Mist-Torn Witches 02:Witches in Red

by Barb Hendee

  Keegan’s head snapped up. “A service?” he breathed.

  “Yes, I require an officer to go north and oversee the silver-mining operation in Ryazan. If you would be good enough to take on the command, I will see that your men are paid.”

  Keegan’s jaw twitched, and he went pale.

  Amelie realized he must have known something of Ryazan, of the desolate place he was being sent.

  “Of course, if you would rather not . . . ,” the prince said casually, as if it didn’t matter one way or the other.

  “I’ll go, my prince,” Keegan said quickly. “With gratitude.”

  He had no choice, and even he was wise enough to see that.

  The prince nodded. “Good. The flow of silver is important to the welfare of our province here. You and Lieutenant Sullian may take a few days to prepare, and you will leave at the end of the week.”

  Keegan’s eyes were hollow, almost as if he’d been given a death sentence, but it was still better than public humiliation and being stripped of rank.

  “Yes, my prince,” he managed to say.

  The great hall vanished, and Amelie was swept forward on the mists again, with a mix of thoughts churning in her mind. She expected to leave the visions behind now and find herself back inside Keegan’s tent, sitting next to Jaromir.

  But instead, when the mist cleared, she was standing out in the open of the soldiers’ encampment in Ryazan, still an observer. What could she need to see here? Dusk was nearing, and looking around, she could see Captain Keegan’s large, new tent had been set up, but other elements of the camp were different, and several of the smaller tents were missing, as if Keegan’s men were still getting situated and settled.

  Keegan and Sullian both came striding through the camp toward her as evening campfires were being lit. She could hear them talking.

  “It’s not so bad, Captain,” Sullian was saying. “We’ve only been here three weeks, and I’ve already managed to sign on new miners. Production is up, and the prince will be pleased.”

  Keegan grunted. “There’s no need to try to put a good face on this. We’ve been banished, and it’s my fault. But we won’t be here long. I’ll find a way to get us back to Castle Pählen.”

  Sullian paused and lowered his voice. “Sir . . . some of the men seem to know why we were assigned here. I don’t know how they learned of it. Neither Quinn nor I would breathe a word, but I fear it may undermine your authority.”

  “You let me worry about that. I can handle the men.”

  He seemed about to say more when Amelie heard a choking sound. Both Keegan and Sullian turned their heads at the same time she did. A young soldier who’d been building a campfire suddenly began retching with force, struggling to draw in air at the same time.

  “Guardsman!” Sullian called, hurrying over to help.

  But the soldier collapsed, his mouth contorting in pain. His chest began to expand, and his hands began to change. Fur sprouted from his skin as his clothing began to split, and his fingers were turning into claws.

  His face was elongating.

  “Sullian!” Keegan shouted, grabbing his friend and pulling him away.

  As he did so, Amelie looked at Keegan’s face. Somehow, she knew she’d come to this place in time to watch him and not the soldier who was transforming.

  Savage snarls exploded from her right, but she kept her eyes on Keegan.

  “What is that?” someone cried.

  Staring, Keegan was stunned, absolutely shocked by the scene before him. He had no idea what was happening.

  “Get the spears!” Sullian ordered.

  “Sir!” another soldier shouted. “It’s running toward the miners’ camp!”

  “After it!”

  The scene vanished, and Amelie was in the mists, rushing forward. When they cleared, she was back in the captain’s tent, looking down at his green-tinged face. Jaromir sat on one side of her, still holding Keegan down, and Céline stood on her other side toward the end of the bed.

  The first emotion to hit her was anger as she realized what her last vision had meant.

  “Amelie,” Jaromir said, as he let go of Keegan. “What did you see?”

  * * *

  Jaromir had never seen Amelie come out of a reading so angry.

  “It’s not him!” she spat. “Whoever is doing this to the soldiers, it isn’t him.”

  Keegan was staring up at her with wide, bloodshot eyes, as if he feared what she was about to say.

  “He gambled away his men’s payroll,” she rushed on, “and that’s how he ended up here.”

  “Gambled away . . . ?” Jaromir had never heard of such a thing.

  “But the final memory I saw was of the first soldier who turned . . . at least I think it was the first soldier.” She jammed a finger in the air toward Keegan. “He was stunned, confused. He didn’t have any idea what was happening.” Her chin dropped. “It’s not him.”

  “Of course it’s not me,” Keegan croaked. “You thought it was?”

  Jaromir fought to absorb everything Amelie was saying, but her agitation and clear disappointment bothered him the most. Did she want Keegan to be guilty?

  Céline stepped closer, putting her hand on Amelie’s shoulder.

  “Let’s go someplace and talk alone,” Céline said quietly.

  Amelie didn’t rise. She leaned forward, putting her face directly into Keegan’s. “I know who poisoned you,” she bit off.

  “What?” Jaromir cut in, unable to escape the feeling that he was rapidly being left behind in this exchange.

