Claire stared down at the feathers in her hand, the rich blackness made stark against her pale skin. She ran her thumb across the bridge of the feather, the fibers smooth like silk against her touch. How could something so innocuous, soft and lean, fight against the vilest evil?
“Shouldn’t we have something more powerful?” She tilted her head to the right to meet Maevis’s ever-steady gaze. “I don’t mean to question your ways, or sound ungrateful…”
“But you’d prefer a weapon?”
Claire nodded. A flintlock pistol or a knife would make her feel better, though she did not know how to operate a gun and she stabbed herself with her sewing needles more than the cloth she embroidered.
“It is light we seek here, Lady Claire,” Maevis said. “Weapons may defend against harm, but they can also cause it. You cannot defeat evil with more evil. You break it through the strength of your heart.”
“I don’t feel strong,” Claire murmured.
“But you are,” Teddy said, and she knew even without turning around that he was smiling at her. “The feathers and the ribbon are just symbols anyhow, aren’t they?”
“Precisely.” Maevis eyed Teddy now with increased appreciation. He took the curse seriously, his behavior respectful to the witches.
“When you are ready, walk to the first woman in the Circle.”
Claire sucked in a deep breath, once more looking down at the feathers and the ribbon. She closed her eyes, releasing that held breath, trying to find some semblance of inner peace to propel her forward. But there was nothing—nothing but the noxious gurgle of her stomach, and the tautness of her body from so many months spent wondering if her mind would become her gaol. She could not remember the last time she’d felt at ease.
And so it was not with hope that Claire approached the stout, middle-aged woman in the circle, but instead with desperation. The raw, aching need for a normal life.
“Name your fear,” the woman told her, with an encouraging nod.
She had so many fears—where should she start? Her life had been a constant stream of doubts since her mother’s admittance to the asylum.
There. That was the most pressing of all. The black void of her duplicitous mind, convincing her of a reality that did not exist. “I’m afraid that my mind is a cage.”
“May you be free of restraints,” the woman replied.
Maevis leaned in closer, gesturing to the ground. “Now, drop one feather, and with it, let that fear die at the goddess’ feet.”
She let the feather slip from her fingers, watching as it spun to the ground and fell, black death against the green, growing grove. Yet as she stared at it, the feather began to dissolve, until there was no trace of it left. Were her eyes deceiving her, in here of all places? Where could it have gone?
“It has vanished, taken by the goddess,” Maevis said, as if she could read Claire’s thoughts. Maybe she could. “Along with it, your fear.”
And she believed that, for no longer did that particular concern cause the knot in her stomach to constrict. She was a bird with full wingspan, no longer clipped. When she remembered her mother in Ticehurst, it was now without that extra stab of worry that she’d undergo the same torture.
Maevis walked her to the next woman, whose dour expression was in correlation with her equally somber gray gown. “Name your fear.”
She looked over her shoulder at Teddy. Determined, clever Teddy, who’d always stood by her no matter what. It was for him she feared the most—that someday, when she least expected it, the madness would rise up within her and deal a fatal blow to him. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt those I love.”
“May you do no harm.”
From her fingers the second feather slipped, again disappearing a minute later. Her burden felt a little lighter, though the steps she took to the next woman were harder. The emotional release juxtaposed with the physical difficulty of traveling the circle, balancing the light with dark.
She, who had lived so long in the gloom of tragedy, had almost forgotten there could ever be light. Was that one afternoon with Teddy truly the only brightness she’d ever experience? Now that she knew the true extent of his love, the frantic desire for a future with him filled her every waking moment.
It was with that thought in mind that she walked to the next witch, a tall redheaded woman. “I fear that I will never get to experience happiness again.”
“May your life be filled with light,” the witch said.
Claire let the feather fall from her fingers, hope flooding her body as the feather evaporated. That normal life with Teddy didn’t seem so distant a possibility…but she still didn’t know if their life together would be short-lived. What if she disgraced him, the way Mama’s illness did to Papa? She took another step forward, even as her boots sank into the moss, each step a little harder.
“I fear that I will bring shame to my family,” she said, as she came upon the next witch. Papa had never been the same after Mama’s death, and already the ton thought her mad. What if she ruined what little was left of their family name?
“May your goodwill be what people remember.”
She dropped another feather, and approached the next woman. The witch spoke the command, and Claire responded with another fear, the feather flying from her fingers as the witch replied with her blessings. Relief flooded through Claire with every response, as the remaining feathers singed her hand with heat, their weight no longer so light. She wanted to release each one, so that she would feel no more pain, only the happiness of a future no longer so dim.
So it went, with her naming her fears and letting go of the feathers, until she reached the last two women. Her feet now felt as though they were weighed down by lead, gluing her to this one point in the incomplete ritual—leaving her broken and tarnished.
“You must keep going.” Mama’s voice echoed in her ears, and though she looked wide-eyed around the grove, she could see no apparition of her mother. It was the madness, she began to tell herself, but then something deep within her halted that thought.
I am not mad.
I will never be mad.
I am strong.
