“Abe, would you keep Halfreda company today – sorting out some old boxes in the attic? There are hundreds of papers to sort, recipes that have become muddled up, documents that pertain to all sorts of interesting things I am sure.”
Abe nods his agreement, smiling at Halfreda, who blushes despite herself. “I’d love to. Always happy to do my bit while I’m here.”
“How long are you planning to stay?”
The teacher asks the question that Halfreda was thinking.
“As long as you allow me to, but not too long that you get fed up.”
The teacher rolls his eyes at Abe’s standard response. He is a mystery to people; even the teacher who knows him better than most. But he loves a joke, and a riddle, and hates being pinned down to anything.
“Well, in that case, I’m fed up of you already.”
Abe’s laugh is so loud that it makes Menna pop her head back in the room to see what’s going on. The teacher waves her away and Abe laughs even more.
“Come on Halfreda. Let’s get out of his hair before he really does throw me out.”
Halfreda willingly follows him, allowing her eyes to travel over the back of his head, down his back...she shakes her head, embarrassed by her own thoughts. Then she smiles; it makes sense to her suddenly. Abe is the first younger man that she has ever been in the company of. Boys at school thought she was odd, so did the boys in her little village. Apart from her father, the teacher, Mal, and a few other short-term visitors to the round house, she has never been in the company of a man she found attractive. She has never sat around and watched the way a man talks, walks, laughs. She cannot take her eyes off him as they go up the stairs. She imagines touching his hair, curling her fingers around strands of it, running her fingers down his spine, feeling his skin with hers; the heat, the soft warmth.
She stops herself from touching him as they turn into the attic, her fingers so close to him. She shakes her head again, to clear out her thoughts about him. She can’t just reach out and touch him; it would be inappropriate and embarrassing – for them both.
Clasping her fingers in her lap, she takes a seat on the floor, legs curled under her.
Abe grabs two boxes from a pile of eight and puts one in front of her. He takes the lid off the second box and empties the contents into a heap in front of him.
“So, the teacher wants to keep you busy today?”
“I am glad of it.”
Abe smiles as he considers her, happy to keep her company, happy to help the teacher out. “You came close to dying yesterday. That must have been scary?”
“It was. I-” She shakes her head, but Abe reaches out, placing a hand on her arm.
“Please – it will help to talk. That’s why we’re up here. Not really to sort boxes and recipes. The teacher is a wily old thing; if he cannot ask you outright to do what he wants, he will get you to do it anyway.”
“I know he wants me to talk, but when I think about it – her – I feel sick...I feel responsible.”
“Well, I know you’re not. She tried to hurt you. She could have killed you.”
“I had a vision of her death, the night before she died. I feel like I cursed her.”
“The teacher says you have strong magic – but that strong? What does he say?”
“He says it was nothing to do with me but he would say that. He knows how much I hate my magic, my gifts, my differences. He knows that if I knew I’d killed her I would turn from magic completely. He wouldn’t let me do that.”
“I don’t think he would lie about something so important. He would tell you the truth and try to persuade you to continue working with him – and you should. I have never heard such pride in his voice as I hear when he’s talking about you.”
“I know he thinks my magic is wonderful, but it has always been a burden to me. I was just starting to trust, to work with him, to accept myself, when this happened.”
“Then you should definitely continue. Don’t let fear stop you. Or guilt. Or any other negative emotion. This girl sounds like she was bad news, and that’s not something you can blame yourself for.”
“I do though and I probably always will.”
“Well then, you need to find a little space in your head, or your heart, to put that blame. Tuck it away and pay no attention to it. It will eat you up if you focus on it and you’re only a young girl. If it had gone the other way, if she had killed you, instead of Mal killing her, do you think she’d be sitting here crying about it?”
Halfreda snorts. “No. She would have been glad.”
“Then you must stop thinking about her. Not another thought or word or worry.”
Halfreda opens her mouth to argue, but he places his hand over her mouth, the soft warmth of his palm against her lips. She uses all of her will not to move her mouth at all, and breathes a sigh of relief when he moves his hand away.
“Now get sorting, or I’ll be in trouble with the man himself.”
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
For the first time since Zanna’s dead body hit the floor, Halfreda feels a genuine joy and lightness fill her.
Maybe she is at fault, maybe she isn’t, but the teacher and Abe are right; she has to stop thinking about it.
In companionable silence, they leaf through papers, make piles of similar looking, or sounding, documents and show each other occasional things they think might be interesting to the other.
Pretending to read a bound stack of papers, Halfreda watches Abe, her interest in him growing as the minutes and hours of the morning pass by.
They hear the teacher calling them for lunch and Halfreda is disappointed to have to share him with everyone else.
She drinks in her fill of him as she follows him downstairs, knowing that if she takes too much notice of him during their meal, Nerida and Kinsey will tease her mercilessly. She mentally shrugs as he smiles over his shoulder at her, and allows her to walk ahead of him to the table, does it really matter if other people know how she feels about him?
