Mist-Torn Witches 03:Witches With the Enemy

by Barb Hendee

  * * *

  After Amelie finished eating, she reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a deck of cards—which she’d stored there before leaving her room.

  “You up for a game?” she asked Heath.

  Startled by her offer, he looked at the deck for a moment, and then waved a serving girl over to clear their dishes. Amelie had a hard time getting a read on him. Though he was shy and unsure of himself, he was certainly used to being obeyed.

  Sitting this close to him, she noticed he wore the same long-sleeved black wool shirt that he’d had on under his tunic last night. She could see every detail of his face and silky red-blond hair. His features were so delicate, just like Rochelle’s, from his nose to his jaw. Amelie couldn’t help feeling a sort of kinship with him. She herself lacked the feminine qualities that most men found attractive. While she didn’t care about that, she did know what it was like to feel set apart.

  However, she also couldn’t help wondering how he felt about his uncle’s death. She doubted he was in much of a state of mourning . . . and who could blame him? Hamish had done nothing but humiliate Heath the night before.

  Looking at the deck of cards again, Heath said, “I was somewhat envious when your sister asked Lizbeth to go off for a walk. Perhaps you and I could do the same? It would be a relief to get out of this hall.”

  Amelie wavered. If they went out into the courtyard, Lizbeth and Céline might join them, and Amelie wanted to speak with Heath alone, hoping he might be more forthcoming. At the same time she didn’t want to refuse his invitation.

  “Where should we walk?” she asked.

  “In my more desperate moments of boredom here, I’ve done some exploring in the lower levels. There are some interesting things to see down there.”

  She seriously doubted that, but at least she could get him off alone.

  “Lead on,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted.

  He stood, lifted a small lantern from the end of the table, and then went to Rochelle. “I’m going to stretch my legs with Miss Amelie. Will you be all right here with Lady Saorise? Or perhaps you’d like to come with us?”

  Rochelle smiled at Heath first and then turned the smile on Amelie. It was dazzling. “You two go on. I should stay here in case Mother wakes. I’ve left word for one of the maids to come and get me straightaway.” She pointed to a pink rose on one side of her embroidery. “And Lady Saorise has been showing me a new way to finish the edge here.”

  Without thinking, Amelie looked to Saorise and asked, “You know embroidery?” Then she realized how insulting that might have sounded.

  Saorise merely put one finger to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.”

  Amelie fought not to express a shiver. That woman made her skin crawl.

  “Off with us, then,” Heath said, motioning Amelie away from the table, and he called with mock gallantry back to his sister, “I promise to guard her with my life.”

  “I know you will,” Rochelle answered.

  While Amelie thought that in the unlikely event they should run into difficulties, she’d be the one defending him, she heard the open affection between him and Rochelle. After watching Damek and Anton together, she took some happiness from seeing two siblings who actually loved each other. Amelie loved Céline more than anyone and couldn’t imagine a world without her. It seemed Heath and Rochelle were the same.

  “Where to?” Amelie asked.

  “Follow me.”

  He led her down the back passage. Toward the end was a side storage room with an open archway instead of a door. Heath walked through the room to a much narrower open archway near the back corner.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, curious. What could there possibly be below interesting enough to lure down a young baron?

  He paused, holding the lantern. “This stairwell leads down to the old prison. I know it sounds ghoulish, but I like walking around down there. It’s quiet. If you’d rather not go, though, I understand.”

  A prison?

  Amelie shrugged. She’d seen old prisons before—in Castle Sèone. They didn’t particularly interest her, but they didn’t bother her, either, and this would give them a chance to speak freely. “No, it’s all right. Go ahead. I’ll come behind.”

  He led the way down a winding stairwell, and they emerged into what must once have been a guardroom. There was a hearth in one wall with an old decaying desk that faced it—about ten paces away. A set of keys hung near a heavy wooden door on the other side of the room. The door was open.

  Heath walked straight through that doorway. Amelie went after him and found herself looking at a row of cells as he stood about halfway down. At the end of the row, she saw a small closed door.

