Snow White's Witch (Tales of Eventyr Book 2)

by Jessica Parker

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Snow White’s

  Witch

  Jessica Parker

  Snow White’s Witch

  Copyright © 2017 by Jessica Parker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Interior book design by Bob Houston eBook Formatting

  Dedication

  To my friends. Thank you for your encouragement and pestering me for more stories.

  Chapter 1

  Anessa read the last page in her book before clasping it to her chest. The lady and her reformed rogue would live happily ever after. She pushed the book under her pillow and sighed. Time to get up.

  But today was the day she'd waited years for. Anessa threw the covers off and leapt out of bed. She grabbed her robe and looked out of her window, which ran the entire length of the wall. The light always helped her focus her magic during spells. The soft morning light broke through the clouds, reflecting off of the distant castle spires and shimmering on the snow that dusted the towering pine trees around her home.

  Snow had fallen while she slept. It was too early for the fall season. An omen no doubt. A perfect, clean beginning for her and her sorcerer.

  He was coming to her. Since he had satisfied his need to create a gift for the Queen, he could now focus on their relationship. That’s how it always went in the books. He’d make peace with his past and then return to the heroine. Now it was time for him to return to her. She walked to the writing desk in the corner and briefly ran a finger over the piece of parchment with a swirling script. He hadn’t said as much in his letter, but he hadn’t needed to.

  Anessa moved to her closet and pulled out the red dress. It was made of the softest velvet, and the gold thread flashed. She frowned. The covens would scold her for frivolously wearing such an ornate gown out of ceremony, but this wasn’t just any day. She'd saved it for this day with him.

  A knock sounded throughout her home. She'd read for too long, or he was too early, eager no doubt to share with her what he'd denied them both for so long. He’d said he had something special to ask her today.

  She waved a hand over herself and uttered a simple spell, “Klieta.”

  It worked even without her wand. Her silver night dress had been switched for the red one. She walked to her vanity and checked her reflection in the mirror. Everything had to be perfect.

  Her golden hair was glamoured dark the way he preferred, styled into an elegant twist at the nape of her neck. Violet eyes sparkled back at her.

  “No. Blue, he prefers blue. Zilas acis.” She blinked once. The purple faded to a light lavender. At her second blink, the pupils were surrounded by white. By the time she blinked a third time, sky blue eyes looked back at her.

  “Perfect.” Anessa opened a small gold jar, and the fragrance of cinnamon and apples greeted her. She took out some of the cold white cream inside and rubbed it onto the unblemished skin of her hands.

  She grabbed her ruby ring off the vanity out of habit and ran down the stairs to her front door. After one last check to smooth her dress, she opened the door.

  "Rothe!" Just saying his name sent a tingle of excitement through her.

  He stood there, the same brown eyes she'd fallen in love with every moment since she'd first seen them.

  A large smile spread across his lips, and he strode into her home.

  "Anessa, it's good to see you."

  "It's good to be seen." She slipped her ring onto her middle finger. "Have you had breakfast?"

  "No."

  "Neither have I. How about you sit at the table while I conjure something up?"

  Anessa walked past him and into the kitchen. She had just grabbed a white bowl made from the glass forest when Rothe wrapped his arms around her from behind.

  This is it. She thought, the moment he admits that he’s been a fool and that he loves me.

  "Anessa," He cooed in her ear.

  She felt her heart flutter like a bird about to be set free of its cage. Using one hand, she caressed the scar that ran from his fingertips up past his elbow. The dragon had dealt him that blow, and she had healed it. It had been great fun to make him think she wasn’t going to fix it. Instead she’d planted seeds of healing magic in his arm when she’d transported him to the castle. Slowly over the last month it had healed. She tilted her head to look up at him, still caressing.

  "Yes, love?" she asked.

  "I need the mirror," he said.

  She dropped the bowl. "Excuse me?"

  "I need you to get the mirror."

  She stepped out of his arms and picked up the dish. It had a slight crack along the bottom. Easily mended with the right words. "You shouldn't have left it then."

  "My exit was a bit hurried,” he said.

  "You were gloating, and you’re lucky the King didn’t kill you for being an idiot. Do you know how many fortifications the King has protecting the mirror? How many he has paid the covens for?”

  “It’s nothing you can’t deal with. For me, my little dove?”

  "If I do this, will you finally be done with it?" she gripped the bowl tightly in hope. He hadn’t called her ‘dove’ in years.

  "He needs to suffer like I did all those years."

  "He’ll have you hunted like a rabbit." A crack sounded and the bowl split into multiple pieces. Cold glass bit into her flesh even as her grip tightened on the remnants she held. She looked down as her blood began to coat the snow white shards.

  "No. He needs me alive, or I can’t release her." Rothe discarded the broken pieces and took her injured hands into his. "My turn to heal you now. Isgydyti."

