The Hidden Witch

by A C Rae

  Relieved that she had managed to gain some level of comfort under the blanket, not counting the stones that seemed to be poking her everywhere, she then noticed a large spider climbing up the blanket. She was about to scream, until she noticed a bemused Quinn looking at her from across the other side of the campfire.

  With a dignified stare she bravely reached out, and batted the spider away. When her hand was back under the blanket, she rubbed it rapidly against her leg in an attempt to banish the feel of it on her fingers.

  It took a long time for her to fall asleep.

  Quinn had enjoyed the boar, but wasn't quite so sure about the deviation to his and Pryce's plans that had been caused by Eira. Worse, he was to blame, so couldn't complain. He cursed the weakness that had made him sympathise with her. He shifted as a few snores came from Jon next to him, sleeping with his mouth wide open.

  Even now, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. He had heard rumours about the things that Lord Cassian had done; he would not wish him on any woman.

  Still, that did not mean that he had to cheerily follow the troupe of actors and put up with her to boot.

  He looked over at her. She was moving jerkily under her blanket; obviously she was used to more luxurious surroundings. Having discovered some of the forest wildlife on her blanket, she looked about ready to scream. When she noticed he was watching, she dispatched the spider with a haughty expression. Quinn looked away, smirking to himself. He settled back under his blanket, and stared at the stars in the sky instead until sleep claimed him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “King Stephan, long may he reign, has one of the strongest Avarrian bloodlines. His wife, Queen Reyna is rumoured to have ancestors from the distant lands. However, her beauty, and rumoured rank within the Witches Guild means the Avarrians overlooked her blood purity, a first in Avarrian history.”

  Book II, A Guide to Avarria

  Quinn was rudely awakened by Pryce banging a pot with a ladle. “Up with you, you lazy sod!”

  Quinn, burst up surprised out of his wits, and found himself facing the amused faces of Pryce, the troupe of actors, and to his increased chagrin, Eira. He looked at his hand, which instead of holding the sword he had intended, was holding the charred husk of a log from the burned out camp fire. He dropped the offending item and wiped his hands on the back of his breeches.

  He turned furiously to face Pryce. “What the hell was that for?!”

  “You needed to get up.”

  “How about shaking me awake, hmmm?” He clenched his fist tightly, then took a deep breath, realising that Eira was holding her sides and quivering with the effort of not laughing. The effect was rather hilarious in itself, as little snorts burst from her lips. He straightened his back and fixed them all with a deep glare. Eira turned away, her sides still shaking.

  Pryce grinned. “I think that my method was much more entertaining.” He stepped forward and squeezed Quinn's shoulder. “We need to move on.”

  Quinn bent down and rolled up his blanket. He tucked it under his arm and tended to Bessie, who was busy munching grass on the other side of the clearing. She acknowledged him with a whinny as he saddled her and buckled the blanket in place behind the saddle.

  As he led Bessie to the clearing, it became apparent that the actors did not have horses. But as Eira was already mounted on Pryce's horse, he swung himself up on her back. Clearly Pryce was planning on walking.

  Noticing that Dick was carrying a rather large pack, he offered to take it from him, knowing that Bessie would be more than capable of carrying the extra load. Dick declined politely. “I don't want to get soft- as soon as you leave I'll only have to carry it again.”

  Will was quite clearly a writer. Almost as soon as they set off, a dreamy look of faraway concentration became fixed on his face as he walked. Occasionally he muttered a few words under his breath, attempting to sound the words out. Sometimes he would lag behind as he took a moment to scribble down some words of inspiration that apparently couldn't wait.

  Jon and Rich passed the time exchanging wild tales and crude jokes. As Dick was entertaining Eira, who was still quite clearly hero worshipping him, Quinn took the opportunity to ride alongside Pryce.

  “Where are we headed?” Quinn asked.

