Mist-Torn 01 - The Mist-Torn Witches

by Barb Hendee

  “I don’t care.”

  “Oh, stop playing the martyr and get up.”

  “I don’t want to go.” Bethany seemed near to tears. “Can’t you go for me? Can’t you take my place?”

  “Would that I could,” Karina answered coldly, and then her face softened. “Forgive me…I’m…I know this isn’t your fault. But Prince Lieven is determined to expand his territories here in the south, and he wants a bride from the House of Yegor. The head of any southern house would jump at the chance to connect with Pählen. Father wrote to offer him a daughter, with some lands thrown in for a dowry, and Lieven agreed. That’s all there is to it.”

  “But Father has four daughters. Why did he have to pick me?”

  “Because of your youth. Because princes like Lieven tend to prefer sixteen-year-old girls; that’s why. Father says I’m too old, that if I arrived at Castle Pählen as the sacrificial lamb, Lieven might send me back. He won’t send you back.” This last was spoken with bitterness.

  “Yes, but you’ve rebuffed every man who’s asked for you.”

  “Because there’s been no one from a great house!” Karina answered. “Which is why Father never tried to force me…and now it may be too late.” She moved closer to her sister. “But it’s not too late for you. Prince Lieven’s influence and his lands are growing. You’ll have sons. Lieven may not be the grand prince in his time, but if the power of Pählen continues to grow, you could be the mother of a grand prince, enjoy power through him. Try to imagine that far ahead, Bethany. It will sustain you.”

  Bethany stared at the damp ground. “Father claims to love me, but he knows nothing about Lieven. He’s sending me to the west, to share a bed with a man he’s never met. Is that love, Karina?”

  “Yes,” Karina answered. “In this case it is. And I wish I was your age and you were mine. I’d take Father’s brand of love in a heartbeat.” She reached down. “Come on. You’ll need to change that dress before the caravan leaves.”

  Bethany gripped her sister’s hand. “You’ll write to me? We’ll share everything that happens to us both?”

  Karina nodded. “Oh, yes. I will follow everything that happens in your life.”

  Bethany climbed to her feet, still holding Karina’s hand.

  The scene of the orchard vanished, and Amelie was back in the glowing firelight of her room staring down into Bethany’s face. How had that just happened? How had touching the miniature pulled Amelie back through the mists?

  But immediately, a more important revelation hit her. If the vision had been real…then Lady Karina had not aged a day in more than twenty-five years, since before Sub-Prince Damek was even born.

  CHAPTER 13

  Jaromir lay on his bed, trying to sleep and failing. He couldn’t stop thinking on those terrible hours with Anton tonight, watching his friend vomit and convulse and finally fall unconscious.

  He’d feared that Anton had been further poisoned, but once Céline had voiced the truth, he’d chastised himself as an idiot. He should have figured it out himself. He’d seen enough men who loved strong drink, who had fallen on hard times, and then suffered from a lack of gin. He’d seen the shaking and sweating and sickness.

  But the way Céline had stepped in and taken over had given him more relief than he could express, and now it seemed Anton would recover.

  But Jaromir couldn’t fall sleep. He was still recovering from the experience himself.

  A knock sounded on the door. Sitting up, he hesitated, hoping it wasn’t Bridgette. He wasn’t about to let her in, and he wasn’t up to sending her away. But he couldn’t ignore the knock, so he walked over and opened the door.

  Amelie was standing in the passage, pale and shaken.

  “What is it?” he asked, thinking this must be about Anton. “Is he worse?”

  “The prince? No, I think he’s…I haven’t heard anything more.”

  Jaromir moved aside, opening the door further. “Then what’s wrong? Come inside.”

  She shook her head and wouldn’t cross the threshold. “No, I just…I was thinking about earlier, about what you told me…and a few things that Pavel told me and Céline.”

  After all they’d been through tonight, he didn’t feel like speaking of his past anymore. “What about it?” He knew he sounded short, but he couldn’t help it.