“I will, Mama,” she whispered, and the ribbon began to wriggle in her left hand, a happy dance that ceased a second later. She remembered playing dolls with Mama, how Mama had always made them do a cheery jig, and she felt safe.
So she moved on, with numb legs and tingling fingers. The silver mist marking the grove approached closer, coating everything in an ethereal fog. But through it all she could hear Teddy’s footsteps behind her, and she remembered her mother’s voice. She kept going—even as the fears became more difficult to name, buried so deep within her that even she had not dared to voice them until now. The blessings came upon her, each causing the most wonderful sense of release.
Then she was at the last woman, speaking her most intimate fear. “I fear I am not worthy of love.”
“Daughter, may you know your own power and self-worth, all the days of your life.”
And she did, oh she did, for the most splendid sensation filled her then. She was brave, she was tough, and she was smart. As Teddy always said she was. Her fate was not preordained. She could make her own path.
“Come now to the center of the circle and I will give you the final blessing,” Maevis told her. “Hold the ribbon up.”
She lifted the ribbon, which wiggled in her hand again. But this time it was not with joy, but instead…something overpoweringly malevolent. As if all the evil of Hestia’s curse was now contained in this ribbon, a snake ready to sink its fangs into her.
Yet she held onto it, because she would not be defeated again. She had too much to live for now.
“Do you feel fear?” Maevis asked.
Claire searched within herself, but even as the ribbon kept spinning madly she felt nothing but determination. The suffocating sense of worthlessness was gone, replaced by curiosity and delight. For the first time in years, she felt content.
Proud of who she was, and who
she’d become.
And so bloody, bloody excited to embark upon a new life.
“My fears are gone,” she said, with a glance over her shoulder at Teddy. “I am strong.”
He grinned back, mouthing that he loved her. She had the power now to say that she too loved him, with all of her heart and soul. She was his, and he was hers, for all of eternity.
Maevis removed the lid on a small, shallow pot balanced on the stone. A small fire burned in the brazier, giving out a red-orange glow.
“The curse dies tonight,” Maevis declared. “By your actions, your words, and your power. Deprived of the fuel of your fears, it has no place in this realm. Gone is Hestia’s hold.”
Claire let out the breath she’d held since Maevis had uncovered the pot. That sigh of reprieve could be heard across the grove, and with it, Claire said goodbye to her last worry.
“Your work is not done, daughter,” Maevis said. “All that this curse represents to you—every memory of suffering and pain—you must imagine bound now into the ribbon you hold. When you are ready, drop the ribbon into the flames.”
Claire faltered. “Will I remember my mother?”
“Always,” Maevis assured her. “The good times. The terror that haunts you will be released.”
Claire nodded swiftly. “Then I am ready.” She imagined the ribbon as a thread tying together all her waking nightmares. The mocking jeers of Society. Her mother’s institutionalization and subsequent death. Evelyn’s pain in the attic.
She let it all go.
She flung the ribbon into the fire.
And she gasped as the ribbon hit the flames, not with a tiny puff of smoke, but instead with a great flash of blue and green. The fire was gone a minute later, snuffed out completely, as though it never existed.
Claire fell back, the shock and heady emotion of the moment weakening her knees. Teddy was there in an instant, holding her up, his arms around her waist. She leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. He smelled exactly as he always had, unaffected by the grove’s magic. Every inch of him was familiar, crafted as if made exclusively for her. In that moment, he was more perfect than anything she’d ever seen. Perfect for her.
Maevis approached her with the goblet. “Take a sip of this, and then spit it out. It’ll taste bitter, but it will banish the last of the evil. Once it is done, never, ever speak of Hestia again.”
Now, after so much had happened, she didn’t hesitate. It was unladylike to spit, of course, but she was a woman who’d lost her virginity in a folly and had no room any longer for the ton’s foolish rules.
She took a long sip from the goblet. Brackish water and something else—something that tasted rotten, as though the sweat from a thousand working cattle had been drained into this mixture. With Teddy’s arms still around her, she spat out the water. It covered the ground, for a moment creating a murky mud in the grass, before the puddle too shriveled away.
The women cheered in unison, their excited cries echoing in the glen. They surged forward, hugging her, patting Teddy on the back.
She’d done it.
The curse was broken.
Teddy laid his chin on top of Claire’s head, relishing the feel of her snuggled against him. She gripped his hand in hers, the firmness of her grip assuaging his worries that the ritual had taken too much out of her. He laid a kiss on the top of her head, watching as the witches danced around in celebration. He’d never seen a group of women so overjoyed for another’s happiness.
He’d been wrong, terribly wrong, about them. Devil take him, he’d been wrong about so many things— not telling Claire how he felt, dismissing her curse, not believing in things he couldn’t empirically prove. After tonight, he vowed he’d be more open-minded. Those feathers had dissolved before his very eyes, and silver mist still clung to the grove.
Magic, he now knew, was real. So real that it had given him a chance with Claire, a chance he wouldn’t waste.
“How do you feel?” he asked, squeezing her hand.
“Like a weight has been lifted.” She tilted her head to look him in the eye, and for the first time in so many years her eyes glimmered with delight. The moonlight shined across her pretty face, making her smile even more glorious. “It’s disappeared, Teddy. All my fears. I think…if you still want me, I’d like to be yours.”
