Morning light streamedin from the enormous windows of the palace, the crystal panes refracting rainbows on the marble floor.Maddox and I stood outside the double doors of the throne room, waiting for them to creak open and signal the start of the meeting.
“Ready?”Maddox murmured.
“As I’ll ever be,” I responded.
Anxiety churned in my stomach and I wondered for the eightieth time if we were really going to go through with our plan.Accusing a council member was serious, but I was less concerned about losing my post than losing my peace of mind—these men were the instigators of The Crown, willing to stoop to attempted murder.I didn’t even think Narcissa or Crown Prince Bennett’s favoritism could save me if worse came to worst.
Footsteps sounded from behind us, echoing in the cavernous hall.I turned to see Sir Sylvester and Sir Archibald approach in their bottle green robes.Maddox gave them a brief nod of acknowledgement, though the two older men did not deign to do the same even when they stopped to stand beside us.
I narrowed my eyes on Sir Archibald.His face was bare of spectacles.He looked shockingly different without them, his eyes appearing smaller and further apart.
“This hall is quite beautiful,” I said casually.
“Indeed,” Sir Sylvester said, shooting me an uninterested glance.He didn’t seem to be in the mood for conversation.I was sure the old snake was also in on the scheme, even if he hadn’t left any evidence.Sir Archibald seemed intent on avoiding me entirely, fixing his eyes on the gilded decals along the top of the doorframe.
“An excellent embellishment, is it not?”I said, nudging Sir Archibald with my elbow.He positively jumped at the contact.
“Of course it’s excellent,” Sir Archibald grumbled, straightening his robes.“Every inch of this palace was meticulously designed by my great uncle and his apprentices.”
“Ah, indeed?I do not think he paid enough attention when he carved those tulips.”
The councilman scowled.“Don’t be ridiculous, they’re perfect.”
“Tulips?”Maddox piped up from next to me.“Those are clearly seahorses, Giselle.The Archibald family crest, correct?”
“That’s right,” Sir Archibald said with a sniff.
“Ah, seahorses.Apologies, I couldn’t see clearly,” I said.“Must havelost my spectacles.”
Archibald visibly paled, but he said nothing.I arched an eyebrow at the old man.
He’d crack eventually.
Finally, the door creaked open, a pair of footmen stepping aside as we all entered the throne room.I squinted—somehow it was even brighter inside—and stopped before the elevated dais where Crown Prince Bennett sat on his throne.Narcissa was conspicuously absent.I figured she was busy with wedding preparations.Shortly after, Rowena and Ferdinand entered.Both of them greeted me with smiles which I shakily returned.
“Thank you all for coming.Our emissary could not join us as he is under the weather,” Crown Prince Bennett said, “but he has sent his report by post yesterday.A copy will be provided to each of you.”He nodded at Ulysses, who stood by with a tray of paper.The steward descended the dais to distribute a sheet of Edmund’s report to the King’s Council and Witch Committee members.
Under the weather?Edmund looked perfectly hale to me the last time I saw him.Unbidden, the memory of the awful newspaper article resurfaced, which described us witches as “diseased”.For a heart stopping moment, I wondered if Edmund was playing along with this narrative, or if somehow, a witch disease really did exist.
I shook the thought out of my head.
When Ulysses offered me a cream page, I grabbed it and scanned the contents quickly.It began by describing the logistics of entering Witch Village through the passageway, what the village looked like upon entering, the lore of the First Oak, the fields, the Harvest Festival.When the report detailed the blackout, Edmund’s injury and fever, and the weather witch debacle, my stomach sank.
His report wasn’t criticism as much as it was a play by play of what happened.I had to admit he was a fair reporter.Yet, the words were stark and ugly on the page, evidence of my failure—of the village’s failure—to provide an ideal hospitable environment we could be proud of.Witches like Ma and Beatrice and Maude had let their prejudices for humans get in the way of Edmund having a truly welcoming experience.My face flushed with shame when Ferdinand murmured, “Oh dear.”I didn’t know what to tell them—that I hadn’t intended on giving a proper tour in the first place?I was ashamed to call myself a member of the Witch Committee.
“An unlit sky?”Sir Archibald exclaimed.“We sent our emissary to a mere hole in the ground?And he broke his ankle on top of it all!”
“And the fever,” Sir Sylvester added.“Such sickness is unusual in a man as young and hale as Edmund de Clare!I read in the papers that it is likely a witch disease.”
Ferdinand frowned.“There is no such thing as a witch disease.However, humans and witches have spent several generations living apart.There are most likely non-fatal pathogens one group has grown immunity to, while the other has not.”
“If that’s the case, witches are likely to get sick from humans, too,” Rowena added.“I do recall a good number of us Witch Committee members being under the weather when we first came aboveground.”
“So thereisa witch disease!”Sir Archibald cried, as if he hadn’t been listening at all.
“We donothave a disease,” I shot back, feeling hot and angry again.“Whatever article you read was false, merely lies spread by a recent anti-witch group called The Crown.Wouldyouhave anything to do with it?”
Sir Archibald sputtered.“What are you suggesting?Your Highness, this witch is defaming me with baseless accusations!”
