Read The Last Witch (Incenaga Trilogy) Online
Authors: Debbie Dee
The Last Witch (Incenaga Trilogy)
THE LAST WITCH
Debbie Dee
Text copyright ©2012 by Debbie Dee
Cover art copyright by Isaiah Stephen ©2012
Published by Dolce Books
All rights reserved. Except as permitted by the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author or the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, dead or living, is entirely coincidental.
Summary: For generations the Incenaga Witches have been forced
to use their power to fulfill the wishes of others until they are drained of their magic and left to die. Desperate to protect his infant daughter—the last surviving witch—Emmeline’s father escapes with her to the forests where he vows to keep her hidden from the world and from the truth. But who can hide forever?
Sixteen years later, Emmeline is discovered and
finds herself in the grip of a traitor who will stop at nothing to get what he wants, even if it means abusing her power until she dies. As she fights to regain her freedom she is faced with a choice between a prince who offers a lifetime of security and a common gamekeeper who has no idea of her power, but offers his heart.
Dee, Debbie
1981-
The Last Witch / by Debbie Dee – 1
st
ed.
ISBN 978-0-615-68357-7
(Paperback)
For
my sweet Emmie
Contents
hapter 1. Visitors
Alone.
Emmeline
knew the feeling well. She felt it upon sunrise and endured it until sundown. Not that her father didn’t spend time with her. She saw a good deal of him, in fact. But he was the only person she had ever known and he worked harder than he talked.
“What are you reading,” she asked a little louder than necessary.
The moon had yet to rise and he was already nodding off. She knew very well what he was reading; it was the same old thing he fell asleep with every night by the fire. She just wanted someone to talk to.
“Hmm?” her father mumbled, his eyes still closed.
He reached up to scratch his beard and Emmeline’s gaze fell onto his weathered hands. The wrinkles were new, but the blisters had stopped years ago, his skin so tough she didn’t think anything could break it. She eyed the book in his hands. The brown leather cover curled around yellowing pages. Why wouldn’t he let her read it? Didn’t he think her capable of carrying a thoughtful discussion about it with him? Biting her lip, she tried to keep her frustration from boiling out of her, but it proved too strong.
“I’m nearly sixteen,
” she said as if her father hadn’t already begun snoring. “I think it’s about time you tell me what you find so fascinating about that book. I’m tempted to just take it the next time you fall asleep with it in your lap.”
Hi
s eyes shot open and he stared at her for two full heartbeats before he winked and smiled with such warmth that she felt guilty for not having used a gentler tone.
“You don’t mean that, Em
. Come now, off to bed so this old man can get some rest.” He held the book to his chest and let his head fall back against the chair, his eyes closed.
Emmeline knew he wasn’t asleep. He held the book too tightly to his chest to fool her.
“When are you going to let me read it?” she asked. “I’ve read every other book in this house. A dozen times.”
“Soon.”
“Tomorrow?”
Her father chuckled.
“I won’t let this rest,” she said as she folded her arms across her chest.
Her father lifted his head and looked at her once again, a sadness settling deep in his eyes. “W
ell, if you are staying up…” He pulled himself off the chair and tucked the book into his jacket. “I’ll be off to bed.” He headed up the stairs to his room and shut the door.
Once again, Emmeline
was alone.
E
very day, at least once or twice, Emmeline imagined how much richer her life would be if she had someone else to talk to. Preferably someone who managed to stay awake after dinner. She would let her imagination run wild as she thought about the different types of people she wanted to meet, people she had only read about in stories. She imagined herself laughing with girls her age, surrounded by little ones begging her to tickle them, or sitting at a table with a family of eight. She tossed an extra log onto the fire to give her imagination more time to wander. But even the warmth of the fire couldn’t keep the cold truth away. Their farm was too far from the nearest village and even further from the city. She doubted anyone knew they existed at all.
