Spellbound

by Ophelia Silk

  Love. Adelaide would have said it. Adelaide would have called her out on her dishonesty and goaded her into a different answer. But Jane was not Adelaide. So instead she averted her eyes, nodding despite the ache in her chest.

  “I understand.”

  But as she lay in bed that night, she replayed her mother’s words over and over again in her mind. A life where we both could have been happy. But what did that mean for Jane and Adelaide? There was no life where the two of them could be happy. Not a life that was possible.

  But as she slept, she dreamed of it. A community of cabins in the woods, people surrounding her, and Adelaide smiling at her side.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  A Kiss Denied

  “A TOAST! TO the happy couple!”

  Jane smiled politely across the table, lacing her fingers through William’s. She knew exactly how they looked—her beautiful and fair next to him, delicate beside his strong features.

  She saw jealousy in some gazes as the glasses tilted her way. It was easy to imagine that she deserved it. Over the past few days, she’d gotten back into the habit of focusing more on what she was supposed to feel, and less on what she did.

  It came from years of practice, after all.

  So she smiled, ducked her head and blushed. There was good-natured laughter as William threw an arm around her. “Don’t be shy, dear,” he chided.

  He liked her shy, she knew. Shy and demure and always looking to him for guidance. He didn’t want to challenge her to be the best version of herself. He certainly didn’t want or expect her to challenge him. By William’s side, she was what she was always meant to be—polite, perfect, and utterly at the mercy of his whims.

  The chatter through dinner was pleasant. Jane allowed herself to fall into it, bantering with the ladies, carefully picking and choosing words, getting the reactions that she wanted. People smiled and laughed as they looked at her.

  It warmed her, even though a voice deep within argued that they weren’t really seeing her. It was an easy voice to ignore.

  Guests filed out of William’s house. Jane saw them out the door one by one, fleeting kisses exchanged on cheeks, well wishes received with good cheer. And then it was just her and William, her soon-to-be husband.

  They had just announced the date of their wedding to the town. It would be a simple, lovely affair. The sort of ceremony any girl would consider herself lucky to have. Nicer than most farm girls could hope for, at any rate. Her mother said that it would be nicer than her own wedding, that she was proud of her.

  William smiled at her, his eyes warm. “Did you have a nice time, dear?”

  He didn’t ask because he wanted to know the answer, any more than he asked her to stop being shy because he wanted her to do so. He asked because it was the proper thing to do. And considering that was what she wanted from him, it seemed only fair to respond in kind.

  “I did.” She went to him, clasped his hands, allowed her cheek to be kissed. It was far more intimate than the knuckle kisses that she always felt a little sick at, but the expected thing was the expected thing. “Have a good night, William.”

  “Surely you aren’t leaving so soon.” His eyes were twinkling, but they were no longer warm. Their gray depths reminded her of the sky before a storm. Before rain fell down from the clouds, releasing the beasts from their prison in the woods.

  Dangerous.

  But William was a good man in his way. For all of his faults, he was a good man. He would not cause Jane any harm. So why was her side twinging so, the memory of the attack that had brought her to Adelaide stealing her breath?

  She did her best to hide it, laughing and squeezing William’s hands. “People will talk, dear. Soon I’ll be all yours.” She tried to pull her hands away.

  But William held fast. He took a step forward, and Jane took one back, suddenly very aware of the small distance between them. There was hardly any space between their bodies at all. “We’re practically married, Jane. Do you really think anyone will care what we get up to?” He stroked her cheek. “They expect us to be enthusiastic about each other. We’re one of those rare few who get to marry for love.”

  Jane let out a laugh. She couldn’t help it. “Is that so?” Perhaps it would be wiser to say nothing, but she couldn’t truly believe William thought this was about love.

  “That’s how it looks, and that’s the important thing.” William smiled at her, a strange smile that should not have reminded her of sharp claws but did anyway. “Think about it, Jane. Me picking a farm girl as a wife… people will assume it’s because there’s something special about you.” His fingertips found her cheek once more, lingering this time. “There is something special. I do love you. And part of you loves me, too.”

