The Last Witch (Incenaga Trilogy) (5 page)

“It’s not my
place, My Lady.” Adelia said. She curtsied and left the room before Emmeline could protest.

Emmeline
picked at her meal, her appetite gone. Holding up a spoon she gazed at the distorted image. The girl looking back said nothing, gave no indication of who she really was. But there was something different about her eyes, not different than what she had seen a hundred times before, but different than Adelia’s eyes. Her father’s too, for that matter. She asked him about it once when she was very young, the first night he let her stay up past sundown. He had shrugged and pointed out how the eyes of the woodland creatures changed in similar ways when the moon was high. He was the different one, not her, he had told her. His eyes had lost their glow and she had nothing to worry about. He’d never mentioned it again so she never thought anything of it.

Until now.

She turned the spoon back and forth, examining the two silver eyes looking back at her. She almost preferred them to the dull blue they reflected during the day. Was that what everyone was afraid of? That her eyes changed colors? Was that why they thought she was a witch? What did they call her? An Incenaga? For the first time, she cared about what that word could mean to her, and if there was any truth to it.

She
never thought of herself as evil, a quality she once believed every witch possessed. Not that she’d had any firsthand experience with witches. But if what Mahlon claimed was true, then she had killed two men. Nothing was more evil than taking another life.

Still, t
here was the of absence warts on her chin, and the lack of desire to dine on small children, which seemed to be a favorite pastime for witches. At least from what she had read.

So where
did that leave her? She thought about all the fairytales books her father had given her and came up empty. What sort of witch needed protecting? How powerful could she be if she had to marry a prince in order to gain his army’s protection? And yet they were so afraid of her.

Emmeline stayed up all night trying to come up
with a reasonable explanation for her eyes, or for what had happened at the cliff, reasons that could still leave Mahlon mistaken. She sat at the table all night, fretting over every detail of her life that she could remember. 

In the morning,
Adelia waltzed into her room, whistling through her work as if their conversation from the night before had never happened.

“Shall I call for the seamstress?”
Adelia asked once the room was tidied." You will need new gowns if you are to be Dolmerti’s Princess.”

Emmeline
cringed. “No, that won’t be necessary.” She didn’t plan on staying long enough to require new clothing, nor long enough to marry a stranger. She would get to the bottom of her mistaken identity and she would leave Dolmerti once and for all.

“Very well
,” Adelia said. “Perhaps another time?”

Emmeline shrugged.
“Perhaps.”

A knock sounded on the door and
the errand boy shuffled inside.

“A letter has arrived from Orrin Durandi,” the boy said
, his eyes trained to the ground.

“My father!”
Emmeline jumped up from the table, the dishes rattling in protest. She rushed to the boy and seized the envelope from his small hands. The wax seal bearing her father’s initials was broken.

“Who opened this?
” Emmeline questioned the boy. Anger pierced her chest. Even her privacy had been taken from her.

The boy
dropped his head and curled his shoulders toward his chest, his bottom lip quivering.

Emmeline knelt down and peered into the boy’s face. His eyes darted left and right
, anywhere but on her face. “I won’t hurt you,” Emmeline said, her voice low and soft. Was that how one spoke to a child? She couldn’t be sure. “Do you know who read this?”

The boy shook his head.

“Please, if you know, tell me.”

He shook
his head, but with less movement than before.

Disappointed, Emmeline stood.
“Very well. You may go.”

Adelia shepherded the boy ou
t and closed the door behind them both, giving Emmeline much needed privacy. Her fingers couldn’t work fast enough to open the envelope. Finally, it gave way under her impatient hands, exposing a letter in her father’s elegant script.

My Dearest Emmeline,

This letter comes to you with my deepest regrets. I am torn with grief that I could not protect you. I have tossed and turned every night of your life, conflicted with how I could best secure your safety as an Incenaga Witch. But I failed. I wanted your life to be full of possibility, adventure, and luxury—a life I have not been able to offer in the confines of a forest farm. Dolmerti is a beautiful country; the people are kind and the King is good-natured. Dolmerti will keep you safe and will allow you the opportunities I could never give you. I have been informed that the King’s intentions are pure in his desire for you to marry his son and honor the betrothal contract we signed at your birth. I should have told you about it, and for that I can only apologize. You have been placed in a situation I never wished upon you, but have also been given a means to continue your life in comfort and joy. And without fear.

I have spread the word in Pamizak that you are to wed the Crown Prince of Dolmerti, thus securing peace in both our lands. Our people are celebrating and praising your name for they no longer need to fear the
threat of Dolmerti’s strong army. Please trust me in this decision, my sweet Em.

I’m not permitted to tell you where I am; Mahlon believes
your transition will be easier if you aren’t searching for me. I hope you can find happiness and comfort in your new home. Please know that I will carry you in my heart and look forward to the day that I can see you again. We have much to discuss. Meanwhile, I am safe and well taken care of. We will meet again soon.

Yo
ur loving father, Orrin Durandi

Emmeline dropped the letter, letting it flutter to her feet. Heated
emotions coursed through her body and collided with one another, contradicting each other in an explosion of shock.

H
er father had betrayed her. Her arms and fists shook as the storm inside her unfurled its wrath. He chose a future for her without her consent. She wanted to yell at him, question his reasoning, and tell him what she thought of his decision to give her away.

