The Last Witch (Incenaga Trilogy) (10 page)

“The old fool is
of no concern. He won’t last a fortnight.”

“That soon?”

“He grows weaker by the hour.”

“Jus
t as well. When do we meet?”

“The night
of the Pravoli Festival, just outside town in the basement of Albin’s Pub. Midnight. We will finalize our plans then. Alert the noblemen who wish to join us.”

Chairs slid across the floor as
they got up to leave. Emmeline held her breath until the retreating footsteps faded and a far away door slammed shut. She dusted off her nightgown and tiptoed into the kitchen. She looked around at the baskets of food and found that her appetite had vanished. Her nervous stomach clenched. The whispers had had been too low to discern, but she had a feeling the girl they were talking about was her.

Emmeline
trekked back up the stairs and down the corridor to her chambers, ignoring the rumbling of her stomach. She clicked the door shut, draped her robe across a nearby chair, and slid beneath her covers. Tossing and turning, she tried to make sense of the whispers. She knew they were right about one thing and it shamed her deeper into her covers. She
was
naïve. She was young and understood so little of the ways of the world. And instead of searching for information, she had moped around the palace for six weeks, learning very little about the situation between Dolmerti and Pamizak, or anything else for that matter.

But no
more. Come morning she would begin anew. No more would she remain in the dark. She would ask questions and demand answers. And if answers were still refused, she would find them herself. Tomorrow, Emmeline resolved, she would start at the top. She would request an audience with the King whether he liked it or not.

H
er mind settled into a restless sleep until the latch of her door rattled, piercing the silence of the night. Emmeline sucked in a breath and pushed up onto her elbows, her eyes straining to see in the darkness. The latch rattled again followed by metal scraping against the lock.

Emmeline clutched the blanket closer to her chest.
“What do you want!” she shouted.

The scraping stopped.

“Hush!” someone said from the other side. “Open the door.”

“Absolutely not. I’m sleeping
. Go away.”

The latch
jiggled again and then clicked open. Scrambling to the foot of the bed, Emmeline snatched the first thing her hands touched. A book. It wasn’t sharp, or heavy, but it would have to do. Staring into the dark she watched a tall, shadowed figure move toward her.

“Who are you?
What do you want?” The book trembled in her hands. One step closer and she would swing.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mahlon s
coffed in full voice. “What do you expect to do with a book? Have you forgotten that I am a trained knight?”

Emmeline lowered her arms
, her cheeks flaming. She hated when he mocked her. “What are you doing in here? Get out.”

Mahlon chuckled. “You won’t be the
one giving orders tonight, princess.” He snatched her wrist, wrenching her from the bed and onto the unyielding ground.

Emmeline yelped
. “What are you doing?”

“Just do as I say
and this will be easier.” He bound her hands behind her back with a rope and yanked her to her feet.

“Let go of me!” Emmeline shouted.

Holding a hand over her mouth, he hustled her toward the door and down the corridor. Several guards fell into step behind them, seemingly unaffected by Mahlon’s extreme behavior. He pushed her step by step down the stairwell until they passed the empty kitchens and marched into the crisp night air.

Mahlon dropped his hand from her mouth.

Emmeline raised an eyebrow. “I thought I couldn’t leave the palace,” she said.

“After your little stunt, I have no choice but to take matters into my ow
n hands. This is what Dolmerti needs. We don’t have time to wait for the Crown Prince to return.”

Several saddled horses
awaited them just beyond the steps and he wasted no time tossing her like a sack of flour over the horse’s rump. He swung his leg high over her and perched himself on the saddle.

“I won’t be handl
ed this way!” Emmeline said as the horse jolted into a cantor.

Mahlon ignored her
and led the horse off the road. With her hands still bound she could do nothing to soften the rise and fall of the horse. Each stride felt like a kick to her stomach. By the time Mahlon pulled her off her stomach was so abused she collapsed to the ground and dry heaved. She looked up and noticed the twinkling lights of the palace a short distance away. She was certain they had traveled further and wondered why they bothered with a horse at all. They could have walked, for how far they had come. It certainly would have been easier on her body.

Mahlon pulled her to her feet
and searched her eyes. A slow smile spread across his face.

“
She’s ready,” he said. “Start the fire. We have until the moon falls behind the mountains.”

