Frieda was my responsibility.
‘I knew it, you went back to her. Little fool,’ she sneered.
I clasped my hands before me. ‘What are you doing here? How did you find us?’
‘You think your Witch so clever she cannot be found? The forest played its tricks on me but I persisted, and here I am.’
I frowned. It would take a degree of dedication to find the Witch that bordered on fanatic. I had not even known it was possible. How long had she wandered the forest? She had lost a lot of weight, all bone and wild, intense light in her eyes. The hem of her dress was mud-stained and torn, and a half-healed scrape marred the side of her face. I thought of the stories about the families of companions setting out to search for the Witch and her castle. No one had ever returned alive. I always assumed they’d met some sad end at the bottom of a ravine or frozen in the night; now a thought struck me with slow horror: just because they had not returned did not mean they had not found what they were looking for.
‘I would have walked to the ends of the earth if I had to,’ continued Frieda. ‘After you came, my mother did not know peace. She did not sleep, she did not eat, all she did was weep for the son who was ripped from her. You made it so much worse, giving her hope that anyone can survive this place. Surviveher.’
A flare of panic. The Witch couldn’t find out that I had taken Edgar’s letter to them. ‘You came all this way to say that to me?’
‘No. I came for answers. I must see the Witch.’
I turned to look behind me, but the Witch had melted away. All I could see was the edge of black skirts by the doors at the top of the stairs.
‘Where is she?’ demanded Frieda. ‘Where is that monster?’
The sympathy I had felt vanished like a candle blown out.
‘She’s not a monster.’
Frieda sneered and started up the stairs towards me, dodging Wolf. ‘Witch! Come and face me.’ Her voice echoed off stone. ‘I see you hiding!’
The Witch had peeked her moon-pale face around the doorframe and was spotted at once. I hummed with nerves, torn between Frieda and the Witch, and tried to catch Frieda as she passed me on the stairs but her angry steps made the fragile frame shake and I feared any violent action on my part would bring the structure to pieces.
Frieda descended on the Witch like a bird of prey, talons extended and eyes flashing.
‘What did you do with my brother?’
My Witch froze like a doe in hunting season.
I thought she would be angry at the intrusion; I had not expected her to be terrified.
Frieda snatched up a handful of the Witch’s dress and yanked her so close I thought she might bite her.
‘Stop –’ At this threat I was moved to act. I launched forward but Wolf had come up the stairs behind me, the sagging steps groaning under the weight of the four of us, to snag my arm and hold me back.
‘Tell me the truth,’ Frieda cried. ‘What happened to my brother? I cannot live a day longer without answers.’
‘You do not know what you ask,’ whispered the Witch.
‘We couldn’t even bury him.’
I remembered Wolf’s words months ago:they have no grave.
Frieda shook her like a doll and the Witch submitted to her anger. ‘You ruin lives.’ Frieda’s voice broke. ‘You destroy families and you don’t care at all.’
I had never seen my Witch so helpless. I could not understand it.
She said something so soft I could barely make it out, but it sounded like,I care.
Frieda snapped. With a yell she flung the Witch against the wall, raising a hand to strike her. But this time Wolf intervened before I could. She caught Frieda’s hand with a surprisingly strong grip.
‘Enough of that. It’s time for you to go.’
‘No. Make her answer. I need an answer.’
