To Kill a Kettle Witch (Novel of the Mist-Torn Witches) (21 page)

Céline tested the water with her hand. It was nearly
boiling, but plenty of steam rose. Using the cold water, she lowered the temperature just enough that Lysander would not be scalded.

“All right, get him in,” she said.

Quickly, Lysander was stripped down to his underdrawers, and then Lady Anna lifted him and carried him to the tub. The woman was stronger than she looked. She settled him with his back against the front of the tub.

“There, my darling,” she said. “Try to lean back and breathe.”

Amelie, Jane, and Céline held blankets up and around the tub to keep in the steam. The kitchen women continued to work, removing water as it cooled and replacing it with hot.

After a while, Lysander ceased gasping and his breathing began to ease.

Céline kept him in there and maintained the steady pace of work around him going on for some time. She watched the boy until he breathed normally and some of his color had returned and his eyes appeared to grow sleepy. He must be exhausted.

Still, she kept him in the steam.

Finally, she nodded to Lady Anna. “I think we can dry him and let him get some rest.”

Anna appeared weary, too, but her eyes were grateful. “Thank you.”

She lifted her son from the tub, not caring that the water splashed on her velvet gown, and together, she and Céline dried him, dressed him in a long-sleeved wool shirt, and got him back to bed.

He was asleep almost immediately.

“Leave the tub for now,” Anna instructed the servants quietly. “Jane will sit with him while he rests. I must go and speak with the prince.”

Everyone but Jane left the room.

Céline and Amelie accompanied Lady Anna to the great hall. When they arrived, they found Malcolm, Jenelle, and Jaromir waiting. There was no else besides a few guards and a few servants, who were busy clearing away some mugs and pitchers.

At the sight of Anna, both Malcolm and Jenelle went to Anna quickly as she began to explain what had happened upstairs.

To Céline’s surprise, Amelie grabbed her hand and pulled her off to where Jaromir stood by the hearth.

“Listen to me,” Amelie whispered, “because we may have to act quickly.”

Céline had known something was coming, but she’d not expected it to be this urgent.

“Malcolm has written to Prince Rodêk seeking an annulment to his marriage,” Amelie rushed in a low whisper. “He’s planning to put Anna aside and marry Lilah.”

“What?” Jaromir whispered back. “No. Princes don’t put their noble ladies aside and marry Móndyalítko camp girls.”

Once again, he seemed to have no idea how arrogant he sounded.

“It’s true,” Amelie answered. “The entire kitchen staff seems to know, and they’re already treating Lilah like the mistress of the castle.” She took a shallow breath. “If they know . . . Lady Anna could know.”

Céline stared at her. An annulment would be worse
than divorce in this case. Lysander would be declared illegitimate, and Anna would have no recourse at all. If Anna knew of this plan being hatched, she had a stronger motive to hurt Malcolm than any of the Móndyalítko women.

But the curse had made Lysander so ill, and Anna was genuinely distraught. How could she have cast it?

Still . . .

“What do you want to do?” Céline whispered.

“I need to read her. Now.” Amelie looked to Jaromir. “Even if we have to . . .”

She trailed off, but Céline understood what she’d meant and so would he. More than once, Jaromir had held someone down while one of the sisters did a reading. In this case, they might need him to apply his strength in another direction.

Jaromir’s expression was unreadable. He was capable of almost anything in the line of duty, but he’d never had to use force against a prince or a prince’s family.

After a moment, though, he said to Amelie, “I’ll handle it. Wait for me to tell you to move.”

Malcolm, Lady Anna, and Jenelle broke up their small conference and approached the hearth.

“I am told that once again, I have you to thank,” Malcolm said to Céline. “I am at a loss for words.”

He appeared so concerned for his son—whom he was planning to cast off as a bastard. Could he be so heartless as to pretend this relief?

“None of us have eaten,” Lady Anna said. “And I thought I would order an early lunch. Will you all please stay and eat with us? Céline, I would so like for you to check on Lysander again before you leave today.”

The servants had left the hall with the mugs, and only three Yegor guards remained.

Before Céline could answer, Jaromir stepped in.

“My lord, before that,” he said to Malcolm, “would you mind clearing the room? Something has come to our attention concerning the curse, and it must be shared in private.”

Surprise and hope passed across Malcolm’s face. “You know something? You can share anything in front of my guards.”

Jaromir shook his head. “No. In private. Send them out.”

Once again, he used the same tone with which he spoke to his men in Sèone. But Malcolm was a prince, and he frowned. Clearly, he didn’t care for ultimatums. “I would prefer they remain.”

