Envious Deception

by Katie Keller-Nieman

  “You know how to handle a sword.”

  “Who could know a blade better than he who forged it?” I said before slashing into the log fashioned as my enemy.

  I was the latest to join a group preparing for war. We were lined up, each with our own log for training.

  The king’s daughter strode past quickly, her violet dress trailing the ground as she made her way to the infirmary. Though it was only my second day housed in the shadow of the castle, I knew that was a place for the dying. People entered through the doorway and only lifeless bodies were carried out—the wounded from a sudden war over land and food. The seasons had been harsh, the harvest low, and the coming year would not be much improved.

  Though I could do nothing to ensure Cassandra and her family would have food to eat, I could help to protect her from invasion. I could defend, and one day her father, Aden, might see me as more than a dark shadow in Cassandra’s heart. Perhaps I could be a light.

  I spun, letting loose my frustration on the log, slicing my blade into the battered wood. A woodchip flew from its side. Sawdust rained from the cut to the dry, beaten grass.

  Night fell, the others had gone, and I tired of my battle with the shredded log. My aching arms hung heavy at my sides as I walked the path along the fortress wall, sword hanging from a weary grip.

  I lifted my nose to the air: burning sage swirled on the breeze. I instinctively followed it to the wooden door to the infirmary and dared a glance through the slotted planks. A torch burned within. I saw movement and heard whispers softly spoken. I leaned a bit closer, but with the slightest touch, the door swung open on whining hinges and I saw something I should not have. Something forbidden.

  “Witchcraft,” I uttered in a whisper of a breath.

  Between cascades of golden hair, wide blue eyes stared up into mine. Her long lashes fluttered anxiously. She sat beside a cot, leaning over the body of a man near death. A smoking smudge stick dropped from her hand and rolled along a thin blanket covering the warrior. He was delirious and feverish, too far gone to know what crime she was committing. The sage sparked and smoldered bright saffron on the blanket. I rushed forward, snatching it up before a flame could ignite, and she jumped away in a panic. Her dress caught on the leg of her stool, halting her escape.

  “I am not-it is not-” she stammered.

  I looked down at the sage in my hand and the small book laid on the man. It was open to a page of writing that I could not read, and there were carved stone runes carefully placed on his chest.

  A squeaky cart approached on the dirt path outside and a rush of static raced over my skin, prickling the hairs on my body.

  “Check the area,” a man called. “They can’t have gone far. Spread out!”

  Footsteps rushed toward us. I grabbed a blanket folded over a bench and threw it over the man. Runes scattered to the floor, rolling into shadow, and I tossed the sage into the flickering torch on the wall.

  An armored guard pushed into the infirmary, looking around quickly, and his searing glance fell to me. I instinctively stepped in front of the girl, hand closing tighter on my weapon, but this bold action only drew his attention.

  “What’s this?” he demanded in a deep growl, sneering in my face. His teeth shone yellow behind thin lips curled back menacingly. He lifted his sword as he stepped forward, trying to get a look at the woman I guarded.

  The shadows slipped from her face as she stepped into the amber torchlight. “I heard raised voices,” she said shakily, face white with fear. “Is everything alright?”

  Upon sight of her, the guard’s intimidating gaze broke. “Princess…” he gasped. “No need to fret. We’ll catch the culprits.”

  He eyed the sword still clutched in my hand, but my focus was drawn outside to an ominous procession of guards leading a cart with iron bars for sides. The prison cart lumbered forward on misshapen wheels. They squeaked and tossed the balance off, making the old woman inside cling to the bars. She leaned against the metal, looking at me. Her pale, whitish eyes filled with regret, pain, fear, and sympathy. My heart stuttered and I forgot my surroundings as her gaze pierced deep inside my skin, down to my heart and soul. She watched me unfalteringly until the cart passed out of sight. She was gone, but I could still feel her.

  I barely noticed as the man left, following the others. My body tensed and twitched as the words “run” and “hide” echoed in my mind.

