I shrugged, my nerves in tatters, every cell in body screaming that I should run now. I had no more patience for him, even if he could stab those claws right into my heart and rip out any shreds of energy left if he wished. He’d pay for it, somehow, to his supervisors. I understood poorly how they social hierarchies worked, but if he got angry and lost his temper, he could slash me, eat my heart, and drink up the energy, and the only thing stopping him was, I supposed, the habits and conventions of demon life that he was used to.
“My magic’s not for sale. Besides, I’m not a regular, conventional witch. I just happen to have some fae heritage, but that’s as far as it goes. I’ve never had a mentor; I’ve never learned the ways. I fumble with whatever spells I’ve found and toy with what powers I have. That’s all.”
“Oh, I know that. Do I ever know that. You have the purest clump of magic, untarnished, in your heart of hearts.”
How dare he! What, so I was at the same time, uncouth and a fancy treasure? “It’s not for sale. There’s nothing you could offer that I’d accept, and it’s as simple as that. We’re done, then.”
“Hear me out…I’ll give you the missing energies, so that you can stir those still-standing mists of the magic now making the princess ill. I’ll give you enough to keep that child alive. All I want in return is a small favour.”
To keep the baby alive…? But he’d only trick me. “Are these the moments, when the small favour turns out to be something no human soul can give?”
“Don’t insult my fair business, Amalia. I’m a demon, aren’t I? We demons answer to the lord of the underworld, not a merciful creature. So do you think we have leeway to pull home? Do you think we can trick a customer and give our master a reputation of bad business? Oh, no, you know better, you silly witch. Our master tracks our every move and delivers punishments accordingly, and believe me, we do not play foul. Whatever deal we make, absolutely holds. The only reason we have a bad reputation, if you ask me, is because people make bad decisions and regret them. Oh, do they regret them…But a deal’s a deal.”
“Is that so,” I muttered, but with less conviction.
“I’ll make you an offer, you stubborn wench, and it’ll be perfectly up to you whether you want to take the offer or not.” The demon narrowed its lashless, leathery eyes, and added: “As it always is.”
No way was I going to believe demons did fair business and made well-intentioned deals, but what choice did I have? Besides, I had plenty magic. I’d always felt it was enough, for whatever uses I’d thought to spend it on. I’d never felt I needed or wanted more. So perhaps I could afford to let him have a bit of it, and this whole mess would be solved? Really, what was I going to do with my magic, anyway? The things I secretly wept over I couldn’t change. And the things I could change were small. And he was promising I’d still have some magic…
It was all I needed, anyway, a little magic for the little things, like warming the house on winter days or calling out the butterflies in the field, just to watch them come and flock in pretty colors. I’d still be able to do all that, wouldn’t I?
“Yes, you’ll be able to call up butterflies to dance around, you crazy creature, though I really can’t see why…How much fae is there in you, to be precise? Are you sure you shouldn’t grow wings, you miserable halfling? You do realise you’re still human?”
Oh, did I, sadly. Yes, there had been times I’d wished I could grow wings, but no such thing was doable with my meager magic. Magic was wonderful for many things, but transforming one’s form was one thing it couldn’t do, not mine, at least.
I’d never learned about magic from tutors or scholars, though, and I knew precious little. Whatever I had learned was something that I’d found out by trial and error— or some of my sisters had— and we’d taught each other. There had been no-one else to teach us, no mentor, no guide, but we’d figured it all out well enough for our own purposes.
The demon found that funny, and looked remorselessly gleeful, as it chuckled its dry, cackling laugh.
“No, Amalia, you need my magic. Your own amounts to less than you know. Or rather, you just don’t know how to mold it. You do have a nice and powerful, plump and glowing fae heart, but you’re the clumsiest sorceress I have ever seen.”
“No!”
“You don’t have choices.”
I raised the golden rattle in my hand. “I can catch a lightning bolt and use its energy.”
“Do you really think lightning will strike right here, right now, and find your pathetic baby rattle?”