“You’ll never get a fire goin
g out here,” Emmeline said. “We’ve had weeks of rain.”

Mahlon smirked and gestured toward the soldiers who were unlo
ading large bundles of dry wood. Now she understood the reason for the horses. They carried enough wood to sustain a fire for weeks. Arranging the timbers in the center of the clearing, the soldiers had a large fire roaring in a few short seconds.

Compelled by a sudden need to be closer to the
fire, Emmeline stepped forward. The flames beckoned her, somehow, and she wanted to heed their call.

“
Keep your eyes down, but do not turn your backs,” Mahlon said to the soldiers. “Swords at the ready. She’ll burn in no time.”

Emmeline
stopped and furled her brow. Were they planning on executing her? For some reason the idea didn’t seem to bother her. If it meant getting close to the fire, she’d let them do whatever they wanted. Her brows furled deeper. Why would she think something like that? A voice deep in her mind told her something was wrong. She pushed it aside and took another step forward. The fire wanted her. Who was she to deny it?

A stiff wind blew into the clearing and the fire sputtered. For an instant, Emmeline’s vision clear
ed, although she hadn’t realized it was unclear before. She shook her head and looked at the ground. The warning voice grew louder and she took a step back. What was she thinking? She didn’t want to burn alive!

Mahlon swore and pushed her toward the flames.
“We don’t have time for this!”

Emmeline
dug in her heals, straining against his hold on her. She twisted and lurched, but couldn’t get away from his grip. Mahlon thrust the hilt of his sword toward her and a sharp pain erupted on the back of her head and again on her shoulders. She cried out, tumbling to her knees a few short feet from the blazing fire. The heat pressed into her nightgown and pricked at her skin, yet its warmth was strangely soothing. Each flicker of the flame both energized her and calmed her, confused her thoughts and cleared them.

“That’s close enough,” he
said. Kneeling next to her he gripped both her shoulders and bore his gaze into hers.

“Burn,
” he said.

Emmeline drew her chin back
. What was he thinking? She wouldn’t catch fire this far from the flames; it was still out of reach.

“Look at me witch! Take in the heat.
Don’t resist it. Let its power fill you.”

Power
. The word caught in her mind. And then she knew. It all made sense. Mahlon shouting at the cliff to extinguish the torches, the lack of fires in the palace, the warm energy radiating from the fire only steps away. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t figured it out before. The fire’s power was her power. Its strength was her strength.

Warm energy flowed from her chest and into her hands
, filling her with a sensation she couldn’t get enough of. It was as if she could breath for the first time in her life, as if her chest was opening up to take in the world’s strength.

“Unbind me,”
she said, her fingers tingling with inaction. She wanted nothing more than to use her newfound power to push Mahlon into the ground and watch him squirm under her strength. She felt it inside her, the power to do anything, the power to stop him. She smiled. The tables were turning.

Mahlon pitched his head back
and laughed deep in his throat. Lowering his head, he sneered at her. “It’s working.” he said. His eyes filled with the same hunger he had displayed at her father’s farm. He wanted power. Her power.

Emmeline looked away
. If what Adelia said was true then Mahlon would own her if he withstood the light shining from her eyes. But would she know when that happened? Would she feel her eyes shining? Was that what the flames were doing to her? She didn’t feel any different, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. Squeezing her eyes shut, she vowed to do all in her power to keep from opening them. She would never let Mahlon own her. He would abuse her power until she was as drained and as dead as all the other witches. And who knew what kind of destruction he would force her to do.

“Look at me
!” Mahlon said.

“Never.”

She heard him stand and then a stab of pain bit into her side as his boot met her ribs. She gasped for air but couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

“Look at me
, or suffer. Dolmerti needs your power and the best way they’ll get it is with me as your master. Together we can make a greater Dolmerti!”

Still unable to breath, Emmeline
shook her head against the hard-packed earth. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was this how some of the witches died, beaten to death because they wouldn’t relinquish control of their power. She cringed into a tight ball and waited for the next blow, hating that she had no idea when or where it would come.

Mahlon roared and kicked her again
, pushing her closer to the flames. Heat flooded her body and Emmeline finally caught her breath. Gulping the hot air, she ignored the bits of ash that invaded every intake. The heat soothed her and lessoned the pain of her trembling body. It was healing her, she realized, so she leaned closer to the flame and drew in the heat.