But h
er angry thoughts were pushed away by a stab of realization that she couldn’t ignore. She was a witch. There was no denying it any longer. Her father had spelled it out in black ink.
Incenaga Witch.
He had done all he could to protect her, and despite how foolish his decision was, she felt a desperate need to trust him, to believe he wouldn’t stop protecting her. He was the only person she knew she could trust. He was all she had left.

She surrendered herself in that instant. Not because she wished to be a
witch or a princess, and not because she wanted power and fortune, comforts and luxuries. No, she would marry a prince because her father asked it of her and she trusted him. And because she didn’t want to live in fear of the horrors Mahlon claimed would certainly be hers. She cringed. How had she let her life get so turned upside down?

With the
need to trust her father bubbling to the surface and solidifying in her mind, only one emotion remained.

Fear.

This one emotion pushed its way above the others. It quickened her breath and shook her frame. She would soon marry a complete stranger. She would assume the role of Princess to an unfamiliar country and would someday become their Queen. And as an Incenaga, she would forever be in danger. Not that she knew the dangers she would face—an ignorance that terrified her.

Picking
up her father’s letter she slipped it into the desk drawer.
Her
desk drawer. The palace was her home. If she wanted to survive, she would need Dolmerti’s protection. She smoothed the folds in the fabric of her homespun dress, took a settling breath and called for Adelia to enter.

The door opened, but it was Mahlon
who entered, the door clicking shut behind him.

Emmeline took a step back, her back pressing against the cool window.

“What do you want?” Emmeline asked.

“I understand
you received a letter from your father?”

Emmeline didn’t answer.

Mahlon
’s nostrils flared. “And?” he said.

“And what?”
She enjoyed watching him fume. Until she became Princess of Dolmerti, her defiance was the only weapon she had against him.

“Do you
plan to marry the Crown Prince willingly?”

Emmeline shrugged.

Mahlon pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingertips and took a deep breath. “The people of Pamizak are counting on you, as are the people of Dolmerti.”

“It is what my father wants,” Emmeline
said through her teeth. “I’ll respect his wishes.”

Mahlon
smiled and stepped back. “We’ll begin preparations at once. You will wed as soon as the Crown Prince returns.”

Emmeline
stared at the floor and nodded, her strength fizzling the moment he left the room. She had felt so much more empowered when the decision to marry had been her own, not because of Mahlon’s questioning. He had stolen what little control she had gained and had left her to gather any dignity that remained off the floor.

Adelia
burst into the room, alarm on her face. “Is everything alright, My Lady?”

“
Yes, fine. Why?”

Adelia looked back at the door and shook her head.
“Never mind. Do you need anything?”

“
You may call the seamstress now.”

Ade
lia curtsied low to the ground and within moments, it seemed, Emmeline was surrounded by spools of ribbon, bolts of luxurious fabric, and strands of beads.

“You may choose whatever you like,
Your Highness,” the seamstress said, her eyes focusing on the fabric.

Emmeli
ne cringed at the title, but she knew she would have to get used to it. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed away the raw ache. She’d made her decision. It was her decision, not Mahlon’s.

Emmeline pointed to the first few bolts within view. “These will do just fine,” she said.

“Magnificent choices, Your Highness.”

Emmeline nodded, dismissing everyone. She rubbed her arms against the chill of the room and wondered why no one considered lighting a fire in her chambers. Turning to the window, she gazed into the torrential rainfall. Trees thrashed, their branches whipping back and forth in the wind.
It was a perfect reflection for the storm raging inside, for the start of her new life.

Several weeks went by with no change in the weather. The wind tore against the shutters, a never ending howl that filled everyone’s ears by day and echoed through their minds by night. Still, no one lit Emmeline’s fireplace. When she mentioned the chill of her room at night, Adelia brought more blankets. When she mentioned her discomfort during the day, Adelia drew a hot bath. The palace could have no fire, Adelia said, at least not until the Prince returned. It was a silly tradition, Emmeline thought, but she said nothing.

The howling wind threatened to break in and crush her.
But rain or no rain, Emmeline determined she would not shed another tear for the life she had been forced to leave behind. She couldn’t change what had happened. She had to face the future with courage, no longer pining for the past. She had to let herself be happy.

As a result of her agreeing to
marry the Crown Prince, Mahlon tolerated her exploration of the palace, so long as she kept within its stone confinement and remained in her room from dusk until dawn. She assumed it was because her eyes shone at night and others would be able to identify her as an Incenaga, but Mahlon was adamant there was no connection between her eyes and those of the Incenagas. It was merely coincidental, he claimed. But when she challenged him, he relented and admitted the connection wasn’t common knowledge and he wished to keep it that way. For her safety, of course.

After several weeks, the sky cleared at last.
Emmeline gazed through the window into the sunlit trees. Little animals scurried between bushes and across pebble strewn paths. Flowers expanded to capture every drifting ray of sunshine. The fresh landscape appeared so inviting, so peaceful, and so full of possibilities. The urge to be outside bubbled inside her until it became a boiling, voracious cauldron. She
had
to get out of the palace.

Adelia
entered her chambers, her arms loaded with clean towels. She kicked the door shut and hummed an unfamiliar tune as she made her way into the bathroom. Emmeline crept to her bedside and gathered one of her plainer gowns into her arms. It was made of sapphire silk and black lace and had tiny crystals down the skirts. While not the most appropriate dress for the outdoors, it had half the adornment of her other dresses.