Witches With the Enemy

by Barb Hendee

  Céline continued scanning to see which nobles were present. To her relief, Prince Damek wasn’t here, but she hadn’t expected him to be. It seemed he seldom came out of his rooms during the day. Lady Helena was not in the hall. Anton and Rurik had not arrived, either.

  However, Rochelle and Lady Saorise sat together near the end of the table. Saorise sipped at a cup of tea. Rochelle was working on a piece of embroidery. She wore a muslin gown dyed dove gray that complemented her red-gold hair. Lizbeth and Heath sat a short ways down the table, both looking somewhat at a loss and picking at their food.

  Captain Maddox stood at attention against the back wall, watching Rochelle.

  Just then, Captain Kochè walked in from the western archway. He looked around the hall, and then began to pass through, not stopping to eat. As he passed by Rochelle, she stiffened and her body moved in the chair as if to pull as far away from him as possible. He gave her a sidelong glance of hatred as he walked by, and Céline made a mental note to try as quickly as possible to find out what—if anything—had occurred between those two.

  “Here we go,” she murmured to Amelie.

  The sisters went to Rochelle and Saorise first with a polite greeting.

  “How is your mother?” Céline asked.

  Rochelle’s eyes dropped briefly to her embroidery and back up with a cast of guilt, as if she’d been caught out at something. “She’s still asleep, and her maid is sitting with her. I . . . I had to get out for a few moments.”

  “You were right to let her sleep,” Céline answered, “and you can’t sit with her yourself all day.”

  Rochelle smiled. Saorise listened to the exchange with some interest, but offered no thoughts.

  Breakfast consisted of oatmeal, boiled eggs, and stewed pears. The sisters dished up and sat down with Lizbeth and Heath. Lizbeth seemed glad to see Céline.

  “The oatmeal’s cold,” the girl said.

  “I don’t mind.”

  Then Lizbeth noticed Amelie’s shoulder-length hair—as it had not been pinned up that morning. “Your hair.”

  “Oh yes . . . I like to wear it like this,” Amelie said.

  “I wonder if Mother would let me do that. It would be so much easier to brush.”

  “I don’t think so,” Heath answered.

  Amelie sat beside Heath and asked him if he’d gotten any sleep. Céline didn’t hear the answer. She ate quickly, and then looked around for one of the guards from Sèone. Sergeant Bazin stood a few paces away.

  “Sergeant,” she said, “did you come in from the barracks this morning? How is the weather?”

  “Not bad, miss. The sky is gray, but no rain yet.”

  She turned to Lizbeth. “I’m longing for some fresh air. Shall we take a walk in the courtyard? Maybe visit the horses.”

  Lizbeth’s eyes lit up—as Céline knew they would. This was a girl who would be outside climbing trees if her mother would let her. She would jump at any chance to get out of this hall and do something . . . anything.

  The girl was already on her feet. “Rochelle, may I go for a walk in the courtyard with Céline?”

  This did surprise Céline a bit, first that Lizbeth would ask permission so politely, as she seemed rather headstrong, and second that she’d asked Rochelle and not Heath.

  Rochelle hesitated and looked to Maddox. Céline wasn’t certain why until Sergeant Bazin stepped forward and addressed Rochelle.

  “I’ll go with them, my lady. Make sure they are safe.”

  Then Céline realized Rochelle had been debating keeping Maddox here or sending him off with Lizbeth.

  Céline shot Bazin a grateful look, and then she and Lizbeth headed out the west entrance, through the bottom of one tower, into the strange half tower, and out the front doors. Bazin followed at a respectful distance. Lizbeth practically skipped beside Céline as they stepped into the light morning air.

  “Oh, thank you,” the girl said. “Let’s stay out as long as we can.”

  The courtyard was large, but activity was limited. Céline started down the front of the castle toward the stables, and Lizbeth fell into step beside her. Again, Bazin kept his distance, watching, but remaining out of earshot. Céline spent a few moments wondering how best to begin seeking a few answers. For one, no one could be discounted as the murderer, not even young Lizbeth. She appeared to be an awkward teenage girl, and Céline believed her to be innocent, but Céline had also met a few very good actors in her short time serving as Anton’s seer.

  Finally, she decided to fall back on honesty.

  “Lizbeth,” she began, “I hope you don’t mind, but part of the reason I suggested our walk was so that you and I could speak in private.”

  The girl seemed undaunted by this confession. “Really? Why?”