  He leaned in. And what could she say? Could she argue, tell him that what he felt for her wasn’t love? That love was not a cage to keep the pretty things you liked trapped?

  That would not have been polite. So she closed her eyes, and let him kiss her.

  Her heart thrummed in her chest. She tried to pretend that it was desire that did it, but she couldn’t even lie to herself. The sick taste coating the back of her mouth was not desire, but fear. His body against hers was hard and powerful. His skin was rough. His lips were forceful and demanding, not an equal partner but a leader to be pleased and nothing more.

  His hand skirted up her ribs, toward her breast. She grabbed it, pulling away. “William, no.”

  William pouted. “We’re going to be married, dear. Surely there’s no need for this anymore.”

  “Going to be married. Not married yet.” She laced her fingers through his, putting on her most charming smile. It felt insincere to her own face, to the heat prickling at the back of her eyes. “I do have a reputation to uphold.”

  “So you do,” he said.

  He stepped forward, and once again Jane stepped back. Her back bumped against the wall. The door was immediately to her left, but how would it look if she ran out it? People would see, and people would talk.

  “Your reputation is safe,” William said, drawing her gaze back to him. “So far, I’ve been kind enough not to tarnish it with what I know. Even though, sometimes, I do think that you need more help than I can provide.”

  Jane felt ill at what he was insinuating. She knew what was coming, and tried desperately to find a way to avert it.

  But she couldn’t. Not if she was to behave how she was meant to.

  She closed her eyes against the burn of tears, against the vision of William’s face hovering inches from hers. “All I need is you,” she whispered. It felt like a defeat.

  William’s hand settled on her ribs again, and this time she didn’t push it away. “Then let me help you, dear. That’s all I want.”

  She felt his breath on her face. He was moving in to kiss her again. And she would have to let him. She would have to let him do whatever he wanted, if she didn’t want him to tell the rest of the village the truth.

  And she would have to keep letting him, and keep letting him, for the rest of her life.

  It was the thought of that—of years and years catering to his whims, giving into every kiss and caress, no matter how little she wanted it—that made her decision. No matter how much she wanted to live in a community, no matter how much she wanted to keep Adelaide safe, she couldn’t live like this.

  She couldn’t.

  She tore from William’s grasp, rolling to the left. She ducked out the door.

  “Jane!” William’s voice called after her, nothing but gentlemanly alarm. Because someone could be listening, of course. She didn’t turn toward it, didn’t look to see the expression on his face. She just ran, as hard and as fast as she could, toward home.

  She kept close to the forest’s edge as she exited the market. She’d been careful these past few weeks, knowing it would be expected of her to be wary. But what was the point now? Surely William would tell the town the truth—or the truth as he knew it. He would tell them that she was on
the witch’s side, that she wasn’t to be trusted.

  She slowed, the marketplace in the distance but her parents’ home even further away. What had she done? What had she been thinking? She didn’t just put herself in danger. She put Adelaide in danger, too. If she left town, surely they would come after her.

  The right thing, the safest thing, would be to go back to William and grovel. Apologize. Let him do whatever he wanted to her. But she was pretty sure something in her would die if she let that happen.

  And would it really be so bad, living as a husk of herself, compared to this?

  She fell to her knees in the dirt. She felt like she was dying, a little, like she was trapped in a dark cave with the only exit blocked by a large boulder. She didn’t want this. But she didn’t want to be alone, either.

  Her eyes ached with unshed tears. And as if in sympathy, to do what she could not, rain began to patter down from the sky in a light mist.

  “Are you alright?”

  The sound of the hesitant voice made her head whip up.

  There, right inside the trees, stood Eloise, her nervous eyes concerned. And she wasn’t alone. Ten or so people stood around her, all staring at Jane with those same concerned eyes.