“It’s an option…”
“My option is faster and, moreover, foolproof. Truth be told, mine’s your only option. You simply don’t have time. The baby princess only has minutes left to live.”
“You can’t have any way of knowing—" But even as I said it, I worried the demon could be right.
“Ah, but I’m a darkling with a true demons’ powers. Almost as powerful as a full blood fae, so…More than you, without question. And can you be sure I don’t know exactly what is going on right down in that hall? No, trust me, I know perfectly well. I can tell you the King and Queen are standing together. The Queen is pulling the King’s arm around her, but the King is brushing her off. There aren’t many people staying. The child’s asleep, again, with a small smile on her face. Minutes, Amalia. Minutes. The clock is ticking. It was the Word of Death you uttered…now take it back.”
I stared into those opaque, foreign, depthless eyes, my stomach knotting. He might be bluffing. He could be trying to trick me into an even worse deal, by making me uncertain, but…this was not something I could gamble on. Truth be told, suddenly I was glad to have this chance, elated that I’d run into the demon. He was my answer, he was giving me the missing energies. There he was, offering it, and all I had to do was say yes, and all would be well again.
“You’re still hesitating. This is what we’ll do. I arrange the needed magic, and the girl will live. She can live like any other child, a lovely childhood. But my powers are not infinite. On her eighteenth birthday, she must—"
“You could only give her eighteen years? But wouldn’t she still be terribly young, with so much left to live?”
“Let me finish, you impatient halfling wench. I can grant her years of enthralling life, but I can only transfer unto her eighteen years. These things cost magic, as you know. The Word of Death is heavy. On her eighteenth birthday, Aurora must fall into a deep sleep…Sleep, Amalia. Nothing worse. The ones who love her will see her gracefully dream. They’ll still get to have their beloved Aurora. And she, in the arms of dreams, will be blissfully unaware of earthly pain.”
My head was spinning with all the thoughts that ran across my mind. I couldn’t trust him. He would trick me. He was making false promises or twisting words. There was always fine print, and I was bound to miss all the important details. But if we only had minutes left to make the choice…
I didn’t have powers left. My magic would slowly be revived, but not nearly fast enough to run back down to the hall in time to do anything.
Perhaps a week from now, I could have a chance of making a real effort, but now…
“When the child is eighteen, you must give her this,” the demon grunted, somehow producing a wooden spindle out of the night air. “It must prick her and she must fall. Thus begins the second part of the bargain, and she’ll know nothing of the cruel world. Sweet sleep, free of all worldly pain.”
I closed my eyes, tense, thinking. The demon probably threw in the last words to better convince me, but all it did was make me doubt the whole pact. From the way stepfather Victor bargained and negotiated, I’d learned that the more the sugar, all the more deceit. I had learned to never trust sweet words.
“You would make sure she won’t suffer in her sleep?” I straightened my back to stand tall before him. He was a crouched figure and stood in coils, his hind legs bent, so it was hard to tell how tall he would have been in human poses. But standing straight, I was taller and looked
down into his beady, strange eyes.
“More,” the demon said in an odd tone. “I can add in your sister’s life.”
“What…?” Cold terror crept into me already before knowing what to guard me from.
“Your sister Elsa, of course. She was too close by, and the Word of Death brushed upon her. She lost a lot of magic at that, and the dark spell is now tied to her. Yes, she’s tied to the curse of Death. She will slowly wane and, before the moon is done, her powers will run out. Then, she can’t be helped…You weren’t aware?”
Hands over my mouth, I tried to see from his face, if he was bluffing, but rising tears in my eyes hindered me. Could it be true? If it was a lie, it was too perfect, because it was all too credible. Elsa could have easily gotten tangled into the curse. I loved the girl to bits, but goodness, she pronounced words wrong, forgot one here and there, as if they didn’t matter, and…The situation in the hall had been so hectic. I don’t know if even the best wizards and fae witches in the world would have easily accomplished what we tried. We’d tried to transform an actual death curse…
“You would promise to clear Elsa of the curse?”