A distant rumble
rolled through the trees and Emmeline sat straighter, her ear cocked toward the sound. The rumble grew and the floorboards began to shake. Emmeline leapt from her perch by the fire and rushed to the window, her thick skirts tangling around her ankles. She searched the sky. No storm clouds were wrestling, nor were any bolts of lightning flashing above the trees. She bit her bottom lip, afraid to hope. Was it possible someone had traveled so far into the Pamizak Forest? On purpose? She doubted it. The trees were so thick, and so sure of their ability to block and protect.
“
Get away from the window!” her father shouted. He barreled down the narrow stairway and tore through the drawers as if he were twenty years younger and hadn’t been fast asleep moments before.
“What?” She
let the curtain drop. The most exciting moment of her life was just through the trees, and he wouldn’t even let her peek through the window?
“Don’t open the door, either.”
His voice cracked. He swallowed and continued rifling through the drawers.
Emmeline paused, taking in her father’s odd behavior.
“They might be lost,” she said as she followed him back upstairs. “I mean, no one with any sense of direction would come this way on purpose. We should help them.”
Her father
rushed from room to room, pulling clothing from chests, and who-knows-what from cupboards. He stuffed everything into a cloth bundle and punched it down with his fist. She’d never seen him scramble about before.
“What’
s wrong?” she said with her hands on her hips. She wanted nothing more than to meet the strangers, talk to them, and hear their stories. She wanted to find out if they looked anything like the people she imagined from her books.
Still no answer.
With no regard for his bundled supplies, he tore back down the stairs and ripped open the cupboards, dumping a jar of dried fruit over the clothing. He grabbed a vase of flowers and tossed it onto the fire. Water splashed against the brick, the flames sizzling into steam. Had her father gone mad? Stifling the fire was no way to prepare for visitors!
The
low rumble from outside turned into a steady rhythm of pounding hooves. Her father straightened and closed the bundle with a tight knot. “How did they find us?” he mumbled to himself.
“Who?”
Emmeline said. She glanced back and forth between the window and her father. “You know who is coming?”
“Take this,” he
said, thrusting the bulging bundle into her arms. “You have to run, Emmeline.”
A jolt of unease awakened her mind to
the panic in his eyes. “Run! Run where? What about you?”
“
Go to Pamizak’s capital and show them this.” He pushed a golden ring into her hand. “They’ll know who you are.”
“The Capital
! I don’t know the way.” Her heart hammered in her chest. She couldn’t believe what her father was saying. How could he possibly know who was coming, let alone if they posed a threat?
“Nonsense, you’ve studied the maps. Now go, Emmeline!”
“It’s too far!”
Their small home shook, the windows rattling in protest.
The visitors were closing in and she still wasn’t sure if she wanted to greet them with open arms or run out the door screaming.
He
r father thrust her toward the back door. “Go, Emmeline.”
S
he slid the ring over her thumb and gripped the cloth bundle, her insides clenching. “Come with me,” she said. She didn’t want to go alone.
“It’s too late
. They know someone is here.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and ducked his head until his eyes were level with hers. The craze had gone from his eyes and they were once again filled with the same deep sadness she had seen moments before. “My sweet Em.” He swallowed. “I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything,
” Emmeline whispered, afraid she would never see him again.
“Promise me that no matter what you hear, no matter what you think is happeni
ng, you will keep running. Promise me?”
Emmeline nodded, too stunned to
argue.
“Good girl.” He
wrapped his arms around her and held her close before urging her outside.
Emmeline
concentrated on moving one foot in front of the other, her limbs jerking like a wooden puppet. If she could just make it to the tree line, the evergreens would obscure the sight of her home and make it easier to turn her back on it. And easier to keep her promise. She couldn’t believe she was leaving her father.
Sho
uts filtered through the trees and Emmeline turned her ear toward the voices. A sharp, commanding bark pierced the air, followed by fists on the door. The air seemed to thicken with danger. A hard lump sunk to the bottom of Emmeline’s stomach.