To Kill a Kettle Witch (Novel of the Mist-Torn Witches) (3 page)

Helga studied Jaromir’s face. “Agriculture?” she repeated. “Does that mean crops?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I’ve been looking for a way to get the three of you alone since yesterday. I need your help.” She looked to Céline. “To save some of your mother’s people.”

“Our mother’s people?” Amelie echoed.

“There’s a meadow about half a league from Castle Yegor,” Helga went on. “The lands all around it are covered in apple orchards and berry fields. Years ago, when I was just a girl, the prince in power found he didn’t have enough serfs to handle the harvest, so he let it be known that if any of the traveling Móndyalítko were willing to work to bring in the crops, they were welcome to camp in the meadow all through late spring and summer.”

Céline knelt down at her feet. “You traveled with the Móndyalítko?”

“Course I did. Fourteen to sixteen caravans came to that meadow every spring. We picked strawberries first, and then raspberries, then blueberries, and then apples in the early autumn. We were asked to pay nothing in rent for our stay, and we were allowed to keep a portion of the berries and apples we picked—and also to fish in any of the streams and set snares for rabbits. It was a haven.” She paused. “The next prince and the next made the same offer. They needed the help.”

“And something caused Prince Malcolm to stop allowing this?” Amelie asked.

“No,” Helga answered. “The caravans still roll into that meadow every spring.”

“But what happened with you?” Céline asked. “Where is your own family, and how did you come to be here?”

Helga’s expression closed up. “Don’t ever ask me that again. I told you your mother’s people need help, and they do. This year, someone has cursed the land of Yegor, and Prince Malcolm blames the Móndyalítko in the meadow. Whatever has happened, it’s no blight or disease. There’s no drought and yet everything has withered and died, from the grass to the apple blossoms to the strawberries. The prince is facing ruin if he can’t turn this around, and he’s started torturing people to find the culprit. At least one has died. The others are all being held as prisoners.”

“What?” Céline gasped, trying to get her head about this. “Helga, how do you know this? Has someone written to you?”

Again, Helga’s expression closed up. “I can’t tell you, but you know I’d never say such things unless they were true. I need help. We have to go there. You and Amelie have to use your powers to find the truth.”

“Yegor?” Jaromir said, sounding incredulous. “It would take a week just to travel there, maybe more, depending on the state of the roads.”

No one answered him, and the room fell silent except for the sound of Oliver licking his paws.

“You say our mother’s people are in this meadow?” Amelie asked finally.

“It’s been some years since I did a harvest,” Helga answered, “but a small caravan from the line of Fawe
always rolled in back then, and I can’t see why that would change.”

“Céline, we have to go,” Amelie said flatly.

This was more complicated than Amelie seemed to realize. They’d never met anyone related to their mother. Were they simply to arrive and introduce themselves? How would either they or their offer of help be received? She knew so little of the situation. And what if one of the Móndyalítko had cursed the crops?

But Helga watched her with fearful hope, and Céline realized they couldn’t refuse.

Reaching out, she touched Helga’s hand. “Of course we’ll go.” She turned to Jaromir. “We’ll need protection for the journey. Do you think Prince Anton will give you leave?”

Jaromir still appeared stunned at the idea of any of them going all the way to the southeast province, but she didn’t think he would refuse, either.

And of course Anton would give them leave.

The sisters had served him well in the past year. They’d used their abilities to help him catch murderers and to shore up his legacy as a strong leader. He had given them this shop in gratitude, but they hadn’t asked for it. They’d never asked him for anything. He would certainly grant this one request.

Jaromir locked eyes with Amelie for a long moment. On such a long journey, he’d want to be at her side.

“I’ll go and speak with the prince,” he said.

Helga closed her eyes in
relief.

Even though Jaromir had been up all night and he still ached over the loss of Lizzie, he left the shop with his thoughts dwelling on Helga’s request.

Midmorning had arrived.

The village that spread out all around Castle Sèone was almost like a bustling town. Two walls with heavily guarded gates surrounded the village. Jaromir believed in strong security measures.

