I didn’t, of course. But I wished they would assume that I did. I realized, somewhat bitterly, that I had given them no evidence that I could be relied upon to think up a plan and take action. I rarely took initiative, and usually counted on others to lead me, first my aunts, and then Ulrich. I had done very little to attempt to save myself from my fiery fate, simply waited and hoped that Ulrich would save me.
I have been weak, spineless. But not anymore. I ran my fingers over the palm of my hand, still feeling a slight twinge of heat where the fire had sprung. I am powerful, and I will take a hand in shaping my own destiny. The old Ada, the weak Ada, is gone.
The panic I felt at Ulrich leaving me was a cold dose of reality. I couldn’t always rely on him, and my aunts would not be around forever. I clambered up to my seat on the cart with a hardened heart. While Ulrich was gone, I would learn to be independent, to make my own decisions, and become a woman worthy of my warrior’s love.
Ulrich
We rode like the wind across the countryside, mostly through the dark woods, but also over high ridges and across rolling farmland. We stayed far from the main roads and met very few people on our travels, and usually the sort of travellers with expressions that plainly read, “If you don’t tell my secrets, I won’t share yours.” We stole food and supplies from unwatched farmhouses and unguarded carts. Tjard was kind enough to find Ada a warm dress and some boots, so that she could throw away her blood-soaked shroud and its memories of the pyre.
Tjard and I took turns with the horses, each taking our turns at driving while the other would sleep sitting up in the wagon, a system we had mastered during our time as travelling witch hunters. The aunts kept mostly to themselves. I caught them often having furtive whispered conversations that ceased as soon as I got near enough to overhear. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like feeling deceived by people I was trying to help.
Now we had reached the furthest provinces of Lord Benedict’s lands. We’d moved up into the mountains, where the wind blew bitter cold, at times stripping the bark from the trees and upturning our cart along the treacherous passes. Here the woods were wilder, the paths covered with snow, the plant life unfamiliar, the terrain ominous.
That night Ada huddled against me for warmth, an action I readily encouraged. I had been thinking about her nonstop ever since we’d escaped the village, but I hadn’t been able to take her in the way I wanted to. At night she fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted by the demands of the road, and I had to stand watch and find some sleep myself. In this moment, it felt wonderful to have her next to me, alive and warm and intoxicating, but she was a distraction. I had to keep her safe, which meant I needed all my senses on full alert. We hadn’t so much as kissed since Clarissa found us. My body ached with desire for her, but I was too tired, too worried. And Ada, of course, would not initiate anything, although I could see she too wanted me.
But Ada’s curse hung over us, and I counted on my fingers the days since we’d last made love. Was it truly only six days ago? It felt like much longer. Nevertheless, I felt a familiar tugging against the cloth of my breeches. I didn’t mind at all being forced to do my duty to keep her powers.
Although the night was cold, it was also beautiful. Ada’s aunts and Tjard were asleep some distance off, sheltered in the crook of a gnarled trunk. We lay together against the side of the cart, snow piling up around us, the blankets pulled tight around our faces to protect us from the wind. Just being beside her, inhaling her soft scent, was intoxicating. I watched Ada as she stared at the dark grey sky, awake and unblinking, the silhouette of her features just visible against the snow: her tiny nose, her heart-shaped face, her high, noble cheekbones. The cupid’s bow of her lips pursed, waiting.
My cock stirred, starting to harden as I thought of those lips on mine, or wrapped around my shaft, sliding up and down, warming me in the way only she knew how. Ada. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been craving her these past days. But now my body was desperate for her.
I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers, my cold nose brushing her warm skin. The kiss ignited the spark within me, as it awoke her also. I devoured her lips in mine. She tasted warm and fresh, as if she were made of dew. My tongue slid over hers, hungrily probing deeper. Now that we were locked together, I didn’t know how I’d survived for so many days without her. I needed her touch desperately.
Ada’s kisses grew more fervent. She made a mewling noise as she raked her delicate fingers through my hair, pulling my head closer. She needed me as much as I needed her.