“Ma
ke the fire bigger!” Mahlon ordered his men. “We’ll give her no choice.”

When the flames licked at her exposed skin, she knew the f
ire had grown. Heat turned from healing power to uncomfortable energy as it consumed her chest. Hot pressure grew and spread to every part of her body, every joint and muscle screaming for relief from the excess heat. It was too much, too overwhelming. She had to release the energy or she would burn to death.

“Are you uncomfortable, Emmeline?” Mahlon
asked. “I can take the pain away.”

Biting her lip, Emmeline shook her head again.
She would let the heat consume her before she ever opened her eyes for him.

He
kicked her again and they fell into a vicious cycle of wills. The fire grew bigger and the night slipped away. His boots always met the soft flesh of her sides and legs, or the tenderness of her ribs and back, but never her face or anywhere else that would expose his cruelty. Somehow she managed to keep her eyes closed through every strike.

She hurt more than she had ever hurt
before. The heat of the fire couldn’t seem to heal her fast enough. She wasn’t sure how she was holding on to her strength, but somehow the heat of the flames gave her just enough. It both aggravated her discomfort and fueled her strength, a contradiction that confused her to no end.

It wasn’t until
the birds began singing their morning song that Mahlon commanded the men to extinguish the fire.

“This isn’t over, witch.” Mahlon
said.

H
e slapped her onto the back of his horse and rode toward the palace. The cool night air fought with the heat in her body until it finally won and she found herself shivering. She figured it was safe to open her eyes, but after so many hours of fighting to keep them closed, she didn’t have the strength to open them. The horse stopped and Mahlon pulled her onto the ground. He twisted her around and cut the rope binding her hands.

“You can o
pen your eyes now,” he said.

Emmeline shook her head
, cringing for what would come next. Without the fire to give her strength, how would she endure another cycle of pain?

Mahlon grabbed a fistful of her long hair and pulled her toward
him, his fist shaking. “One night of suffering may have not been enough to compel you, but I
will
break you. It is only a matter of time.”

Emmeline bit her lip
, terrified that Mahlon was right.

Emmeline squeezed her eyes shut as the sun battled to awaken her. Her limbs were heavy and her head pounded in protest. Every inch of her body ached.

“Good morning, miss,” Adelia sang
as she drew a bath in the other room.

“Good morning
,” Emmeline croaked. She cleared her throat and pried her eyes open. Light streamed in through the windows, improving the atmosphere from the night before. She welcomed the change and threw her covers to the side. Taking one look at herself, she gasped and tossed them back over her body.

Her nightdress was
filthy. She’d never be able to hide the layers of ash and dirt from Adelia. After Mahlon had taken her back to her room he had made it clear that no one was to know about the fire. She sunk down into the bed, wondering if it might be a good idea to tell Adelia anyway. Perhaps she would know what to do or how to stop him. But Emmeline wasn’t sure Adelia could be trusted. She was kind, but she was just as adamant about limiting her freedoms as Mahlon was, and that made Emmeline wary.

“I’ve
got my eye on you,” Adelia said from the other room. “There will be no escaping me today!”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Emmeline said. After the night before, she didn’t want to face Mahlon ever again, especially if she got caught trying to escape.

“Your bath will be ready in just a moment, My Lady.”

As much as Emmeline
wanted to curl up in bed all day and wallow in self pity for the abuse she had endured, she hadn’t forgotten her resolve to find answers. She couldn’t do that lying in bed feeling sorry for herself.

A list of unanswered questions formed in her mind. Why
was Mahlon so anxious for her to manifest her powers now? What stopped him before? She wondered if the whisperers from the night before had anything to do with his brutal treatment. They had said they were going to groom her for something. Was that what Mahlon was doing? Was he going to force her to fight a war against her own country? If Mahlon was involved with the revolting noblemen then the Crown Prince needed to know.

But she couldn’t be sure. Mahlon
seemed to care a great deal about Dolmerti. Perhaps he wanted to control her in order to win the battle against the noblemen. That would make more sense, she supposed, considering he was the King’s Principal Knight. As much as she wanted to believe he was a traitor, she knew that without proof she’d never be able to convince the King of his duplicity.

