The Merqueen (The Witching World Book 3)

by Lucia Ashta

  I blinked several times, trying to register what he said. Was he joking with me now? How could what he was doing be winking? It couldn’t be. “You were winking at me?”

  “Yes.” A big smile reached his eyes, eyes that had looked dead the last many weeks. “I was winking at you to tell you that I was myself again and that I could step in to help if needed.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know.”

  “Albacus used to make fun of my winking, but I never knew why. I consider it an effective way to communicate that things are different than they seem.”

  “Yes, very effective.” This time it was I who wanted to laugh. But I didn’t.

  Sylvia flew over to Mordecai and was nuzzling his face. “Hello there, my precious girl. What a brave one you are. You were ready to take on that nasty merwoman, weren’t you?” He cooed at her. Sylvia cooed back in dragon sounds. She would have shredded Mirvela to protect him.

  “So what happens now?” I might be the only one in the room who didn’t know.

  “What do you think?” Marcelo asked Mordecai.

  “I think we take her out of the castle, once and for all. So she can’t hold anyone else prisoner ever again.”

  Mirvela was resigned to her fate now. The struggle was done, and she didn’t react to the discussion.

  “So where do we take her?” Marcelo asked. “We can’t just put her in any water. We need to be able to monitor the spells that keep her in place.”

  “I agree. With someone as powerful as she, we need to make sure the spells that contain her remain strong. Hmm. How do you feel about taking her to Bundry? Your castle overlooks the sea, there you can supervise the spells.”

  What? I didn’t like the idea of Mirvela traveling with us to our new home. What was there to like about it?

  Marcelo considered and then replied, “I think taking her to Bundry would work.”

  “Then we should leave right away. As you say, my binding spell is powerful, but so is she. She’s almost certainly already working to counter it.”

  “You’ll come with us?” Marcelo asked.

  “With a magical creature as powerful as this one, I think it would be wise for me to be there.”

  “Good. Then we can leave in the morning.”

  Wait. Hadn’t we just arrived from Bundry? When was there going to be any time for my magical learning when all we did was travel back and forth? Had Marcelo forgotten that Count Washur had threatened to come take me? Wasn’t that important too?

  I walked over to the same settee Mirvela had sat on and put my chin in my hands.

  Sir Lancelot whispered to me, “It’ll be all right, Lady Clara. You’ll see. If no one else does, I’ll be happy to help you with your magical studies.”

  I raised a hand to touch the back of the owl’s head companionably. “Thank you, Sir Lancelot. That’s kind of you to say.” At least an owl understood my predicament. Even if the magicians in the room assumed that I could figure things out as I went, Sir Lancelot remembered how every other good magician learned: through lots of study and hard work. I was willing to do it, I just wanted the opportunity.

  Then, from within the muddled thoughts that leaned toward pity and frustration, something vibrated like a presence. There, in my center, was the five-petal flower, and it replaced every silly thought of worry and limitation.

  The five elements reminded me that I wasn’t like every other magician. There was something special about me; it was undeniable even if it was still incredibly mysterious.

  The five-petal knot thrummed notes of my power like a sweet song capable of carrying any worry away downriver. And it did.

  By the time I rose, I didn’t care that we were leaving for Bundry—again. I didn’t care what that would do to my studies.

  Everything was perfect, and if it wasn’t already, it would be.

  When I rose from the settee, I rose like a phoenix, being reborn from its ashes. I was still in the process of figuring out who I was and exactly what kind of witch I was capable of becoming. Whatever the answers, I knew I was powerful, with or without lessons.

  I walked toward the magicians. They saw my power. They couldn’t miss it. It glowed from deep inside me.

  They saw a beauty radiating within me that Mirvela could never duplicate. I took their hands and looked at both of them with clear, bright green eyes.

  “Let’s do this.” And by this, I meant all of it.

  Chapter 26

  It was noon, and we’d been on the road for a couple of hours, long enough for me to decide that I’d just have to get over the fact that Mirvela rode along with us in the carriage. If not, I’d lose this opportunity to learn from Mordecai, and I wanted something good to come from all this journeying back and forth.

  Mirvela was as silent as she’d been when Mordecai first bound her; she had no choice in the matter. But her eyes spoke volumes, and I didn’t like a single one of the silent words she said to me.

  I tried to ignore her, but she sat across from me in the carriage. There was only so much I could do not to look when I felt her eyes bearing down on me.

  I’d complained when Marcelo first told me she’d ride in the carriage, but he insisted she was too dangerous not to keep close watch over. I was forced to agree to the arrangement; I didn’t want her to have any chance to escape.

  Marcelo brought up the rear of our caravan. He rode horseback, alert and watchful, looking ahead while listening to every sound and sense of movement. Sir Lancelot, who insisted he should lend his excellent vision to the defense of our caravan, chose his shoulder over mine.

  Although there was a chance Winston might attack us again, he wasn’t our greatest concern. He’d surprised us twice before, yet his skill was mediocre and a threat we could neutralize if confronted with it—as long as we anticipated it in time to do something about it.