12
Halfreda fills her plate with savoury biscuits, and then passes Menna a recipe she found in the attic. “I thought you might like to make this one day...” Halfreda still feels slightly uncomfortable around Menna – she can remember the look on her face after she saw her have the vision, and she does feel responsible for Mal’s unhappiness at killing Zanna. Even if she didn’t curse Zanna, Mal only killed her to save Halfreda.
Menna smiles at her and Halfreda feels marginally better. “Thanks, Halfreda, it sounds lovely.”
With Kinsey one side of her and Nerida the other, Halfreda feels free to watch Abe as he eats, chats and laughs with everyone around the table. He doesn’t pay her any special attention, but she’s happy that she spent the morning with him. Instant attraction isn’t so unusual; Halfreda has seen it before, but the feelings she has are new to her. And scary.
“Mal,” Abe’s voice brings Halfreda out of her reverie. “Do you mind if I come fishing with you after lunch?”
Mal beams, pleased to spend time with Abe.
Halfreda feels crushed; she had assumed they would go back to the attic and finish sorting the boxes together.
Feeling the teacher’s eyes on her, she smiles, despite feeling ridiculously abandoned.
“Halfreda, maybe the girls would like to help you finish sorting in the attic?”
Nerida and Kinsey agree immediately and Halfreda refuses to look at Abe. It’s ridiculous she knows; he has no way of knowing how she feels about him, but she feels rebuffed, anyway.
Without a word she pushes back her stool and smiles brightly at her friends. They cram in the last bits of their meals and follow her out of the room.
Abe watches her go, a small smile playing on his lips. The teacher catches him and shakes his head. “Abe.” The single word holds a warning, and Abe lifts his hands up.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“She’s young. Inexperienced. Naïve.”
“I th
ought you said she was the most advanced and gifted witch you had ever seen.”
“Her magic is incredible, her abilities beyond my ken, but her knowledge of men, and the wonders of love are zero. You cannot break her heart, Abe. She has an important future in the Realm; I feel it and know it, and I won’t let you play with her.”
“I wasn’t going to. I just enjoyed her company this morning and you said yourself she needed cheering up; her mind taken off that girl that was killed.”
“Yes, by busy work, not falling in love.”
“Can I help it if I’m irresistible?”
The teacher snorts and walks away, leaving Abe grinning.
Halfreda pushes a box towards Nerida and another one towards Kinsey. “We got through a lot this morning. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Abe is so handsome...” Kinsey has a dreamy look on her face, holding a sheaf of papers but not bothering to look at them.
“He’s not the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” Halfreda says, still feeling slighted that he chose Mal’s company over hers, even though he has no reason to spend time with her, really, other than being told to by the teacher.
Nerida gives Halfreda a playful shove. “Who is the most handsome man you have ever seen, then?”
“His name was Jensen, if you must know. A teacher in my school. Too old for me, but so handsome, kind and clever. Abe has piggy little eyes and a strange looking chin.”
Nerida and Kinsey grin at each other, smothering their giggles. They have never seen Halfreda so haughty.
“Well, he is the most handsome man I have ever seen.”
“Kinsey, you are only thirteen, how many men have you seen?”
“Hundreds.”
Halfreda snorts and this time Nerida and Kinsey can’t control their giggles. Halfreda throws a wodge of papers at them and then laughs herself. She cannot stay cross with them, not after the awful day they all had yesterday and the way they have quickly banded together, a tight knit trio of friends.
“I admit he is handsome. And I admit my head has been turned, slightly, by his arrival. But, I am no lovesick little girl. I am the most powerful and magnificent witch the teacher has ever seen.”
Nerida laughs and bows. “Oh, wonderful witch, all powerful master, show us a trick.”
“Enchantress, spell weaver, bestow upon us unworthy peasants your clever and cunning magic.” Kinsey strides around the attic theatrically as she talks, tripping over a box.
Halfreda doubles over laughing. “You two are ridiculous. I can take neither one of you seriously. And the only trick I should be doing, is sorting this stuff out for the teacher.”
Kinsey straightens herself up. “Why don’t you make him a love potion?”
Halfreda rolls her eyes. “Kinsey. That is even more ridiculous. I don’t want to be in love. And I don’t want him to be in love. And I definitely don’t want to trick a man to fall in love with me. My first love, my true love will be a man who chooses me, picks me and wants me, not a man who is duped in to loving me.”
“Make one for me, then. I don’t mind tricking someone.”
Nerida throws herself backwards laughing at Kinsey, and Halfreda has to join in. They are still giggling as they finally start looking through the papers, and the afternoon flies by until they are interrupted by Abe.
“The teacher says that supper is ready. And, can I talk to you Halfreda?”
Halfreda nods, words suddenly failing her. She cannot believe how she is behaving.
Her friends leave the room, gesturing behind Abe’s back and making stupid faces. Halfreda closes her eyes, calls on some sort of inner strength and then smiles up at Abe.
“Halfreda, I enjoyed spending time with you this morning. I hope I didn’t offend you when I chose to spend time with Mal instead of you this afternoon.”
Shaking her head and spluttering, Halfreda’s words fail her once more. She is blushing again. Abe smiles and takes her hand, and the tiniest part of Halfreda’s mind that has remained coherent is sure he is enjoying her discomfort.