  “Swordsmith?”

  I spun at the sound of the king’s daughter’s voice, and I beheld the same wild look that I knew my own face wore.

  “You didn’t hand me over? You…” She glanced to the blanket covering the injured man and more than enough evidence to have the three of us put to death.

  I moved quickly for the door.

  “Wait!” She rushed ahead and slammed the wooden door closed before I could exit. It rattled loudly as she pressed against it, guarding the only way out with her extended arms. “I cannot allow you to leave.”

  Her hand clutched the golden hilt of a long, gleaming dagger. The gold cuffs and bracelets adorning her arms clanged as she trembled.

  “The king can never know. No one can,” she warned, gripping her blade tighter, eyes brimming with fearful tears.

  “Why do you practice here? In this place?” I accused through gritted teeth. “The king is your father. He hunts your kind.”

  Her piercing eyes threatened me. “What should you care what I do?”

  “It is a great risk! And not only for you,” I snapped angrily. I was speaking too candidly but was too angered to stop. “Do you think you are the only witch in this village? In your father’s kingdom?”

  “I will not be caught.”

  “You have already! By me!” I paced in frustration and pointed my sword to the door. “That woman will be burned! You could be next. And it will not stop there, not if his own house falls to sorcery.”

  “You would not hand me over, then? Not even for riches?” she challenged in shock.

  I looked into her pale blue eyes and felt my anger collapse. “Not for the entire kingdom. I know your plight.”

  “How could you possibly?” she scoffed.

  My eyes lost their hard edge, and she read the pain in them. The regret and loss. My sword lowered as the hand that held it weakened. “My mother knew magic,” I admitted, a fearful whisper in the dark. “She was a healer. She tried to help a dying woman, and she was burned for it.”

  The air felt thick, heavy with emotion, making it difficult to breathe. My chest ached as I recalled the day my mother died. The flames had swallowed her quickly, yet not swiftly enough to save her pain. Eldri and I had watched her writhe in anguish within that blazing glow. I would never forget the smell, her screams, or the evil cheers from the crowd. Even now, they cut me.

  The king’s daughter slowly left her post guarding the door, sheathing her dagger. The velvet of her dress swished softly as she approached with sympathetic eyes. Her hand brushed my arm. I could not hold her gaze but watched the shadows at my feet.

  “I am sorry,” she said softly.

  “My sister, Eldri, was next. They dragged her to the river to force a confession. She had no spark of magic, but there is no way to prove you are not a witch.”

  “They killed her?” she gasped.

  I nodded grimly. “The fear of magic betrays reason. She drowned. My remaining sisters had already fled, fearing they would be next. I was very young, too young to condemn, so my life was spared. I left soon after. I wandered and traveled for years, until I found work with the blacksmith. And now I am here.”

  “But… your family is scattered. You are alone?”

  I exhaled, looking into the flame of the torch behind her, watching as it flickered.

  “Not completely.” I straightened, composing myself. I resented showing such vulnerability to a stranger, even one I could relate to. Though we differed in every way that mattered in our world, we shared a connection that could not be ignored.

  “So, you
see, Princess, I have every reason to keep your secret. Not just for you but for my sisters as well.”

  “Aurora,” she said softly. “Call me Aurora. And forgive me, please. I will be more careful from this day forth. I swear, I will tell no one what you have told me. On my very soul, you have my word.”

  CHAPTER 16

  DAY AND NIGHT

  Eric was still as the vision faded. I felt the slow, lethargic beats of his heart at my back. A breeze rustled the leaves around us, sending them scattering around the trees, moving in wild patterns. I shivered from the wind.

  “You’re cold,” he said, his voice hoarse and low as he gathered me tighter to his chest.

  I turned in his embrace, shifting to look at him. He faced the ground, staring intently at the withered leaves. “I’m so sorry, Eric,” I said. His mother and his sister… both brutally killed before his eyes.

