Page 14 of The Noldrin Witch

“Come on.” The woman gestured for Elise to follow.

Elise could hardly refuse the courtesy. Her eyes widened at the prospect of leaving the city, but she was in no position to look down on any offer of shelter, and with her chin tucked low, she followed her new acquaintance.

She had no sooner entered a narrow road lined with old trees than Elise began to feel less afraid and more grateful for Morgaine’s invitation. The rain settled over her shoulders, and the only warmth she felt came from the torch Morgaine had helped herself to from one of the iron brackets in the city. She had yanked it so hard the entire bracket had come loose with it, though thankfully no guard had been nearby to object.

The mere sight of the bread in Morgaine’s basket sent Elise’s stomach into insistent protest. She was so hungry she considered reaching for it and tearing off a piece of the hefty loaf, but just as she gathered the resolve, they reached a clearing. A cottage emerged among small trees with white foliage. Elise had imagined the witch lived in a tree, beneath a mountain, or in some hut, but this house looked entirely reasonable to her. It was very much like the home of any God-fearing soul.

Elise’s first impression of the house, however, suffered some alteration upon closer inspection when Morgaine guided her to the front door. There was a bone serving as a bolt—an animal bone, she hoped. Small lights flickered to life as Morgaine drew back the bolt, as if some sort of magic had sensed the owner’s very presence.

Elise gasped and briefly considered running away, but she had come this far, and the meat and bread looked too tempting to ignore. Besides, if Morgaine had meant to do something to her, she would have done so by now. In the streets, the attention of scoundrels was nearly guaranteed. Here, danger remained only a possibility.

She decided to trust her luck. If Morgaine were an evil witch, surely the whole town would have heard of it. Instead, Elise had seen her walking without shame or remorse. The witch seemed to know the city folk quite well, as many had greeted her warmly along the way.

And as if the heavens meant to reassure her that she was safe in Morgaine’s dwelling, the moment the door of her house opened, a young man sprang into the witch’s arms.

Elise jumped back as he embraced Morgaine with such enthusiasm that she seemed in real danger of being crushed under all that muscle and bare skin. The man wore pants, but his shirt was nowhere to be seen; no coat, no decency to speak of, his well-defined torso entirely on display.

“Volker, what are you doing still here?” the witch sighed.

“I couldn’t leave knowing I might never see you again.” The young man’s eyes shone with tears as he spoke.

Elise stood at a respectable distance, keeping a keen eye on the proceedings between Morgaine and her guest. The man appeared healthy and reasonably sane, which she took as a reassuring sign. If Morgaine kept company like this, Elise might be safe in her house as well.

“Please marry me,” the man said. He was about Elise’s age, and undeniably handsome.

“Volker, we have talked about this,” Morgaine sighed, letting out a heavy breath.

The man was truly in a desperate state, staring at Morgaine with pleading eyes and holding her so tightly that Elise wondered if the witch might require assistance. But in Elise’s eyes Morgaine appeared entirely unfazed, and she was, after all, a witch. She resisted the faint urge to intervene and kept silent.

“Morgaine, I can’t live without you,” Volker continued. “I’m your slave.”

“Ahhh,” Morgaine grumbled. “Wait here.”

She gave Elise a quick glance. “It will only be a moment.”

Elise remained at a careful distance from Volker. She paid her respects by glancing in his direction and nodding, politely ignoring his lack of clothing. The brief exchange, however, had been enough to make her blush.

The men in Metz were a noticeable improvement over those in Noldrin, but Elise was still smarting from Edward. She had the unfortunate gift of a good memory, which insisted on recalling every word, every promise, as if any of it still mattered.

Morgaine reemerged shortly, to Volker’s great pleasure. She held a small vial of red liquid, the blessed substance bubbling and steaming as if it had been drawn from some infernal lake. Morgaine plucked one of her hairs and dropped it into the small glass container.

“Drink this.”

The handsome man, though unable to look anywhere but Morgaine’s face, followed the instruction all the same.

“By leaf and bone, leave me alone,” Morgaine whispered.

After just a few moments, Volker began to choke.

Elise glanced at Morgaine in horror, but the witch merely nodded. “He’s fine. It’s a memory potion so he can forget about me for good.”

Volker’s violent coughing ceased, and all at once he looked bewildered, like a lost deer in the woods. He glanced between Elise and Morgaine. Morgaine raised an arm toward the city.

“You were lost. Go home.”

He bolted and was gone in a matter of seconds.

“I apologize for this. I would never have thought Volker would be so taken with an old woman like myself.”