Bewitched

by Kaila Patterson

  The maiden froze, averting her eyes to the window. A spotlight of pale light came over her, like an angel ascending to the sky.

  “Yes,” She whispered, “They fear it, if they are sensible.”.

  “Sensible isn’t in my vocabulary, not these days.”.

  Eliza stared after Lucie’s own gaze. Her eyes landed on the wardrobe, and a strange object sitting on top.

  It glimmered in the light, like a piece of broken glass. Squinting her eyes toward it, Eliza crossed the room. She grabbed hold of the handle and pulled the mystery object down.

  A blade, a sharp blade.

  It had been brightly polished, and she noticed her own reflection in it. She ran her fingertip along the sharp edge, cowering away from Lucie.

  “Why do you have this?” She asked, raising the point into the air. Lucie whipped around, turning speedily on her feet.

  “Ah, that.”.

  “It is yours,” Lucie answered, smiling with a newfound glint in her eye, “For protection.”.

  Eliza firmly clutched the handle. She flicked open the satchel and dropped in the blade.

  “That will be useful,” Eliza noted, nodding. Her eyes sparkled in the light. “Did I tell you a broke a man’s nose the other day?”.

  “I should ask what you have not been doing, instead of what you have done.” Lucie sighed, shaking her head. “The more you tell me, the more I regret this plan.”.

  Eliza smirked, lightly patting the satchel. She leant back against the wall, gazing after the flying Dawn.

  “And your father, is he well?” Lucie asked.

  She half-nodded. She was tempted to tell the story of how her father had accidentally tried to kill her but decided against it.

  It could panic Lucie knowing that she had almost died more than once, and it was only day three.

  Her arm reached into the satchel, as she fumbled through the contents of the bag. Carefully avoiding the unseen blade, she grasped the spine of the journal.

  “Look at this,” Eliza announced, smiling wide. “It belonged to my mother.”.

  She flickered through each entry, careful not to spoil the pages. Lucie smiled weakly, but her eyes were narrowed at the book.

  Each page delicately inscribed with her mother’s writing; Eliza smiled to herself.

  “That’s…nice.” Lucie said, taking a step back. Eliza could sense the tension, slamming the book shut.

  “What is it?” Eliza asked, “Do you not like it?”.

  “No, I said it was nice, but---”.

  A division fell between the two. Eliza’s face furrowed, realising the problem. A long-lasting problem that they never addressed.

  “But?”.

  Lucie gulped. Eliza’s glare was unmoving, her eyes piercing into the maiden’s own.

  She prayed she were wrong, that the question would not appear. A question that was prejudiced in all its glory.

  “There’s none of that in it, is there?” Lucie winced.

  Eliza’s heart sunk. She knew that it was wrong to show Lucie anything belonging to her mother, knowing how she would react. The two stood inches apart, unflinching in their stand-off.

  “Say it, Lucie.”.

  “Fine,” The maiden sighed, “Is there witchcraft in it?”.

  Clutching the diary close to her heart, Eliza shot the maiden a glare. Lucie never trusted that her mother was not a witch, never wanted association with it.

  Before Eliza’s own arrest, the maiden held a privileged prejudice against witches.

  “Why would you ask that?” Eliza sighed, rubbing the diary’s cover. Even as she denied it, Lucie still held a distrust for witches.

  “Witchcraft is a scapegoat, used against people like me.” Eliza spat, “Do you believe that I would curse someone for fun?”. Eliza knew, that if Lucie lived in the lower-class, the targeted class, her views would have changed.

  “No, I know you better than that.”.

  “Yet, you believe the other women accused were guilty.”. The light that shone over the two faded, into a darkness consuming their stand. Lucie rushed toward her, but Eliza stepped away.

  “I see,” Eliza began, “You know witches are not real, but you believe what The King tells you to.”.

  Lucie said nothing, and that was the clearest of answers. Nodding, Eliza turned away, opening the journal.