  “It’s you,” Eloise said, and for the first time in weeks, Jane felt truly seen. It broke her, and finally, she began to weep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  A Truth Understood

  A SOFT HAND landed on her shoulder. Eloise was crouching by her side. “It’s going to be alright,” she said in her soft voice.

  “The forest,” Jane said. “It can be dangerous when it rains.” It perhaps was a strange thing to say, but it was easier than trying to explain what she was sobbing over.

  “We know,” one of the women—Jane recognized her with a start as Rosemary, from the party—said. “But we’re prepared. We’ve been studying, you see. About the flowers.” She held out a handful of dusty red petals. Jane stared at them for a moment in shock.

  “You know about them?”

  “The information wasn’t easy to get ahold of,” another said. She had a scar stretching across one eye. Jane recognized her from a neighboring farm, although the name escaped her. “But after meeting Adelaide, we wanted to learn.”

  “These people are all like me,” Eloise explained, soft. “They came to Adelaide for help, too.”

  Jane gawked. The group was mostly women, but a few men littered the crowd, too. “And you chose to learn magic after that?”

  “What we could.” Rosemary put a hand in her pocket, presumably toying with the red petals in there. “It started with me. After going to her for protection I realized… I wanted to be able to protect myself, too. I didn’t want to have to rely on anyone else.”

  “But you found other people to join you,” Jane said. Her eyes were still streaming. She swiped at them. “You’re relying on them.”

  “Wanting to be around other people doesn’t mean that you rely on them.”

  “What about you?” A soft-spoken man toward the back spoke. “Eloise, do you recognize this woman?”

  “Well…” Eloise bit the inside of the cheek. “We live on different farms.”

  Jane put a hand on the girl’s shoulder, gentle. She appreciated Eloise trying to be polite, but Jane was just so tired of hiding. She was tired of pretending that she hadn’t known Adelaide, tired of doing whatever it took to keep William from spilling her secret.

  She still wasn’t sure what she was going to do with him. But here and now, at least, she could tell the truth. These people had all been to Adelaide. They understood, at least enough to know that she wasn’t evil.

  “Eloise and I have seen each other in passing,” Jane said. “But I didn’t truly meet her until she came to Adelaide’s cabin one night.”

  The small group simply stared at her, quiet. No one pressed for more information. But it all came out anyway, in a rush. She hadn’t truly let herself realize until this moment, just how much she’d longed for an understanding ear.

  “She rescued me when I was caught out in the rain,” she said. “A beast attacked me. She fought it off and brought me back to her cabin. I had to stay there, while I healed. I got to know her. I grew to… to…”

  She trailed off, looking down. It occurred to her, all at once, that some of these women might have very well shared Adelaide’s bed. The knowledge sat uncomfortably against her, made it difficult to continue.

  “I cared for her,” she finally said. “I cared for her greatly.”

  Eloise nodded. “I don’t think any of us got close enough to her to care for her. We’re grateful for her. She helped me stay safe.”

  “And she brought us to each other,” a slight woman said, and a taller woman wrapped her arm around her. The hood of her cloak slipped, and Jane realized it was Florence who stood there. She gave an understanding nod to Jane, as if to encourage her to keep speaking. A wordless acknowledgment that she understood, the same understanding that led to her rescuing her from William a lifetime ago.

  “I loved her,” Jane finally admitted, quiet. “At least, I thought I did.”

  The judgement she feared didn’t come. There was only silence, until finally, Rosemary broke it. “Then what are you doing here?”

  Jane curled in on herself. “I don’t know anymore,” she admitted. “Even with Adelaide, I was so lonely. She was comfortable with that life, and I… I wasn’t. I couldn’t be.”

  “Was she, though?” Florence spoke up. “I only spent… a short time with her. But even I recognized that she wanted companionship. Longed for it, really. The fact that she opened her doors so readily to you only confirms that for me.”