  Count Washur, however, was another matter entirely. None of us, not even Mordecai, knew what he was capable of doing. And this unquantifiable threat was compounded by Marcelo’s nephew, another wild card we understood little about. Raised by a lord of darkness, whatever his skills were, they were unlikely to be benevolent.

  There was also something about that cat. Marcelo hadn’t mentioned Mina, but there was something about her and the way Count Washur treated her that worried me. Was she another secret threat we couldn’t predict?

  Alfred, from the staff of Irele Castle, drove the carriage. Marcelo charged him to be watchful from his perch near the roof of the carriage. Marcelo didn’t specify what exactly might threaten us, only that it was imperative that we have as much time to react to any attack as possible.

  Elsa, the housemaid, sat sideways next to Alfred. Her role on the journey was to spot anyone that might approach from behind, in case Marcelo missed something. Elsa and Alfred didn’t know any magic, but they understood how to keep secrets and not ask questions when they saw the inexplicable. In a house of magicians, the inexplicable was the norm.

  Robert, the butler, was the only member of the household staff who could perform magic. He came from a long line of magicians who served other magicians. He accepted his natural ranking in the hierarchy and embraced it.

  So much of how we lived was a matter of tradition that no one questioned. In the world of the aristocracy, we were to accept and continue traditions for the next generation. It was boring and prohibitive of anything original, and that’s why I never felt like I belonged. I was considered a rebel just because I thought differently. Rebellion should be based on action because action is what carries the conviction of words.

  In the end, I did rebel. I rebelled in a big way, in a way no one in my family ever had before. Unfortunately, my family never saw me earn the label they’d given me. They’d never know exactly how much of a rebel I’d become: one that could be hanged for the outrage of her actions. A witch, and a powerful witch at that.

  I snapped my head toward Mirvela, holding her stare for once. Her constant invasion of my privacy unnerved me. Now I was angry, and I
wished more than anything I had a big, spare flour sack with me to put over her head. I didn’t care if it was unkind.

  She didn’t look away, and the look on her face told me she could do this all day long.

  Finally, I looked to Mordecai. He was nonplussed. I could do this. I could find the good in anything.

  I turned sideways on my seat so I faced Mordecai. Mirvela’s wrath burned in the periphery of my right eye, but that was it.

  “Will Robert be all right now?”

  Mordecai turned from the window to look at me. We were surrounded by thick, old forests. The road cut straight through them. “Oh yes, child. He’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time he’s been mind controlled.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yes. Robert’s been through a lot with us.” Mordecai looked like he was about to dwell on who us used to be, and who was missing from that equation. I hurried to stop him from going there.

  “But I thought mind control was dark magic? That it wasn’t allowed?”

  “Yes, darling girl, mind control is forbidden dark magic. That doesn’t mean there aren’t dark magicians out there doing it. There’ve been dark magicians as long as there’s been magic of any kind. I asked Robert to stay behind to protect the castle, and he’s well capable of that.”

  His gaze drifted to Mirvela as if she were merely a curiosity and not a thorn in my side. “There are always those who seek to use their power for ill. In all my years of life, I haven’t yet been able to understand what drives them to do it. I truly don’t know why they enjoy causing pain and discomfort.”

  He examined Mirvela as if she were a specimen that might contain the answer. “There must be something fundamentally different about them. They must be made differently than we are. It’s the only thing that makes sense. They’re missing something we have, or they have something that we don’t. I had to use dark magic on her.”

  “You did?” I couldn’t believe it.

  “The binding of a magician’s power is considered dark magic. Taking away their magic is an unforgivable act. It’s a form of meddling that shouldn’t be done, by anyone. All magicians consider it one of the worst things you can do to another, short of killing them, of course. But I had no choice. She would’ve killed Marcelo if I hadn’t. I think even the magical council will understand that.”

  “Will they find out about it?”

  “Oh yes. They have a system—what shall I call it?—of magical alerts in place. It’s only for certain kinds of black magic, among which are binding spells. Of that I’m certain. But the magicians on the council are all old, as old as I am and older. They’re the wisest of the magical world. They’ve been threatened and attacked as much as we have. They understand that urgent situations call for urgent measures. Mirvela was seconds from killing Marcelo. I couldn’t allow that.”

  I turned and glared at Mirvela with all the fury I could channel into the expression. I hadn’t realized how close she’d really come to taking Marcelo away from me.

  For once, she looked away from me, although she didn’t seem particularly disturbed by my anger.

  “Had Marcelo not been quick to think of that shield enclosure spell, she would have certainly killed him before I had time to complete my spell that counteracted hers.”

  “Why wouldn’t Marcelo have just counteracted her spell then? Instead of waiting for you to do it?”

  “I’m not sure, but I would guess that he did the enclosure spell right away because it’s a very quick spell to do, and it would’ve given him time to think of what else he could do, other than what I did. Marcelo is very hesitant to use forbidden magic. He’d only have done so if he saw no other recourse available to him to save his life. I, however, wasn’t about to stand around and watch a merwoman kill my son for no good reason. Losing Albacus is enough loss for one century.”

  “Yes, it is.” I let a few moments pass. Mordecai’s loss was an important one. “Will the magical council summon you or question you or do whatever it is that it does?”