  She flicked to the next entry, which she had bookmarked with a stick.

  Dear, Elizabeth,

  Today’s entry is not so lively. I am having trouble with our not-so-lovely neighbours. They question me mercilessly, but I hope by the future, things might have changed. I am not typically affected by their remarks, but today it stung. They call me witch, a vile woman. That sounds terribly dramatic, but it is true. They are suspicious of the fact that your father married me so soon, and how I only recently joined the town.

  It is so hypocritical. For example, they pressure you to get married young, but when you do, they call it suspicious? Well, here is a moral for you, Elizabeth.

  Do not be bothered as I, over such remarks. Life is short, so live it as you wish to do so.

  Your irritated mother,

  A.S

  “Elizabeth? Please.”.

  Eliza flinched, taken from her thoughts.

  She had been dreaming about how once in her life, she had been in her mother’s arms. That was a wonderful thought to have.

  She looked up at Lucie, shaking her head. She stared over at her mother’s neat writing, in thought.

  Her mother still sounded so sweet, despite the people making her life miserable.

  “I forgive you.”.

  Tracing the lines, Eliza shut the diary. Her mother’s words appealed to her in that moment, like a well-needed message.

  ‘Life is short, so live it as you wish to do so…’.

  Even while being stubborn, she repeated the words in her mind. Her mother had been right, life was too short.

  Life was too short to hold a grudge, to hate when you could love. Internally, she was still hurt by Lucie’s words. Yet, her mother’s words overruled those by a milestone. Life was too short, not to listen.

  “I never should have said that.” Lucie sighed, creasing her eyes shut. “I was trying to be cautious, because neither of us knew your mother or who she was.”.

  “Until now.” Eliza whispered, gesturing to the journal. “And no, there is not witchcraft. My mother wrote it herself, she was accused, like me.”.

  Lucie nodded, and the two sat in silence. Eliza’s eye caught outside the window, and she saw The King walking alone outside.

  He seemed to be thinking, pacing back and forth. Lucie followed, suspiciously staring down at him.

  “There’s our royal highness,” Eliza scoffed. Lucie stared at her, then him. He marched across the grass alone, unguarded once again.

  “Come now, have some respect.” Lucie said. Her voice was stern, and she did not seem sarcastic in the slightest.

  Eliza froze, turning to Lucie with her eyes wide.

  “Respect? I cannot respect an arrogant, ungenerous, lying, stealing murderer.” Eliza announced. “How can you?”.

  ‘She’s been raised in respect for the monarchy, not The King.’ A voice reminded her.

  “Not respect for him as an individual, but for the monarchy.” Lucie murmured. “It’s rude to disrespect the reign, not him.”.

  “I owe respect, do I? The monarchy owes my mother her life.” Eliza spat. Lucie did not move, she sat with her hands folded into her lap.

  “Elizabeth, I don’t mean that; listen--”.

  Eliza knew how personally she was taking the remark. However, with such a statement, there were few other ways to take it.

  “No, you listen. When I die—” Eliza’s voice shook, cutting sharp. “When I die, stand at my tombstone, and look at my name, look at the hyphen between the years I lived. You look at that and say that I owed those people my respect.”.

  Lucie’s eyes went gleamy and wide. She shook her head, marchi
ng toward her. Eliza expected an argument, a debate, anything.

  Instead, Lucie threw her arms around Eliza in a tight hug. The two stood there, embraced, for a moment. She could hear Lucie’s whimpering in her ear, slight and whiny.

  “No, no.” Lucie cried. “I don’t want that; you know I don’t.”.

  “Mm-hm.”.

  “I’m so sorry,” Lucie whimpered, “For everything I said.”.

  “You said it still, what is it with you today?”.

  “I don’t know whether it’s missing my normal life, or living in this depressing tower,” The maiden cried, “But life’s too short to be hateful.”.

