The Last Witch (Incenaga Trilogy) (4 page)

Emmeline brought her gaze down and considered the grounds.
Overlooking a wide valley and turquoise lake, the palace balanced on top of a mountain. Two formidable snow peaks rose in the background, offering protection from the harsh afternoon sun. The surrounding trees were thick and tall, standing proud like eternal sentinels.

“
Welcome to Dolmerti,” Mahlon said as he took her elbow.

A cold shiver prickled up
Emmeline’s arm. She snatched her elbow away, the grandeur of the palace gone.

Wide-ey
ed, Mahlon nodded his head and took a step back.

A young woman
curtsied before Emmeline “Welcome to Dolmerti, Your Highness,” she said with a timid smile. Her eyes moved toward Emmeline’s face, and then darted to the ground.

“Mind yourself,” Mahlon said in a low voice. He turned to Emmeline. “Very well.
I’ll leave you with Adelia. Once you are settled, I’ll come by your chambers.”

Emmeline frowned.

Gesturing for several soldiers to follow him,
Mahlon strode to the far reaches of the palace and disappeared around the corner.

Left with
only a handful of guards, Emmeline glanced toward Dolmerti’s forest and considered taking her chances. She wondered how far she’d get before they dragged her back. Not far, she guessed, considering Mahlon was confident enough to take most of his men with him. She had a feeling that if he thought she could get away, he would have kept her hands bound.

Adelia
took a step forward. “If you would be so kind as to follow me, Your Highness, I’ll show you to your chambers.”

Emmeline took a step back and
gazed into the trees. The guards stiffened, a few of them resting their hands on the hilts of their swords. Emmeline bit her lip and nodded toward Adelia. It was not the time to run. Yet.

Adelia
led her up several granite steps to a set of mahogany doors twice her height. A guard heaved them open and the commotion of clattering dishes and clanging cutlery spilled through the open door. With surprise, Emmeline realized the carriage had taken her to the back of the palace rather than to the grand hall she imagined she would enter.

Adelia
turned to Emmeline, beckoning her with a gentle smile. “You’ll like it here,” she said as they entered a dark corridor. “The weather is beautiful, and the people are so kind. There is a festival every year that is also enjoyable.”

Emmeline
grimaced. She had no interest in learning about Dolmerti. She wouldn’t be staying. If she wasn’t released soon, her father would come for her or she would find her own way home. Emmeline smiled at the thought.

Adelia
mistook the smile for encouragement and continued her enthusiastic chatter as they hiked up a stair tower. “It is the Pravoli Festival, held every year before the birds migrate. Magic shows, dancers, candy makers, and all sorts of activities go on for hours! The jousting tournament is the most popular event to attend, if you must pick one.”

Emmeline forced
a weak smile. Perhaps if she pretended to be pleased Adelia would leave her alone. She was wrong.

“It is so thrilling,
Your Highness!” Adelia said. “You will see. The best part is seeing all the different masks people wear to the festival. Most of them are made with feathers and are simply amazing to see.”

Adelia
didn’t stop her chatter until they reached another set of massive double doors, also dark wood. Posted on either side were two guards with their chests puffed and their arms stiff at their sides. A boy of about ten shifted his feet near them, his head down. The boy’s gaze narrowed in on the ground in front of him while the guards peered straight ahead.

“Here we are,” Adelia said as she
pushed open the door.

T
hree times the size of Emmeline’s entire house, the luxurious room should have exuded feelings of peace and serenity, but Emmeline felt neither. She stepped forward, her feet sinking into the plush white carpet, and let her eyes fall over the extravagant furnishings. A four-poster bed much too large for one person rested in the center of the far wall. Hung with creamy organza and gold cording, the bed was without a single blemish or speck of dust tarnishing its sheen.

Vibrant
floral arrangements graced every available surface of the room. They contrasted with the more neutral tones of the chambers, yet added a complimentary touch. Emmeline couldn’t help but feel a little warmed by the flowers. She loved the freshness of the outdoors they brought into the room. But the moment passed and the warmth slipped away.

She
glanced toward the sitting room to her left. An empty fireplace and several chairs seemed comfortable enough, but Emmeline remained by the door.

“Is t
here anything I can do to help you settle in?” Adelia asked.

“No
, thank you,” Emmeline said. “I just need to be alone.”

“Of course,
Your Highness.”

Emmeline winced. “Please, don’t call me that.”

“What would you have me call you?”

“Emmeline. I’m just Emmeline.”

Adelia shifted. “I’m not permitted.”

Emmeline sigh
ed. “Very well, in the presence of others you may call me whatever you like, but alone, I prefer something much less… official.”

“Very well,
My Lady. Is that alright? If I call you My Lady?”

Emmeline nodded.

“If you are in need of anything, send the errand boy for me, My Lady.”

Adelia stepped
from the room and for once in her life, Emmeline was glad to be alone. Everything was so strange to her and so much more terrifying than she imagined it would be. Mahlon’s touch made her cringe, the guards’ blank stares made her shiver, and Adelia’s chatter made her head ache. She glanced around the chambers once more, seeking for a way to escape. The windows framed a view of the broad valley stretching out from the steep mountains, an open view taunting her imprisonment. She pressed her nose to the glass and sighed. She was too high for an easy escape out the windows. And the guard detail stationed at her door would be difficult to pass, if at all possible.