I slipped my hands under her dress, relishing the heat of her skin. I moved my fingers across her chest, feeling for her nipples. They were already hard with desire, as I took one between my fingers and pinched slightly. Ada moaned against me, digging her nails into my shoulders. I was so hard that my cock pressed against her hip.
I kept rolling her nipple between my fingers. Ada moaned louder now, her breath sharp in my ear. I’d never heard her make noise like that before. She almost sounded as if she were in pain—
“Stop …” she gasped.
Stop? She didn’t have to say that anymore. I needed to remind Ada that we weren’t in the dungeon any longer. She wasn’t my prisoner. She didn’t have to play the game by pretending to beg for mercy. I kissed her hard, pushing my tongue deep inside her mouth while I scraped my nail over her nipple.
“Ulrich, stop!”
I froze, my fingers dropping her nipple. Ada sounded serious. Her whole body was shaking. No, not shaking. Convulsing. I pulled back, searching her stricken features for the problem. But what happened?
Ada tore herself from my grasp, pressing her hands against her chest, gasping for air. Her face crumpled with pain, her skin pale as death.
“Ada?” I tried to grab her shoulder, to hold her still, but she shook her head. “What’s wrong? How did I hurt you?”
For several moments she could not answer me. Slowly, the colour returned to her cheeks. She sucked in a deep breath and gazed up at me with wide, frightened eyes.
“Ada?” I asked again, reaching out to touch her cheek. She jerked away from me. What’s wrong? What has happened? How did I hurt her? I began to feel frightened, too.
“There was this pain … when you touched me. It was as if someone were stabbing at my heart. Oh, Ulrich, it was terrible. I could practically feel the blade sliding into me …” Ada burst into tears, her hands clamped across her chest as if they were the only things preventing her heart from leaping out of her body.
“Did I accidentally crush you?” I felt awful. I only wanted to hurt her if she was begging it. This wasn’t right. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand how this happened. I thought I was being gentle. I must have got carried away—”
Ada shook her head vigorously. “The pain didn’t come from you. It came from me. It was inside of me. I can’t explain it, but it felt so real.”
“Does it still hurt?”
She nodded. “It’s subsided, just a dull ache now. But I can still feel the ghost of the knife. How can this be? Could I be ill? Sometimes Aubrey treated people from the village who complained of chest pains. They didn’t usually survive.” The tears ran in streams down her face.
“You’re not dying, Ada. Don’t even think like that. This doesn’t sound like any illness I know of, more likely there is some magical cause. We’ll talk to your aunts. They’ll find a solution.” I raised my hand to pull myself up, and as I did, I noticed something odd.
“Oh, no.” I breathed.
“What?” Ada leaned forward.
“Look,” I said. Ada followed my gaze down to my hand. I held it open, palm up. The cut Clarissa had made to bind our oath glowed with a strange, silver light. I noticed that the skin of my hand tingled with a sharpness that had nothing to do with the cold.
“It’s the oath,” I whispered, my stomach churning as understanding dawned on me.
“I don’t understand.”
“The pain in your chest is Clarissa’s doing,”
I growled. “And Bernadine’s. When your aunt bound the oath, she said that death would claim my most precious treasure, if the oath shall be broken. She meant you, Ada. The oath will not allow us to be together, for it means I’m being unfaithful to my true wife.”
“No—” Ada looked stricken. “But then how can we—”
“I have to kill Clarissa, too.” I sighed, turning away from her, trying to force down my lust. “It is the only way to break the oath.”
“You don’t have to kill her. You could force her to agree to release you from the oath. You were coerced. Surely that’s not binding—”
I stared at my hand, anger burning in my veins. “It appears the old gods care little for the particulars. In their mind, Clarissa is the woman who binds my heart. And she knows it. You do not know Clarissa as I do. Now that she has me, she will not give me up. To force her, I would have to kill her.”
“Can we try again? Maybe I was just feeling ill?”
I gathered her into my arms, resting her head against my chest and wrapping the edges of my black cloak around her tiny body.
“As much as I want you, I can’t bear the thought of hurting you. Not unless you’re enjoying it.”
“But the curse.” Ada squeezed her eyes shut. “We have to sleep together, Ulrich, otherwise I will lose my powers.”