  She didn’t notice his tone. “The Lady Karina was already with Anton before you came here?”

  He frowned. “Yes, but just before.”

  “How well did Anton know his mother’s family?”

  This was indeed becoming odd. Puzzled, he said, “I don’t think at all. From what little I know, the marriage of his parents was arranged between the families via proxy, and his mother was sent up from the south in a caravan to marry Prince Lieven. Common enough among the great houses. I don’t think Prince Lieven ever met her family.”

  “But years later, long after Bethany was dead, Lady Karina learned that Lady Joselyn had died and that Anton had fallen into mourning, and she came here to offer him her help. How would she have known he needed help? And why would he have accepted?”

  “Amelie, I’m tired. Why are you asking these things?”

  “Could they have been writing to each other, Anton and Karina?” she asked. “Maybe she wrote to him once he was given Castle Sèone, or even before, and she worked to establish a connection between them?”

  “I don’t know. It’s possible. Anton has always been good about answering letters, and Karina is his mother’s sister.” He stepped forward. “What is this about?”

  But she drew away from him, and he was reluctant to grab her arm after what she’d said to him up in the portrait hall.

  “I don’t know. I need to talk to Céline…” She turned. “Good night, Lieutenant.”

  And then she was hurrying down the passage. He knew better than to follow.

  * * *

  Upon returning to her room near dawn, if Céline thought she’d get any sleep, she was sadly mistaken.

  For she walked in to find a very distraught Amelie pacing the floor.

  Amelie then rushed to her and spilled out an astonishing story, speaking in fits and starts from the moment she’d picked up the miniature of Lady Bethany to her visit to Lieutenant Jaromir for any possible extra information. By the time she’d finished, Céline was more than skeptical, but she knew she’d need to tread carefully.

  Drawing Amelie over to the bed, Céline motioned her to sit down. “Are you sure it wasn’t a dream? We’ve been through so much in the past few days and nights.”

  Amelie’s expression moved from shock to anger. “It wasn’t a dream! How would I have known what to ask Jaromir? How would I have known to get him to confirm that Prince Lieven knew nothing of Bethany’s family?”

  Suddenly, the weight of what Amelie was saying began to touch Céline. “You really saw a vision of Bethany when she was sixteen…and Karina was the same age she is now?”

  “Yes!”

  “But that would been at least twenty-six years ago.”

  Amelie nodded vigorously. “Before Damek was even born.”

  Céline sank onto the bed beside her sister. “She said something tonight, something about being certain Anton would be named heir to the House of Pählen and then become the grand prince. Do you think she’s seeking power through him?”

  “Maybe, but how has she not aged?”

  “I don’t know.” Céline’s mind began turning over their options. “We can’t go to Anton or Jaromir with this. All we have is your word—from a vision you saw by touching a portrait that shouldn’t even be in this room. And then what would we accuse her of? Looking younger than she should?”

  “She should look about fifty-five.”

  “We can’t prove that.”

  “Then what do you want to do?”

  Céline looked around the room, at the silver brushes on the dressing table, the gowns in the open wardrobe, and the wooden screen in the corner.

  “Set a trap,”
she answered.

  * * *

  The following evening, as Amelie stood before the full-length mirror, she was beginning to regret how easily she’d agreed to Céline’s plan.

  “Céline…I don’t know about this.”

  “Oh, will you stop?” Céline answered. “You look lovely, and this is the only thing I could think of to get her up here alone. Surely you can stand wearing a gown for an hour or so?”

  But Amelie wasn’t so sure. She didn’t feel like herself. Céline had laced her into the silk midnight blue gown that Inna had initially brought the day they’d arrived. It was tight at the waist and the skirt felt heavy, and she looked like a stranger to herself in the mirror.

  “I’ll bet Jaromir would pay a year’s wages to see you in that,” Céline said, straightening the brushes on the dressing table.