  Amelie ignored him and continued speaking directly to Keegan. “It’s someone who cares for Mariah, but it could be anyone. It could be one of the Móndyalítko. It could be one of your soldiers or a miner who’s fallen in love with her. It could be anyone. I’ve stopped them for now, by promising I’d speak to you and tell you to leave Mariah alone. Keep your distance, and you’ll be fine. But if you ever, ever touch her again or you threaten to banish her and her sister, you won’t live through the night. Do you understand?”

  Keegan’s eyes were locked on her face, and his breaths were shallow.

  Without waiting for an answer, Amelie stood up and walked out of the tent. Céline and Jaromir looked at each other for a second or two, and then Céline turned to run after her sister.

  “No,” Jaromir ordered, rising to his feet. “You stay here with him. I’ll go.”

  Céline’s brow wrinkled uncertainly. “Lieutenant?”

  He raised one palm in the air. “I’ll be patient, but I need to talk to her. You stay here.”

  Turning, he strode out of the tent after Amelie. Upon emerging, he looked both ways, just in time to see her disappearing into the forest around the encampment. He followed and caught up quickly, finding her leaning over with one hand against a tree. He’d known she disliked Captain Keegan, but he’d had no idea how much. It would not do for her to want any specific person to be guilty. They were here to learn the truth.

  “Amelie,” he said softly.

  She whirled at the sound of his voice and seemed genuinely surprised to see him standing there. Did she think he was just going to let this go?

  “Who poisoned Keegan?” he asked.

  It had occurred to him for an instant that she’d been bluffing back in the tent, telling Keegan a lie to keep him away from Mariah. But then Jaromir realized Amelie wasn’t capable of that level of deception—Céline, yes, but not Amelie.

  She watched him approach.

  “Who?” he repeated.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Despite his promise to Céline, he felt his temper rising. “Amelie! I’m in charge of both protecting you and solving this situation for Prince Anton. If there’s a poisoner in the camp, I need to know who it is.”

  “It’s not my secret to tell. And
it has nothing to do with these soldiers turning into wolves. I can swear on that. It’s over, and it won’t happen again.”

  His eyes searched her face. In all his life, though he’d seen women more beautiful than Amelie, he’d never known anyone so pretty. Her sweet, pale face, silky black hair, and lavender eyes pulled at him every time he looked at her. She might be prickly on the outside, but he knew this was a shell she’d created for her own protection.

  In addition, she made him think of home, of Castle Sèone. He missed it, and she was the only thing here that felt familiar.

  Leaning in close enough that he could see flecks of yellow in her irises, he said, “Tell me who it is. I’m asking you.” Given his gentle manner and that he’d asked instead of ordered, he fully expected her to give him a name.

  She shook her head.

  For a second, he couldn’t speak, and his anger rose again. “This isn’t a game! You tell me who it is right now, or I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” she demanded. “What do you think you’re going to do, Jaromir?”

  Her eyes flashed and she was breathing hard, and without thinking, he grabbed the back of her head and pressed his mouth over hers. He expected her to shove him away, but to his endless wonder, one of her hands gripped his sleeve, and then she was kissing him.

  * * *

  Amelie almost couldn’t believe what Jaromir’s mouth felt like as it moved against hers. She’d never kissed a man before, and whatever she’d expected, this wasn’t it. She could feel power flowing from him, from the strength in his jaw and the strength in his arms, but he wasn’t hurting her. The kiss felt . . . good. She gripped his sleeve, lost in the moment, and moved her mouth against his, drinking him in.

  Pressing her against the tree, he slipped his tongue between her teeth, and she almost gasped. He pulled away slightly.

  “Amelie,” he whispered.

  Then he was kissing her again, and she didn’t want him to stop. She’d never felt anything like this. She put her other hand against his chest, and he moved one hand to her waist as he kissed her more deeply.

  And then . . . without warning, a flash appeared in her mind of his last mistress, a lovely, haughty, wealthy young woman named Bridgette. Amelie had learned through the other soldiers that Bridgette was never allowed to visit Jaromir’s apartments until she was sent for—which was always the arrangement with Jaromir’s mistresses. For about six months, Bridgette had slept in his bed whenever he sent for her, and when he got tired of her, he’d cast her aside like baggage and never once looked back.

  For the span of another breath, Amelie clung to the sleeve of his shirt and kissed him with force. But she knew she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t become another one of his obedient mistresses until he got bored.

  Putting the flat of her hand on his chest, she pushed. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

  “No,” she said raggedly.

  At first she couldn’t move his body, and she pushed harder, slipping out of his grip and backing away. “No,” she repeated.

  His expression was lost, and he took a stumbling step after her. “Amelie?”

  Turning, she ran.

  * * *

  Sitting by Keegan’s beside, Céline couldn’t help feeling relieved when the captain fell back to sleep. They’d not spoken after Amelie and Jaromir left, but she’d fed him water and sponged his face, and finally he’d closed his eyes, giving her time to think.

  She was curious to learn more about what Amelie had seen in his memories, but she had greater worries at the moment. They were no closer to solving the situation here than they’d been on the day they’d arrived, and Jaromir and Amelie appeared to be losing their ability to work together.

  Céline felt guilty for having allowed Jaromir to be the one to go after Amelie . . . but those two did need to talk to each other. They needed to close the growing gap between them. Getting to the bottom of the horrors taking place in this camp was going require cooperation and collaboration among the three of them.