  “A member of the council will send me an official questionnaire, because the rules obligate him to, but no one will bother with me. I’ll say that I prevented a merwitch from unjustly killing a magician, and that’ll be the end of that.”

  “Will the magical council do something to Count Washur for killing your brother?”

  “Oh, the council already tried.” Mordecai’s face tightened, confirming that he was on the council as Marcelo suspected. The frustration was one of personal involvement. “But Count Washur didn’t care about any of the council’s reprimands or calls to appear before it. He ignored them all. The council ended up issuing an order for his binding. Any magician who sees him can bind him on sight.”

  I brightened. Maybe someone would take care of him before he could come retrieve me.

  “No one will dare do it though. If Count Washur were ever to free himself from his bindings, or have someone else do it for him, the repercussions to whoever bound him would be severe.”

  “But you would.”

  Mordecai smiled a horrible smile. “Oh yes. I most certainly would.”

  I let the chill that came with the festering of rightful vengeance pass, but then I had to keep going. Mordecai had already given me more direct answers to my questions than it felt like I had received in my entire time at Irele.

  “What will happen to Mirvela once we get to Bundry?”

  “We’ll take her to the sea and release her into it with a spell that restricts her to that sea so she can’t leave it.”

  “And will you return her powers to her?”

  Mordecai looked to Mirvela again, and it was the first time I had seen any kind of normal, pleasant human emotion on her face. She looked hopeful.

  “I don’t think so. I wish I could. I wouldn’t want to live without my powers, and I hate to be the one to do that to someone else. But she’s just too dangerous. She’s caused too much harm to too many people I care about. There’s no reason for it, but she’ll just keep doing it. I can’t allow someone so destructive to continue ruining the lives of others. Who knows how many people she’s drained until their death?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t Marcelo tell you? If he hadn’t found you and rescued you, in a few more years, there might not have been anyone left to rescue. He barely made it out in time himself. Albacus and I would’ve never found him. We didn’t even know the merworld existed inside the castle. If Marcelo hadn’t saved himself, Mirvela would have finished him off. She drains your energy to keep herself youthful as long as she can. You only have so much energy in you. Once that begins to fade, she takes everything from you before it can deteriorate fully. I have no idea how many people she’s probably killed since the castle was built a thousand years ago. I know that at least she didn’t take any family members. I think I would’ve heard about that.

  “No, I can’t restore her powers. She doesn’t deserve them.”

  Mordecai stared out his window. I stared out mine. We passed trees in a monotony of greens and browns.

  “It’s a shame, really. When I was growing up, I had lovely experiences with merpeople—not within the castle though, of course. They can be a kind people. Most of them at least.”

  “What will happen to the rest of them?”

  “You mean the rest of Mirvela’s tribe?”

  “Yes. They seemed to be a part of the plan to keep us there against our will.”

  “We’ll just have to wait and see, I suppose. The time has passed for me to stand by and do nothing if there’s harm being done in the castle. Perhaps, with Mirvela gone, they’ll remember kinder ways of being. That would be ideal. But if they don’t, I’ll have to do something.”

  Mordecai put a hand on mine. “Thank you, by the way, for intervening and returning that terrible satyr back to the tapestry. He was treating everyone so horribly, especially that poor, victimized maiden. I would’ve done so myself if I hadn’t been so… distraught.” There wasn’t a good word to
describe how it felt to lose a brother that had accompanied him for more than three centuries.

  “I understand.” I squeezed his hand. “Truly, I do. I miss Gertrude so very much, even though there’s still a chance I might see her again.”

  “I believe you will. Quite soon, in fact.”

  “What’s makes you say that?” My heartbeat sped up.

  “I’m not sure. Just a feeling. Something.”

  “Will you consult the runes about it?”

  “Why, child, of course I will! I can’t remember the last time anyone asked me to consult the runes. Albacus grew tiresome of them two hundred years ago, though I always tried to explain to him how valuable their insight was. When we get to Bundry, we can do it.”

  “You brought them with you?”

  “I always carry them with me. When the gods shine upon us with a tool for knowing their wishes, it’s a fool that ignores that gift. My brother was a fool, at least in that way. And now he’s not here to refute it.”

  Mordecai suddenly looked tired. The lines around his eyes and mouth were deep grooves. When he turned again to the window, the beads in his beard rattled gently, as if they too were tired.

  I let him be and turned my thoughts to Gertrude. Could it be? Could it really be that I might see my beloved sister again? And soon?

  I didn’t care about Mirvela anymore. I barely noticed her. All I could think of was Gertrude and the fluttering of my heart.

  Chapter 27

  It was days before I could begin to smell the salt in the air. The scent of the sea blew in open windows and mingled with my gloominess. I didn’t care about Mirvela anymore. I barely even thought of Gertrude. All I wanted was for the trip to end so I could walk and stretch.

  Even so, I couldn’t deny the seduction of my conversations with Mordecai. There’d been long stretches of silence when I couldn’t have guessed the old man’s thoughts. But there were also many times when he’d indulged me in deep magical dialogue, hitting on principles beyond my novice understanding, and making me want to learn more, even more than I already thought I had to learn.