressed by the most minor of magic.Perhaps simply being in the village would occupy their interest for the entirety of the tour.I’d simply have to show the emissary some local places when no one was around, then leave without notice.
A quiet entrance, a quiet exit.I forked another potato.
It was the perfect plan.
9
If there was one thingI couldn’t do without, it was my thimble.It was made of two scraps of unassuming brown leather, sewn together with tiny stitches that grew crooked upon closer inspection.The underside was nearly black, riddled with roughness from the craters my needles had dug into it.But it was the inside that made it special.
Marked within were swirling symbols of ink I had pressed myself from the nightweed from Grandma’s garden.Nightweed ink was favored for its magical properties, meant to enhance the magic of the charmwitch who used it.This was my first drawn charm, meant for speed and precision.
Though the making of it was anything but speedy and precise.