  “Ha, perhaps you would know if you had not overslept this morning.” Seeing the unflattering scowl forming on Quinn's face, Pryce backtracked. “We are headed towards a nearby cave where we will change Eira into a boy.” He smiled. “After that, we are to go to a local mansion where we are to perform a play for his grace Duke Winston in four days’ time. We are fortunate that the King will also be there- the play is to be performed in his honour.”

  “Surely Will is leaving the writing of the play a bit late then!”

  Pryce laughed. “He has to knock out so many plays in a short amount of time that this is barely a challenge for him.”

  Having thought about the first part of Pryce's sentence, Quinn panicked. “Hang on a minute- did you just say that we would be performing a play?”

  Pryce grinned. “Surely a little play is nothing compared to what we normally do?”

  Quinn spluttered. “But that's different. This is also going to be in front of the King!”

  “No-one will force you to, Quinn. But your part is only going to be small, moving the scenery, standing on the stage looking pretty...” He patted Quinn mockingly on the leg.

  Quinn let out his breath slowly. “Hmmm. I guess I could manage that. How we managed to end up here after holding up a coach I have no idea!”

  “Perhaps that will teach you not to fall for the charms of a lovely maiden next time!”

  This time, Quinn's glare could melt ice. “I did not fall for her charms.” He said between gritted teeth. “I merely provided assistance at her behest.”

  Pryce held up his hands in mock surrender. “Whatever you say.”

  They arrived at the cave just as the sun had reached the summit of the sky, spreading keen warmth as its light dappled between the leaves to the unusual party below.

  The actors began to pull together a meagre lunch of cheese, apple and bread. They all sat in a cheery circle, talking and laughing. Still unsure as to her place in this strange group, Eira sat near Quinn and Pryce. Pryce smiled at her, and passed her her portion.

  She found the bread a little dry, and looked towards Quinn, who was busy tearing off a large chunk of bread with the use of his teeth and hands. Her frown of disapproval only made him grin and force the bread in his mouth so his cheeks were rounded with bread that moved up and down as he chewed. She hunched her shoulders in disgust and shifted so she was facing Will, who had his quill out again, racing across the page. He had almost finished the last act; soon he would be able to make copies for the others.

  Quinn smirked as he saw he had successfully annoyed Eira with his deliberate bad manners but nearly choked when Pryce elbowed him right in the ribs. “Show some more respect boy, she is a noblewoman!”

  Quinn sneered. “Noblewomen do not hit highwaymen around the head with books.”

  “Only the good ones do boy.”

  He watched as Eira leaned over to pull another apple out of a bag in front of her. The sun warmed her brown hair, picking out red highlights that shone and twinkled as she settled back down. She unconsciously rearranged her skirts but to Quinn it seemed as though they suddenly draped rather pleasantly over her legs. He shook his head, annoyed with his traitorous thoughts. This woman was trouble. She had already completely disrupted his daily routine and he had only known her one day.

  He returned his attention back to the discussion that had started regarding how to arrange Eira's disguise as a boy. She was a good head shorter than any of them, and none of their clothes would fit her, so it was decided that they would stay in the cave until the next morning until they could get her an outfit. Jon would make his way to a shop they knew on the outskirts of Aelin, and return with some clothes post haste.

  As Eira was able to read
and write, she was to be tasked with making a couple of copies of the script in order to earn her keep. She would stay with Will in the cave, as she was still recognisable as a noblewoman. Dick would sit outside the cave keeping watch. It was rarely used by travellers as it was quite deep in the woods but occasionally there was a chance some bandits, or a lone traveller of an unsavoury nature might use the cave as they were passing through.

  Quinn, Rich and Pryce would go looking for some more provisions.

  Eira smoothed down the front of her dress nervously as she waited for Jon to return with boy’s clothes. She had finished copying the play and had already committed her favourite parts to memory. It was about a young woman who had been shipwrecked and had to dress as a man for her own protection. She wondered if Will had gotten part of this idea from recent events.

  She was about to break one of the cardinal rules of being a noblewoman and although she was strangely excited, a strong part of her was hissing that maybe she was going a step too far in dressing like a boy. If she was caught in men's clothes she would dishonour her family's ancestors and would be blotted out of the family history forever.