“We have until the moon tomorrow night, yes?” Ada nodded. “We will find a way. We are passing by several villages tomorrow. Perhaps one of your aunts will oblige at a local inn.” I pulled her closer to me, wrapping my arms around her slight frame. My whole body longed to undress her, to slip inside of her and forget all my duties within her warm, yielding flesh. But if simply touching her breasts had caused such pain, then what would penetrating her do? I didn’t want to find out. My cock stood rigid, an unsated sentinel guarding our slumber.
At that moment, as Ada wept softly in my arms and my cock strained against my tunic, I hated Clarissa more even than my father.
Ada
I slept fitfully in Ulrich’s arms, waking several times in a cold sweat, my mind swarming with frightful dreams. My chest still felt tight, the memory of the stabbing pain lingering, filling me with dread. Ulrich’s arms around me felt heavy, possessive.
Our descent through the mountains was slower than usual. Aunt Bernadine slept most of the way, as she did frequently on the long journeys. I watched her with heavy-lidded eyes, envious of her ability to fall asleep on a clattering cart. But at least I had the chance to talk to Aunt Aubrey in peace.
“We have a problem,” I told her. As succinctly as I could, I explained about the pain in my chest and Ulrich’s wound glowing. Lines appeared across Aubrey’s forehead, and when I finished, she reached across and squeezed my hand.
“Don’t hate your Aunt Bernadine for doing this. She needed to make a sincere oath, or else Clarissa would not have accepted it. She thought that by giving both parties something to lose, she would limit the impact to Ulrich. Remember, too, that Clarissa stands to lose her most important treasure if she breaks the oath.”
“But the curse! We now have only one day left before we lose our powers—”
Aubrey placed a hand on my knee. “Do not fear. There’s a village up ahead, down in that valley. See the smoke from their fires? I will go there, and we will not need to worry about the curse for another seven nights.”
As we drew closer to the village, Ulrich led us off the main path. We followed the banks of a mountain stream for another mile, and then we stopped while the horses drank. Aunt Aubrey spoke quietly to Ulrich, and he nodded grimly. He ordered Tjard to throw on a cloak and hook and escort her down to the village. “Ada and I will make camp. Go, hurry. You have only a few hours before the moon is high.”
“Just a moment,” Aubrey said as she stood next to Tjard. She swiped her hand over his face, and before my eyes his features transformed from a strong, handsome warrior into a wrinkled old man, his nose hooked and his skin sunken. A snowy white beard flowed down his chest.
“How did you do that?” I gazed in awe at Tjard’s new face. From the back of the wagon, Aunt Bernadine emitted a loud snort, then returned to her rhythmic snoring.
“It’s called a glamour spell.” Aunt Aubrey drew her hand over her own face, and at once her wrinkled skin and kind eyes disappeared, replaced by smooth, pale features, high, glassy cheekbones, and piercing blue irises. She appeared radiant. She would have every man in the village after her if she looked like that. “Glamour does not alter the person, it merely presents another face, a different face, to the world. It is one of a witch’s most powerful spells.”
“You have to teach me how to do this,” I demanded, wondering angrily why they had never thought to show me how to do this before. If I’d known how to cast a glamour, I might have been able to rescue myself from the pyre.
“Yes,” Aubrey smiled sadly. “I rather suppose we do.”
“Keep her safe,” Ulrich told Tjard, who nodded grimly, his white beard sweeping across the front of his cloak. “And find out what you can.”
“We must hurry,” Aubrey said to Tjard, as he unhitched Sycamore and helped Aubrey up into the saddle. “I do not have the strength left to sustain the glamour for more than a few hours.”
As soon as they were out of sight, Aunt Bernadine moaned and rolled over. “Where’s Aubrey?” She demanded, as she rubbed her eyes and gazed around the edge of the stream.
“She’s gone into the village with Tjard.” Ulrich said, without looking up from brushing the tangles out of Willow’s tail.
“What?” Bernadine struggled to her feet. “Why? That’s not safe. They could recognize her.”