  Then he looked back. “You’re sure you don’t mind? This is the one place in the castle where I can be sure I’ll be left alone.”

  “In the prison of Kimovesk?”

  He grimaced. “Again . . . I know it sounds odd, but I don’t mind the cells. There are days when I can think of nothing I’d like better than to be locked away someplace where no one can find me.”

  Amelie began to understand him a little better. Maybe it wasn’t so strange that he liked it down here.

  “Heath . . . ,” she began. “I know this is none of my concern, but does it worry you that your sister is being asked to marry Prince Damek?”

  Thankfully, he didn’t appear offended by the question. “Worry me? Of course it does. Damek is little better than an animal. But Rochelle has known her worth, and her place, since we were children. Her fate has always been to marry whatever prince or nobleman would raise my family the highest. My fate has been to inherit my father’s title and play the part of baron. Neither of us can escape, and we both well know it.”

  He sounded so passive, so resigned.

  As if reading her face, he added, “I do regret the life into which she is being forced, but I have no power to stop it. Neither does she.”

  “You could try to fight your mother.”

  He laughed without humor. “No one fights Mother. I sometimes think my father died on purpose.” Turning, he looked again down the row of cells. “It’s so peaceful here.”

  Amelie had no idea what to say. Somebody was fighting his mother. Somebody was willing to kill to stop this marriage. Who was it?

  “Maybe we should go back up?” she suggested.

  “You wish to?”

  “I think so.”

  Somewhat reluctantly, Heath came away from the cells, held the lantern high, and led the way through the guardroom.

  * * *

  Before slipping into the alcove with Lizbeth, Céline turned and held one hand up to Sergeant Bazin, signaling him to keep his distance.

  Inside the alcove, she saw a small stone bench. “Come and sit here.”

  “What happens now?” Lizbeth asked in a small voice. “You just touch me like Amelie touched Johanna?”

  “Yes, that’s all.”

  “And you promise you’ll tell me what you see, no matter what it is?”

  “I promise.”

  Reaching out, Céline took Lizbeth’s hand in her own. Closing her eyes, she focused entirely upon Lizbeth, on the spark of her spirit within her. At first nothing happened, but a moment later, the first jolt hit.

  Céline gritted her teeth in preparation. As the second jolt hit, she felt as if her body were being swept forward along a tunnel of mist, and she forgot everything but the sensation of speeding through the mists all around her as they swirled in grays and whites.

  This journey was not a long one, and almost immediately, the mist vanished and an image flashed before her.

  She was in the great hall . . . here at Kimovesk. The first person she saw was herself, wearing her favorite lavender wool dress, so she assumed this was a day set at some point in the near future and evening had not yet arrived. Lady Saorise sat in a chair nearby. Lady Helena, Amelie, Rochelle, and Heath stood by the hearth. Anton was close to the archway
with Rurik.

  Lizbeth was nowhere in sight.

  How could that be? This was Lizbeth’s future.

  “No,” Anton ordered. “I’ll go back up and get her myself.”

  Before anyone else could speak, a scream echoed through the great hall, and everyone whirled toward the sound. Lizbeth came running in from the east archway with her hands and the hem of her dress covered in blood.

  “He’s dead!” she cried hysterically.

  Inside the image, Céline watched herself run toward the girl. “Lizbeth!”

  “He’s dead!” Lizbeth cried again. “I leaned over to touch him, to make sure, but he’s dead.”

  The scene vanished, and the mists closed in again, pulling her backward this time.

  Céline gasped and opened her eyes and found herself sitting on the stone bench looking into Lizbeth’s frightened eyes.

  “What?” Lizbeth asked. “What did you see?”

  Instantly, Céline calmed herself, as she had no intention of telling the girl what she’d just seen. The mists always showed her what was most important, what was a key to her questions, and she didn’t understand the meaning of this image yet. There was no sense in terrifying Lizbeth with the news that she would stumble upon someone’s death. The future could still be altered. That was one of the first things Céline learned after accepting the powers of her gift.