  She sighed. She had never found her life restricting before, especially as her father had allowed her the pleasure of pursuing whatever learning she wished. It was only when she had realised that her father was going to force her to marry Lord Cassian that she had started to envy the freedom that men took for granted. Running away had cost her everything. If she had been a man... She shook her head. Surely being a man would have drawbacks as well.

  Quinn was currently experiencing these drawbacks. They had been hunting all afternoon, and had not seen a single animal worth catching. They had seen three blackbirds, six crows and one scrawny pigeon. His feet were getting sorer by the minute and his temper was starting to fray. His temper would have been worse if it wasn't for the fact that he was too exhausted to be truly angry.

  They had given up and were making their way back to the cave. It would have to be a meat free meal- luckily Jon was going to fetch some more bread on his way to fetch the clothes, but it wouldn't be enough to truly stave off the twisting hunger stirring in his belly. Worse, they were in sore need of firewood, so when they got back he would have to fetch that as well. He found his thoughts wondering to Eira, who would be snug in the cave and would only have to do some writing for the afternoon. He imagined her slim fingers holding the quill. He would turn her ink stained hand over and kiss the fingers one by one, moving up to her wrist until he was trailing the kisses up her arms...

  Thud! His thoughts were rudely interrupted as his boot caught in an exposed root, sending him sprawling. Rich immediately followed suit, this time tripping over Quinn's outstretched leg. He yelped in pain as he landed badly, twisting his ankle as he fell.

  They made it back to the cave in darkness, Rich leaning heavily on Quinn and Pryce. He could tell they already had a fire going as a welcoming red glow emanated from inside.

  Dick jumped up from his seat inside the cave. “What happened?!”

  Rich landed heavily on the floor with a relieved sigh. “I badly hurt my ankle when I fell.” Quinn grimaced, noting he had nobly left out the part where he fell over him.

  Will looked up from his script. “But who will play the female romantic lead?!”

  “Eira can do it.” Rich replied.

  It was then that Quinn acknowledged that Eira was in the room. She had already changed into men's clothes. Quinn had expected to be horrified, but instead found the way the trousers clung to her legs very appealing.

  Eira managed to find her voice. “But I can't act!”

  Dick smiled. “Sure you can. You already make a fine boy.”

  Pryce kicked Quinn sharply against his leg to stop his staring. Quinn switched to rubbing his leg grumpily.

  He glanced up and noticed that Eira really had cut her hair short. She blushed as she noticed him staring. “We decided that a wig would be too risky. It could fall off, or my hair could come loose under it.”

  Quinn cleared his throat. “It, uh...” He shuffled his feet to allow himself time to gather his wits and told the floor gruffly. “It really brings out your eyes.” He missed Eira's nervous look transform into a glowing smile.

  “Thank you.” She said sincerely.

  Quinn flopped unceremoniously onto the floor, and closed his eyes. “I could sleep for a week”, he muttered.

  It was the day of the play. Quinn knew every word of the play, having helped Eira for three nights in a row to practise her lines. Although he hated to admit it, he was growing to actually like her. Where he had once found her witty remarks grating and sarcastic, he found laughter and genuine friendship. She had a self-deprecating humour and seemed to have become truly carefree. When she cut her hair it was as though she had cut away the restraints of her nobility.

  Still, he tried not to stare too much when she bent over in her breeches.

  Quinn walked back to the clearing where they had camped for the night, only to find the actors in uproar.

  Pryce came up to him. “Jon has lost his voice. He can't possibly do the play.”

  Quinn looked over at Jon. He was sat miserably wrapped in blankets, his nose red from a cold.

  Will waved a script. “We have to continue with the play! We will lose our patronage if we don't. To disappoint the King's guests with no play is unthinkable! We have already stretched ourselves- I can't play any more roles and there is no time to rewrite the play.”

  Pryce snapped his fingers. “Quinn knows his part. He has been helping Eira every night and watching us practise.”

  Quinn actually took a step back. “No way.”