  “That’s why she was burned,” he uttered. “When we saw her in the fire…”

  I nodded. I had feared that was why but hadn’t realized… hadn’t even thought…

  “She really was a witch,” I whispered. Maybe she wasn’t Aurora’s brand of witch but something equally criminal at the time.

  Eric said nothing. He just stared at our clasped hands.

  With this single memory, so many pieces fell into place. “That’s why Aurora’s so desperate for you. You understood her. You accepted her in a time when no one else would.”

  With that knowledge, Aurora seemed much more dangerous to me. Love was one thing-a powerful thing-but I had the only person she related to. The only one she trusted. Add a heaping spoonful of crazy to that, and we found a whole lot of trouble.

  He hung his head lower. “I brought her into our lives. I trusted her. What a terrible mistake I made.”

  “You were kind to her. I could never fault you for that.” I wrapped my arms around him and nuzzled my face into his neck. “I love you for that.”

  Eric had a class later that day. Art classes lasted for five long hours. I spent much of that time searching my first life for any other clues Eric may have given-any subtle hint about magic in his family.

  After hours of effort, I managed to call up a vision of when he had told me about his mother’s and sister’s death. It was a still night, much like the last I had remembered, and he confessed that loving me frightened him. That he hadn’t opened himself to anyone for fear of losing them. It was sad and sweet, and we spent hours holding hands in the field under a cloak of darkness before he left to go home. There was no mention of any accusations of witchcraft or a fire. Just that they died when he was young and he missed them greatly.

  I wondered about my own family in that life. The nickname my father had for me was adorable. I’d never had such a nickname. Thinking of my family then made me sad, because I’d actually had one. They had been mine and mine alone, not stolen by Aurora. I’d had brothers. Joseph and Elijah. Somehow, I still had Elijah-my best friend Tony now, but what about Joseph? Would I ever see him again?

  I was still dazed on my return to the present when my phone rang beside me. Ashley woke from her nap at the noise. She glanced at the clock, then sat up, pushing a sleepy hand through her tight curls, and returned to her studies.

  “Hello?” I answered the phone groggily.

  “I’m here. Wanna let me in?”

  My heart hammered with awareness. Todd.

  “Y-yes. I’ll be right down.” I hung up and quickly flew around my room, trying to find the match to the shoe in my hand. I had blanked out for so long that I forgot about Todd. Stupid! I had planned to meet him in the parking lot, but now I worried he might get annoyed and leave before I could make it down the stairs.

  I grabbed the originals of the three books from my nightstand and stuffed them into my bag as I rushed from my room, shoving my feet into my ballet flats with each hurried step out of the building. Todd’s back faced me where he sat on the lower front steps outside. The last time I saw him there was after we fought during spring break. I had called him a loser and told him that I hated him. All because he had tried to protect me.

  Sometimes I really hated myself.

  I inhaled a deep breath before descending the last few steps to sit beside him. He glanced up, still holding that weary look in his eyes that he’d had at Thanksgiving. Did he ever look different lately? Was it lack of sleep? Or the loss of Amelia to Mark?

  I forced a smile. “I’m glad you came.”

  He shrugged. “You didn’t leave me much choice.”

  True. I had been a little pushy on the phone. “Where’s Tony?”

  “He couldn’t make it. Big exam coming up and he’s got study group. He’s watching Mimi.”

  I nodded, anxiously working up the nerve to tell him what we’d found. I breathed in another steadying breath and reached into my bag, latching onto the books. Wordlessly, I held them out to him.

  “What’s this?” he asked in a low, indifferent mutter.

  “I keep my promises, Todd.”

  He took the stack and picked up the book on top, the oldest of the three, and opened it carefully. His expressionless mask caved the slightest bit, eyes widening and jaw dropping. “Is this…?”

  “The books. We found them.”

  “I thought you gave up,” he said, eyes glued to the yellowed pages as he gingerly leafed through them.

