To Kill a Kettle Witch (Novel of the Mist-Torn Witches) (11 page)

“You think?” Amelie asked sarcastically.

“She seemed to believe she’d married into money.”

So Lilah had lied to both Malcolm and Ayden about Gallius being cruel.

“But to get her own husband killed?” Céline asked, aghast. “You think her capable of that?”

“It’s what I saw,” Amelie said. “Or at least she provided a reason for his arrest and put the idea to kill him in Ayden’s mind.”

“So those two times she was arrested,” Alondra asked, “she was really . . .”

“Up in the castle in bed with Prince Malcolm,” Amelie finished.

All four women were silent for a while, and then Céline asked, “Can anyone see how this might help us?”

“Not yet,” Amelie answered, “but I saw all of that for a reason. Céline, did you see anything of use?”

“Not much.” She glanced over at Helga in concern. “I did see what I believe to be a near-future image of Jago arguing with his father. Jago is ready to attack the guards and escape. His father said no, and he said it quite adamantly. He also suggested that the other leaders would never sanction such action.”

“Silvanas has always been cautious,” Alondra put in.

“He looks out for himself,” Helga added bitterly.

“So Silvanas is the leader of the Taragoš family? And Rupert leads the Renéive?” Céline asked. She appeared to grow thoughtful. “But the line of Fawe is led by Sinead, and the Marentõrs also pass leadership down the female line. Why are some families led by men and others by women?”

“Tradition,” Helga answered, seeming a bit more like herself now. “The families go back for hundreds of years, and the Móndyalítko follow tradition.”

The group fell silent again, and then Helga asked, “So, are we going to say anything about that little vixen getting her husband killed and bedding Prince Malcolm?”

“Not yet,” Céline answered quickly. “We don’t know how it’s connected to the curse, and we may need to use such information against her or Prince Malcolm later.”

The door to the wagon opened, and Jaromir leaned inside.

“Where have you been?” Amelie asked.

“Up at the castle,” he answered as if he were discussing the weather.

She stood up. “You went to the castle without telling us? How . . . how did you get out of the meadow?”

He waved the question off as if it were unimportant. “I slipped out into the trees and then walked up to the gates. But I delivered a letter from Prince Anton, offering Malcolm your services, and he wants to speak to you both. He’s sending an escort before dusk.”

“What?” Céline asked. “You never said anything about bringing a letter from Anton. Why would the guards even let you inside the courtyard?”

“I looked like myself, wearing my armor, tabard, and sword. I hid them under a wagon and brought them along.” He seemed impatient at the questions. “None of this matters. Just be ready to go at dusk.”

“Why didn’t you tell us any of this before?” Céline asked.

“Prince Anton’s orders. He wanted me to make certain Malcolm wasn’t a danger first.”

As Amelie stood staring at Jaromir, she felt heat rising into her face. He’d come here with his own agenda—dictated by Anton—and hadn’t breathed a word. He’d brought a letter, his armor, and his sword hidden somewhere. He’d slipped away today without telling anyone.

On the journey here, she’d spent a week, sitting beside him on a wagon bench chatting about the route and the scenery, thinking him a partner in this venture, and all that time, he’d kept her in the dark about his own plans of what he would do once he got here.

She couldn’t speak.

She thought he’d finally begun to view her as an equal in these ventures, not merely as a tool to be used in the service of Prince Anton.

“Bring your medicines when we go up,” he said to Céline. “Malcolm’s son is ill.”

With that, he pulled the door closed and disappeared from sight.

For Céline, the afternoon passed slowly.

Amelie wasn’t speaking to Jaromir, and to make matters worse, he didn’t appear to notice. Something was troubling Marcus as well, and he kept finding things to do such as brush the horses or maintenance on the wagons.

As he was needlessly cleaning one of the wheels, Céline crouched down beside him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He wouldn’t look at her. “I helped your lieutenant slip out of camp today . . . as his distraction. I didn’t quite realize the situation.”