He continued moving onward and upward through the people and the shops and the dwellings until he reached a small bridge. This led across a gap to a huge wooden doorway at the front of the castle. A pulley system on the other side would allow the bridge to be raised, cutting off access to the castle if necessary.

He crossed the bridge and entered the walled courtyard of the castle. A number of his men, all in chain armor and tan tabards, milled about the courtyard. They came to attention and nodded at the sight of him.

“Sir.”

He nodded back and kept walking, trying to formulate what he would say to Prince Anton.

He didn’t want to fail. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Amelie and Céline sitting on the edge of the bed near Lizzie. Throughout his life, he’d only known a few people he considered true friends, those who would stand by him in both the light and the dark hours. Anton was one.

So were Amelie and Céline.

He’d wanted to be more than friends with Amelie from almost the moment he met her, but she was prickly and held him at arm’s length. He knew if he tried, he could charm his way past her reservations, but after that, he wasn’t sure how much he could give of himself, and she deserved a great deal. Much of the time, he felt so married to his job there was room for little else. The problem was that he loved his job.

After striding through the courtyard, he entered the castle, walked to the west tower, and made his way up to Prince Anton’s private apartments.

Jaromir rarely came up here, but Anton tended to use the midmorning hours for correspondence or to work on financial accounts. In most areas, he was a “hands on” type of leader as opposed to a delegator.

Reaching the door, Jaromir knocked. “My lord?”

“Come in.”

Entering his prince’s private apartments, Jaromir glanced around.

The decor was somewhat austere. There were tapestries on the walls and a large hearth. The furnishings consisted of a messy writing desk, a few heavy wooden chairs, and rows of bookshelves along the walls. It looked more like the chambers of a scholar than a prince.

A closed door that stood on the same wall as the hearth led to the sleeping chambers.

Anton himself sat at the desk with a pen poised in one hand. He was dressed in black pants and a dark blue tunic.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Then comprehension seemed to dawn, and he stood. “Is it Lizzie?”

Jaromir nearly flinched. The question caught him off guard. “She’s gone, my lord, in the night. We buried her in the herb garden of the shop.”

“I do understand your loss. I’ve known dogs I liked better than most people.”

Jaromir didn’t doubt that.

“Thank you, my lord,” he said. “But that isn’t why I came. Forgive the intrusion. I . . .” He trailed off, wanting to make certain he worded this correctly. “Céline and Amelie have made a request.”

Anton raised one eyebrow, sat back down, and motioned to a chair. “A request?”

Sitting down and bracing himself, Jaromir launched into retelling Helga’s story as best he could. He left out nothing involving the situation she had described.

Anton listened politely and then seemed puzzled at the end. “What does this have to do with a request from Céline and Amelie?”

“They wish to go there, my lord, and use their abilities to find whoever has done this and free the Móndyalítko being held in the meadow. I’d need to accompany them, along with a few men, of course.”

For a moment, Anton’s expression went blank, as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “Go there? To Castle Yegor in the southeast province?” His voice dropped lower, as
it did when he was not pleased. “How does Helga even know of Prince Malcolm’s difficulties?”

Jaromir shifted uncomfortably in his chair. This was not going as he’d hoped. “I don’t know, my lord. She won’t tell me. I assume someone wrote to her. But she’s not given to fancies or exaggerations. If she says this is the case, then it is.”

“And when did you begin taking advisement from the castle maids?” Anton paused and closed his eyes briefly. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean that. But the journey to Castle Yegor alone would take a week. There’s no telling how long it would take the sisters to solve this crisis, if indeed there is a crisis, and then a week to return. You could be gone a month or longer. This has nothing to do with the safety or security of Castle Sèone, and frankly, I’m surprised you’d even ask such a thing.”

Embarrassed, Jaromir stood up, on the verge of dropping the entire subject. Then he remembered how Amelie had grasped the back of his hand over Lizzie’s body that morning.

“Such assistance to Prince Malcolm could be well received,” he pressed. “Helga said that he’d be ruined if this isn’t solved soon. It seems he has no intention of putting his name in for the election, and it could be a good thing to have him in your debt.”

