Page 47 of Heart of the Summer Queen

He presses his lips into a grim line. Then drawing a breath, he addresses the cottage. “We have traveled far to meet you, Belinda, and we would be very grateful if you could spare us a few moments of your time.”

Then we wait.

Even after several minutes pass, there is nothing. No sound or movement. Just the bubbling swamp.

With a sigh, Elaric drops to his knees to try again. “Belinda, if you can hear me, we very much wish to speak with you.”

Still, there is only silence.

I also fall to my knees, sinking into the mud. If she can sense our kneeling, then perhaps she will believe our sincerity.

“We would be greatly in your debt,” I say, projecting my voice into the night. “If there’s anything we can do in exchange, we’ll gladly do it.”

Elaric casts me a concerned look.

Maybe telling her we’re willing to do anything is a little reckless, but I’m desperate. If Belinda won’t help us, what else can we do? I’ve already exhausted Elaric’s library.

I sit and wait, staring at the cottage. I suppose we could kneel here day and night until Belinda deigns to see us. That is, as longas our presence doesn’t irritate her, and she decides to use her magic against us.

And then, just as I’m about to say something else, the front door opens.

The figure which emerges is short and hunched over, her curly white hair framing her face like clouds. She clutches a knobby wooden staff, and the threadbare robes she wears seem to drown her.

“You’ll wake up the entire woods shouting like that at this time of night,” she chastises, shaking her head.

Elaric bows his head. “Forgive us but—”

“You wish to speak to me,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “I heard you the first time. I’m old, not deaf.”

He goes to say something, but then the ground trembles.

Thick vines sprout from the side of the cliff, rushing across to where we stand. They weave tightly together, slithering like snakes, until they form a bridge long and wide enough for us to walk upon.

“Come in,” Belinda calls when we don’t move. “Come in.”

“Careful,” Elaric murmurs, turning back to me. “Should we slip, I doubt Belinda would save us.”

“You’re right that I wouldn’t,” she says with a shrill laugh. With how quietly he spoke, no ordinary person could have heard him. “Better mind your step.”

Elaric steps onto the vine bridge first, his pace slow and cautious. Not wanting to be left behind or offend the witch with my hesitance, I hurry after him.

Though Belinda’s vines are tightly woven together, their surface are uneven, and I take great care with my footing. The terrible smell intensifies further across the bridge, and I have to breathe through my mouth instead of my nose. Bubbles of slime charge toward me, so close the air shakes from their explosions. I don’t look down as I walk, gaze pinned to the back of Elaric’ssilver hair, praying no drops splatter onto me. I’m mostly covered, save for my hands and face, but with how potent the slime is, even the slightest drop may penetrate my clothes and burn my skin.

We manage to reach the other side without either of us stumbling, and as we step off the vines, Belinda raises her hand and they contract at her command, returning to the earth. No traces of their existence are left.

Belinda ushers for us to follow her inside, not glancing back to check if we do. Elaric catches the door before it shudders shut, holding it open for me.

Then we step into the witch’s lair.

seventeen

The swamp’s stench is no fainter inside Belinda’s cottage, and it’s a wonder she can tolerate it. Maybe she’s grown accustomed to it, and the benefit of having such a deadly moat outweighs the terrible smell. Or maybe she relishes it. Whichever it is, I have no wish to insult her by asking.

A second scent accompanies the swamp’s. This one is more pleasant, though it’s nearly suffocated by the slime’s intensity. I pause and inhale deeply. Garlic and parsley, I think. She must be cooking something, though I’m not sure what.

The cottage opens to a large, circular room—as to be expected in a toadstool shaped home. At the far end, there’s a fireplace with two small couches gathered around it. While the couches are worn, like the rest of the furniture, they appear to be ordinary ones. How she got all this furniture atop the hill is an interesting question, and I suspect magic must have been involved.

“Come and sit by the fire,” Belinda calls, beckoning us forth.

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