  11

  The Cursed Locket

  Lady Theresa paced the room, gesturing for them to raise their chin. Her cold face was brutal, scanning all three maidens with her squinty eyes.

  “Hopeless, especially you.”.

  She gave Eliza a rotten look, tutting in her low face. Queen Grace was returning from a trip, and they needed to be prepared as could be.

  The servant life had never once appealed to her before, but now, the grandeur was becoming quite appealing.

  Everything was so neat and perfect, like a fairy-tale she could dream of.

  “Miss Benson?” Lady Theresa queried, beckoning her over. With a quiet sigh, Eliza crept over to her. The old woman squinted her eyes, staring her up and down.

  “Is that a necklace?”.

  Eliza’s own head bent down, and she saw the locket inside her gown. It made a slight bump in the front of her dress, but it was unnoticeable, or so she had thought.

  “Of course, it is a necklace,” Eliza smiled, using her innocent tone. “What else could it be? A hat?”.

  Lady Theresa’s eyes flamed. Faster than Eliza could see, the woman’s hand grabbed the chain of the locket and ripped it out of her dress.

  “Not so clever now, are you?”.

  She gasped as she the chain pulled tightly on her neck, rocketing her head forward. Lady Theresa leant in, pressing her sour breath into Eliza’s face.

  Cynthia cried out, yelling in the distance. It was all blurred out, all she could see was the rotten woman’s face, as her blood boiled.

  Lady Theresa’s grip on the locket tightened, squashing it inside her dirt-filled fingernails. She pulled tighter, and further.

  In a sharp sensation, the chain snapped. The glistening locket flung into the woman’s grip as Eliza’s hand reached out for it. A trickle of blood ran down her neck, from the slight cut the chain made.

  “Let. It. Go.” Eliza growled. The woman held it in mid-air, and Eliza knew the only way would be to tackle her to the floor.

  ‘Composed, Elizabeth,’ A voice said, ‘Do not give her what she wants.’.

  Lady Theresa’s knuckles turned white, and Eliza was becoming desperate. The woman’s eyes tore right into her, hurting more than her bleeding neck did.

  The locket was the only connection she ever had to her mother, besides the journal. That locket had stayed with her from birth, she could not, would not, lose it now.

  “Say please, Lucie.” Lady Theresa taunted, dangling the locket in the air. Lady Theresa’s tall frame towered above all the maidens, and she was unreachable.

  ‘Say it.’ Her mind said.

  It would sound pathetic, for her to say ‘please’ to this woman. That was letting her win, and she could not let that happen.

  ‘Say it.’.

  She began to sweat, watching her prized locket fly. It dangled in the woman’s grip, like a hypnotic stone.

  ‘SAY IT.’.

  “Please!” Eliza cried. She felt a wash of relief as Lady Theresa lowered it from the air, opening her fist.

  Eliza reached out to take the locket, as Lady Theresa’s fist clenched. She inhaled a sharp breath, and her eyes shot up. She gave Eliza one final, devious smirk.

  She let out a pitched scream as her locket was propelled across the room. By an inch, the necklace slipped through her fingers.

  With a loud clunk, it struck the coarse floor, the front flying off and breaking apart. It was broken, lying there on the hard ground.

  It clinked and clanked with a sonorous ring, each end of the locket breaking off and shattering across the floor.

  She felt her heart fall from her throat to the bottom of her stomach, reaching her hand out so forcefully it burned.

  “No--” Eliza whispered, her hand clutching over her mouth. She fell to her knees, reaching out a trembling hand. It was damaged beyond repair.

  The front was broken, and the chain snapped. Sobbing on her knees, Eliza buried her face into her hand. She took hold of the locket’s broken piece, clutching it to her chest.

  The world was blocked out in that moment. There were the mumbled words of Lady Theresa, who left the room with satisfaction. Then, the exchanging of conversation between her and someone entering.