  Sitting there by Keegan’s bed, Céline hoped Jaromir would not be so proud, and Amelie would not let her temper get the best of her . . . and that a few moments alone might give them both a chance to reach out to the other.

  Footsteps sounded from behind her, and she turned her head just in time to see Jaromir coming around a hanging tapestry. Right away, at the sight of his face, her hopes were dashed.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  She didn’t think she’d ever seen him fighting so hard to keep control of himself, but he ignored her question and was clearly struggling to keep his voice steady.

  “I’ve taken command of the camp,” he said, “and now I’m giving the orders.” His voice broke slightly. “Céline . . . we have to solve this. We need to end this and go home.”

  She wondered if he’d ever forgive her for having seen him in this moment of weakness.

  “What do you want to do?” she asked quietly.

  “Exactly what we did back in Sèone. I’ll organize the soldiers, and you start reading. Get me the name of the next victim, and I’ll take it from there.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, thankful that she and Amelie were about to be given a free hand.

  “You wish me to look for the next victim?” she asked. “Might it not be better to have Amelie start reading pasts and see if she can’t find out who’s doing this?”

  “How many people can you or she read at a stretch before you tire?”

  “Six, maybe seven. Then we need to rest.”

  “Anyone here could be guilty. There are roughly forty soldiers and over two hundred people in the mining camp. Since only the soldiers are transforming, you can peg the next victim more quickly by reading only them. Once you give me a name, I have a few ideas.” He was beginning to sound more like himself now. “Besides, the men are on edge, and you’re much better at easing that, and you have just as much chance of hitting on something important while reading a future as Amelie does a past.”

  Céline hoped Jaromir was not trying to avoid working with Amelie. She glanced down at Keegan’s sleeping form. “The captain may have been right about one thing. If I name a soldier, I’ll be putting him in danger from the others. We’ll have to keep it very quiet.”

  Shaking his head, Jaromir said. “No, as soon as you read the next victim, I want you to speak up—loud enough that everybody knows who it is.”

  She wavered, wondering what he had in mind. “But do you promise that you won’t use anyone I name as bait . . . like you did the last time?”

  “Trust me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Although Céline knew Jaromir would act quickly, she couldn’t help feeling rushed when he almost immediately began gathering men inside one of the larger tents.

  She wanted someone to sit with Keegan, so she hurried back to the tent she shared with Amelie. Thankfully, her sister was there, but less fortunately, she was sitting on the bed, her eyes bleak. Céline decided not to broach a discussion of whatever had happened with Jaromir. They didn’t have time, and it might do Amelie good to focus on the larger tasks at hand.

  “Jaromir has taken command, and he’s given me permission to read the soldiers,” she said. “I’ll be starting right away.”

  Amelie stood up. “Oh . . . that’s good. What about me?”

  “We’ll need you soon enough, but he wants me to begin by reading futures. I hate to ask this, but Keegan is alone right now, and I need someone to sit with him. He can barely feed himself water. Can you do it?”

  Grimacing, Amelie nodded. “All right.”

  News that Céline had been turned loose to use her ability did seem to have a somewhat healing effect on Amelie, and she pointed toward the end of the bed.

  “If you have time to change, those were delivered a little while ago.”

  Walk
ing closer, Céline saw her lavender wool dress laid out at the end of the bed, along with Amelie’s dark green one. Both appeared spotless.

  “Oh, thank the gods,” Céline breathed.

  “Thank Mercedes. She’s the one who washed them.”

  “Come help me out of this ridiculous silk gown and into something sensible.”

  Pulling off her cloak, Céline turned so Amelie could unlace her, and not long after, she felt more like herself. She liked the lavender wool. It was warm, and it fit her perfectly, snug at the waist with a skirt that hung straight and was not too full.

  Leaving her cloak behind, she headed back out of the tent with Amelie following.

  “I’ll come to you with any news as soon as I’m done,” Céline said when they parted.

  Amelie walked toward Keegan’s tent, and Céline headed for the large tent where Jaromir had gathered some of the soldiers. Dusk was upon them, and she knew they’d be needing lanterns soon.

  Entering the tent, she was somewhat taken aback to see at least twenty soldiers inside. Jaromir was standing near the rear, and he must know she couldn’t read all of them. Perhaps he just wanted an audience for what was about to take place. Guardsman Rurik was standing beside him. All heads turned to look at her, and the tent fell silent.

  Her first instinct was to cover her nose with her hand. In their current unwashed state, and with so many of them in an enclosed space, they produced quite a stench. They were also frightened—both of one another and of being the next man to transform.

  Forcing her hands to remain at her sides, she smiled. She had to help them relax, to trust her. That part came easily to her. It always had.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” she said, still smiling. “I know this must seem an odd request, but I do assure you that the lieutenant and I are trying to help, to solve this and keep everyone safe. That is our only goal.”

  The tension inside the tent eased slightly, and she looked left to see that two sturdy chairs—from Keegan’s tent—had been brought in. With her back straight and her head high, she walked over and sat down.