by Barb Hendee
For a long moment, no one spoke.
“That’s impossible,” Malcolm returned. “How would you know how to do such a thing?”
“Siobhan showed me. Long ago.”
At that, rage passed across his face, and he started forward toward his wife. Jaromir moved to cut him off again.
“How could you do this?” Malcolm shouted at Anna. “To your son? To the villages?”
For the first time, her calm expression wavered. “I didn’t think about the villages, and I had no idea what this would do to Lysander. I only wanted to leave you and your new wife with nothing.”
Malcolm stopped. “New wife? What are you talking about?”
This was too much for Amelie, and she found her voice. “Don’t lie or play the innocent. She saw a draft of the letter. She knows what you’ve done.”
His face shifted to complete confusion. “What letter?”
“For the sake of the gods,” Anna said. “Will you be honest for once in your life? I have a draft of the letter you sent to Prince Rodêk requesting an annulment. You would make a bastard of your own son! That girl you plan to marry has been down in the kitchens ordering our servants about as if she’s already mistress here.”
Malcolm stumbled to one side and then steadied himself. “The letter,” he whispered. Some kind of realization seemed to dawn, followed by a flash of horror. “You laid this curse on our lands?” he asked Anna as if he still needed convincing.
“What would you have done in her place?” Amelie asked.
“It isn’t the same,” he answered.
“It’s exactly the same!” she shouted back. She had no pity for him.
His eyes were on his wife. “I had those people in the meadow imprisoned. A man was killed, and you said nothing.”
Anna’s back was straight. “That was none of my doing. You ordered those events.” She pointed to Amelie. “Were it not for her forcing this from me, I would have waited until the day you and your bride-to-be, Lilah, came to tell me and my son to leave this castle. Then I’d have told you.”
When she spoke the name Lilah, he winced, and Amelie thought on her reading of Anna’s past, of how Malcolm couldn’t stand to face up to his own infidelities, how the truth embarrassed him.
Anna knowing the name of his current mistress seemed to cut him. It was as if she’d poured all his sins out on the floor to be seen.
After running a hand over his face, he looked at Jaromir. “Let me pass,” he said quietly. His anger was gone, and Jaromir stepped aside.
Malcolm walked to his wife.
“Anna, listen to me. You cannot think I would cast you off. Or disinherit our son. You are the crowning jewel of my life, and every day I marvel that you stand at my side. You are the lady of my house and the princess of Yegor.”
Again, her calm expression wavered. “But what of the letter?”
He winced again and then began biting off words as if they pained him. “It was a game. You had gone to bed, and I had . . . I had Lilah come up to the castle. We were in my study so no one would disturb us, and we began drinking wine, too much wine. She wanted proof of my love, and somehow we began writing a letter together. I was drunk and our first attempt was a mess. We laughed and drank more wine and rewrote it. I used my seal and promised to send it off. Of course later, I burned it, but I forgot about the draft, and it must have been put away with my other papers.”
“You never sent any letter?” Anna asked, incredulous. “But what about the girl? She believes you did. She thinks you will marry her. Why would you let her go on and on believing such a thing?”
He closed his eyes. “I told you. It was a game. It pleased her to believe and . . .”
“And you fed upon her admiration and excitement?” Anna finished.
“So what did you think would happen at the end of the summer?” Amelie asked Malcolm. “That you could give Rupert a pouch of money and Lilah would just go quietly?”
Céline and Jenelle had been watching this exchange in silence. Jenelle appeared stricken.
But Céline spoke in a clear voice. “None of this matters. All that matters is reversing the curse.”
Anna put one hand to her mouth. “It can’t be reversed. If it could, I would have already. I would have reversed it the moment my son fell ill.”
Jaromir’s jaw twitched. “There has to be a way. If we can’t reverse it, people will die of hunger this winter. The economy of this region will fail.”
“Do you think I’ve not realized that?” Anna asked, her voice breaking. “If I could, I would undo what I have done, but I don’t know how.”
Céline turned and began walking for the archway. “Then come with me. If anyone knows how, it will be someone down in that meadow.”
* * *
Céline stood inside the white wagon, back near the bunks, shortly after Helga had collected a small gathering of women. The wagon was crowded, but everyone had enough room to sit or stand.
The group consisted of Helga, Alondra, Céline, Amelie, Sinead, Anna, and a thin woman in a threadbare dress from the line of Klempá named Isadora.
Anna showed no hesitation in explaining exactly what she had done, including the details of the spell she’d used.
To their credit, none of the women judged or chastised her. They simply listened.
“Why did you cast it?” Sinead asked.
“I believed my husband was going to put me aside and make our son illegitimate so that he could marry a girl from this encampment. I decided to leave them with nothing.”
None of the women showed surprise.
Sinead nodded and looked to Isadora. “Can it be reversed?”
Helga stood near Céline and leaned closer. “Isadora is a skilled kettle witch. Her grandmother trained her.”