Was that all that was bothering him? He’d helped Jaromir slip away?

“It’s all right,” she said. “He’s very good at getting people to do what he wants.”

“But now he says that you are all going to be taken up to the castle tonight, and I’m not to go. I don’t like it. Does he think he can protect you alone?”

“Oh.” She paused. “Please don’t worry. He wouldn’t be taking us if he thought there was any danger.”

“But he doesn’t know. How long was he up there today? Less than an hour?”

She had no words of comfort to offer him, and she had no idea how to quell Amelie’s anger, but in truth, she was greatly relieved that Jaromir had gained them entrance to the noble family living in that castle.

The roots of any real secrets or any grudges would most likely be found up there.

Shortly before dusk, she had just gathered her box of medicinal supplies and walked down the steps of the white wagon when three Yegor guards rode in on horses.

Amelie and Jaromir were ready and waiting outside.

The lead guard called out, “Where is the healer?”

Céline stepped forward. “Here. My sister and her husband are to accompany me.”

He frowned at the word “husband” and glanced at Jaromir but said nothing.

Their aunt Sinead, however, saw all of this and came hurrying over in alarm. “What is this about?” she demanded of the guard.

Quickly, Céline moved to her. “I think one of the guards down here told the prince about a newly arrived healer. Prince Malcolm’s son is ill, and I’ve been called up. It would be best if Amelie and Jaromir accompanied me.”

Sinead listened to this and calmed somewhat. “Would you like me to come, too?”

Céline smiled. “No, thank you. We’ll be fine.” She couldn’t help being touched by her aunt’s concern.

Turning away, she started for the castle.

The guards remained on horseback but kept their
mounts at a slow pace so Céline, Amelie, and Jaromir could walk.

The journey was short, and they passed through the open gates and into the courtyard. A middle-aged guard approached and dismissed the horsemen.

“Captain Renald,” Jaromir greeted him. “These are Prince Anton’s seers.”

The man blinked several times. “Where is your uniform?”

“Hidden. In the encampment, we’re all passing ourselves off as Móndyalítko. Has Prince Malcolm told you who we are?”

“Yes.”

“We needed to earn trust in order to conduct a quiet investigation.”

“Céline and I
are
half Móndyalítko,” Amelie bit off, correcting Jaromir.

He ignored the comment, and so did the captain.

“This way,” Renald said.

He led them through the main doors of the castle. Inside, there were passages running left, right, and straight ahead. He took them down the center passage, which emptied into a large hall.

Three people stood before a dead hearth. It was still too warm to require a fire.

Céline rapidly assessed all three people as they turned.

The first was a tall man with wide shoulders wearing a leather hauberk. He was about fifty, with silver hair and a handsome face. This must be Prince Malcolm.

Beside him stood an elegant woman of perhaps thirty. She was slender with white-blond hair that hung
loose, held back at her forehead by a simple sliver tiara. Her eyes were vivid blue and her skin ivory. Her face was a tad narrow and her nose perhaps a bit long, but she stood with a straight, dignified quality that reminded Céline of Sinead. Her velvet gown was emerald green and cut to show her narrow waist.

Her expression was unreadable.

The hall’s third occupant was a young woman of about eighteen. Dressed in red silk, she could not have been more different from the woman in the center. This younger woman was short and curvy. Her chestnut hair was piled on her head to add a bit of height. She had a face that most likely showed every emotion that passed through her head.

As Céline, Amelie, and Jaromir entered the hall, she was staring at them in open curiosity until her gaze fell upon Amelie. Then she frowned and glanced at the prince as if concerned.

Prince Malcolm stepped forward.

Before he could speak, Jaromir said, “My lord, may I present Céline and Amelie Fawe, seers to Prince Anton?”

Malcolm’s gaze brushed over Céline and stopped on Amelie. After a moment, he seemed to remember himself and nodded. Half turning, he said, “This is my wife, the Lady Anna, and my daughter, Jenelle, from my first marriage.”