“How could you ever doubt that I’d want you?” He spun her around in his arms so that she faced him, cupping her chin in his hand. “I love you, Claire. Always.”
If he’d thought her smile was beautiful before, it was nothing compared to the grand grin that spread across her lips now. “As I love you, Teddy.”
He released her, only to drop down on bended knee in the middle of the forest. In all the ways he’d imagined proposing to her, he’d never imagined it’d be here, surrounded by the dirt and grass and the infernal outdoors that he’d loathed so much. Yet he’d been wrong on that too, for this glen by the witch’s circle, with all of the coven looking on, was a better place than anywhere he could have imagined. It was the perfect place.
The right place.
Teddy reached for her hand, placing a kiss across her knuckles. “Claire, you’ve been my best friend since I was a mere babe. I can’t remember a day that didn’t have you—or the thought of you—in it, for even when we were separated you were never far from my thoughts. I loved you as a foolish lad who didn’t know what love was, and I love you now as a man who will continue to fight for you, always.”
Tears fell from her eyes, splashing across her cheeks. Happy tears, not the somber, despondent tears of the lost woman he’d watched mourn her mother’s madness these last three years.
“You’re my strength, my guiding force, my partner in all things.” He clasped her hand, trying to hold his own emotions back. Unsuccessfully, for his voice broke, and he could not pretend to be composed. “I should have said these things to you so long ago, but I was afraid. Now I understand that the greatest risks can lead to the most indescribable contentment. I suspect this will change my chess game entirely.”
She laughed, for she’d always defeated him at chess. He was the more logical player, yes, but he’d been hampered by his inability to take the big chances.
No more. He would live life to its fullest now. “Will you do me the utmost honor of becoming my wife, my countess?”
He’d barely finished speaking when she pulled him up off his feet, launching herself into his arms. “Yes, Teddy! Of course I’ll marry you. A thousand times, yes.”
As the witches’ cheers echoed all around them, he kissed her, a soft, gentle kiss that turned passionate at the heat of her response. He couldn’t resist her; never had been able to, and especially not now that he knew how sweet she tasted. Soon his hands threaded through her loose hair, the strands of gold splayed across his fingers. Her arms wrapped around him, holding her to him, as if he were her anchor, strengthening her.
When they finally pulled apart, he turned to find Maevis staring at them, a big smile crinkling her wizened eyes. She came to them, giving Claire a hug and him a pat on the back.
“Congratulations, son and daughter,” she said. “On a successful banishment, and also on your impending nuptials.”
“Thank you,” Claire replied. “We wouldn’t be here without you. I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am.”
“Pish tosh.” Maevis waved her hand in dismissal. “’Tis what the goddess wanted. Besides, you shall have a new babe soon, and she shall need a stable home.”
“A new babe?” Teddy repeated in surprise. “What do you mean?”
Maevis gave him a look that told him he ought to know exactly what she meant. “I should hope a man as old as you would understand basic anatomy, milord. The next time you engage in such behavior, Lady Claire shall become with child.”
“Oh.” He could feel his cheeks inflaming. “I see.”
“Teddy,” Claire began cautiously, when Maevis bid them adieu. “If what she says is true…would you be happy?”
He tugged her closer to him. “I would not be just happy, Claire. I’d be jubilant. The most jubilant man in the entire bloody kingdom.”
She laughed as he hugged her, and it was the greatest sound he’d ever heard. So they stood together, surrounded by the coven, until the sun rose.
Epilogue
One year later, All Hallow’s Eve
Ashbrooke House
Claire looked out the window of Teddy’s study, holding her daughter in her arms. Aine, named after the goddess that had blessed them that fateful night in the grove, had been born in July. She was the most beautiful girl Claire had ever seen, with her apple-blossom cheeks and her full head of dark curls, so much like Teddy’s family in appearance. She had Teddy’s watchful eyes, and that slow way of smiling he had, as if she’d solved a puzzle and was waiting for the rest of the world to catch up with her.
But it was Aine’s eyes that reminded Claire so much of her own mother. Blue, beautiful eyes, which forever shone with merriment. That was how she now remembered Mama—her childlike wonder, and the bliss she found in the simplest things. She remembered feeling loved, and she remembered the tender moments between her mother and father. The rest had faded into the background of her mind, now fragmented wisps of memories, unable to be pieced together into full recollections.
Sometimes, in the darkest hours of the night, she thought she heard Mama’s voice again, telling her how proud she was of her. As Maevis had predicted, Madalane’s spirit was finally at peace, free of the madness. The coven also kept watch over Evelyn, making sure that she was safe.
“What’s got your attention, my love?” Teddy stood up, pushing his chair back behind his desk and crossing the office toward her. He came up behind her, resting one hand on her shoulder.
She leaned into his touch, as she had done so many times since that night in the woods. They’d been married shortly after the will reading, in which her father had received a small token from his brother-in-law. Their friends and families had treated the wedding like a foregone conclusion; apparently, everyone had known they were meant for each other, and they were just waiting on them to figure it out too.
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