To Kill a Kettle Witch (Novel of the Mist-Torn Witches) (12 page)

Before any of them could speak again, Malcolm strode over. “My lady says you have been of great assistance, and that Lysander is sleeping easily.”

“I didn’t do much,” Céline answered. “But sometimes simple things work best.”

“Indeed.” He studied her face more closely. “We decided to wait to speak of other matters until you and my lady returned. Could you now tell us more of this business of you as Anton’s seers? What exactly does that mean?”

Céline knew to make this sound as matter-of-fact as possible, and again, to invoke Anton’s name. “Amelie can touch people and see images of their past. I see images of their future. Prince Anton has engaged us three times to find the cause of various issues for his family. In all three cases, we succeeded. That is why he sent us to you.”

“And how exactly did he learn of my . . . issue, as you so politely put it? I’m facing complete ruin, and I’d like to know how word spread to the southwest region.”

This was an awkward question, and she decided to fall back on partial honesty. “I am not entirely certain, my lord. Prince Anton has a Móndyalítko woman, from the line of Ayres, employed at Castle Sèone. I believe someone sent her word.”

While this answer didn’t appear to satisfy him entirely, his concern was probably a matter of keeping his current plight as private as possible until it could be solved—if it could be solved. If a message was sent to a Móndyalítko woman in Prince Anton’s employment, from Malcolm’s perspective, that might be the only leak.

“And in your time in the encampment, what have you learned so far?” he asked.

Lady Anna and Jenelle came closer to listen. Céline was not certain what to make of Jenelle. She was quiet, but she also seemed poignantly aware of everything happening in this hall.

Turning her attention to Malcolm’s question, Céline braced herself. She was about to launch into a gamble she’d been considering all afternoon. “We’ve learned nothing in regards to who is responsible for cursing the crops. Today, our purpose was mainly to clear the names of those people who wished to be pronounced as innocent. But . . .”

She let the word hang in the air.

“But what?” Malcolm pressed.

“One thing became clearer and clearer to both Amelie and me as the morning passed. The Móndyalítko we’ve read all wish to resolve this crisis as badly as you do. They spend the better part of the year on the road doing performances for money. They’ve no wish to lose their summer haven. Why do you think they have not attacked your guards and left the meadow?”

“Attacked my guards?”

“There are a hundred people down there. They
have strong men and weapons. You have twelve guards posted at a time.”

“If they tried that, I’d send soldiers after them.”

“And they know it, and the situation would escalate, and even if they managed to overcome the soldiers, they’ll have made an enemy of you. That’s the last thing the leaders of the families want. They want the crops growing and healthy again. They want the trust between you and themselves reestablished.”

Malcolm’s brow wrinkled. “What is it you’re suggesting?”

“Join forces with them. Free them. Call off your men. Let the Móndyalítko fish in the stream and fetch their own water. Let them collect firewood. Let them hunt in the forested areas and take their horses farther afar to graze.”

“What? No. They’d pull out by morning, and then I’d never know who placed the curse or how to reverse it.”

“They would not, not if you go down and speak to the leaders yourself. Ask for their help. Ask that no one leave until this is resolved. They will work with you. They will watch their own and see who might try to escape. If you ask the leaders for their help and show trust in them, you will solve this much faster than treating them all as suspect criminals.”

His eyes were locked on her face, and she could see his hope begin to rise. Then he glanced away. “Things may have already gone too far. There was an incident. I’m sure you’ve been told. I had a man questioned, and he was killed. I didn’t intend for it to happen, but
it did. You think those people will be able to get past a death?”

Céline hated herself for sounding as if she discounted Gallius’s life, but there were many other lives at stake. “I do. He wasn’t Móndyalítko. He’d only married in to the line of Renéive last year. These people are pragmatic, and as I told you, they want to resolve this.”

“Even if one of them placed the curse? And who else could it possibly be?”

It could be anyone,
she thought, but didn’t say it.

“Yes. Even if it proves to be one of them,” she answered. “Free them and ask the leaders for their help. I promise you will receive it.”

Malcolm looked to his wife. “Anna, what do you think?”

“I think this is very good counsel,” she answered.

Slowly, he nodded to Céline. “All right. I’ll go back down with you tonight.”

