Treacherous Witch

Her grandmother pushes through the crowd. “Your Majesty, help us! What is happening?”

“The invasion has begun.” The queen’s voice is somehow vast and distant. “We must defend the realm.”

A light and limber feeling steals over Valerie’s limbs. As one, the villagers follow their queen, from the most stooped elder to the smallest child. They’re not flying, but it feels like floating, the way—

*

Entering Titus’s home was like stepping back into Maskamere. Light and airy, she admired the lamps that set the walls awash with colour—creamy white, deep orange, teal and rich wood-brown—and the terracotta vases set at intervals along the hallway. Maskamery loved to paint their own murals on every available surface, and often the walls would end up several layers thick as each generation added their own artistic touch to their homes.

Her nose twitched. Valerie suppressed a sneeze and realised that she was dripping water onto the mosaic floor.

Titus took her sodden cloak, hanging it up on a nearby stand. “Didn’t Priska come with you?”

“No,” she said. “She’s covering for me back at the villa. I can’t stay long.”

“Ah,” he said. “I understand. You’ve caused quite a stir.”

“So have you.”

He clapped his hands. “Yes! Well. Dinner isn’t quite ready, so why don’t I give you the grand tour?”

The house had three floors: the basement, which Titus showed her briefly, where two harried servants were preparing their meal in a great stone kitchen; the ground floor, which included a large piano in the drawing room, the dining room where silver plates had been set out on the table, and a sunny conservatory overlooking the narrow overgrown garden; and the upper floor, which contained three bedchambers and two bath chambers.

“I use it as a study,” Titus said, showing her the tiny third bedchamber with its shuttered attic window. “Quieter at the back of the house.”

“Do you live here alone?”

“I do. Quite the bachelor pad.”

He led her back down the creaking spiral staircase. The house was old and a little rough around the edges. She’d noticed cracked tiles, faded paintwork and moth eaten curtains.

“Bachelor pad?”

“Ah, the home of an unmarried man.”

He sounded like a Drakonian, she thought. Traces of his natural accent slipped through, but he had the cut-glass vowels down pat.

They returned to the dining room, where the servants poured them wine and set out a Drakonian dish of roast venison with root vegetables, the knives and forks arranged in the manner of Drakonian nobility. That disappointed her a little. Valerie and her family always served their food in bowls with large wooden spoons, everyone piling in to fill their plates…

Titus watched her. “How is it?”

“Good.” She speared a buttery potato. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Well, I wanted to meet you too.”

Did you? Why?

She took a moment to observe her host. His face was open, friendly, mild-mannered. Titus had fully adopted both the fashion and manners of Drakonian gentlemen, and in a much more natural way than Rufus. He looked like a well-to-do scholar in his trim blue waistcoat with everything tucked in. So what was he doing in this big old house alone?

“I heard you’re standing for Chancellor of Maskamere,” she said.

He smiled. “Yes, it’s been a long, hard road, but I’ve finally gained the Senate’s favour. And if I win… I’ll be able to go home.”

“Is that why you’re standing? It’s your only way out?”

“My only legitimate way, yes. It may appear that I live quite well, but…” He gestured around them. “Well, I think you know what it’s like to endure a luxurious prison.”

Priska must have told him everything, she thought. And yes, perhaps she understood his position better than most.

As if to remind her of that fact, her back twinged. Valerie suppressed a grimace and ignored it.

“I heard you were a prisoner of war.”

“That’s right. I came to Drakon before the war.” He cut a piece of venison. “This house was part of the old Maskamery embassy. My mother was Ambassador Markella Steward. I was the queen’s Messenger.”

“Did you know the war was coming?”

“Yes and no. Relations had been going downhill. The Empire became more and more demanding. They threatened to invade, but it’s not the first time they’ve done that. We didn’t expect them to actually attack when they did.”

“They threatened to invade and you didn’t take them seriously?”

“We took them very seriously. We just didn’t think they would start a war.” Seeing the look on her face, Titus put down his fork. “Think of it like this. The Empire is a bully with a very big stick. That bully waves his stick at you and says, give me your food or I’ll hit you with my stick. And you say, I’ve been around for a thousand years and no one has ever successfully hit me with any stick, so back off. He responds with more stick waving and more demands, so you give him some food and that shuts him up for a while. Until he comes back for more.”