“Then we’ll say nothing.”

Both Lady Anna and Jenelle began to appear uncomfortable with the scene playing out before them.

Angry now, Malcolm finally looked to his men and waved one hand. “Out.”

All three guards nodded and strode from the hall.

“Well?” Malcolm demanded. “What is this news?”

By way of answer, Jaromir stepped forward and looked to Amelie. “Now,” he said.

Before Céline could think or move, Amelie dashed forward and grasped Anna’s hand, pulling her away from Malcolm and Jenelle.

Shocked, Malcolm started after them. Jaromir shoved him back against the wall and pinned him there. Malcolm tried to pitch him off.

He failed.

The lieutenant was immovable.

Jenelle’s eyes widened in alarm, but Céline held up one hand. “Please. Please wait.”

By then Amelie had pulled Lady Anna down to kneel on the floor, still gripping her hand, and both women’s faces had gone blank with their eyes far away.

*   *   *

Amelie fought to grasp the spark of Anna’s spirit.

Although it was a terrible invasion, she knew she couldn’t go back as only an observer this time. She needed to see and feel the past as Anna had felt it. Merely watching events as they had played out would not be enough in this case.

The first jolt hit. Amelie fought to latch onto Anna’s spirit, and when she had it, she forced it to mesh with her own. She could feel anxiety flooding Anna’s mind, but she didn’t let go. She struggled to see through Anna’s eyes and feel what she had felt and experienced . . .

Until she was Anna.

The second jolt hit.

The room around them vanished, and they were swept backward together through the gray and white
mists.

Lady Anna, Princess of Yegor

Anna Janvier was lucky enough to grow up in a place that she loved, surrounded by people she loved.

Her grandfather had made a fortune dealing in timber and stone and then built a manor in central Droevinka about a hundred miles south of Kéonsk. Later, her father, Henri Janvier, proved an equally skilled businessman, and as a result, when he’d made an offer of marriage to Lady Roweena Lambert, who was first cousin to the young prince of house of Hilaron, his offer was accepted.

When Roweena came to live at the Janvier manor, she brought her sister, Siobhan, with her, announcing they couldn’t be separated yet. Anna’s father had agreed to this arrangement without reservation. He would have agreed to anything.

He valued Roweena and was astonished to have married so high.

Some people said this went to his head, and he forgot that he was not noble himself but had risen in station via his wealth.

Henri, Roweena, and Siobhan set up house together in the manor, and the three of them got on well.

Or these were the stories Anna was later told.

Shortly after the marriage, children began to arrive.

Anna’s brother, Landon, came first, then Anna, and then her younger sister, Adrienne. From the time Anna could walk, she remembered her aunt Siobhan as the most prominent person in her life, always there with either a hug or a scolding. Her father and mother were more reserved with their affections and attention, waiting to see what value each of the children might offer.

Landon and Anna took after the Janvier side of the family, slender and blond with quiet natures. Adrienne took after their mother’s side, short of stature, with a mass of chestnut hair.

As a boy, Landon had difficulties with his health and was often kept indoors because of breathing troubles. Some seasons were better than others.

By the time Anna was eight years old, she’d become fully indoctrinated into Aunt Siobhan’s opinions on life. Siobhan strongly believed in personal responsibility and that for every crime, there must be a punishment. She lavished love on Anna and her siblings but was also swift with justice.

This proved puzzling at times.

One cold winter, Anna was inside the manor, working on a painting of a bowl of fruit—as her mother felt it was important that she master the art of painting still lifes. Aunt Siobhan came up quietly behind her, and as Anna turned in surprise her small brush stroked red paint all across her aunt’s fine fur cloak.

Anna blanched, expecting a well-deserved
punishment for such blatant carelessness. Her father would have been angry. But Aunt Siobhan only reached out to comfort her.

“Don’t fret. It was an accident. There should never be punishments for accidents, only intentional wrongs.”

This incident stayed with Anna.

A few weeks later, Adrienne and Landon had a terrible argument in the stable when they both wanted to ride the same pony. Anna witnessed the scene. At the age of seven, Adrienne could already stand up to Landon, who was ten. They shouted at each other until the stable master solved the dispute and put Landon on the pony. Adrienne’s face was dark with anger.

That evening, Landon found that his favorite toy, a carved wooden and painted horse, had been thrown into the dining room hearth, and only a few burned pieces of it remained.

He wept.

Anna knew Adrienne had done this.

Anna’s parents were far too busy to notice such trauma among their children, but Aunt Siobhan was not. She gathered them by the hearth and demanded to know what had happened. Landon managed to tell some of the story of the afternoon argument.

