Page 3 of The Witch's Fate
I write out two spells in response to the letters I received, then check them over. A love spell, my most popular request, and a protection spell, which is the strongest spell I can cast. I will take them to the letter box tomorrow with the others I worked on this morning, each folded in my signature pattern so that the recipients will recognize it. A wax seal and a hint of honey in the paper adds a special touch. They like it when I do this. More than one person has told me so, and that brings me a bit of satisfaction as well.
Happiness can be found in such small things, I have learned. And I am grateful for every small bit of it.
When the sun has finally set, I throw open the windows of the cottage, breathe in the fragrant night air, and search the dark sky for the moon.
Stars twinkle overhead. The trees in the distance sway in the gentle night wind. This is the most beautiful night I have seen in months. The warmth in the meadow has finally reached the point where it does not fade away overnight. I can smell new flowers and the earth around me awakening.
I try to tell myself that spring is still my favorite time of year, as it used to be in what feels like a different lifetime. That I can still feel the possibility in the warm breeze and hope, that’s what spring brings most of— hope. But most nights, I do not feel such things. I feel my life stretching out before me, so quiet and solong. Ihopeto live a long time. I hope to carry the memory of my coven with me for as long as I can.
But the thought of all those years can be so lonely when the thing I see most—and seek most—is the many faces of the moon.
I am a moon witch, after all. I follow the moon that does not wish to chase. The largest moon. There are thirteen moons and two suns in our sky. The moons chase the mother sun and daughter sun in the sky, trying to get the daughter sun to win her favor.
My dedication to Dytnus, the eleventh moon and the witch’s moon, is the source of my power.
With the moon shining down tonight in a sliver of a crescent, I light several candles around the cottage, black wax and white, and at last pick up the invitation from my worktable. I held it before, but the fine parchment is still a surprise the second time. The elegant envelope opens to reveal a letter written on the same fine parchment.
I was right. Itisan invitation. The wedding of Prince Adom and Princess Charlotte will be held in two months’ time. That is quite close, as far as these things go. Eight weeks. It will be here in the blink of an eye.
I read the words over twice more, a painful longing in my heart. It is a great honor to receive any letters from Prince Adom and his royal household. It is an even greater honor to be invited to his wedding to Princess Charlotte.
But I will not attend as I’ve already decided. Swallowing thickly, I choose not to acknowledge the longing that looms in my chest. I will send my regrets along with my other letters. I will not watch the prince and princess look deeply into each other’s eyes and promise a lifetime of love and honor.
Yet I cannot bring myself to put down the invitation and take up my pen to write my answer.
I read it over again as if there will be something new this time, then put it back in the envelope. I take it back out again, thinking I might need it to write my reply.
I wish one of my sisters was here to talk to me. I wish they were not to be silent forever in an afterlife I cannot reach. I do not know why it is nearly as painful to think of this cottage rotting into the ground and the meadow going silent, too, all of us forgotten.
Should I attend the wedding?
No. That is a fool’s errand. It is not only dangerous, it will not bring me joy. Only pain lies beyond the veil of protection here.
I’m still holding the letter, reading it over in the light of the moon and my candles, when a long howl rings out from the woods.
The hairs on the back of my neck creep up. I take one step back from the window, then two, holding my breath. With a wave of my hand, all the shutters slam closed, and their bolts fall into place. The door shuts and locks. All of my candles go out aside from a single flame. I take two determined steps to the fire and kneel down before it.
Then I stare into the flames, concentrating. Gathering my power. Feeling the constant flow of the moon through the skies and of her light down to the land.
“Let them see me not,” I say, then blow the fire out.
Love Spell
For the goodof all and to the harm of none…
Dry one eggshell, and write the name of your intended on the shell in oil as it dries.
Next, crumble dried rose leaves in salt in a mortar and pestle, then add the eggshell once dried. Grind together with the intention in your incantation:You love me in the light and in the dark. You love me for who I am not who you think I am. Love so pure and protected, love divine and never broken.
Once the salt is pink in color you have ground it sufficiently. Sprinkle your salt on a morsel intended for your lover to eat. Any amount shall suffice. So mote it be.
RYKER
Fucking hell. I have to tug harder to get my jeans unstuck from a thorny vine that snuck up on me.All of this for a flower?I grit my teeth and push through, shaking off the inconvenience and grateful I’m nearly done with the task.
I’mpleased to do a favor for a friend. That much, at least, is true. But the pleasure I feel in doing this errand for my friend is not without its vice. Namely, that I was not honest when I accepted the work. There was much I didn’t say. For example, I did not sayI would rather do anything but attend this wedding. I would much rather waste my training on gathering florals for the upcoming event.
Gritting my teeth I scan the forest for more of the blooms.