  “It frightened me, a little,” the one at her side agreed. “No… No one person can be everything for someone. That just isn’t fair. But Adelaide didn’t seem to want more than one person.”

  Jane looked at her. “Were you her lover?” She couldn’t help but notice that she shared similarities with Jane herself.

  But the woman shook her head. “No, no, I… I went to her a few times. But I never really tried to get to know her. Not like I know Florence now.” She tucked herself into the other woman’s arms. “We were never… It wasn’t love, with her.”

  Jane exhaled. She wasn’t sure if that made her feel better, but she couldn’t hold against Adelaide or the woman things that she had already been aware of. And even if Adelaide had loved her, or vice versa, would it make any difference to her?

  It did. Even though it made her terribly selfish, it did.

  “I just don’t know what to do,” Jane said. “I love her. But I still don’t understand her, after everything. I don’t understand how she could be happy like that.”

  “Maybe she isn’t,” one of the women said. She’d been quiet for the entire encounter, and when the others turned to look at her, she shrank in on herself. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s alright, Mercy,” one of the men said, giving her an encouraging smile. “We want to hear what you have to say.”

  “Well.” Mercy sighed, looking to Jane. “I’m, um. I’m sorry if this is too forward, but… you’re engaged to marry William, aren’t you?”

  Vaguely, Jane recognized Mercy. She was the innkeeper’s wife, and she had seen her at parties, mostly silent by her husband’s side while he drank. “I am,” she admitted.

  “Does he make you happy?”

  Jane sighed, hanging her head. “No.”

  “Then why did you agree to marry him?”

  “He saw Adelaide and I! When I came back to the town, he threatened me with it.” Jane clutched at her chest. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “You could have gone to Adelaide, though,” Florence said. She looked to Mercy, who nodded, as if grateful that she had spoken more bluntly. “Explained the situation to her. Why didn’t you?”

  “I guess… part of me thought it would be better to stay in the town. I wasn’t happy there. But it felt like I could be the happiest there. Does that make any sens
e?”

  “Of course it does,” Eloise said, gentle at her side. “Remember, we all live there, too. We understand what it’s like.”

  “But Adelaide… maybe she feels the same way about the forest,” the man from before said softly.

  Mercy nodded. “Maybe she finds the forest just as imperfect as you find the town?” She paused, then added with doubtful eyes, “Maybe it was just… the best of several options, none of them good.”

  “I don’t think the town is the best option,” Jane said. “Not anymore. I don’t… I don’t think I can go on like this.”

  Silence greeted her words, broken only by the quiet hiss of the rain as it began to pick up. Finally, Rosemary looked up and sighed. “Come under the trees where it’s a bit dryer, dear. Do you know what kind of flower protects you?”

  “Edelweiss,” she replied.

  “We have some of those,” she said. “Come in here, then.”

  Jane stepped beneath the leaves. And she had to admit, it felt better there, in the forest. Especially surrounded by people who truly understood her, she felt like she could breathe a little easier.

  “Edelweiss,” Mercy mused quietly. “A noble flower.”

  “Have you been studying the meanings?”

  Mercy ducked her head, clearly embarrassed. “Slowly. It’s hard, because I can only read them when my… my husband is asleep. But I find it fascinating.”

  Jane felt something in her chest shifting, falling over itself like a landslide. She could nearly hear the wake of it thundering in her ears. “Do you know what purple hydrangeas mean?”

  Mercy’s brow furrowed. “Hydrangeas are… a difficult flower. Some people say they belong to those that are heartless, or those who don’t care about how other people feel. But often, that’s just how they appear at first glance.”

  Jane nodded, slow. “Anything about purple ones specifically?”

  “They are meant for people who desire understanding and connection with someone else.”

  Jane closed her eyes, tight. Did she really believe that Adelaide would be happy alone? That she enjoyed the solitude of the forest? She longed for a community just as much as Jane did. She’d said as much. She just didn’t want to sacrifice the home she loved to get it.