Siobhan looked into Adrienne’s face. “Did you do this? Did you burn your brother’s special horse?”

With a sob of her own, Adrienne confessed, and Anna could see that she did regret her actions. Normally, she and Landon were good friends.

“You did this willfully,” Aunt Siobhan said, “and there must be a punishment.” She turned to leave the hall. “Wait here.”

She was not gone long and when she returned, she carried a small purple silk gown. Adrienne’s favorite color was purple, and she’d been longing for a grown-up dress.

“I was making you this for your birthday,” Aunt Siobhan, “as I know how you wanted one.”

With that, she tossed the dress into the hearth and it caught fire.

Adrienne cried out, but Aunt Siobhan made them all watch the dress burn.

Anna found this rather harsh.

Aunt Siobhan stood firm. “The punishment must fit the wrongdoing,” she said.

And so Anna came to understand her aunt’s view of the world better. Accidents were accidents, but harmful intent required swift retribution.

Two years later, this was driven home on a much larger scale.

Anna had sensed her father was troubled about something. One day, he took a retinue of house guards and left the manor, riding away.

Troubled, Anna went to Siobhan.

“Aunt,” she asked. “Where is Papa going?”

She knew her mother would only brush her away.

“Kéonsk,” Siobhan answered. “He’d been planning to cut down five acres of trees on the west edge of his lands, to sell the lumber. But our neighbor, Allard Telanger, offered a dispute, swearing those trees are on his own property. The deeds to both estates aren’t clear, so your father has gone to see the magistrate in Kéonsk to let the matter be judged.”

Upon hearing this, Anna was somewhat relieved.
Although she felt sorry for her father, a land dispute was not the worst thing in the world, and she was glad to have been made privy to the truth.

However, he returned with a defeated face, and at dinner, he discussed the matter openly and told the family what had happened.

“The magistrate found in favor of Telanger,” he said, “which I would have accepted. Then one of the magistrate’s clerks told me in private that Telanger offered a large bribe before the hearing. The ruling was bought and paid for.”

Again, Anna was sorry for her father, but she had a feeling that, considering the size of their property, these five acres wouldn’t be too great a loss.

In the night, as she slept in a large bed with Adrienne, both sisters were awakened by their aunt.

“Get dressed, girls,” Siobhan whispered. “You have much to learn tonight.”

Outside, Anna was surprised to find a horse and two ponies saddled. There was a large sack tied to the saddle of the horse.

“Mount up,” their aunt ordered.

It never occurred to Anna to refuse. The three of them rode into the night alone, down the road, and then through forest. Growing weary, Anna had the feeling a good deal of time had passed.

Finally, Aunt Siobhan pulled up and dismounted.

She walked to an enormous oak tree that reached into the night sky. “Do you see this?” she asked.

Anna and Adrienne both nodded.

“This is the border of your father’s land. I learned that your grandfather used this oak as a landmark when
he purchased the property—or so your father told me. So the five acres behind us rightfully belong to your father, and this Allard Telanger has stolen them away through bribery. Should Telanger be allowed to benefit from his willful treachery?”

“No, Auntie,” the girls said dutifully.

Intentional crimes must be punished; these were the teachings of Aunt Siobhan.

Taking down the large bag, their aunt took out firewood, an iron hook, and a cauldron. She built a fire and set the cauldron over the flame. The she drew out a water flask and poured water into the cauldron.

Other, smaller items came from the bag. “Come and look, girls.”

Anna and Adrienne moved to see what she’d withdrawn.

There was a sharp knife and a leather glove. Anna recognized the glove. It was her father’s. Siobhan took the knife and walked to several of the trees behind them, cutting off bits of the branches.

When she returned, she sat cross-legged before the cauldron.

“Sit with me,” she said, “one of you on each side.”

They did.

“What will you do?” Anna asked.

“We will do it together. Telanger’s punishment must be fitting, don’t you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Each of you put one hand on my leg and wish your strength into me.”

Anna and Adrienne both reached out, each grasping one of their aunt’s knees.

The water in the cauldron boiled, and Aunt Siobhan looked up at the night sky.

“Hear my cry!” she called.

Then she looked into the cauldron.

“For the one who was wronged,” she said, dropping the glove into the water.

Picking up the knife, she slashed her own hand open, letting blood run into the water.

“Life force from the one who seeks justice,” she said.

Then she picked up the bits of branches from the trees and dropped them.