“No,” Isadora answered. “It was a call for justified revenge. She flowed her own strength into the earth and called on the strength of her dead kin from the sky. It cannot be undone.”
Could this be true?
So far, Céline and Amelie had never failed in solving a crisis once they were set to the task. Had they come all this way and then found the person responsible, only to fail?
“There must be something we can do,” Amelie insisted, clearly thinking along the same lines as Céline. “Now that we know what was done and how it was done, we can’t just give up.”
Sinead looked to Isadora, and Céline couldn’t help noting their stark differences. Though both women were Móndyalítko and about the same age, Sinead was tall and lovely with glowing skin, wearing a fine sapphire blue gown. Isadora’s face was pinched and thin. Her hair was brittle, and her faded dress was coming apart at the seams.
“Isadora, is there anything that can be done?” Sinead asked. Her voice held deep respect.
The other woman was quiet for a while and then said, “We could cast the restoration blessing, but you must know the . . .” She trailed off.
Anna’s head swiveled back and forth between them. “What? What is it we must know?”
Céline stood rooted in expectation. What was Isadora suggesting? Helga frowned and Alondra glanced away in discomfort.
Sinead spoke directly to Anna. “In generations past, in desperate times, our people would sometimes take money to cast restoration spells on land that had been played out. The land would be restored to its former health.”
Amelie stepped forward. “Well, let’s do that. Why hasn’t anyone suggested it before?”
“Because we did not know what we were dealing with here, and because there is a price,” Isadora answered. “To cast this, our people join hands on the dead lands and they provide a conduit, but one of us must function as a single anchor, and it is his or her life force that restores what had been damaged.”
Céline’s body went stiff. “Does this person die?”
“
No, but years of life are taken, and the process is painful.”
“Then that idea is out of the question,” Céline said, “and we’ll think of something else.”
“I’ll do it,” Sinead said quietly. “The land must be healed, and there is no other way.”
“Not you,” Anna said. “I’ll be the anchor. No matter what the price, I’ll pay it. This is on my head.”
Sinead studied her face. “All right. If that is your choice, my lady, I’ll go and gather the people.”
Céline wanted to speak up and argue, but she didn’t. Something told her to be silent.
* * *
Amelie had never taken part in anything like this.
In a surprisingly short time, every person in the Móndyalítko encampment had gathered in the nearest strawberry field.
Anna stood a good ways into the field with Isadora on one side and Sinead on the other. They joined hands, and then Isadora and Sinead took a step back. Helga grasped Sinead’s hand and Alondra held Isadora’s, but they, too, took a step back, so that the five women formed a V shape.
“My girls,” Helga said.
Céline took her hand and Amelie took Alondra’s.
Marcus took Céline’s other hand, and Jaromir took Amelie’s.
Without being told what to do, half the Móndyalítko came to Marcus’s side and the other half went to Jaromir’s, and they joined hands to create a large V with Anna as the front point.
There was no cauldron and no fire.
There was only the dead land and the formation of the people.
Prince Malcolm was not there, and that was probably a good thing. Amelie had no idea what Anna was risking, but she had no doubt Malcolm would have stopped his wife.
Isadora looked up at the sky, and Amelie wavered in unease, wondering what was about to happen.
* * *
Céline grasped Helga’s hand on one side and Marcus’s on the other and bit the inside of her mouth to keep silent. She wanted to grab Lady Anna and stop this, but she kept hearing Sinead’s voice.
The land must be healed, and there is no other way.
If this was not done, and it was not successful, many, many more people would suffer.
“Clear your head and focus on helping us,” Helga said quietly. “We need you.”
Céline nodded.
“It’s time,” Helga whispered.
Isadora spoke in a strong voice. “Marcus and Leif, call to the sky.”
Before Céline could even think, Marcus threw his head back and howled. A similar sound came from down the line. The dual howls were clear and loud, rising upward like a song.
A few moments later, both men stopped in unison and the last ring of the howls faded away.
Isadora’s voice carried out for all to hear.
By the blood of the people and the strength of the old bonds
By the shifters and the Mist-Torn
By the love of the world and the sound of rolling wheels
By the songs and the stories and the fires in the night
By the ancestors among us, inside us
And the ancestors yet to be born
Let our strength flow through the dust and decay
Rekindling lost life
Let our anchor be the guide
For life and health and harvest once more
Raising her own face to the sky, she cried, “Now!”
In unison, the voices of all the Móndyalítko in both lines rang out, repeating Isadora’s chant. Céline found herself chanting in perfect rhythm . . . and then she felt a tingling in her palms and feet.
Warmth passed through her from Marcus’s side to Helga’s. Within moments, it increased from warmth to heat.
The chant began again, louder this time, and her voice called out of its own accord.
Then she heard a gasping over the top voices, and she looked to the point of the V.
Anna’s white-blond held streaks of gray, and lines appeared in her face. She was in pain.
Céline instinctively moved toward her, but Helga gripped down tightly in warning and, somehow, Céline held her place, not breaking the chant.