Emmeline
let her shoulders drop. Even if she discovered a way out, she had no idea where she would go or how far she would have to run before she crossed into Pamizakian territory. If only Mahlon hadn’t drugged her. She knew nothing of Dolmerti and even less of its borders. Her father’s maps were only of Pamizak. Until she learned more, she would have to wait for her father. Surely he would come for her soon.

Droplets of rain
spattered against the window and streamed down the etched glass. Emmeline shivered and turned away from the window. Unable to control the burning ache within her, she fell onto the bed and clutched a pillow to her chest. Hot, sticky tears pulsed out of her eyelids and onto the delicate fabric. How long would she have to wait? A wave of fresh tears wet the pillow and she threw it across the room in frustration. She couldn’t wait. No matter the danger she might find, she would find a way home. She only wished she could erase the memory of what Mahlon had said, the ring of truth she still felt at his questions.
Are you ignorant to the dangers that come to an Incenaga Witch? The horrors they face?
Was it true she was a witch? Would she face some unknown horror?

Emmeline burrowed into the covers, a sense of foreboding pressing down on her. If she had known
what those horrors were going to be, she would never have fallen asleep.

Emmeline’s dreams were haunted by horrifying images and sounds. Over and over she relived the burning of her home and Mahlon hitting her father. But the dreams of the dead soldiers were the worst. The images of their crumbled bodies tore through her until her insides burned.

Trapped in her chambers by
stubborn guards and stone walls, a week passed and she had yet to find an escape. Another week passed and still no word from her father. Frustration ruled her days and terror consumed her nights. Baying hounds and jingling harnesses rang in her dreams, the beat of hooves thrumming like a distant drum calling for war. Every night the frightening sounds rose to deafening levels until she was jolted awake and thrust into the silence of night. She would fall back onto the bed and slip into another fitful sleep only to have the nightmares return. Her dreams were always the same.

Three
weeks after her arrival Emmeline awoke to the mouthwatering aromas of fresh baked pastry triangles, soft cheeses, and spiced apples. Although she had been brought countless meals since her arrival, it was the first time she’d felt, or smelled, anything other than a thick fog of agitation. The aroma of warm food comforted her on some level and she found herself wanting more. She dragged herself off the bed and headed for the table.

“Would you like me to draw you a bath
?” Adelia offered.

“
I suppose,” Emmeline said.

“A nice long soak
always soothes my weary soul. It could be just the thing to lift your spirits.”

Emmeline shrugged and took a bite of a lemon pastry
. The tangy center tickled her nose until she sneezed. She set the pastry down.

“
Are you ill?” Adelia asked. “You’ve been asleep all day.”

Emmeline
glanced out the window and was surprised to see moonlight streaming through the windows instead of the morning sun she had expected. The room was surprisingly bright, considering the low light, but she didn’t mind. Forcing the corners of her mouth into a smile she shook her head. “I’m not ill.”

“Well, at least
you’re eating, that should help.”

“Yes.
”

Adelia shifted her weight from one foot to the other
, her eyebrows knit together.

“
It’s all very delicious,” Emmeline said. “Thank you.”

“Wonderful
.” Adelia beamed, her gaze on the floor.

“Adelia?” Emmeline started. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. She only knew that she needed to
feel some sort of human connection with someone.

“Yes, My Lady?” Adelia said. H
er back straightened but her gaze still lingered on the ground.

I
n that moment it occurred to Emmeline that Adelia wasn’t the only one who avoided looking at her. The soldiers in the forest, the guards, the servants, all of them, turned their gaze from her. Even the page boy didn’t chance a peek, though it seemed he wanted to.

“W
hy won’t anyone look at me?” she asked.

Adelia took in a sharp breath
and turned to re-fold an already folded stack of linens. “What do you mean?” She asked with a higher than normal voice.

“
Mahlon is the only one who has made eye contact with me. Is that a Dolmerti custom?”

“No.”

“Is it some form of respect? Because I’m to become a princess?”

Adelia shook her head.

“What is it then?”

Adelia moved to
ward the bed and stumbled against the post.

“Are you alright,” Emmeline asked
, coming to her feet. She reached out to help, but let her hands fall back to her sides.

“Quite,” Adelia said while straightening her skirts
, her movements stiff.

“You may light a candle, if you wish. I don’t think I’ll be going back to sleep
anytime soon.”

Adelia curtsied but continued working in the moonlight.

Emmeline sat back at the table and scowled, afraid to believe that everyone avoided her gaze because of who they thought she was, or rather,
what
they thought she was. She swallowed. “Is it because everyone thinks I’m a witch?”

Adelia stopped, her back to Emmeline.

Emmeline took in a trembling breath. “Am I too hideous a sight, then?”

Adelia
turned, her eyes shooting up to Emmeline’s. With a wince, she looked away. Whether caused by fear or disgust, her reaction told Emmeline more than she wanted to know.

“Never mind,” Emmeline said. She stood and trudged toward the cold fireplace.
None of it was true anyhow. She wasn’t a witch.

“Do you really not know?
” Adelia asked after several minutes of silence. “Do you not see?”

“
See what? I don’t understand anything that is happening in my life right now. None of it makes sense.”

Adelia cleared her throat.
“My Lady, you are not a hideous sight. You are just as beautiful as they described, if not more.”

Emmeline
pulled a finger across the hearth and came up with soot. “As who described? I haven’t met a single soul all my life. Besides my father, of course.”

Adelia
busied herself with a nearby vase of flowers. The leaves rustled as her shaking hands removed several flowers in perfect bloom, leaving a few that should have been removed instead.