Closing her eyes, she whispered, “A curse upon trees won in betrayal; only those stolen from the wronged; death and disease upon the spoils, but nothing else will be touched.”

With her eyes still closed, she raised her head again.

“Hear my cry!”

Her hands dropped down over Anna’s and Adrienne’s. Anna’s hand was instantly slick with blood. “Now, girls, share your strength. Repeat my words and let your strength flow.”

All three of them chanted.

A curse upon trees won in betrayal.

Only those stolen from the wronged.

Death and disease upon the spoils.

But nothing else will be touched.

Hear my cry!

Anna focused, trying to pass all the strength inside her to her aunt. Nothing about these actions seemed
frightening or strange. A wrong had been done and must be addressed.

A cracking sounded around them. Letting go of her aunt’s hand, Anna stood and turned. The trees behind them began to change color, fading and dying. Leaves and needles fell to the ground. Branches withered. The earth grew dry and dusty.

“All five acres will die?” Anna asked.

“All five acres, but only those,” Siobhan confirmed. “Telanger will gain nothing from his bribe.”

They rode home. Anna washed any remaining blood from her hands and let her aunt tuck her back in. She slept well.

The next day, their father announced that a blight of some kind had hit the five acres he’d lost, and the timber was worthless to Telanger. He had no explanation.

Anna listened and said nothing. Neither did Adrienne.

*   *   *

In the days that followed, Anna asked Siobhan where she had learned to cast such spells, and her aunt smiled as if remembering something important.

“Like you, my parents were too busy for children, only mine hired someone. She was the wisest woman I ever met. My parents did not know this, but she had traveled with Móndyalítko, and she taught me many things. As a girl, your mother wasn’t interested in her teachings, but I hope to teach you and Adrienne many things, too.”

Anna was torn.

She loved her aunt, but their spirits and natures
were different, and even then, Anna was not certain of Siobhan’s black-and-white view of the world and of the need for swift justice.

Still, she couldn’t forget the feeling of power that flowed through her that night in the forest.

One afternoon, Aunt Siobhan was in the girls’ room, showing them how to make a satchel from lavender, and their mother walked in. When she saw them sitting on the floor with the lavender, she stopped.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was strained.

Adrienne held up her satchel. “Auntie says that if we put these under our pillows, they’ll cut off bad dreams.”

Like lightning, Mother grabbed the satchel from her hand and then turned on Siobhan. “You will
not
teach my children any of that filthy nonsense. I thought you’d given all that up years . . .” She trailed off and took a step back. “Siobhan, you didn’t have anything to do with all that timber dying?”

“Of course I did,” Siobhan answered. “What did you think happened?”

“Out,” Mother said. “I want to talk to you.”

Both women left. Anna and Adrienne stared at each other, uncertain what to think.

After that, their mother spent more time with them each day. She and Siobhan seemed to make up, as they were close sisters, but Siobhan was no longer the only adult in their lives, and she never again taught Anna to cast more spells.

The summer Anna turned eleven, the manor was abuzz with talk of the yearly gathering of the princes
in Kéonsk. The gathering was intended for the most powerful men of the land to discuss matters of state, but their wives came as well, and a good many social events were planned.

Other nobles were invited, and Anna’s parents often attended.

Before his marriage, Anna’s father had never been part of such gatherings, but now he was closely connected to the house of Hilaron and behaved as if such invitations were his due. He, Anna’s mother, and Siobhan packed for numerous dinners and dances that would take place at and around Castle Kéonsk.

They would be gone three weeks, and the children were left under the care of the family’s housekeeper and under the protection of the manor guards.

Although Anna knew she would miss her mother and aunt, their absence provided an opportunity for more freedom.

By this point, Landon was thirteen. He’d outgrown his childhood ailments and had graduated from a pony to a horse. The children used this time of less supervision to go riding almost every day. The land of their estate was heavily forested, with a large rock quarry in the northern quarter.

Their father was careful about harvesting timber, and as opposed to clearing the land for crops—as was so often done—he had stumps removed and he replanted trees. It would be years before they were large enough to be of use, but this was how his father had run the business and it had proven successful.

The rock quarry was also an interesting playground with many places to hide.

Three weeks passed swiftly.

However, when their parents and Aunt Siobhan returned, Anna felt a shift in the world. Her aunt had changed. She barely welcomed Anna with a distracted kiss and showed no intention of regaling the children with stories of her adventures in Kéonsk. Instead, she paced the manor restlessly and spent much of her time listening for hoofbeats out in the courtyard. Whenever she would hear anyone approaching the manor, she would run out to see if it was a messenger.