“I enjoyed spending time with you. Maybe a little too much. I am aware of how important you are to the teacher, and I don’t want to be accused of distracting his brightest charge.”
“I, um, I, ah, I would be happy to be distracted-” Aware that her voice has gone squeaky and that Abe’s grin has spread wider, she clamps her mouth shut, her blush burning deeper when he takes her hand and kisses, not the top of it, but her palm. Her insides squirm and heat floods her whole body, down to her toes.
Her silly grin covers her face as she follows him into supper, like an obedient and naïve puppy, but she cannot help herself. It is as though an invisible string links them. She sits beside him and keeps her adoring smile trained on him all through lunch, aware of her friends smirking and nudging each other, but happy to tune them out.
She has no idea what has come over her but she kind of likes it.
“Halfreda.” The teacher’s voice is stern when he breaks her reverie of adoration, and she scowls as she turns to him. “My work room now.”
Begrudgingly she follows him, past the kitchen and down the deep stone steps that lead to the basement of the round house, and the room the teacher spends most of his time in.
He is an astonishingly clever man, and if Halfreda wasn’t feeling so love struck now she would be gazing around in awe. The teacher has filled this room with every type of potion, lotion, poultice, cure, ingredient to be found in the Realm. He studies ancient texts and writes new ones of his own. He is always on a quest for more knowledge, more information, further advances in the things he does and knows.
This room is his favourite place to be, and his charges don’t get to spend that much time down here; it is too important to him. He would rather take over Menna’s kitchen when they have to do spells or potions and she doesn’t mind letting him. This room is his work room, but also his haven.
He points to a chair. “Tell me, Halfreda, have you ever felt the way you are feeling about Abe for anyone else before?”
She shakes her head; embarrassed and affronted at the personal nature of the teacher’s question.
“I don’t think-”
“Halfreda. I love Abe. He is like a son or younger brother to me. I can tell you one hundred good qualities that he possesses but I must also tell you about his very worst one.”
Halfreda is blushing, shaking her head.
“Please, Halfreda. I am looking after you in lieu of your parents and I am responsible for you. Even looking past all the great things I think you will accomplish in your life, I have that simple responsibility. To keep you from harm.”
“Abe doesn’t wish me any harm.”
“Absolutely not. But his worst quality – he adores to be adored. He does not settle, he does not stick around in any one place for long. He leaves a trail of broken hearts behind as he travels throughout the Realm. I cannot allow you-”
“Allow?”
The teacher takes her hand, shaking his head. “I know you think I am crossing a line here, embarrassing you and making you feel uncomfortable, and I don’t wish to do that but I cannot allow this to continue. Abe is a wonderful man, but he is a rat. Women fall in love with him, they cannot seem to help it, and the further they fall, the happier he is. He loves it. And I cannot let you become another one of his casualties. He will not stay. He will not succumb. He will allow you to fall in love with him and then he will leave. He will break your heart. He will hurt you.”
Halfreda sits on the bench, next to the work table and rubs her face. “I have never been in love. But I know it is something we all must go through; having our hearts broken, falling in and out of love. Looking for our true love.”
“Yes. But I know this man and he is not a man for a young innocent to fall in love with. He will not reciprocate your feelings, or gently lead you into your first romance. He will break your heart and leave without notice.”
“What do you want me to do? I didn’t ask to meet
him, or ask for his company. You instructed me to spend time with him today.”
The teacher hangs his head. “That was wrong. When he saw how upset you were that he wanted to go fishing with Mal, he smiled. That was when it hit me. And I apologise for putting you in that position with him. I won’t do it again.”
“What if I want to be in that position with him?”
“I am sorry. I want you to be safe and happy and I would never interfere in your personal life, usually. You are right – we all have to find our way, fall in love, break hearts as well as have our hearts broken. But you are young, innocent and this is your first time away from home. Your parents have trusted me.”
Halfreda closes her eyes. She has always been a good judge of character – her intuition guiding her, never steering her wrong. But she feels an undeniable attraction to Abe.
“What do you think of potions, spells?”
Halfreda looks up sharply, unsure of this change of direction. “I think they can be useful and potent. But I have no interest in them. Yet.” She adds the last word in so as not to offend the teacher. After all this is his favourite room, full of spell books and the recipes needed to make a spell that might do anything you desired. She is cross with what he’s saying to her though; upset and ashamed that he needs to take her in hand, manage her, reproach her.
“Magic is a strange thing, Halfreda. If a child pretends to make a potion in their garden, filling a little pot with blades of grass, and strands of a spider’s web, nothing will happen. You cannot make an accidental potion, an accidental spell. Magic needs intention. That’s why you can announce to the world that you could just die of hunger, but you won’t be setting a curse upon yourself. Magic – spells – need intent.”
Halfreda nods along, trying not to cry.
“I can make a cure for a headache, easily – that is less a spell and more of mother nature’s gifts being utilised appropriately. But if I choose to make a love spell, for example, I would need specific ingredients, specific intent.”
Halfreda nods again, unsure where this lesson is heading.
The Kingmaker Prophecy Page 6