windows when she arrived to collect her, aghast to see the
woman who arrived to take their half sister away.
Madeline enjoyed seeing Lunley’s three
offspring recoil in fear, taking all their abuse for far too long. She recalled
that feeling of pride and power in that moment to think her grandmother was
indeed the witch they thought her. Her own terror to know it was true later on
made the old woman cackle in delight, seeing her face fill with wonder.
“You are like me, Madeline,” Minerva claimed
proudly and grinned widely. “My Alessie was never good at magic. You are a
natural born witch.”
Madeline never knew what that meant. She despaired
these last ten years she’d lived with Minerva, patient and trying to learn the
craft at her knee. She was to find like any education; witchcraft was no
different from the subjects she learned in the schoolroom with the Lunley
children.
Memorization was the key in learning the
craft. She had to know flowers and plants, their special properties, as well as
minerals and other matter used to cast. Minerva also cautioned restraint to
know when to refrain from casting spells. That had been tested these last six
months since Minerva died.
She’d taken over her role as a healer to the
village and earned the attentions of Hugh de Valmont. Overnight everything her
grandmother taught her went out the window. Fearful of being violated, she’d
cast a terrible spell upon the baron’s son.
Madeline reasoned she owed Sir Gavin her
life. The code was clear. She had to repay him or her own magic would turn upon
her. There was no choice. He might only wish the use of her body, but he was
not grasping what potential he had for more. The man refused to believe she was
a witch. He thought her a charlatan who cheated unsuspecting villagers out of
their hard earned coin. It was obvious Sir Gavin never had a bit of magic in
his life. She thought it high time he did.
***~Chapter Five~***~
Wicked, warty crone, dressed
In black, a peaked hat
Teetering on her head as she
Careens through the air on her broom cackling
~Anonymous
The men were erecting a fourth enclosure for
their mounts while Madeline peeled vegetables for a stew. Sir Gavin and Sir
Alastair were still practicing within the field. There was much merriment
within the festival as the evening approached.
Mimes and dancers, clowns and puppeteers
flocked to the stages, entertaining all while merchants hawked their wares. It
was mayhem. Madeline felt a sense of excitement to be a part of it. Never in
her wildest dreams had she ever believed she would be rescued by a dashing
knight, carried away on a charger, and brought to a palace. She felt like she
was within a fairytale, even if she was the fabled witch.
While the stew boiled, she retired to make
short work within the tent, organizing Gavin’s gear, finding a place for
everything. She was about to question where she was to put his clothes when Sir
Gaston announced himself outside the tent.
He and a grinning Henry entered, bearing a
chest and solved the problem. She was nearly done unpacking his things when Sir
Jasper arrived, bearing a pallet and stuffed mattress, of all things. She
frowned as she heard the merriment around the fire.
When Miles arrived with expensive rugs and
lamps, she put her foot down, turning upon all four men, who looked half-drunk
and guilty. They were on their way to being intoxicated on a casket of
mysterious wine that just showed up as well.
“Where did you come by all these luxuries?”
she demanded and glared at the guilty knights. “You’ve stolen them, haven’t
you?”
Miles cleared his throat as he approached.
The handsomest and wiliest of the group, he sought to charm her. “We didn’t
think Lord Lyon would miss the items, dear lady. He is overly fond of the drink
and can hardly find his own tent as we speak. Surely you cannot fault us for
bettering your stay while here?”
“What if you were caught?” she demanded with
hands
woman who arrived to take their half sister away.
Madeline enjoyed seeing Lunley’s three
offspring recoil in fear, taking all their abuse for far too long. She recalled
that feeling of pride and power in that moment to think her grandmother was
indeed the witch they thought her. Her own terror to know it was true later on
made the old woman cackle in delight, seeing her face fill with wonder.
“You are like me, Madeline,” Minerva claimed
proudly and grinned widely. “My Alessie was never good at magic. You are a
natural born witch.”
Madeline never knew what that meant. She despaired
these last ten years she’d lived with Minerva, patient and trying to learn the
craft at her knee. She was to find like any education; witchcraft was no
different from the subjects she learned in the schoolroom with the Lunley
children.
Memorization was the key in learning the
craft. She had to know flowers and plants, their special properties, as well as
minerals and other matter used to cast. Minerva also cautioned restraint to
know when to refrain from casting spells. That had been tested these last six
months since Minerva died.
She’d taken over her role as a healer to the
village and earned the attentions of Hugh de Valmont. Overnight everything her
grandmother taught her went out the window. Fearful of being violated, she’d
cast a terrible spell upon the baron’s son.
Madeline reasoned she owed Sir Gavin her
life. The code was clear. She had to repay him or her own magic would turn upon
her. There was no choice. He might only wish the use of her body, but he was
not grasping what potential he had for more. The man refused to believe she was
a witch. He thought her a charlatan who cheated unsuspecting villagers out of
their hard earned coin. It was obvious Sir Gavin never had a bit of magic in
his life. She thought it high time he did.
***~Chapter Five~***~
Wicked, warty crone, dressed
In black, a peaked hat
Teetering on her head as she
Careens through the air on her broom cackling
~Anonymous
The men were erecting a fourth enclosure for
their mounts while Madeline peeled vegetables for a stew. Sir Gavin and Sir
Alastair were still practicing within the field. There was much merriment
within the festival as the evening approached.
Mimes and dancers, clowns and puppeteers
flocked to the stages, entertaining all while merchants hawked their wares. It
was mayhem. Madeline felt a sense of excitement to be a part of it. Never in
her wildest dreams had she ever believed she would be rescued by a dashing
knight, carried away on a charger, and brought to a palace. She felt like she
was within a fairytale, even if she was the fabled witch.
While the stew boiled, she retired to make
short work within the tent, organizing Gavin’s gear, finding a place for
everything. She was about to question where she was to put his clothes when Sir
Gaston announced himself outside the tent.
He and a grinning Henry entered, bearing a
chest and solved the problem. She was nearly done unpacking his things when Sir
Jasper arrived, bearing a pallet and stuffed mattress, of all things. She
frowned as she heard the merriment around the fire.
When Miles arrived with expensive rugs and
lamps, she put her foot down, turning upon all four men, who looked half-drunk
and guilty. They were on their way to being intoxicated on a casket of
mysterious wine that just showed up as well.
“Where did you come by all these luxuries?”
she demanded and glared at the guilty knights. “You’ve stolen them, haven’t
you?”
Miles cleared his throat as he approached.
The handsomest and wiliest of the group, he sought to charm her. “We didn’t
think Lord Lyon would miss the items, dear lady. He is overly fond of the drink
and can hardly find his own tent as we speak. Surely you cannot fault us for
bettering your stay while here?”
“What if you were caught?” she demanded with
hands
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