Her only choice was to listen in on the meeting
planned for the night of the Pravoli Festival. He would be there if he was involved. She knew nothing of the festival, let alone when it was held, but she knew someone else who never stopped chattering about it. Adelia would be an enthusiastic tutor, even if she didn’t understand the motives behind her questions.

“Adelia?” Emmeline called.

“Yes, My Lady,” Adelia said from the bathroom, wiping her hands on her skirt.

“W
ill you tell me more about the Pravoli Festival? I’ve never heard about it.”

“Of course!
It is the event of the year, celebrated just before the birds migrate south. In years past, the King and Queen extended a royal invitation to everyone, inviting them to enjoy the festivities near the lake. However, this year Prince Weldon issued the invitation. With the Crown Prince’s long absence and the King’s health not permitting him to attend, the responsibility fell on him.”

“Prince Weldon is the Cro
wn Prince’s younger brother, right?”

“
He sure is. And just as handsome,” Adelia added with a giggle.

Emmeline laughed nervously. Adelia was too easily distracted and she couldn’t afford to spend the next half hour discussing a prince who had nothing to do with her problems.

“When is the festival?” Emmeline asked.

“
A week from tomorrow if the weather holds. I hope it does.”

Emmeline nodded, lost in thought. A week! It seemed so close, and yet so far
away. How could she wait to find out if Mahlon was involved? But at the same time, how was she going to find a way in to town, at midnight, in less than a week? The thought made her palms sweat.

Adelia continued without
seeming to take a breath. “There is jousting on horseback, artisans, ice carving competitions, music, and enough food to fill everyone’s bellies three times over, courtesy of the royal family. Merchants bring their treasures, their carts filled with blown-glassware, pottery, jewelry and leather. And the dancing! Oh, the dancing!”

Adelia
spun around, her arms held up as if she were embracing a gentleman in a dance. She swooped and sashayed around the furniture, her eyes closed. “The dancing is the best.”

Emmeline couldn’t help but chuckle
at Adelia’s spontaneous performance. “Is there a special someone you prefer to dance with?”

B
lushing, Adelia turned her chin toward her shoulder. “Perhaps.” She curtsied and returned to preparing the bath.

Once Adelia left
Emmeline to bathe in privacy, Emmeline peeled off her nightdress and tossed it behind a dresser. She’d deal with it later. Her gaze traveled to her body and she let out a small cry. Angry black and blue splotches covered her from shoulders to knees. Her legs buckled and she lurched forward, catching herself before she hit the side of the porcelain tub. How could she have let him do this to her? How could she have stopped him?

Clenching her jaw, Emmeline pulled herself up and stepped into the bath.
The warm water stung at first, and then it carried her away into a sea of swirling thoughts. Today she would begin her quest for the truth. It might prove to be the only way to protect herself.

Emmeline
dressed in her slips and underskirts and plopped in front of her dressing table, gazing into the depths of the mirror. What did she hope to gain from her search for truth? Would meeting with the King be helpful? It didn’t matter, she decided. It was time the royal family took her seriously rather than hide her away in a cold chamber. And even if he didn’t see the need to share pertinent information with her, she wanted to meet the man who thought it necessary to uproot her from everything she knew. He must know she was an Incenaga, which meant he was most likely just as power hungry as Mahlon. He was probably biding his time before he could become her master. Why else would a King insist his son marry a witch? Although, it occurred to her that with him being blind, he might not be able to master her, which meant he probably wanted his son to control her. Either way, she wasn’t going to let that happen. No one would control her.

Adelia
came in and combed through Emmeline’s locks, twisting them up with green ribbons. Emmeline cringed as she assisted her into a dark jade dress of rich velvety silks. Not only was it far too extravagant for her simple shoulders, but the heavy fabric pressed against her fresh bruises.

“Is
something the matter?” Adelia asked.

Emmeline cleared her throat.
“I know the King is ill, but I would like to request an audience with him. I won’t take very much of his time.”

Adelia smiled
and nodded. “He has been waiting for you to be ready to meet him.”

Emmeline choked in surprise.
“He has been waiting for me?”

“Yes,
My Lady. He knows you have suffered since your arrival and he wanted to give you time to adjust. Although, I don’t think he is aware of all the particulars of how you got here.”

Emmeline
glanced at her fidgeting hands. She’d decide for herself how much the King knew.

