Mist-Torn 01 - The Mist-Torn Witches (30 page)

Jaelle’s voice trailed off, and she, too, was staring at Jaromir.

“No,” she said, as the last of the portrait was devoured.

Then she wailed again, with the pain-filled, earsplitting sound. But her feet began to dissipate, and the blurred dissipation moved upward, through her legs and her waist.

Jaromir leaped from the fire, using his already injured hands to put out the flames on his leg.

Jaelle continued to vanish until only her head remained, and then that dissipated as well. She was gone. The wailing echo lasted a few seconds longer than she did.

Anton crawled over to Céline, who was coughing and trying rise, and he helped her sit up. But Amelie couldn’t take her eyes from Jaromir.

He’d known exactly what to do.

Somehow, he’d known.

T
wo weeks later, Céline was out back of the apothecary’s shop, working in the herb garden. Amelie had gone to the baker’s to buy some bread.

In different ways, they were both still recovering from the events up at the castle, but it had been a rapid two weeks, and throwing themselves into a surge of industry had helped to heal some of their wounds.

The sisters had salvaged all the plants in the garden that they could, and today, Céline was trimming back the lavender to help encourage new growth.

The herb garden was looking much better, and they’d started a kitchen garden of root vegetables as well, planting potatoes, onions, and carrots.

Upon leaving the castle, they’d taken nothing except the same possessions with which they’d arrived—except for the coins Amelie had won playing cards. But the shop itself, and a home in Sèone, had been the promised payment, and neither
sister had any intention of laying claim to anything else.

Céline had made quiet arrangements for Helga to sneak the miniature of Bethany back into Anton’s bedroom. The question of the miniature itself remained a mystery, how it had ended up in their room in the first place, not to mention how it kept coming out of the drawer into plain sight, as if waiting for Amelie to pick it up.

Céline had no answers and decided not to dwell on the possibilities. Having faced down one ghost had been trial enough.

She and Amelie had left the castle as soon as possible.

They’d set to work immediately, cleaning the house first and taking inventory of the pots, jars, vials, and equipment. They’d made friends with their nearest neighbors, and Amelie soon learned which butcher and which baker to patronize. Making their money last had been a concern, but Céline had been able to harvest enough herbs and flowers to make up some simple cough syrups and liniments for sore muscles and cleansers for cuts. These had sold quickly, as the people of Sèone had been without an apothecary for some time.

Céline and Amelie were made to feel welcome.

They even had a new addition to their household.

The blacksmith’s daughter, Erin, had visited last week, and when Céline had complained to
her of mice having overtaken the inside of the shop, Erin had gone home and come back with a large orange cat named Oliver. She insisted that Céline keep him, as they had an overabundance of cats at the forge.

Oliver had gone to work immediately, but he had a bad habit of bringing his dead trophies to either Céline or Amelie so they could praise him for his hunting prowess.

Céline wished he would stop doing that.

Sometimes, she still had a hard time accepting the magnitude of the changes in her life. She missed some people back in Shetâna, and even had moments of mourning her mother’s burned shop. But she loved the new shop and the feeling of safety that she and Amelie enjoyed here. It seemed so strange that if they ever had a concern, they could go to Anton’s soldiers for help.

A few people from the village had approached her, asking for a reading, but she’d politely declined—as yet. She was not healed enough to see another future. Perhaps in time.

Clipping another dead lavender stem, she noticed Oliver torturing a worm wriggling on some overturned earth. He batted it with his paw again, watching it move with great fascination.

“Stop that,” she told him. “Leave the worm alone.”

Without warning, he looked toward the back door of the shop and leaped to his feet, hissing and spitting with his orange hair standing on end.

“Oliver! What in the world is wrong with…?”

But then she followed his eyes to the open doorway and saw Lieutenant Jaromir standing there with a large wooden box in his arms. He must have come in the front door and walked through the shop. She noticed he wore gloves, and she wondered about the burns on his hands and his leg.

“It seems you’ve hired some new protection,” he said, “while I’ve been demoted to playing a delivery boy.”

Céline stood up cautiously. “Oliver, stop hissing. It’s all right.”

She hadn’t seen Jaromir or Anton since leaving the castle. Right away, she’d made more of the weakened poppy syrup for Anton, along with a salve from some wild-growing orpine that she’d found and boiled down to mix with goose grease, to help heal Jaromir’s burns. Later she’d made a cleansing tonic from colewort for Anton, but she’d sent all these up to the castle with a local boy.

“How is the prince?” she asked.

“Better.” His tone was uncertain. “He has a good deal of healing to do.”

Yes, she understood that.

“Come and look at this, Céline.” He set the box down. “Helga brought it to my attention that you left a good deal behind in your room, and she wasn’t good-natured about insisting that I bring it all down here.”

Céline went over and looked into the box. All of their gowns and stockings and underwear and Amelie’s new breeches were folded inside—along with the silver brushes and two thick cloaks, which had not previously been hanging in the wardrobe.

“Oh, Jaromir, these things weren’t ours.”

He shrugged. “Take them. No one else has any use for them, and maybe you can get Amelie back into that blue dress.”

“That would be a feat indeed.”

While the amber silk gown was hardly useful here, the cloaks, stockings, breeches, and lavender wool dress would make life easier next winter. And she’d never used anything so fine as those silver brushes.

“Just keep them,” he said, moving further out into the garden. “This is looking quite polished.”

“Thank you. Did you come only to deliver the clothing? Does the prince need more of the cleansing tonic?”

“No, I came bearing an invitation.” He paused. “To a banquet at the castle tomorrow night.”

“A banquet?” she asked quietly.

“Don’t worry, you and Amelie are just invited as guests. You’ll sit at the first table with me and Anton.”

Céline glanced away, feeling on uncertain ground again, caught somewhere between the village dwellers and the castle dwellers.

“So…am I to come as the prince’s apothecary?” she asked.

“No, as the prince’s seer.”

She didn’t speak for a moment.

“Will you come?” he asked.

“Yes, we’ll come.”

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