“She was close, but the magic is like dust upon her. I can blow it off her like I dust off my fur after a long nap. It’s not a big deal.”
“Can you promise me? With one hundred percent certainty?”
“Of course,” the demon said in a placid, oddly calming voice. “All you need to do is grant a chunk of your magic to me.”
“How large would this chunk be, exactly? And for how long?” Just to be sure he wasn’t only tricking me, I had to hear all of it, read the fine print. How could I trust him?
“The deal shall be continued forever, as our deals generally do, but it will only be a small portion of your powers. See, no worries. You’ll still have plenty of your own.”
“Forever…?”
“Or more precisely, as long as you have your fae heart. But like I said, only a thread of it.”
I didn’t need much…Did I?
“Also, you must not talk about this deal to one single soul as long as the deal is valid. If you betray me and reveal the secret, then you, the Princess, and your unfortunately tied-to-the-curse sister Elsa will die.”
I shook my head, not wanting to meet his eyes. I felt like a traitor, criminal, trash.
Then I turned to him.
“All right. But all that you said, holds?”
“Everything.”
He raised a knotted, furry hand, reaching out to me, his fingers fisted. I didn’t understand but did the same. He pressed his knuckles against mine, and the strange, coarse fur disgusted me, but his magic power seethed through and gave me hope.
I guess we’d sealed the deal.
But he still didn’t let his hand down. What did he want? After what had just happened, I never wanted to subject myself to that grip again. It had sucked the life from me and drained me of all my life force, and I feared the strength. It took a moment for my scrambled mind to make sense of what he meant. He wanted the rattle.
So, I gave it over, and he wrapped his strange, clawed hands around it, the devilish, thin fingers curling around the jewelled crown. The rattle shimmered with a red and orange glow as if engulfed by flames, and the demon closed his transparent lids and grunted a dark spell.
I winced, startled, just as he snapped his eyes open and stared directly into mine. When he offered me the rattle back, my hands shook.
The rattle burned my fingers. I stifled my yelp and quickly grabbed some of the fabrics of my dress and wrapped the rattle in the creases, making a bundle I could hold onto without pain.
“Now go take that rattle back to the baby, and my part of the deal is settled and done with.”
What could I do but follow his lead, not knowing a thing about the ways of magic except for my practiced routines? All I knew was how to physically mould the magic; I never knew why it obeyed.
It was the same with all of my sisters. We’d taught ourselves. We’d tried and erred. We’d nearly burned down the cabin once.
But magic flows like one’s blood in the veins, there’s no escaping it, and it grows out of you like a dandelion from under stones. I knew how to use it, just never knew how it worked. So all I knew was, the demon had planted a good amount of magic in the rattle. He’d offered me the solution, and if I wanted to save the baby, I’d better hurry.
I ran to the corner where I’d come out on the roof and luckily found the door still swaying open in the roof-top winds. Vaguely wondering where the guards had gone, I made my way down the narrow stairs. Perhaps the demon had done away with the guards? Tricked them, sent them elsewhere? I dared not think too far concerning the issue, but most likely, the demon had played illusion magic and tricked them into thinking I’d gone some other way.
At the lobby, I saw a cabinet left ajar, stacked with bed linen and towels and…maids’ aprons and cloaks, it seemed. How handy. How convenient. I shuffled through the shelves and quickly found a cloak that looked about right. So I threw it on, pulled the hood over my face, and tied on one of the aprons.
Now if only I could dash into the hall fast enough and get to the baby before they stopped me.
Briefly, I imagined with my mind’s eye the rows of soldiers that must have gathered there by now, vowing to behead me. Even so, never mind, I had one task, one single task, and now even Elsa’s life was tied to this deal, so all I needed to think about now was that I got this rattle to that baby, if it was the last thing I did.