“Relax. She cast a glamour spell. Even if word of us has reached this far, which I doubt, she looks nothing like herself.”
Thankfully, Ulrich was too engrossed in his work to see Bernadine’s eyes shooting daggers at his back.
There was nothing else to do but wait for them to return. I tried to ask Bernadine about glamour spells, but she didn’t want to talk to me. She sat on the edge of the stream, her cloak pulled up around her head and a wineskin clutched in her clawed hands. I tried to ask her about glamour spells, but she waved me away.
Instead, I sat in the cart and watched Ulrich with Willow. He treated her such reverence, carefully brushing her until she shone, softly speaking to her to keep her calm and reassured. I noticed while we travelled how he placed her needs before his own, seeking frequent breaks and giving her food and water before he took any for himself.
“A well-rested horse will carry you twice as far,” said Ulrich simply, when I questioned him on his devotion to the animal. But I saw the way he smiled at Willow as she watched him, the way he tickled her behind the ears. He loved that horse. He trusted her, and she him. I felt as if I’d seen another part of him, fixed another piece of the puzzle that was Ulrich into place.
There was a small bow lying in the back of the wagon, which Tjard usually used to hunt some small creature for dinner. I took it and walked a little way down the stream, and within a half hour had shot a rabbit. Ulrich looked impressed as I laid the carcass in front of him. “You never told me you could shoot a bow,” he said.
“You never asked,” I replied, feeling a little smug that he had learned something new about me, too.
Ulrich and I lit a fire and cooked a fine stew, but Bernadine refused to eat. She just sat beside the steam, staring off into nothing and occasionally lifting the wineskin to her cracked lips. The moon rose in the sky, giving the water a pale blue sheen and illuminating the dark horses as they bent down to drink heartily. I stared down at my hands, wondering if Aubrey had been successful, and if I still possessed powers or not.
Aubrey and Tjard returned just as the meat was browned and ready to eat. I noticed my aunt looked herself again, the glamour spell must have worn off. I ran to Aubrey’s side and threw my arms around her, and she squeezed me back. I marvelled at how small she felt, how frail. Tears sprang to my eyes when I thought of what she had t
o do, and reminded myself it wasn’t too many weeks ago now that she had lost her own lover, Andreas, the village cooper. I’m so sorry, Aubrey.
“Do not cry, child,” she wiped the tears from my cheeks. “I’m fine, see? I’m rather tired, though.”
I stepped aside and let Aubrey have my blanket beside the fire. “Thank you,” she replied gratefully, as she accepted a bowl of rabbit stew. I glared across the fire at Bernadine, who still sat in her position by the stream. If it hadn’t been for her oath, Aubrey wouldn’t have had to do what she’d just done.
“You were successful?” I asked Aubrey. She nodded. Bernadine’s head snapped around, and she shot me a murderous glare, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of a reply. I knew she would be angry that Aubrey was the one finding men to keep our powers. And she was right, as the most youthful, it should be me. But the thought of being with someone other than Ulrich made me feel ill, especially when I’d be fighting to keep powers they hadn’t even bothered to teach me how to harness.
Neither Aubrey nor I elaborated further on the expedition. Tjard slumped down between us and slurped down his stew in one gulp. He too, wore his usual face.
“It was a most successful excursion all round,” Tjard said, wiping a line of juice from his beard. “While Aubrey was engaged with her task, I was able to gather news.” Ulrich sat forward. Tjard continued. “Your father has wasted no time in his search for us. Lord Benedict has placed a reward of a thousand gold pieces for our capture.”
“A thousand gold pieces,” I breathed, unable to even comprehend that much money.
“It is an immense sum, more than a hundred times what one would normally pay for a fugitive witch. This is my father’s doing,” Ulrich said gravely. “Not only is every scharfrichter in the area going to be looking for us, but every famer, hunter, and man with gold in his eyes.”
“The beer hall was alive with speculation and plotting,” Tjard mused, as he helped himself to a second bowl of stew. “Some villagers are planning an expedition into the mountains tomorrow, just in case the fugitives came this way. But most assumed they’d be heading west, towards the coast.”
Coven: a dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 2) Page 3