  An angry retort formed on Amelie’s lips, but she managed to bite it back. She wished Céline would stop teasing her about Jaromir. She was conflicted enough about him as things stood. “I doubt he earns a wage,” she answered. “He probably has the run of the castle treasury and just takes whatever he wants.”

  The fire burned brightly, but the spring night was unusually warm, and the room felt hot and stuffy. Moving to the window, she opened the shutters and breathed the night air, looking down into the courtyard.

  “All right,” Céline said from the dressing table. “I think we’re ready.”

  “What makes you think she’ll come herself?” Amelie asked. “She might just send one of her maids.”

  “Oh, she’ll come. Trust me.”

  A short while ago, Amelie had a written a note—dictated by Céline—that read:

  Dear Lady Karina,

  For the banquet tonight, I have put on one of the gowns you had sent to us, but I waited until Céline had already gone downstairs. Because of my past refusals in this matter, I was embarrassed to ask for her help. Would you please come to my room and help me to dress my hair? I would be so grateful.

  Your servant,

  Amelie Fawe

  They’d given the note to a castle maid and had it sent directly to Karina’s room. Amelie objected strenuously to the wording of the note, as it sounded nothing like her.

  But Céline continued to insist that it would appeal to Lady Karina and bring her here directly. “For all her polite ways, I suspect your breeches and dagger offend her. Women like her are forced into a role by their birth and station, and most of them can’t stand the thought of another woman escaping that role. I know for certain that she’s been dying to put you into a gown and to dress your hair since we first arrived.”

  “But my hair is too short for her to dress,” Amelie said, turning away from the open window.

  “Oh, you’d be surprised what a lady like Karina can do with—”

  A soft knock sounded on the door, and Céline froze for an instant. Then she hurried over to crouch down behind the dressing screen, completely hidden from sight.

  This was part of the plan, too.

  Still uncertain about the entire strategy, Amelie walked across the room. It was too late to turn back now. She opened the door.

  Céline’s instincts must have been right, as the Lady Karina stood on the other side, and she smiled at the sight of the midnight blue gown. “Oh, my dear, how beautiful you are. Let me do your hair, and we’ll walk down to the hall together.”

  She swept inside, wearing emerald green silk that rustled gently. Her own hair was elaborately dressed…but she had so much of it. Amelie thought when it was down, it probably reached the small of her back.

  “I brought some pins,” Karina said. “Come and sit.”

  “How is Anton?” Amelie asked, moving to the dressing table and sitting down.

  “Weary, but on his feet. I did object to this banquet tonight, but he is determined.” She looked down at the table. “Will you hand me that brush?”

  Looking into the mirror, Amelie studied Karina’s reflection, her lustrous hair, her glowing skin. She looked exactly as she had in the vision from so long ago.

  How was that possible?

  Céline had counseled Amelie to wait until after Karina had finished with her hair, ensuring that she was relaxed and pleased with her own work, but Amelie decided not to wait another moment.

  Turning in the chair, she grabbed Karina’s hand and gripped it tightly.

  Karina’s slanted green eyes widened in surprise, and she tried to jerk away, but Amelie was stronger and held fast while focusing all her internal energy on Karina’s past, on how she had not aged.

  She felt for the spark of Karina’s spirit.

  The jolt hit her as before, but this time the experience was different. Karina was fighting her, fighting to break free, and Amelie fought back. Within seconds, Amelie’s spirit began overpowering Karina’s, but as a result, she could feel their spirits mingling and meshing together.

  The room around them vanished.

  Another jolt hit, and then Amelie was rushing backward through the mists, only Karina’s spirit was still with her. Their spirits sped along, blending together until Amelie couldn’t separate them. She thought Karina’s thoughts and saw what Karina saw.

  She was Karina.

