‘But wouldn’t I remember having powers? Or hexing myself, for that matter?’
Aunt Rowan’s smile reminded Cynthia of a cat she once owned. The clever creature looked just like that whenever she caught a mouse. ‘You said yourself, you remember little of your childhood.’
Cynthia leaned back against the settee. ‘That’s true.’
‘I’m hoping we can jog your memory.’
‘But how am I supposed to remember something that’s a blank in my head?’
‘I have a few ideas. If you’re willing to try.’ Aunt Rowan kept her gaze steady on Cynthia. But she glanced at Helena, needing to gauge her reaction.
Helena shrugged, her gaze steadfastly on the floor. ‘It’s completely up to Cynthia.’
Wonderful. Now she decides to keep her opinions to herself.
She had asked Helena not to make choices for her, but in this one instance, it would have been nice for some guidance.
Cynthia swallowed. If there were secrets in her past, she wanted to know. Taking a leap, she nodded her head.
‘Lovely.’ Aunt Rowan began with a spell for clarity. Her words were ancient and beautiful. Cynthia didn’t know what they meant, but she felt the vibrations of Aunt Rowan’s voice buzzing in her veins.
Ellie cast a protective circle around them, and Clio used her witch fire to light a candle infused with rosemary and lemon balm.
‘Sit in the centre, close your eyes, and try to clear your mind.’
Cynthia did as Aunt Rowan asked, though it felt strange to sit cross-legged on the floor in her voluminous skirts. She hadn’t done something so improper since she was a child.
Aunt Rowan began to chant again. The syllables curled around Cynthia like woodsmoke as the other women joined their voices. A memory teased at the edges of Cynthia’s mind but stayed annoyingly out of reach. A whisper none of them could quite hear.
Clio tried next, using her powers to delve into Cynthia’s past. Though she was usually limited to only seeing the past of the dead, not the living, given her ability to see Thomas’ memories, she thought it might work on his sister. The only result was a slight headache for Cynthia and a singed pillow that suffered under Clio’s frustration.
Sighing, Aunt Rowan shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose Ellie can help with her gifts being limited to the future. Damnation. I hoped that might work. But I suppose some mysteries must be solved in their own time. Instead of focusing on the past, let us turn to the present. I don’t know why your magic was bound, but something has loosened the spell’s hold.’
‘Hubert’s death.’ Cynthia didn’t realise the truth until she spoke it. ‘That’s when things started happening. I think being released from that vow altered something within me. I’ve always been trapped by someone else’s rules. When Hubert died, that changed. A widow is beholden to no one but herself.’ Excitement grew like a wild vine, reaching for sunlight and water and wind within her. Because her words were truth. She was under no obligation to anyone, except herself. Power expanded and flexed against a tether. She wanted to set it free.
‘Until Hubert’s death, you were a wife, before that a daughter. Now, you can choose who you wish to be.’ Ellie’s words echoed her thoughts.
Cynthia nodded. ‘Exactly.’
‘And perhaps what you want to be is who you have always been: a witch.’ Clio gently bolstered Cynthia’s hopes.
But that was harder to accept. Instinctively, she pushed the idea away. ‘What if this is just some fluke?’
‘Who you are isn’t a fluke. It’s destiny. Call it what you will. A miracle, or fate, or magic. But it is real and yours to accept.’ Ellie’s sweet voice soothed Cynthia’s jangled nerves. ‘It’s okay to be scared. We’re all here with you.’
‘Magic doesn’t make mistakes.’ Aunt Rowan grounded her. ‘You spoke of stealing Helena’s abilities, but that isn’t possible. Humans can’t steal our elemental power. Whatever you’ve experienced, that is coming from within you. Aside from hearing Hamlet, what other magic has manifested?’
Cynthia recounted what happened when the Cheapside dog tried to attack Hamlet. She looked to Helena to ensure she hadn’t forgotten anything, but the infuriating woman still refused to meet her gaze. She had been acting strangely since Aunt Rowan talked about Cynthia and Helena sharing a spirit animal.
Being told your spirit is intertwined with another when clearly, Helena had no wish for such a connection must not be easy to accept. But this wasn’t exactly a walk in Hyde Park for Cynthia either. If what Aunt Rowan said was true, then Cynthia’s and Helena’s paths were irrevocably connected. What might that mean for them? How could they live together in society without rumours spreading? She had seen the power of scandal, and its ability to destroy someone’s life. Her own brother had fallen victim to vicious gossip. It had been easy to stand by his side and defend his honour, but could she do the same for herself?
If Helena is with me, it’s worth the effort. Even if we fail.
But if she wasn’t with her, if the distance Helena seemed to be creating over the course of the evening was indicative of her feelings waning, Cynthia would need to forge her own path forward. Alone.
A witch without a coven. Perhaps I’ll find a hut in the woods somewhere and catch bats to keep me company.
‘Your gifts extend to animals. I wonder how you fare with plants.’ Aunt Rowan slipped into the kitchen and brought a struggling mint plant into the parlour. She put the pot on the low table in front of Cynthia. ‘I’ve been trying to heal this plant, but it’s stubborn. No matter what I try, it refuses to absorb my magic. See what you can do.’
