Page 97 of A Crown of Darkness

They exchanged a knowing glance she didn’t want to think about. ‘That’s all?’

The old magic in her stirred and uncoiled, and seemed to laugh against her senses. She felt it in the land, in the wind, the small stream they crossed. She felt it inside her, a deep and abiding sense of rightness. It wasn’t like the Nox. It didn’t seek to control or overpower her. Nor was it like the Aurum demanding obedience and service.

It was part of her. And she was part of it. Just like the twins.

‘What is more important than that?’ she asked.

THE WITCH OF THE WOODS

If you asked anyone about the witch of the woods, they would say to stay away. It was just a known thing. No one strayed in the depths of Cellandre anyway because bad things had happened there. Villages had been wiped out, burned, the citizens slaughtered. Monsters had ranged there, shadow kin the size of which had never been seen anywhere else. There were darkwoods where bargains could be made and lives destroyed. Although since the Nox was gone no one seemed entirely sure what people might be bargaining with anymore. But old knowledge died hard.

The forest had changed since the witch had returned. She had calmed the trees and the old magic she brought with her had surely driven all the lingering darkness from it.

But you never knew. Especially not with witchkind.

The world was changing. That was also known. Witchkind were part of the government of Asteroth now, not just the maidens, but all kinds, the rebels and the College and all those hidden in between.

They had come out of exile, and revealed themselves again – healers and diviners, seers and growers, all kinds of workers of wonders who could ply their trade in the open now. It turned out that when the witchkind you encountered could actually helpyou, trade with you, and live alongside you, and were just normal people, everyone was much less suspicious about them.

The queen helped as well, of course. And so too did the knights. They sought out witchkind still, but not to hunt them down or expel them. Some even joined their ranks of the knights themselves and rose high among them.

Asteroth was changing.

The forest didn’t change and never had, although it was greener and brighter, and awash with new life. The air sang with birdsong. It was eternally wild and sometimes still very dangerous.

Tales spread rapidly that if someone found themselves in trouble in the forest now, a woman might appear, slender as a young birch, with long hair as black as a raven’s wing and eyes as green as spring itself. She set people back on the right path, healed the injured and returned the lost. She was gentle and kind and those who spoke of her did so with a wistful look in their eyes.

Others went in search of her, some driven by curiosity – who would return bemused and dizzy with tales of wonder – and others with more malice in their minds. No one spoke of them. They did not tend to return at all. Sometimes the laughter of children married with the sounds of birds, with rustling in the undergrowth, and with the sighing of the trees. It wasn’t a threat. Not as such. But it was perhaps a warning.

There are many powers, the people who lived in the edges of the forest said. None of them are to be trifled with. None should be dismissed.

And a hedge witch should always be respected.

EPILOGUE

SEVERAL YEARS LATER

Wren had rebuilt the tower in the forest. It hadn’t been an easy task but Robin had helped. Lark had just flitted from tree to tree, laughing at them. She often did that. Like a wild bird herself, filled with joy and unruly delight. Sometimes the two of them stayed with her, other times they were gone for weeks on end. There was no pattern to be followed and she accepted that they would go where they would, on a whim.

Once Wren had the tower back in some form of order and it felt more like home, she grew the thorn bushes up into a great barricade and spun the various wards throughout Cellandre. She could protect herself, and the twins, when they were there, could take care of themselves.

No one wandered this deeply into the forest anymore, not if they valued their safety, and she wanted to keep it that way.

Sometimes Elodie sent word, because nothing would stop Elodie, but she did that with magic. There wasn’t time to tear herself away from her kingdom, or Roland, or the two precious children born to her just a few months ago.

Your brother and sister, she had said in her message and Wren had smiled. Robin and Lark had been completely absent since then, not even a sign of them in the breeze. They hadalways been captivated by Roland and Elodie, which made Wren wonder. She’d find out one day, she supposed.

Elodie had said the twins had once demanded a price for their help, a life each. Elodie and Roland had thought they meant a death but perhaps, Elodie wrote now, that had been a misunderstanding.

Whatever it was, it was a blessing and a gift to be accepted rather than questioned.

Suddenly Wren had more family than she would ever know what to do with.

And yet, she was mostly alone.

So when the horse wandered through the maze of her thorn hedge, and stopped by the lake to drink, she was surprised. It was a fine creature, wearing a saddle and bridle which had been crafted by a master. It wasn’t elaborate or overly decorated though. Functional.

The saddlebags were not exactly full, but there were some belongings in them, again of good quality but nothing extravagant. Beautiful, in an understated way, and above all else practical.

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