  The physical pain subsided as the glass fell out onto the floor and her skin knit back together. Her ring grew cold at the touch of his magic. "Could you do that?"

  "Do what?"

  "Free her?” A feeling of tightness surrounded her chest, like a cage shrinking around a dove, its wings fearfully flapping in time with her heartbeat.

  "No. Unbinding the Queen from the mirror would take a magic greater than yours or mine. I doubt even the Queen of your covens could undo my spell."

  "Why do you need it now, months later? Why not let him have a daily reminder of your punishment?" It’s not what she wanted to ask. She wanted to ask if he would free the Queen if he could. If he’d try to free the first woman he’d ever loved. He was suppo
sed to be over her by now. It had only taken the rogue in the book a day to move on.

  "I forgot to seal the spell after trapping her in the mirror. It’s draining my magic. I need to close it before I’m nothing more than a magician," he said.

  Her nerves settled only for a second. He was over the Queen, it was his magic that needed saving. Without it the covens would never allow him to join hands with her. "How am I supposed to get it?"

  "Tell the King you can break the spell."

  "Which we both know is a lie. And it’ll be my neck instead of yours in the noose."

  Rothe moved closer to Anessa and brought her healed hands to his lips. "You'll be able to charm him out of the mirror without any problems." He paused and looked over her dress and form. "You will have the court scrambling to meet your every desire. There is no witch more fetching than you."

  "And what will you give me if I do this?" Anessa asked.

  "I'll have a surprise for you that you've hoped for all these years we've known each other."

  Anessa’s heart fluttered once more, a bonding ceremony. Surely he must know that's all she'd wanted from him. A ceremony to tell the world the most powerful sorcerer had promised himself to her for all time.

  "I’ll do it. For you."

  "I knew you would. Until next time then." He dropped her hands and started walking back towards the front door.

  "What about breakfast?"

  "I really can’t stay. I have to conserve my magic, and it will take me all day to get home now that I’ve spent my magic healing you."

  "I could transport you."

  "It’s not worth the indigestion." He picked up her hand that wore the ring and placed a chaste kiss on the back.

  That’s when she saw it, a black spot the size of a pinhead just above her knuckle on her thumb. Without her wand, the simple glamour magic had taken its due.

  His thumb brushed the dark spot. "You should really wear gloves in the sun. These types of blemishes ruin your complexion."

  Anessa followed him to the door and offered a tentative smile. "I’ll miss you."

  "I know." He turned to look at the position of the sun now approaching mid day. "Try not to take too long getting the mirror."

  Her smile fell. She plastered on a new one, although less brilliant, by the time he turned back to her.

  "The faster you get it, the sooner I’ll see you." He gave his devilish smile and walked out the door.

  Anessa closed the door and stared at her hands. His healing was flawless, but she could have done it herself. If only she hadn’t so foolishly cut herself, he’d still be here. She pulled off the ring, cold from his touch, and sent a small blast of witch light to warm it up. The light danced across its surface as she placed it on her ring finger.

  "You really shouldn’t be using the royal ring to fantasize." A voice sounded behind her.

  Anessa whirled around. "When did you get here?"

  "About the time you closed the door on that magician." Grizelda of the dark coven answered. She stood admiring the potted nightshade by the window.

  "He’s a grand sorcerer, not a man with smoke and mirrors. Why are you here, Granny?"

  “I’m not your grandmother, girl.” Grizelda turned away from the plant, her shoulders stooped, face filled with wrinkles and spots.

  “All witches are family.”

  "I didn’t come here to argue semantics. The Queen of the Covens passed away last night. Didn’t you see the snow? The council has convened. It is time for you to take your place and stop this dalliance with a vagabond."

  "You’ve been spying on me?"

  "I taught you when you were a babe. You would do well to know your place." Grizelda drew her wand. It was made from yellowed bones. A skull from a small animal rounded off the hilt.

  "Listen, Hag." Anessa used her fingers to draw the witch light from her ring. "Kasvaa." The light grew into a flame that filled her hand. "I–"

  Grizelda pointed at Anessa. "Raja Kieli."

  Anessa’s tongue swelled. Her voice came out as a gargle. She could feel the pathway for air shrinking. It wasn’t until her field of vision narrowed that she admitted defeat and nodded to the old witch.

  Grizelda smiled and pointed at the witch light. Anessa flung it to a corner where it burned a ficus plant to a crisp. Without words, she couldn’t spell it away.

  "Smanjiti," Grizelda said as she flicked her wand at Anessa.

  The swelling receded, and Anessa tried not to be pathetic in her gasps for air.

  "You would do well to respect your elders. You may possess the seven talents, Anessa but I have centuries of practice."

  "Yes, Granny Grizelda."

  "Still don’t have the stomach for inflicting pain I see."

