Page 11 of The Wand of Lore

“Well then, Sir Henry, I thank you,” she said with a curtsy, and wasted no time removing her pack and tossing it to him.

He staggered under the weight of her bag. “Gods, what do you have in here? How were you planning to traverse the kingdom without a horse to carry this massive pack?”

“I was planning to use magic, of course. I’m not completely helpless, you know. I had to bring some basic tinctures, potions, ingredients, and empty jars in case we see anything rare we want to collect and save. I don’t get to gather ingredients from beyond Loews Hollow very often, and I aim to take advantage of it!”

“Gods, that sounds positively boring. Just don’t slow us down, and try not to advertise your witchiness too much.” He shook his head but was in such good spirits at brokering a deal that he accidentally smiled up at her on the horse, feeling positively normal. She even smiled back, and gods, it was pretty. She had a dimple on her right cheek that he hadn’t noticed before, possibly because this was the first smile she had everbestowed upon him. Her long red hair was in a tidy plait running down her back, and he could swear he saw an actual twinkle in her purple eyes. The dimple made her look a little flirty, though he knew this was an illusion. He couldn’t help it—for just this moment, he was happy. Here he was helping a woman as if he were a proper gentleman, and she was treating him decently. Soon he would be well again, and just maybe he was on his way to re-inheriting his title and the lands owed him.

Then he remembered the truth: he was cursed, probably by his own father, banished from his home, and tasked with destroying this woman’s life, dimple and all. He stopped smiling and removed the hand he had offered the witch to help her mount the horse.

“You’re a finicky one, aren’t you? Not to worry, I’ve got it just fine,” she said as she put one foot in a stirrup and hoisted herself astride the horse, skirts spread evenly around her legs.

He didn’t answer, but climbed behind her and held his hands in his lap, unsure of where else they could go.

Gwenneth laughed. “Are you really going to ride like that all the way to Gorenth? Well, at least nobody will ever confuse you for a gentleman.”

He was glad she was in front and couldn’t see the red flushing over his face. But she was right: he couldn’t very well ride all the way with the witch in front of him without touching her, or without touching the reins, for that matter. Gingerly, he reached out his arms and rested them around her waist. He hoped she couldn’t hear his heart thudding as their bodies made contact. She said nothing, so he clicked his feet, and they began their journey.

Sir Henry was a healthy and fast horse, and, though he didn’t go faster than an easy trot, they reached Alderbridge well before dusk. Gwenneth made no effort to conceal her delight.

“Well ahead of schedule. Wonderful!” she said as they dismounted at the edge of the village. Her eyes widened as she got her bearings and looked around, mouth agape.

Vaylor groaned. “You look like a child. For the love of the gods, close your mouth before word spreads that we are idiots and easy prey for pickpockets and scammers.”

Gwenneth grinned, her purple eyes gleaming. “Why would you even consider that the good people who live here care about our mental acuity? And just who is it that would attempt to . . . ‘prey’ upon us? I may have never been to another village, but I already know these are good, hard-working people who live here.”

Vaylor glowered as she continued gawking at the buildings. The village was bigger than hers, certainly. But not by much. Judging by the size of the bustling village square, he estimated that it was only big enough to sustain a few hundred families. He was good at making such population judgments from years spent collecting taxes from unwilling villagers. It had a green space large enough for robust market days but was small enough that nobody would get lost in the village. The street was lined with tall stone buildings adorned with wooden supports, all built against each other, so their sides were touching.

Though Aldersbridge was thrumming with people, Vaylor caught subtle signs of poverty that he had learned to spot over the years. They passed a gray stone building with children’s dirty faces pressed to the windows. An orphanage, surely, and though the children were fortunate to have a place to stay, Vaylor found that the larger a village’s orphanage, the less they could afford to pay in taxes. Still, judging by Gwenneth’s wide-open eyes and a smile so bright it positively shined, she appeared to be quite impressed by the village.

“Excuse me, sir,” came a tiny voice. He looked down a moment too late as he stumbled into a little boy.

“All you all right?” cried Gwenneth, who spared Vaylor only a passing glare before running to the child.

The boy nodded, but his eyes filled with tears. Vaylor rolled his eyes. The boy wore torn linen pants that stopped at his shins, and his face was smeared with dirt and grime.

“I’m all right, miss. My arm ’urts just a wee bit, but I’ll be okay.”

“Where’s your mom?”

Vaylor shook his head. He knew where this was going, but nobody paid him any mind.

“’Aven’t got one, ’ave I? I live with the orphans over that way.” The child pointed to the brick building, and Vaylor looked back to see they had accumulated quite the audience of children in the windows.

“You best get back there then, boy, and mind where you walk next time,” Vaylor growled.

“Sorry about my companion. He’s always this rude; it’s not you. Come; let’s see that you get back to your home.” Gwenneth put an arm around him and glanced at Vaylor with brows furrowed over her purple eyes.

“Thank you, miss. Just wondering if you might ’ave a spot of food.”

“Come here,” ordered Vaylor. He didn’t like to see children go hungry, but he didn’t want to be too obvious about helping the boy. Once you fed one, they overwhelmed you like rats. The child shuffled back over to Vaylor, keeping his head down. Vaylor rifled through his pack and emerged with much of their provisions, then knelt down so he was at eye level with the boy.

“Take this, and don’t tell a soul where you got it from, you hear?”

A grin beamed under the dirt on the boy, brightening his entire face. He reached out his arms and wrapped them aroundthe basket. “Yes, miss, this will feed us for a week! You’re very kind, sir.” He bowed his head at Vaylor, then took off toward the orphanage, clutching the basket.

The children in the window were waving their arms in the air triumphantly. Vaylor couldn’t hear their cheers, but he could see their mouths open and their bodies bouncing as the boy approached.

“I’m a cursed fool. Let’s get moving before there are more, and you best check he didn’t make off with your coin purse as well.”

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