“So what made them finally decide to invade?”

He shrugged. “There’s only so long a smaller power can resist a larger power that wants to swallow it up. Ask your consort. Lord Avon was part of Drakon’s last diplomatic visit to Maskamere. It didn’t go well.”

“Was that when he asked the queen to marry him?”

“Ah, so he did tell you. Yes. I think we were doomed right then, but we didn’t know it.”

Her mind raced. Was that the turning point, then? Avon’s visit to Maskamere? The queen had turned down his proposal. She’d wondered if the Emperor had taken his son’s rejection personally.

“Anyway,” Titus went on, “my mother and I were both in Drakardia when the invasion began. We spent months under house arrest. I kept hoping for good news, something that would turn our fortunes around. But the news was always bad. Eventually I gave up. I swore my allegiance to the Empire, and in return I got to keep the house. Not the worst deal, I suppose.”

She wiped her mouth, thinking. “What about your mother? What happened to her?”

His face pinched. “She passed away a little over two months ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I thought I was alone,” he said. “I didn’t imagine that I would ever see my sister again. I have you to thank for that, Valerie. I hope that, if I win, we’ll return to Maskamere together.”

She felt a twinge of sympathy. Like all of her people, he’d lost a great deal during the war. But if he hoped to escape the clutches of the Empire, she would have to disappoint him.

“Even if you win, you’ll be the Empire’s puppet. You know that, right? They’re not letting our country go.”

“I know,” said Titus, “but it’s better that we’re ruled by our own people, don’t you think? The Empire can’t be everywhere at once.”

“And you think that person should be you?”

“Why shouldn’t it? I have royal blood, you know.”

She blinked. “You do?”

“You see the eyes? Dead giveaway. They call it witch-green here.”

Yes, he had the green eyes. They reminded her most of her fellow courtesan Flavia, who almost certainly also possessed royal blood, but that hadn’t done the girl any favours. She was a Viper, and he was a Steward, both of them families who had lived in the palace and intermingled with the royal family for generations.

Both all but wiped out.

“They killed anyone connected to the royal family,” she said. “I saw Prince Bakra die myself. Why aren’t they getting rid of you?”

“The prince was foolish. He openly defied them. I don’t have an army, Valerie, nor a death wish. But I do have influential friends. Like you. You have Lord Avon’s ear, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling uneasy.

“Then we can work together. You help me win as Chancellor, and I’ll take you back to Maskamere.”

Her breath caught. She had planned to ask him exactly this, and here he was, offering it to her first. An escape route. A way out if Avon failed.

Of course, he was also asking her to break her promise to Avon. If she helped him, she wouldn’t only be using him as a backup plan, she would be actively sabotaging Avon’s efforts to win the election.

“That’s…” She didn’t know how to react. “That’s quite an offer.”

He chuckled. “Honestly, it’s not. We could do with your magic. We’ll need it to rebuild.”

“The Empire won’t like that.”

“The Empire doesn’t have to know.”

“You don’t know what it’s like in Maskamere. The Empire will know. Believe me.”

“Are you saying no?” He tilted his head. “I thought you were part of the resistance.”

But the resistance hadn’t survived for as long it had by accepting anyone who claimed to support them. They’d always vetted new members first. Valerie had complained when they’d done it to her, but she understood the logic.

Titus had offered to help her. He had every reason to hate the Empire and every reason to want her support, and yet she didn’t quite feel satisfied. Something was bothering her.

As she pondered that, the servants returned and whisked away her newly empty plate. Dessert followed.

Valerie stared at the pink mousse with its strawberry crown, then at Titus. “What about the letter you stole?”

“That was perfect, don’t you think? The Senate all think he’s mad.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He blinked. “It had to be a surprise. I wanted to catch Lord Avon off-guard.”

His answer suggested that it hadn’t even occurred to him that he should have informed her, and that infuriated her more than anything else. She sipped her wine and fixed him with a hard gaze.

“For someone who’s so keen to work together, I’m surprised you didn’t bother to warn me.”

His mouth tightened. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe I’m not making myself clear. I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark, and I especially don’t appreciate being used as a scapegoat in someone else’s plan. I want an apology. For throwing me to the wolves.”