  “Oh, forgive me,” she said, smiling now. “Sometimes, when I come out abruptly, it can be disconcerting.” She still grasped Lizbeth’s hand. “I saw nothing to worry you. I saw you a little older than you are now, standing in a field of strawberries.”

  Anton had mentioned on the journey from Sèone that the Quillette family was also known for the fine strawberries they grew.

  “Oh . . . then I was back home at the manor,” Lizbeth said. “That is all you saw?”

  “Yes, but at your request, I asked the mists to show me if you had a future. And they showed me that you do. You will leave this place safely, and you will go home.”

  Céline was determined that this would be Lizbeth’s future. She was also now convinced of the girl’s innocence in these murders. Should Lizbeth be involved, Céline would have been shown something else.

  “Shall we go back inside and check on your sister?” Céline asked.

  Lizbeth’s open face flickered with guilt. “I suppose, but could we . . . could we go and visit the horses first? I like horses better than I like most people.”

  “Yes, we can certainly visit the horses first.”

  They stood and left the alcove, heading for the stables.

  “I like dogs, too,” Lizbeth added. “Have you noticed there are no dogs here? Prince Damek says he doesn’t like them.”

  Indeed, Céline had noticed the lack of dogs, but she couldn’t even pretend to understand Damek.

  * * *

  Anton and Rurik walked into the great hall.

  Though Anton hadn’t slept much, he was determined to assist Céline and Amelie in any way he could . . . so they could find the murderer and then leave this castle and everyone in it far behind.

  As he looked around, a flash of alarm struck him when he did not see either sister. He and Rurik had checked their room before coming down, and it had been empty. If the sisters weren’t here, where could they be?

  Rochelle and Lady Saorise sat the table, speaking softly to each other.

  Anton crossed the hall quickly, with Rurik on his heels.

  “My ladies,” he said, “have Miss Céline and Miss Amelie come for breakfast yet?”

  “Indeed,” Rochelle answered serenely, “and I am in their debt. Both Lizbeth and Heath have been quite miserable, and your seers were kind enough to try and engage them in some activity besides sitting in here.”

  Anton relaxed. “Oh, I see. Thank you. Where are they?”

  “Miss Céline took Lizbeth for some fresh air in the courtyard. I’m not sure where Heath and Miss Amelie have gone off. He seems to enjoy exploring.”

  Some of Anton’s alarm returned. The sisters split up? For a moment, he suffered indecision over which one to seek out first. This was solved for him as Amelie and Heath came in through the east archway.

  “Please excuse me,” Anton said, “I need a word with Miss Céline.”

  “Will you not have some breakfast?” Lady Saorise asked.

  “Soon.”

  Without waiting to even greet Amelie, Anton headed toward the west archway—again with Rurik on his heels. They passed through the first west tower and into the strange half tower and out the main doors.

  Squinting in the daylight, Anton scanned the courtyard and saw only soldiers. Then his gaze fell upon Sergeant Bazin standing near the doors of the stables. Anton and Rurik strode over.

  “They’re inside, my lord,” Bazin said. “I’ve been watching out for them.”

  With a rush of gratitude, Anton said, “Thank you, Sergeant. Both of you wait out here.”

  Almost immediately upon entering the stables, Anton heard the sound of female voices, and he walked between the stalls to see Céline and Lizbeth up ahead, at the door to Sable’s stall. The mare had her head stretched out of the top of the stall door and was eating grain from Lizbeth’s hand.

  “My lord,” Céline said at the sight of him. “Is everything well?”

  “Yes, quite well. I just . . . I wished to . . .” He stopped, uncertain how to continue. He’d wanted to discuss Céline’s list of people with a possible motive.

  Céline glanced from him to Lizbeth. “My lord, if you have questions pertaining to the investigation, you can speak freely. Lizbeth has been taken into my confidence and she has been most helpful to me this morning.”