The earth began turning a rich dark brown, and the strawberry plants turned green. Blossoms grew and changed to red berries before her eyes. The green began to spread.
Anna dropped to her knees.
“Enough!” Isadora called.
The people fell silent.
Helga let go, and Céline ran to Anna, dropping down beside her. “My lady!”
Anna’s eyes were looking ahead, though, as the green continued to spread at a faster pace, moving through the raspberry fields, the blueberry fields, and to the orchards. White blossoms burst from among green leaves as the trees returned to health.
The land was restoring itself as if the curse had never been.
Anna’s face and hair and hands were altered. She appeared to have aged twenty years in a matter of moments.
But when she turned to look to Isadora, her eyes were filled with peace. “Thank you.”
Chapter Seventeen
After that, things seemed to move swiftly.
When Prince Malcolm saw what Anna had done to herself, he was too stricken to notice the crops had been healed. Still, Céline believed he would recover.
Men like him normally did.
Hopefully, he’d now be more aware of how his actions affected others.
The Móndyalítko held a somewhat subdued celebration in the meadow that night, with venison stew and music, but no one forgot the past days of tragedy and that even though Anna herself had placed the curse, she’d sacrificed much to make amends.
Céline and Amelie ate dinner with Sinead, Terrell, and the pack of unruly male cousins. Céline enjoyed herself.
The following morning, Jaromir vanished after breakfast and then came striding from the tree line. He wore his armor, tabard, and sword.
Clearly, he saw no further reason to play the Móndyalítko husband.
“Our work here is over,” he said. “It’s time to leave.”
Setting down a mug of tea, Marcus asked, “Already?”
Céline had known this was coming, and she wanted to go home, but that didn’t make leaving any easier on Marcus, and it didn’t make saying good-bye to those here any easier, either.
Helga had been crouched by the fire. “I need to go talk to Alondra.”
“Of course,” Jaromir answered.
“And we need to talk to Sinead,” Céline added.
Amelie flashed her a look of alarm. She hated any kind of emotional good-bye. Reaching out, Céline took her hand. “We must.”
She was about to start down the row of wagons when she saw Sinead walking toward them. Perhaps their aunt had known this was coming, too.
Sinead stopped an arm’s length away. “Can I not convince you to stay? You would be loved, cherished among your family.”
“We can’t stay,” Céline answered with regret for causing disappointment. “Our home is in Sèone now.”
Sinead’s face was sad. “I knew you would say that, but I had to try. I know you feel torn between worlds, and I hope you’re not sorry you came.”
Céline cast her gaze at the line of the wagons and the people busy making breakfast. “Never. We’ll never be sorry we came.”
* * *
Seven days later, Amelie sat up on the wagon’s bench beside Jaromir, and in the distance, she could see Castle Sèone.
They were almost home.
On the journey from Yegor, she and Jaromir had spent every night together in the white wagon. Céline had slept in the blue wagon with Helga, and Marcus had slept outside.
It seemed that whatever had happened between Céline and Marcus, Céline had ended it upon leaving the meadow.
Amelie had n
o such wish. Whatever was happening between her and Jaromir, she didn’t want it to end.
And yet . . . though she’d dreaded him pushing her into a conversation about the nature of their relationship, now that they were going back to their normal lives, over the past few days, she’d expected him to say something.
He hadn’t, and the castle was in sight.
Though it was the most difficult thing she’d ever done, she reached inside herself and asked, “Jaromir . . . what happens when we get home?”
“What do you mean?”
She wanted to hit him. Was he doing this on purpose? “What do you think I mean, with us?”
“Anything you like.”
That was hardly helpful. “Now what do you mean?” she asked.
He shrugged. “It means I’ll do anything you like. I’ll marry you if you want.”
She clenched her fists. “Well, that’s a proposal every girl wants to hear . . . and no, I don’t want to get married.”
He pulled up the horses and looked down at her. “You seem to think you’re the only one who’s floundering here. This is all as new to me as it is to you, and I have no idea what you want.”
Could that be true? Was he as lost as her?
“Even if you don’t want to get married,” he went on, “will you still move into my apartments at the castle?”
“And what would I do all day?”
“Do? What do you do at home?”
“Work in the gardens, help Céline make medicines, do the shopping, do readings for money, help Céline with her patients. I’m busy all the time. What would I do up at the castle if I was living with you? Mend your shirts?”
He was quiet for a while. “I never thought about that. Of course you like to be occupied.” He paused. “I can’t come and live with you at the shop. My job is in the castle.”
“I know.”
He started the horses again. “We’ll have to work this out as we go. You can come to me sometimes, and I can come to you. But I don’t want it to end.”
“I don’t want it to end, either.”
He dropped one hand over hers. “Well, all right, then.”
* * *
When the wagons reached the first wall surrounding Sèone, Céline was up on the bench of the blue wagon beside Marcus. Dusk wasn’t far off.