Shortly after arriving back at the encampment, Jaromir could still hardly believe what Céline had accomplished. The scene taking place down here in the meadow also gave him new insights into Malcolm.

The man was gifted with charm.

He called everyone—including his own guards—to the largest campfire in the center of the wagons, and he announced that he’d been wrong to imprison the Móndyalítko for the past twelve days and that all guards would be pulled off tonight. Additionally, he would be sending grain for the horses and food supplies for the people to supplement what they could provide for themselves via hunting and fishing.

Jaromir hadn’t expected him to be clever enough to take Céline’s idea and embellish it.

There were no cheers in answer to his speech, but many people nodded in relief as the news began to sink in.

After this, Malcolm moved into the crowd, speaking one by one to Rupert, Sinead, Silvanas, and the leaders of the other families. Though he apologized with what
sounded to be true sincerity to Rupert over the death of Gallius, he was wise enough not to offer any sort of compensation, which would have been taken as an insult.

Rupert didn’t offer absolution in return to the apology, but he took Malcolm’s hand when it was offered.

“He’s much better at this than I’d expected,” a soft voice said to Jaromir’s left.

He looked down to see Céline standing at his shoulder.

“I agree,” Jaromir answered. “He’s the one who wronged them, but the moment that grain and those food supplies arrive, they’ll be grateful to him.”

“Even I didn’t think to suggest that.”

“No, but you thought up the rest of it, and you posed it to him perfectly. Sometimes you still manage to amaze me.”

She raised one eyebrow. “A little cleverness amazes you?”

Realizing how condescending he’d just sounded, he smiled in apology. “No. Sorry.”

She smiled back at him and then turned her eyes to the crowd. Malcolm was standing with Lilah, Rupert’s beautiful daughter. Céline’s smile faded.

“Those two are sleeping together,” she said quietly. “And she was the one who arranged to have her own husband arrested.”

He started with a jolt. “Are you certain? Malcolm seems so attentive to his wife. He even asked for her counsel.”

“Yes, I’m certain. Amelie saw it.”

“When?”

“This morning.”

“And I’m just hearing about it now?”

“You are no one to complain about the lack of sharing information.”

At that, a rush of anger passed through him. Neither Céline nor Amelie had a right to chastise him for following Anton’s orders.

The anger passed, and he looked around, seeking Amelie. He hated being at odds with her. Nothing felt right when there were hard feelings between them. In all his life, he’d never once cared if one of his mistresses was displeased with him. Amelie wasn’t even his mistress, and yet he couldn’t help suffering over her opinion of him. A part of him wished he could alter this and live in a state of not caring.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. I saw her speaking to Sinead’s husband a little while ago, but you know her, and it’s best to leave her alone until her temper eases. If you try to force her into telling you why she’s so angry—and I think you know the answer—the two of you will just end up fighting.”

Before he could respond, Marcus came walking up. He reached out for Céline, embraced her quickly, and let her go.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“We have you to thank for this,” he said. “I know it.” He glanced toward the forest. “I wanted to tell you that now we’ve been freed, Leif and I are going hunting. We may be gone half the night.”

“Of course,” she answered, and then she looked through the crowed. “I haven’t seen Helga. Do you know where she is?”

“In the blue wagon,” Marcus answered. “She’s been in there alone since you left. Something troubles her.”

“I know it does.” She started to walk away. “I’m going to go and speak with her. Marcus, be careful hunting, and, Jaromir, remember what I said about Amelie.”

As she left, Marcus followed her with his eyes. “There is no one else like her,” he said.

Jaromir could not disagree. “No, there isn’t.”

With that, Marcus broke into a jog, heading for the trees.

Standing alone, once again, Jaromir scanned the crowd for Amelie. He didn’t see her, but many people were moving now, heading out for water or firewood. Prince Malcolm was still speaking to some of the family leaders.

As Jaromir turned, a flash of blue caught his eye, and he saw Amelie slip from the crowd and walk swiftly toward the white wagon. She climbed the steps and disappeared inside.

He breathed in and out a few times and then, unable to stop himself, he started after her.

*   *   *

Alone inside the white wagon, Amelie sank down onto the lower bunk. Oliver was asleep up top.

She knew she should be glad that Céline had managed to free the Móndyalítko trapped here—or at least free them to a point. She wasn’t sure what would happen if the culprit was not rooted out soon, but for now, the
people were no longer confined to the perimeter of the meadow.