Luckily, I found the way through the corridors back to the hall, and as much as I perked up my ears, I couldn’t hear shouting or blood-thirsty rage…
I pushed open the mahogany doors, crouched like I imagined a humble maid might, and snuck in. The handful of people that had stayed all stood randomly about the throne and crib, silent, hands on hips, or fingers in their hair, or gazing listlessly out the tall windows. No-one paid attention to me, apart from a couple of glances and turning-away heads. The King and Queen of Sarastland were still there, as well as some of the court of our own land. Queen Marjorie sat by the crib, stroking the baby’s head, but King John was nowhere to be seen, nor that Rachel sorceress.
I kept my steps as steady and discreet as I could, not to draw attention. As I neared the crib, and no-one still paid any attention, I dared brief glances at everyone, though keeping my head down. Seeing everyone looked calm and somber, I wondered if the demon had cast a spell on them as well, to make them placid and complacent. Demons weren’t that powerful, though, were they? It was a long way from here to the rooftop.
Of course, it could be that the courtiers simply didn’t expect me to return. Perhaps they felt the threat was over, with the deed and the harm done. This awful accident, which nobody meant…Biting back regret, I decided to plunge towards the baby through the crowd. The spot where the King and Queen of Sarastland stood seemed my best choice. The Royals of Sarastland seemed such gentle people, especially King Dorian. Their little Julian, a most adorable, cherubian-haired toddler, stood hand in hand with his mother, with an endearing, kind look on his face. He noticed me just as I made my move and pushed back elbows and knees, knelt on the floor and…
King Dorian grabbed my arm with a remorseless grip. As I turned to look, someone pulled at the rattle. It was little Julian, who studied the jewels with keen, wondrous eyes. My heart nearly stopped at that, but I knew magic well enough to tell that the charge did not explode into little Julian’s hands. I would have seen the light spreading, but no such thing happened, only faint sprinkles.
Ignoring King Dorian, though he pulled on my arm painfully, I gently took the rattle from the surprised Julian and threw it in the crib. It landed on Aurora’s feet.
Queen Marjorie dove instantly forward to pick her up and kick me back.
“It’ll help her,” I yelled, just as King Dorian wrangled me up from both arms.
King Dorian’s concerned frown made me brave; he seemed to offer me a chance to explain. I i
magined my sisters must have already done plenty talking on my behalf, otherwise, how could they be so patient?
“Remember one thing,” I whispered, cringing from the sharp pain in my upper arms. All my magic spent, even the one normally in my blood, was running so low I could hardly stay upright sitting on my knees. I cleared my throat and tried to find the strength to speak. “This may sound odd, but trust me, never, ever let her touch a spindle. She deserves none of this, she’s an innocent child. But an ordinary seamstress’s spindle, enchanted with dark powers, is destined to be the death of her…Not this. She’s fine now.”
From Marjorie’s face, I imagined she understood I meant no harm. She must have believed I genuinely thought this would help. Would it, though? Where was the magic? Why wasn’t anything visibly happening? Magic was not all that discreet to my eyes. And only then I saw how, subtly, the gray veils were dissipating, thinning, and changing color. I had expected to see a burst of new magic, but the demon had managed to cast a spell that took the original effect and altered it.
For once, I was happy that demons had such unfathomable powers.
I was so caught up staring at the mists, assuring myself I wasn’t imagining it, that I was startled badly, when something emanated from the rattle — nothing visible even with my magic sight — more like a soundless sound that overtook me, and apparently affected everyone else as well, because they were pressing their hands to their ears and backing away.
And only then that burst of magic came out that I’d been waiting for: bright as a beacon in the night, it lit up the room, spreading out in flickering, silver flames. People bowed, crouched, bent over, shielded their faces —blinded, it seemed.
I wasn’t.
Magic couldn’t blind me, as I was fae; that had to be it. Grateful, I was sure that the explanation was my fae-born eyes, as I made my way through a perplexed, confused crowd to the door. I was nothing but air to them, it seemed as if they couldn’t see a thing.
I got all the way out into the corridor — empty — and downstairs to the lobby — all empty — and to the main doors — unlocked.
Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance Page 49