He stared at her, and for a fleeting moment something like rage flashed in his eyes. Then it was gone, and he shrugged, shifting in his seat. “I’m sorry. My enemy is Lord Avon. Not you. Evidently you were caught in the crossfire.”

“If you want my help, you can’t hide things from me. Understood?”

The darkness hadn’t quite left his eyes. “Fine, yes. You’ve made your point.”

“All right, then.” She straightened up, ignoring the discomfort in her back. “What do you want me to do?”

“Not much. Just stay by Lord Avon’s side. The longer he keeps you around, the more votes I win.”

“That’s it? Just being there is enough?”

She said it with despondency. How could she change the tide of opinion so firmly set against her? If her mere appearance provoked fear and hatred… Not even that, the mere whisper of her name.

Titus nodded. “Can I count on your support?”

“Can I count on you to take me home?”

“Of course.”

His gaze was direct. She couldn’t tell if he was lying. It would be easy for him to abandon her if he won the Chancellorship. He could return to Maskamere and leave her at the mercy of the Empire… But if he wanted her help to rebuild, that gave him a reason to keep her around.

All things considered, he seemed like a viable escape route.

She pushed away her empty dessert glass. “Okay. Let’s work together. But we can’t meet again like this. We’ll use Priska as our go-between.”

“To send messages? Absolutely.” Titus leapt up, clapping his hands. “Very good! Oh, but before you go, let’s finish off our tour. I’ve yet to show you the garden.”

*

Titus led her along a winding path through the garden and past an ornamental pond. Tall hedges loomed up on either side, making the narrow space feel even more hemmed in. The rain had stopped, leaving behind a damp mess of tangled shrubs and long grass that squelched beneath her feet.

“It’s overgrown,” she observed.

She didn’t know why he was so keen to show it off. Valerie would have been embarrassed at the state of it if Titus had been her guest.

“I don’t have a gardener,” he confessed. “And I’m not much of one myself. Best I can do is grow a few tomatoes in the greenhouse…”

The greenhouse stood at the very back of the garden, its glass panes covered in moss and creepers. Titus took a rusty old key out of his pocket and turned it in the lock. Valerie frowned when he opened the door for her.

Why did he want her to go in there? A cramped, secluded space, away from the servants… Unease fluttered in her stomach.

“You know, it’s getting late,” she said. “I need to get back…”

“What?” said Titus. “No, look.”

He gestured. Surely he didn’t want her to admire his tomatoes. Against her better judgement, Valerie approached the greenhouse entrance.

Then she gasped.

A wave of warmth hit her. Not the heat trapped in the greenhouse, but something else she had never expected: magic.

The world burst into colour. Her senses magnified, an awareness of her own body that flowed out from her heart through her fingertips and into the air around her. Every living thing thrummed with its own energy. And in the middle of the greenhouse, a vivid pulse shone with bright new life.

“A silvertree!”

She dashed inside without thinking, drawn to that magical spark. And there it was, nestled on a trestle table jostling for space with a dozen other plant pots: a tiny seedling of pale wood and sharp silver-tinted leaves.

It was barely the size of her hand. And it didn’t glow like a mature tree; it seemed small and innocuous.

She pressed her hands on the table, and pain shot up her spine. The welts she’d staunchly ignored for the past day came back into full focus. Valerie closed her eyes.

Heal, she thought.

She wiped away the bruises, the scabs, the aches and pains, the tension in her back and shoulders, the fatigue behind her eyes. Searched her own body systematically, breathing in and out, smoothing every knot.

“You feel it then,” said Titus.

She turned. He’d followed her.

“We planted it last year,” he went on. “It’s been my most precious possession ever since. Valerie… I want you to give me the blessing.”

For a moment she couldn’t speak. “What?”

“Give me the blessing,” he said. “Then I’ll really show those Drakonians what for.”

He stared at her with undisguised fervour in his eyes. Her heart sank. If she refused him…

Valerie.

She flinched. That voice! The queen. A whisper in the air, a distant summons… Miles and miles of land and ocean lay between herself and the goldentree, and yet that thread of gold still connected them. Enough to hear the queen.

Enough to respond.

“Valerie?” said Titus.

Valerie turned away, casting out with her magical senses. She breathed in the warm moist air, the scent of ripe tomatoes, and then the greenhouse disappeared altogether.