  And then the mists began to fade…

  CHAPTER 14

  SOUTHEASTERN PROVINCE NEAR THE EVERFEN

  TWENTY-SIX YEARS IN THE PAST

  The summer after Bethany left for her marriage and new life as the wife of a prince in the west, Karina’s sorrow and disappointment with her own life came to feel like a weight around her neck. She was not remotely sorry that she’d never married. No one worthy had asked her.

  She was only sorry that her father had not been able to arrange a great match for her, as he had for her youngest sister. Oh, he was in the process of making “acceptable” matches for their other two sisters, but nothing on the scale that he’d made for Bethany.

  And Karina would accept no less.

  For women of their class…youth, beauty, wealth, and land were the only bargaining chips to be offered. Her father possessed abundant land, and she was well aware that she still possessed beauty, but at the age of twenty-nine, she was considered on the edge of losing her youth—possibly over the edge.

  Father was nothing if not honest, and he’d told her that if she wished, he might able to arrange a match with a noble widower; an older man who’d lost his wife might agree to take Karina if a sweet enough dowry was offered.

  But she did not wish this.

  She wanted to run a great household. She wanted fiefdoms with fat rents under her charge. She wanted to be the beautiful mistress to one of the most powerful houses in Droevinka, to be worshipped by her peasants as kind and generous, to be valued by her husband as indispensable in helping him with decisions of state.

  She wanted to be the mother of princes.

  It cut like a sharp knife that her silly younger sister had been handed the opportunity for all these things…only because she was so young.

  Karina considered herself to be clever, but she cursed herself that she’d never before realized the absolute importance of youth in a woman.

  Looking into the mirror every night, she saw a lovely face staring back, with smooth skin, slanted green eyes, and glossy hair. The nobles who visited her parents here and the people of her father’s villages and the household servants still gazed at her with admiration when she entered a room or rode down the streets, but how long would this last? Next year she would be thirty.

  Thirty.

  How long before the glow of her skin faded and her hair grew dull like her mother’s and she woke up one day to find creases around her eyes? The prospect filled her with a dread she couldn’t bear. Once that happened, she’d have nothing to place on the bargaining table but her father’s land.

  Worse, no one would gaze at her in admiration when she floated into a room. How could she live without that? It was all she had.

  Her sorrow and fear of the future continued to grow.
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br />   Thankfully, she had one comfort and refuge to which she sometimes escaped, for some peace from her own thoughts. Her father had felt his girls should be accomplished in more skills than proper taste in gowns and hairstyles and good manners, and he’d encouraged them to pursue talents or interests. Bethany had proven herself quite skilled at the lute, and she’d chosen to study music.

  Karina found joy and solace in painting. She loved to do a sketch of an object or a person and turn the sketch into an oil-painting likeness. Her father said she had skill, and he didn’t offer his favor lightly.

  He displayed some of her better work, and it was admired by all.

  Karina needed to be admired.

  So in the months after Bethany’s departure toward a future of power and admiration, Karina took to her own room more and more, where she’d set up her easel and brushes.

  One afternoon, she was in her room, working on a still life of a flower arrangement she’d put together herself—with short-cut roses and white pansies—and she was so absorbed in the work that it was too late before she remembered that she’d forgotten to change out of a new gown.

  Father had paid quite a sum for the gown, a sky blue satin, and with some alarm, she saw that she’d spotted the sleeve with white paint. After a few moments of panic, she decided to go down to the kitchens and see if Martha, their head cook, could help. Martha had once managed to get every drop of spilled red wine out of light pink silk. It was possible she might be able to do something with few spots of paint.

  Karina had no idea that this one small accident would alter the course of her life. But as she approached the kitchens, she heard a number of female voices and the word “Móndyalítko,” and she stopped outside the open archway, not allowing herself to be seen.

  The paint on her sleeve was already dry, and a few more moments would make no difference. She loved to hear the kitchen gossip, and she knew that if she walked in, the women would cease talking.

  “Wagons with houses built on top?” someone asked. “I should like to see that.” Karina didn’t recognize the voice, but she was familiar with only a few members of the kitchen staff.