  Eliza did not know who had entered the room, she did not care. Nothing else mattered then. She cried silently into her lap, shaking like a frosted winter’s day.

  The other two maidens said nothing, and the blurred voices silenced for a moment or two.

  A hand rested on her shoulder. Eliza froze, lifting her head. Her vision was blurred with tears, and she could not see the person, but their boots were like that of a guard.

  ‘Thomas? No, he’s younger than that.’. Her mind said, ‘It isn’t Edward either, he wears different armour.’.

  “You are a sight for sore eyes, you look disgusting…” The voice chuckled, but no one joined in. It was a voice she dreaded, one she internally kicked herself for knowing.

  The King stood next to her. He wore a long red robe, all lined with gold jewels. The crown rested on his head, and his face had a sour smirk as he laughed at her state.

  He reached out his hand to lift her up, but Eliza shook her head, putting pressure on her knee and lifting herself.

  “Tell my wife, that Miss Benson is with me.” Richard announced, nodding at the two maidens. Eliza’s mind froze, as his words finally struck her.

  “W-What?” Eliza winced, quickly wiping down her eyes. “N-No, my locket—".

  “Hush, Benson.”.

  Mariah stepped toward them, awkwardly curtsying to The King. She gave Eliza an empathetic look, before taking a breath.

  “Lucie, Your Highness?” She asked. “M-May I ask, why?”.

  “No, you may not.” Richard answered, scowling at the maiden.

  Eliza looked at the maidens for help, but neither objected to The King’s orders.

  Her arm was pulled to the door of the Queen’s Chamber. She gave the maidens one last look.

  He had walked out of the room and yanked Eliza behind him. Before she could object, she was being dragged down the hallway. The portraits of royals sat on the walls, staring right into her soul.

  ‘Don’t go near The King, Lucie said.’ She thought, ‘I can’t be near him.’.

  She wanted to pull away, to run, but she knew that would only reveal everything.

  “I need to return,” Eliza said, stumbling with his fast pace. “The Queen, we need to be in attendance—".

  “The Queen will understand,” Richard grumbled, “I’ll ensure that.”.

  In seconds, she was away from the chamber and entering a grand staircase. The stone steps echoed beneath the heels on her feet, and all she could see ahead was the fair hair of his head. He refused to look at her once.

  The fast pace that they were walking at was straining her lungs, and she clutched her hand to her chest. Eliza wondered whether her life was coincidentally so eventful, or if she stirred her own problems.

  King Richard remained silent, not sparing her a glance. She was trudged up the stairs and down another hall. This one had the grandest, largest doors she had ever seen.

  “Why are you taking me?” Eliza asked, with her perfected Lucie-tone. With her free hand, she fixed the blonde wig on her head, and thanked herself for doubling the makeup that morning.

  “For a talk,” Richard spat,
“I assumed you knew what for.”.

  There was a cold, tense atmosphere. It sent an iced shiver down her spine as she longed to stop walking. Eliza felt an uncertain feeling building in her stomach.

  They met the door at the end of the hallway, bronze like the finest wood. The King unscrewed the lock and shoved the door open.

  ‘Act like Lucie would,’ She thought, ‘How would Lucie act around a King?’.

  He tugged on her arm, sending her stumbling into the room. Eliza pretended to stand straight, wobbling in her heels.

  Inside, the room was marvellous. There was a large bed with crimson covers and oak bedposts, and chests aligned to the walls.

  A hunted animal’s head had been stuffed and placed upon the wall, and sharp-ended swords sat on display.

  There was a tapestry on the wall, appearing as a king on a throne and his people, decorated with red and blue.

  “Sit.” He ordered, nodding towards a chair. She scurried over and sat upon it, studying the arm. That chair alone seemed worth more than her house.

  Richard followed, pulling over the seat across from her. Between them, was a small table with goblets, as he lifted one up and poured wine into it. He reached the cup out to her, and she hesitantly took it.