  “Because my sister and I have been engaged to find out who killed Carlotta and your uncle, and a few points are still hazy for me. I’d hoped you could help.”

  Here, Lizbeth hesitated for the span of a breath. “With what?”

  “For one, after Carlotta’s death, who was it in your family who threatened to pack up and leave?”

  “Oh, that was Heath.” The girl relaxed again. “And me. I think Heath even accused Damek of poisoning Carlotta.”

  “But your mother and uncle never made any such threat, to leave, I mean?”

  Lizbeth snorted through her nose. “Of course not.”

  “At the time, did they protest or chastise you or Heath when you made this threat?”

  “Did they . . . No, they didn’t. Maybe once we’d said something, they feared looking as if they didn’t care that Carlotta was dead. Why do you ask?”

  “We came because Prince Damek believed your family was on the verge of leaving.”

  “Oh, that would never happen.” Lizbeth shook her head. “Mother and Uncle Hamish were set on seeing Rochelle married to Damek. Mother still is, believe me. Damek will be the next grand prince, and Mother is determined to have Rochelle seated as the grand princess.”

  Céline stopped walking. “That is pure speculation. There is no way to be certain who the next grand prince will be.”

  Lizbeth stopped as well. She tilted her head to one side. “In the past few years, better trade routes with Belaski have opened up, and the house of Pählen controls the western province of Droevinka. Belaski is a wealthy nation, and all the princes want a grand prince who can open trade even further. Prince Lieven will name Damek as heir, and the other princes will elect him when the time comes. Mother is never wrong about these things.”

  At first, Céline was so taken aback by the girl’s grasp of politics that she wasn’t certain how to respond. Then she said, “I think you’ve forgotten Prince Anton.”

  “I haven’t. Everyone knows that Prince Lieven much prefers Anton—and who wouldn’t? But the princes won’t elect Anton. They think he’s weak. Lieven may prefer Anton, but not enough to lose the chance of seeing his family in power. He’ll name Damek.”

  “Anton is a better leader than Damek.”

  “Of course he is,” Lizbeth sighed as if Céline were a simpleton. “You know that. I know that. Most of the people know that. But none of us get a say in the matter, and the princes won’t elect Anton. Lieven knows it. He’ll name Damek as his heir.”

  Céline’s head was spinning. “So . . . your mother and uncle believe that by this marriage, Rochelle will indeed become wife of the grand prince? What does Rochelle think of all this?”

  Lizbeth shrugged. “Who knows? Rochelle couldn’t say boo to a goose. She’ll do whatever she’s told. Heath is the same way.” She paused. “I love my brother and sister. They are good to me, but . . . neither one has an ounce of spirit.”

  “Did you love Carlotta?” Céline asked abruptly.

  “No,” Lizbeth answered just as readily. “No one did. Carlotta was not lovable. That’s why
she was so jealous of Rochelle.”

  Céline began walking again. “She was jealous?”

  “It was awful to watch. For years, men would contact Father, making initial offers for Carlotta’s hand, and then they would meet her. Even the most desperate of them decided tying their life to hers wasn’t worth my father’s money. Carlotta was bitter, coarse-faced, and bossy. No one liked her. But every man who walked through the door of our manor fell madly in love with Rochelle. She’s the type they all want . . . beautiful, quiet, and she does what she’s told.”

  Though Céline found that last part a rather unfair assessment of men, she pressed on. “But Carlotta was handling Rochelle’s marriage negotiations to Damek. If she was so jealous, why would she work so hard to make her sister a grand princess?”

  This time, Lizbeth stopped walking and raised one eyebrow. “Have you met Damek?” she asked sarcastically. “He’s the type who probably keeps a pair of shackles and a riding crop beneath his bed.”

  “Lizbeth!”

  “Well, he is. I think Carlotta wanted Rochelle to suffer for the rest of her life.”

  They began to walk again, and by this point, the stable loomed before them. Céline was still attempting to absorb everything she’d just heard.

  “Céline . . . ,” Lizbeth began slowly, and her tone had changed. Once again, she sounded like the uncertain teenage girl. “Can you truly read futures?”

  “I can.”

  “Would you . . . would you read mine? With everything happening here, I want to know . . . I want to know that I even have a future.”

  “Oh, my dear,” Céline breathed, and she meant it. In spite of her own necessary cautions, she couldn’t help her growing affection for Lizbeth.

  “Will you read me?” the girl asked again.

  Céline looked around for someplace more private, and she spotted an alcove at the base of the east tower. “Over there.”

  * * *

  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. Nei
ther 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.