Céline filed that information away. It seemed he’d been widowed and then remarried someone at least twenty years younger than himself.

Lady Anna moved up to join her husband. Her feet seemed to glide beneath her gown. As with the captain
who’d first greeted them, beneath her calm veneer she showed a flash of alarm at the sight of the three people in her hall dressed as Móndyalítko.

“May I know which one of you is Prince Anton’s physician?” she asked.

Her voice was carefully modulated, but Céline heard the underlying confusion.

Instinctively, Céline pitched her own voice to sound exactly like that of a lady of Anton’s court, and she answered. “That would be me, my lady. Please forgive our attire. My sister and I have Móndyalítko blood on our mother’s side, and Prince Anton felt it might be wise for us to play upon this. He advised us to join the encampment in an attempt to win trust and cooperation.” With a smile, she gestured toward Jaromir. “I’m still not accustomed to seeing the lieutenant without his armor and sword. It’s all been rather disconcerting.”

None of this was precisely true, but it was something Lady Anna would understand.

Upon hearing Céline’s tone, diction, and explanation, Lady Anna smiled in return. “Oh, I do see. I’m sure this has been difficult for you, and I thank you for coming.” The smile reached her eyes, and her voice was warm. Then she said, “I’ve only just left my son a few moments ago so that I could come and meet you. Might we go to him now?”

“Yes. I hope I can offer some help.”

Lady Anna looked to Amelie and Jaromir. “Too many visitors overwhelm him. Please wait here with my lord.” She then turned to Jenelle. “Do you wish to come, my dear?”

Jenelle’s eyes shifted once again between Amelie
and Prince Malcolm. “No, I think I’ll stay. You can give me a report when you return.”

Céline wondered what Jenelle might be thinking, but she also heard a clear connection between the two women. Anna might be her stepmother, but they appeared to get on well.

Lady Anna led the way, and Céline fell into step beside her. They walked back down the center passage and turned right. From there, they made their way to the base of a tower.

As they began to climb, Céline asked, “Can you tell me what ails your son?”

“It is his breathing, and it has troubled him all his life. My brother had the same ailment as a child and grew out of it. I hope the same for Lysander.”

Lysander.

Céline liked the name. “Is he worse at some times than others?”

“Yes, summers are the worst when the air turns hot, but this year he fell so ill when . . .”

“When the curse began?”

Anna nodded. “I’m not sure what the connection could be unless it is the quality of the air. It has been so dusty.” She paused and stopped Céline. “Over the years, my husband has allowed several physicians to see Lysander, and some of the experiences have been troubling. One man actually bled him before I realized what was happening and put a stop to it. I’ll not have any of that nonsense near my son.”

Céline’s opinion of Anna was rising by the moment. “I don’t believe in any of that nonsense, either, and I will do nothing without your permission.”

“Very well, then.”

They emerged on the second floor and stopped at the third door on the right. Anna opened it and walked in first.

“I’ve brought someone to see you,” she said.

Following her, Céline found herself standing in a child’s bedroom. There was a toy barn and horses and little soldiers in one corner. The only occupant Céline saw at first was a maid in a white apron who bowed to Anna.

“How has he been, Jane?” Anna asked.

“The same, my lady.”

Céline then saw a small white-blond boy in a large bed. He looked to be about eight years old. He was pale with dark circles under his eyes. When he attempted to breathe, he drew the air in through his mouth instead of his nose, and he made a wheezing sound. Céline had seen this before.

Quickly, she went to the maid. “Jane, could you please send to the kitchens for a teapot of boiling water and a large bowl?”

Jane looked to her mistress.

After a moment, Anna nodded and Jane left the room.

Céline went over to Lysander, put her box on the floor, and sat on the bed. He watched her with some trepidation, and she had a feeling that his mother had not been exaggerating about his experiences with physicians. Perhaps he knew a healer of some kind when he saw one.

“Hello, Lysander,” she said. “I am Céline, and I promise not to do anything you won’t like. I need to listen to your chest with my ear. May I do that?”