  "I prefer to keep my youth."

  "That’s not what your hand says," Grizelda pointed to the dark spot on Anessa’s thumb.

  "It’s nothing."

  "Just a little glamour to make him desire you? It’s painful to be forced to do something against your nature. Your wand should have absorbed the cost of such a little spell."

  "It’s a freckle from the sun. Where is your mark for almost killing me?"

  Grizelda held up her forearm and pointed to a splotch that looked like a fresh ink stain. "Time for your crown, Princess."

  Chapter 2

  They transported in a swirl of wind. One moment the room spun and blurred only to be replaced, when the wind cleared, by the center hall within the black mountain, home to the seven covens and Queen Calandra before she died.

  Grizelda led Anessa to the Queen’s chamber within the heart of the black mountain. There she was stripped of her red gown, bathed in milk, and clothed in a dress the color of a stormy sea. The silk flowed like water across her skin, and Anessa couldn’t help but stare at her reflection on the polished, black walls.

  "Stop admiring yourself," Grizelda said. "It was a gift from the water coven."

  Anessa looked up from her gown. Despite their spat earlier, Anessa was glad that Grizelda would be her guide through the ceremony. Grizelda was tough, but she always pushed Anessa to be the best.

  "Come." Grizelda snapped her fingers and the doors to the chamber opened.

  They walked without talking through the hallways adorned with old magic tomes, their footsteps making a steady thrum on the stone. The air grew warmer as they descended the stairs into the mountain. They approached the lava pool in the deepest chamber where they would meet the rest of the council of the covens.

  Six women stood in a circle, dressed in ceremonial cloaks of varying colors.

  Zarina of the air coven wore a gauzy white cloak. Zarina looked nervously at Kasimira of the fire coven in her shimmering red cloak. Kasimira flicked a spit of flame at the woman wearing a sparkling blue cloak.

  Lira glared and met the fire with a small ball of water before it could singe her dress. Before Kasimira could summon a larger flame, Erisa of the earth coven stepped between them. Erisa flicked her cloak, the color of pure chocolate, and blocked Kasmira’s view of Lira.

  High tinkling laughter filled the air. Imelda in a green cloak, as rich as the needles on the pine trees, radiated with the energy of life for which her coven was known. Timea’s cloak shimmered like a night full of the stars, and, like a true time witch, she kept the others on schedule when she called them to attention with a loud whistle. They welcomed Grizelda into their circle, and she completed it with her cloak the color of pitch.

  With all seven represented, a flicker of flame, the center fire, grew seven-fold among them before dimming to a small ball of flame just above Anessa’s head.

  Grizelda began the chant in a language as old as the sun. Her throaty voice low and steady, she left the others and began walking around Anessa. Each of the others followed suit and surrounded Anessa, picking up the chant.

  Grizelda guided her to the edge of the stone where the body of the old Queen lay on a bed of clear stone. Queen Calandra, a balance of mercy and justice. Her body reflected th
is. At first glance it was difficult to decide if one should stare at her white porcelain skin or the black marks that wrapped themselves around her like vines on a tree, each one a mark of the dark magic she’d wielded in defense of the covens.

  As one the magic of the council lifted the Queen’s body and floated it out onto the lava.

  Calandra’s body burned in a succession of colors, each brighter than the last.

  The spell captured the last spark of green magic released from Calandra’s body. The spark was added to the center fire to join the sparks from all the Queens who had ever been over the covens. Grizelda motioned to the fire just above Anessa’s head.

  This was the last test to confirm that she would be the new queen. If the circle fire allowed her to touch it, she would be Queen. If it didn’t, she’d be burned to ash. She paused and thought of her hopes and dreams, of Rothe. But the latter didn’t fill her mind for long.

  "Surengti gaisro." Anessa reached toward the center fire. A prickling sensation spread through her fingertips, and she pulled out a small ball of flame. Prickling turned to tingling in her hands from the life sparks of so many powerful witches, and then the tingle spread. The sparks spoke to her, not to her ears, but as a warmth to her soul, welcoming her like a long lost friend. When it was her time, her spark would one day join theirs.

  Grizelda grabbed Anessa’s elbow and ushered her to the stairs, all the while continuing the chant.

  Anessa was so consumed by the sensation of holding the circle fire she barely noticed the long march up. Lesser witches who came for the ceremony lined the stairs holding unlit candles, each of them wearing a dress the color of their respective coven, with a white and black sash around their waist. Uniting them as one.

  One by one, Anessa lit their candles from the flame. As she passed, they joined the harmony of voices in the council, and the chant echoed throughout the black mountain in a song older than the skies. Hope after loss, light in darkness.

  The procession went all the way to the top of the mountain. There, out in the open air, with only the light of candles and stars, she would be made Queen of the covens.