  The actors swung round. Dick placed a hand on Quinn's shoulder. “Please? You must, or we will be so disgraced we will lose our theatre.”

  With the burden of emotional blackmail heavy on his shoulders, Quinn nodded tensely. Everyone cheered.

  Eira turned to hide her smirk. Jon's role was the romantic male lead.

  Quinn tried and failed in his attempts to appear unimpressed by the splendour of the country palace. They walked up along the large driveway, the castle growing so large as they came closer that Quinn started getting neck ache looking from left to right so many times to try and take it all in. He stared at the beauty of the water fountain in front of the palace. A stone high priestess stood in the middle, water pouring out from a vase perched on her shoulder.

  They were greeted by two footmen, even though they were using the back entrance. As they walked into the palace, Quinn was surprised to find the hallway was carpeted with a carpet so thick his feet seemed to sink into it with each step. He resisted the urge to take off his boots and run along it bare foot.

  The hallway seemed to stretch for a mile before they were eventually led into a large open room, where the scenery had already been set up. Quinn found himself awed again, this time by the sheer size of the curtains.

  Quinn put his nerves to one side as he focused on putting up the scenery. He smiled at Eira, who was running her hand through her hair absentmindedly while re-reading the script. He could see her lips moving as she mouthed her words.

  He couldn't bear to look at the script a moment longer. And he really wanted a beer.

  After setting up the large palm tree behind the screen, to be moved out on the scene where Eira's character was to be stranded on a beach, he moved to the corner of the room, where a changing screen had already been discreetly set up. As he pulled on the second hand boots that used to belong to a nobleman, rubies on the buckle replaced with fakes, he decided that he would do almost anything to be in the tavern and not in some country palace, about to perform in a play in front of the King.

  He winced as trumpets signalled the arrival of the King. The show would start in a few moments.

  Quinn hid behind the screen, watching the King as he watched the play. He had graciously acknowledged the opening speech delivered in his honour by Dick's booming voice. The Queen was sat at his side, fanning
herself with a delicate fan.

  The King drank from a golden cup, laughing at a joke delivered by Pryce.

  Eira delivered her parting line in the first scene as she walked off stage. She smiled as she passed Quinn.

  Quinn stepped on stage, hands shaking as his eyes scanned the prestigious audience. He cleared his throat.

  Pulling himself together and using the same part of himself he used to hold up coaches, Quinn melted away, leaving behind his self to assume the role in the play. He was dressed in exquisite finery; gems shone on his fingers. In this play, he was a match for the King's majesty. In this play, he was the King.

  He draped himself casually over a chair, legs swinging. “I find myself most bored of life.” He drawled. “My very soul pleads for release from this... daily drudgery.”

  Eira stepped onto stage, led by Dick. “My lord, this young man refused to leave the gates until you heard him.”

  Eira cleared her throat, speaking deeply. “My most dread lord. I have heard you were in need of a personal man servant. I came to serve you and pledge my loyalty to you.”

  Quinn nodded. “You look a strapping lad.” At this, the audience, already aware that the young man was in fact a ‘woman’, tittered. “You will do. But be warned, I do not take failure lightly.”

  “Then I will not fail you my lord.” Quinn waved her away with his hand. The scene rolled on.

  “I hired a manservant and find him to be a woman. Oh, treachery! Who was ever tricked thus? Get out of my sight!” Quinn's voice bellowed around the room, which had fallen deathly silent.

  “My lord,” Eira dropped to her knees. “I am still your obedient servant. More so- my very heart is bound to you.”

  “Oh false woman, every word that drops from your lips is poison! Leave now, or I will strike you down!”

  Eira fled from the stage, tears flowing down her cheeks. The slight pang that showed on Quinn's face was real.

  Quinn swung his sword madly around the stage, as roars of battle played out around him. “Every man true to me has fallen or fled. Is there no-one left?” He clutched his side to burst the bag of pigs blood as Dick mock stabbed him in the side with a blade. He fell to one knee, the audience gasping.