Still watching her cautiously, he nodded.

Leaning down, Céline put her ear to his chest. “Try to breathe for me.”

Though the wheeze was audible, she heard nothing rattle. He was not congested, and the wheeze was due to the effort it took him to draw breath. His air pipes were constricted.

Sitting up, she said, “Could you open your mouth?”

He did, and she could see his throat was raw and sore from the sheer effort of breathing.

“We’re only going to do two things today,” she said. “I know you will like the first. The second won’t be fun, but I promise it won’t hurt at all.”

She could see him relaxing. She spoke the truth, and he was beginning to trust her.

“What is the first?” he asked.

“I want you to drink a little of a syrup that I make.”

Moving to the floor, she opened her box and took out a bottle. Holding it for Lady Anna to see, she said, “This is nothing but water steeped and then resteeped in a large jar packed with rose petals. Afterward, I mix the water with honey, and it creates a soothing elixir for the throat.”

Most children liked the taste of this, and it made them feel better if they had a cough or sore throat.

“Can you help him to sit up?” she asked.

Anna came over to help, moving the pillows and helping her son while Céline took a wooden spoon from the box.

Lysander was an agreeable boy, and he drank down three spoonfuls as she offered them.

“I’ll leave this with you,” Céline said to Anna. “If his throat becomes sore, give him several spoonfuls.”

The door opened and Jane came back in carrying a heavy teapot and a bowl.

“Set the bowl on that table,” Céline instructed. Looking around, she picked up a spare blanket at the end of the bed. “Lysander, do you think you could sit in your chair for a short while?”

“Why?” he asked, taking a wheezing breath.

“I’m going to have you sit and lean over that bowl. Then I’m going to pour water into the bowl and settle this blanket over your head. Steam will come off the water, and you’ll breathe it in.”

“That’s all?” he asked.

“That’s all.”

“You believe that will help?” Lady Anna asked.

“I do.”

Anna and Jane both helped Lysander out of bed and to the chair. Céline poured the hot water into the bowl and then put the blanket over the boy, covering the bowl and trapping as much of the steam as she could.

“Breathe as deeply as you can,” she said.

She could hear him trying, and after a few moments, the wheezing lessened. A short while later, it stopped, and she could hear him breathing without much labor.

Lady Anna heard this, too, and her blue eyes widened.

Céline kept the blanket over Lysander until the water ceased to give off steam, and then she lifted it. He was breathing normally through his nose without laboring through his mouth. His face had more color.

Lady Anna helped him back to bed. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes, Mama.”

She looked to Céline. “Steam?”

“His ailment is not uncommon, especially in children. You mentioned your brother had this and outgrew it? Dry air or sometimes overexertion causes difficulties with their air pipes. Steam will usually help relax their pipes and allow them to breathe more easily.”

Lysander laid his head on the pillow and seemed exhausted. Hopefully, he could sleep now.

Lady Anna came to Céline. “I don’t know what to say. You would not believe some of the things I’ve been told to try.”

Unfortunately, Céline would.

“I haven’t healed him,” she said, “only given him some relief.”

“Yes, but you’ve given us something that works when he becomes this ill.”

Céline was almost embarrassed. The lady behaved as if she’d performed a miracle.

It was time to use the goodwill she’d gained.

“If Lysander is able to sleep, perhaps we should go back to the hall and discuss . . . the other matter.”

With a final glance at her son, Anna answered, “Yes.”

*   *   *

As Céline walked back into the hall with Lady Anna, she noted the relief on Jaromir’s face at the sight of her.

Malcolm and Jenelle walked to Anna, and the three began conferring in low voices.

Céline used to the opportunity to go to Jaromir and Amelie by the hearth. “Is everything all right?”

“I’ve been attempting to make small talk until your return,” Jaromir answered tightly, glaring at Amelie. “And I’ve had no help.”

Ugh.

Amelie was still angry with Jaromir, but Céline hadn’t expected her to leave him high and dry in this situation.