Grandma’s rasping voice had hovered over me as I bent over the leather, my fingertips stained and my frustration mounting.
“Anger won’t help, Gigi, unless you wish for this charm to not work as you intend,” she had said, the floorboards creaking as she rocked on her rocking chair.
Unlike an herbwitch’s potions or a charmwitch’s knotted charms that involved recipes and instructions, a charmwitch’s drawn charms were hers to create—no two designs looked the same, even if they were meant to produce the same results.It would be the purest product of her magic, and thereby the most powerful.The symbols were not about appearance, but about intent.
To me, intent over appearance sounded like an unskilled artist’s excuse for why they couldn’t make a painting look as it ought.I preferred knotted charms with its precise patterns over symbols that my intuition was allegedly supposed to guide my hand to create.Even enchantments with set gestures and words were better.
“I don’t know what to do,” I had said, dropping the needle-thin pen that I had been inking with, irritated with myself
“Perhaps you ought to go for a run,” Grandma said.
I did exactly that, because if there was anything I learned in the thirteen years I had lived by then, it was to always listen to my grandmother.I ran down the road that sloped away from our house, intersected the village square, then swooped back up to Grandma’s herb garden.
The weather witches had woven cool strands of breeze throughout Witch Village that day, the wind tousling my hair, the ribbon at the end of my braid curling and flapping behind me.
When I returned, I drew my charm with the shapes my ribbon had made.Grandma had only given me a knowing glance—it was her way of saying “I told you so”, though I never minded it; I was always too happy with the results her advice gave me.
How I wished I had Grandma’s wisdom now.Perhaps she could advise me on how to create a charm for courage—something that would have more long-lasting effects than an herbwitch’s potion.
***
THE PALACE WAS UNCHANGEDwhen we arrived on Monday, but it was as if I had traveled back in time to nine months prior.My stomach was in knots.I was being led to the crown prince’s study again, nervous and ready to hear the details of my first assignment upon joining the Witch Committee.
“...think an anthology would sell better than separate volumes?Or maybe I can do separate volumesandan anthology!”
I had barely paid attention to Maddox’s ramblings on the carriage ride.Now that we were in the cavernous halls of the palace, the echo of his voice was impossible to ignore.
“I don’t know, Maddox,” I said with a sigh.“Maybe you can ask His Highness after the meeting.”
Our escort was blessedly silent as he stepped forward to open the door of Crown Prince Bennett’s study.
A flood of morning light lit the room aglow.I blinked rapidly, surprised by the sheer amount of green in the room.The curtains and upholstery were a sprightly grass green.Even the books on the shelves went from emerald to chartreuse.It seemed he had renovated since the last time I was here.
“Narcissa’s favorite color,” Maddox said from the corner of his mouth as he bowed and I curtsied.
“Giselle.I assume you’ve accepted,” Crown Prince Bennett said, standing from his desk.Someone else sat across from him, though the stranger’s back was turned to us.“Maddox.I hear from Captain Greenwood that you will be joining as a guard.”
We both nodded.
The crown prince gestured to the man across from him.“Meet our emissary.”
The emissary turned his head.If I hadn’t already committed his face to memory, the seafoam green cravat knotted at his throat would’ve been a telltale sign.
Edmund de Clare, in all his wavy-haired glory, raised his dark brows at the sight of me.“Miss Giselle.We meet again.”
“Mr.de Clare,” I said, flustered.“I didn’t expect you.”
Crown Prince Bennett looked surprised.“You’re already acquainted?”
“We met a week ago,” I said.“I thought you’d choose a member of the King's Council, Your Highness.Or perhaps a newspaper reporter.”
“The King's Council is less than eager and the reporters are overeager.I prefer a neutral party,” the crown prince said with a dry smile.He gestured to the empty seat next to Edmund de Clare.“Please, sit.”
Maddox stood off to the side.He had reverted to being a guard, staring straight ahead and silent.Finally.
I stole a look at the new emissary as I sat.“Apologies, sir, but do you not have a department store to run?”
His lips quirked into a grin that nearly sent my heart to a stop.“It is not mine to run, Miss Giselle.My father will proceed as he has always done in my absence.And please, call me Edmund.We count as old friends now, do we not?”