  Still cautious, Anton wondered how much of that was true and how much was for the girl’s benefit.

  But Lizbeth said, “And last night, you were quite up-front about your reason for coming here, my lord. It’s not a secret.”

  Anton sighed. “Céline, have you read anyone else? Prince Damek will sleep most of the day, but he’s going to want answers when he awakens.”

  “She read me,” Lizbeth said. “I asked her to.”

  Céline nodded once at him to confirm, but she added nothing else, and he knew better than to ask.

  “Can you and Amelie do a few more readings today?” he asked. “I’ll need something to tell Damek.”

  “There are several people in whom we have . . . an interest,” Céline answered. “But I fear if we openly insist on a reading, we might cast blame in the wrong direction. I’d like to do this more quietly.”

  That gained Lizbeth’s full attention, and she stopped petting Sable. “With who?”

  Anton realized Céline was leading the girl, so he kept silent.

  “Well . . . ,” Céline provided, “Captain Maddox for one.”

  Instead of expressing shock, Lizbeth glanced away. “You want to read the captain?”

  “I do, but only if he’ll agree, and if I can do the reading in some privacy. Do you think you could assist us with our investigation?”

  Anton found that tactic brilliant. The girl was both bored and ignored here. She might jump at a chance for something to do for someone who appreciated her.

  However, Lizbeth hesitated. “I don’t want to make any trouble for Captain Maddox. He lives with us, and he runs our household guard. He’s been good to me. One day, after Mother was especially unkind about all my shortcomings, he took me outside and let me ride his horse.”

  “Then help me to do this in private,” Céline said, “to at least clear him.”

  Lizbeth wavered a moment more and then nodded. “All right. I’ll go and tell him that I need him to see something out here.”

  With that, she hurried out the stable door.

  “You handled that well,” Anton told Céline.

  She glanced away. “I just hope Maddox is innocent.”

  * * *

  Céline was prepared for some difficulty when not long after, Captain Maddox came through the stable
door with Lizbeth.

  “Lizbeth,” the captain said, “what is it you wish to show me? I have left your sister alone in the hall.”

  He stopped cold at the sight of Céline and Anton.

  “Forgive the ruse, Captain,” Anton said. “My brother has authorized Miss Céline to do a reading of everyone connected to his impending bride’s family, but we are striving to keep these as private as possible.”

  Maddox’s expression tightened. “And you used Lizbeth to get me out here?”

  “Only to clear you,” Lizbeth cut in, sounding distressed. “Please, Captain.”

  “It has to be done,” Anton said. “We can do it here or later, when my brother wakes up, out in the great hall with everyone watching.”

  That might be a hollow threat. Céline had no idea if Damek could order Maddox to submit.

  With a hard shake of his head, Maddox exhaled through his teeth. “This is madness, but do what you must quickly. I need to get back inside. Rochelle is unprotected.”

  “Rochelle could not be safer,” Céline countered. “She has a number of armed Väränj guards.”

  Maddox stared at her. “What is it you wish me to do?”

  “Come and sit on this old chest,” Céline answered. “We both need to be sitting. Then allow me to touch your hand.”

  Anton and Lizbeth both watched. Poor Lizbeth seemed distressed. Perhaps she regretted her part in this. Maddox himself appeared little more than angry. He showed no fear at the prospect of Céline reading him.

  Either he didn’t believe she was a seer or he had nothing to hide.

  He sat down beside her, took off one glove, and offered his hand.

  She took it and closed her eyes, feeling for the spark of his spirit. This time, though, she focused her attention on his connection to Lizbeth’s family. If he had any part in these murders, his motive must be exposed.

  The first jolt hit.

  She braced herself. As the second jolt hit, she felt as if her body were being swept forward along the tunnel of mist.

  Again, the journey was brief, even shorter than the one with Lizbeth. An image flashed before her. She found herself outside the entrance of the stairwell to the east tower, looking in, and she could not help feeling shocked by what she saw there.