And she was glad.

She wasn’t bothered that her sister hadn’t said anything earlier about making an attempt to convince Prince Malcolm tonight. For all Amelie knew, the idea might have come to Céline in the moment.

Céline’s mind often moved swiftly.

But standing near Jaromir in the hall had been difficult. Her anger with him had faded enough to be replaced by worry.

He didn’t trust her.

He didn’t see her as an equal.

What did that mean for them?

Annoyed with herself, she pushed this last thought away. There was no
them
.

The door to the wagon opened, and Jaromir came inside. He closed the door behind himself, and as soon as she saw the expression on his face, her anger flooded back. She’d seen that look before. It was his “You are in the wrong for questioning my authority and you need to realize it right now” look.

She hated that look.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, but his voice was full of challenge, as if any response she gave wouldn’t be worth the air she’d used to breathe.

He was so tall his head nearly touched the ceiling, and without his armor, tabard, and sword, he almost was like a different person, as if his uniform had become part of her mental image of him.

But he wasn’t a different person. He was the same Jaromir.

“Why should I bother, when you already know, and you don’t really want to hear anything I have to say?” she answered.

His light brown eyes narrowed. “I know you’re sulking because I followed Prince Anton’s orders.”

“Sulking?” She jumped to her feet. “You think I’m sulking like one of your spoiled mistresses? You sat beside me on a bench for a week, letting me believe that you and Helga had come up with a plan to help us join with the Móndyalítko, to become part of their group and earn their trust. You let me think this was the
only
plan.” She could feel herself shaking. “And all the while, you had a sword, your amor, and a letter from Anton hidden under one of the wagons so that you could carry out an entirely different plan. You let me sit there like a fool!”

He’d gone still, watching her. “I never see you as a fool, but you aren’t the head of Anton’s military. You are one of his seers, and we have different functions.”

“Not on a task like this! When we’re this far from Sèone, Céline and I are sometimes all you have! What if you’d run into trouble up at the castle? What if you’d been arrested? The only person who even knew you’d gone up there was Marcus, and he had no idea why. We’d have been blind.” She choked once and looked away.

“Amelie . . . ,” he said, sounding shocked now, as if none of the scenarios she just mentioned had ever occurred to him.

“You don’t see me as a partner,” she went on, hating herself for the tremble in her voice, “and you never will.”

He closed the distance between them in three steps
and held her face in his hands. “Don’t say that. I do see you as a partner. I do. But I have to protect you.”

To her endless shame, she sobbed once. “And who’s going to protect you?”

His breathing was ragged, and then his mouth pressed down hard on hers. Clutching at his shirt, she kissed him back, too lost to even speak anymore. His mouth opened, and she responded, moving her lips with his.

This had happened once before, up near the Ryazan mines. Only then, she had pushed him away even though she hadn’t wanted to.

Tonight, she couldn’t bring herself to stop this. She didn’t want to stop it.

His hands slipped from her face to her back and he pulled her closer, letting her feel the strength in his body. His lips moved from her mouth to brush her cheek.

“Amelie,” he whispered.

The longing in his voice reverberated through her until she found his mouth again, kissing him with the same longing and need she’d kept locked away inside her.

Without taking her mouth from his, she sank back down on the bunk. He drew away long enough to jerk off his vest and shirt. Then he lay down beside her, stroking her face with one hand.

“Amelie,” he whispered again.

*   *   *

Céline entered the blue wagon quietly and closed the door behind herself.

Helga sat at the small stationary table staring into space. Céline sat down across from her. Without thinking, Céline reached over to grasp one of Helga’s hands.
Instead of pulling away, as she might have done, Helga gripped down on her fingers.

“I heard quite a ruckus going on out there,” Helga said. “Sounds like that prince had a change of heart?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s just forgiven, as if Gallius never died?”

“I think the leaders of the families are trying to see a larger picture.”

“They always do,” Helga said bitterly, “no matter who dies.”

“Please tell me what happened to you. I know it must have been something terrible to make you leave Alondra and leave your people. Does it have to do with the Taragoš, with Jago?”

“It’s an ugly story.”

“I want to hear it. I need to hear it.”

Helga pulled her hand away and crossed her arms. Her sharp eyes seemed a thousand miles away. Then she began to speak. . . .