“I don’t know why
Mahlon acted the way he did,” Adelia continued. “There must be a reason. But if I must say, I think it would pain the King to learn of Mahlon’s cruelty. And since his health is so frail…”

“
That’s fine, I won’t tell him. But the Crown Prince will receive an earful as soon as he decides to show up.”

Adelia seemed to relax.
“Of course, My Lady.”

Emmeline watched Adelia, curious about her reaction. Was the health of the King her only concern? She shook off her suspicions.
“When do you think I’ll be able to meet him? The King, that is.”

“We can go right now, if you’d like. He said to bring you as soon as you
were ready.”

A
flutter of nervousness rolled in Emmeline’s stomach. Unable to acknowledge her own royal lineage, she deemed herself unworthy to be in the presence of a king. It didn’t matter who she was or who would soon become. She would always be a simple farm girl in a patched gray dress, not the soon to be Princess of Dolmerti in a silk jade dress.

With
guards escorting them from behind, Adelia led Emmeline up several flights of stairs, down several long corridors, and into a large, open room.

“This
is the King’s receiving room,” Adelia said. “He doesn’t use it much these days.”

A deep blue
rug reached from wall to wall with a massive round table in the center. A crystal vase rested on the table with flowers stretching toward the light of the chandeliers. Emmeline buried her nose in a few of the flowers, her eyes closing to fully appreciate their exotic scents.

Adelia
proceeded to one of the guards and announced Emmeline’s presence. The guard glanced at Emmeline’s shoulder and she recognized him as the guard who had pulled her aside the day before. She wasn’t sure what it meant, that he was now guarding the King instead of her. He struck a golden lance to the ground and opened the door.

“Her highness, Princess Emmeline, requests the audience of his royal Excellency,
the King.”

A cough, or a laugh, Emmeline wasn’t sure which, echoed from the room and the guard motioned for her to enter.
A wave of fresh flutters erupted inside her. She stepped under the threshold and into a room she had not expected at all.

Considering
the King was not only ill but also blind, Emmeline assumed she would find a dark room with all the curtains drawn and a few candles lit for the convenience of the servants. While there were no lit candles, the room was bright and full of light. Every window was open to welcome sunshine into the room.

“Come in, child,” a
voice called.

Emmeline turned her h
ead toward two large chairs facing an open window. A blanket pooled around the base of one, an aged hand reaching out from the side.

“Come enjoy the
view with me,” he continued with a subtle laugh. “It’s the best in the house.”

Emmelin
e smiled. A blind man enjoying the view from his window? She stepped around the other chair and sat with her hands in her lap. Glancing up, she saw a handsome face grown old with time. His silver hair shone in the bright room, his blind eyes as light as a cloudless day.

“I am Emmeline of Pamizak
,” she said. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“As am I, dear. Now, come here. Let me
see you.”

The King
held out his hands near her face. Emmeline hesitated.

“I won’t harm you
, child,” the King said.

Emmeline
positioned her face within his touch. His warm hands traced her features, his fingers moving across her eyes and cheeks, over her lips, and then resting on her shoulders.

“You are beautiful. There is
no doubt you are an Incenaga. I will protect you. My son will protect you. You need not fear that your gift will be used for evil. But tell me, my dear, can you see into my blind eyes? Can you see my heart’s truest desire? I understand you can grant a wish without it ever being spoken.”

Emmeline sank
back into the chair. So it
was
her power he was after. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I have only begun to learn of my inherent gift. I don’t know how to use it.”

The King
chuckled. “It is for the better. I’m afraid we would have both learned that I wished to be a bird and you would have turned me into one before I could disagree.”

He roared in laughter
but Emmeline couldn’t bring herself to smile. It frightened her to think she was capable of such a thing. Could she really grant unspoken requests? Turn people in to animals?

“Don’t fret, my dear. I only jest.
”

Emmeline forced a smile
and then colored with embarrassment, realizing he couldn’t even see her pathetic effort. “Of course, Your Grace. It’s just that I had no idea I could do such things.”

He
sighed with a smile. “I don’t think your great powers can transform objects, let alone people!”

“
Forgive me, but what
can
I do?”

The King
lifted his brows and Emmeline got the sense he was surprised by her ignorance.

“You control the physical
,” he said. “Anything that can be touched or felt, you can move, push, and direct to your heart’s content.”