  “I did, but then… it just sort of came to us.”

  “Us?” he asked, glancing over.

  “Me and Eric. I can’t tell you how we got them. I swore I wouldn’t, but here they are. We could use your help to decipher them.”

  He nodded, still mesmerized by the weight of what he held and all that it meant for us.

  He closed the first and opened the second, glancing over a few pages curiously. “I can’t believe you did it.”

  “And I added you to my deal with Aurora,” I told him quickly. “She swore not to hurt you. So if we can’t find a solution within these pages, at least you’ll be safe.”

  He met my eyes with a deep thoughtful expression. He looked serious. Determined. “You can trust me with this.”

  I smiled. “I know.” And I did.

  Todd and I wasted no time in getting down to business. He brought me to a pizza place about a block down from Blackie’s so that we could eat and read. The restaurant was empty except for us, the woman at the register, and the cooks in the kitchen. No other booths were filled, but about once every ten minutes, someone would walk in to pick up their order or take a slice to go. Oddly, it felt like the perfect place to read through them, with enough quiet to concentrate on the words and enough going on around us so that we wouldn’t get hung up on what we didn’t understand-which was all of it.

  Todd and I were both fast readers. Munching on our pizza, we made quick work of the books, reading the copies Eric and I had made. We left textbooks strewn across the empty surface of the table, keeping the guise that we were just two students intent on earning A’s. If Aurora had any spies, Mike or one of her many friends from when she was a student at Weston, they wouldn’t have a clue what we were truly studying.

  Todd set down his copy, closing the cardstock cover. He reached for the last slice of pizza.

  “Alright. So these things are a mess,” he complained. He plucked a slice of pepperoni from the thick layer of greasy cheese and stuffed it in his mouth.

  “There are no explanations,” I agreed, setting down my copy.

  He bit a chunk out of his pizza, staring at the blank cover before him. “I need an encyclopedia. The internet,” he stated. “I know what a lot of the ingredients are, but I’m drawing a blank on what they’re supposed to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Well, belladonna is a poison. It was used way back when in eye drops for women, to make their eyes pretty or something like that. It dilates the pupil.”

  “Poison in their eyes?”

  Todd nodded. “History’s full of women doing crazy
shit to look beautiful.”

  I snorted. “Who do you think made those eye drops in the first place? I know it wasn’t a woman.”

  “Touché.” He chewed on the crust of his slice then took a long sip of Sprite. “Mandragora.”

  “Mandrake,” I chimed in. “That was in Harry Potter.” He nodded. “You knew?”

  “I’ve raided your bookshelves a few times,” he mentioned casually. “It’s a hallucinogen. Old-school acid. All the shit in those books is based in history. People really believed that the screams of the root could kill you. There was some special way of removing them from the ground using dogs under a full moon. Ridiculous shit like that. But Aurora’s got her own set of instructions,” he added, nudging the stack of pages with a flick of his finger. “To preserve the screams.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “So is she just crazy, or is it real?”

  “It’s got to be real on some level, just not in the literal way. Clearly it’s real. Here you and Eric are to prove it. We know she can mess with our heads. We know that she blocked my memories for a while. Maybe the plant doesn’t actually scream, but the removal method could protect some supernatural essence.”

  I fiddled with the napkin on my plate. “I can’t believe we’re sitting here discussing magic with completely straight faces.”

  “Tell me about it. Anyone listening in would think we’re the biggest Harry Potter dorks in the world.”

  “I think you mean ‘nutters.’”

  He leaned back and crossed his thick arms. “Maybe if we research the ingredients, we can figure out what each makes and what it can do.”

  “And hopefully find something that will block her magic.”

  He nodded. “There’s a slim chance of it, Sandy. We’re running on folklore matching to modern science. I can tell you, there aren’t many studies on the screams of the mandrake root. We’re running blind. I hope it doesn’t come to this, but you may have to get used to the idea of handing the books over and taking her deal.”