If anything, Anton’s expression darkened. “I’ll not buy votes via favors.” He picked up his pen, signaling the conversation was at an end. “I need you, Céline, and Amelie here to serve Sèone. I am sorry for both Prince Malcolm and for the Móndyalítko he is holding,
but it is not our concern.” He looked back to the letter he’d been writing. “I don’t wish to hear of this matter again, do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Quietly, Jaromir left the room and made his way for the stairs. He didn’t blame Anton. He wasn’t even sure Anton was wrong. He simply didn’t want to convey the message to Amelie or Céline . . . or Helga.

*   *   *

After Jaromir left the shop, Céline kept Helga behind for a while so the aging woman could drink some tea and gather herself. Then Helga, too, headed back up to the castle, and Céline promised to come to her as soon as they’d received leave from Anton—so they could make preparations for the journey.

Once the sisters were alone, Amelie shook her head. “I had no idea that Helga actually
knew
our mother’s people. Did you?”

Céline struggled not to wonder about a family she’d never met. What would they be like? “I wonder why Mother never told us anything about them.”

“Helga won’t say much, either, not even about her own family.”

Yes, that was troubling, but Helga must care for her family, as she’d come to the sisters to ask for help, and she was prepared to make a long journey as well.

“I hope Jaromir sends word soon,” Céline said. “As soon as we know what men and resources Anton is willing to offer, we can make a more solid plan. From what Helga described, the sooner we leave, the better. I’d like to be gone by tomorrow morning if possible.”

Amelie nodded. “Agreed.”

To pass the time, Céline decided to boil down some marshmallow leaves to make more astringent for insect bites and bee stings. As late spring had arrived, there was already an abundance of insects.

Glad for something to do, Amelie offered to help.

The rest of the morning passed, and the afternoon began crawling by.

The sisters put together a small late lunch of sliced cheese and early peas eaten right out of the pods.

In the midafternoon, they worked in the garden weeding.

As the sun began to set, Céline looked up toward the castle. “I’m going to go see Jaromir.”

“Do you want me to come?” Amelie asked.

“No. He and I might miss each other somehow, and he could arrive while I’m gone. You should wait.”

Amelie wasn’t normally good at waiting, but she nodded.

The truth was that Céline had a feeling something might be wrong, and if so, she preferred to face whatever it was without Amelie. Her sister had a hot temper and a tendency to make unpleasant situations worse.

Still, as she left the shop and headed up to Castle Sèone, she had no idea why Jaromir hadn’t come back to speak with them. He’d heard Helga that morning, and he knew they needed to act quickly.

Before long, she arrived at the small bridge and crossed it, entering the courtyard. A number of castle guards came into view, engaged in various tasks, and
she spotted a young man with brown, wavy hair to his shoulders: Corporal Rurik. He had accompanied her and Amelie on more than one journey, and she considered him a trusted friend.

“Miss Céline,” he said with a smile. Then the smile faded. “I heard about Lizzie.”

“Yes, it was a long night for the lieutenant. I’m looking for him now. Do you know where he is?”

“In the barracks, in his office, I think.”

Jaromir was in his office? Céline expected him to be readying for the journey. Perhaps he had some last-minute business to complete. After all, they would be gone for some time.

“Thank you,” she said to Rurik.

Turning, she walked to the barracks. Much of it was relegated to living quarters for the men, but just inside the main room, she turned down a short hallway and stopped at a solid oak door.

After knocking, she said, “Lieutenant?”

A moment of silence followed and then, “Come in.”

Opening the door, she peered in to find him at his desk, but he didn’t appear to be reading or writing anything. He was just sitting at the desk near a window in the fading daylight.

Confused, Céline stepped inside. “Why have you not come back to see us? Or sent word? Will we be leaving tomorrow?”

He looked drained both physically and emotionally. She’d never seen him like this, and her feeling that something was wrong grew stronger.

“No,” he answered, sounding reluctant to even
speak. “I was going to come to the shop later tonight, after supper. Prince Anton prefers that we remain here in Sèone.”

Stepping in closer, she said, “I don’t understand.”

“He will not give his permission. The situation in Yegor doesn’t threaten our security, and he’s ordered that we remain here. I tried to convince him, but he’s made his decision. We cannot speak of this again.”

Céline’s mouth fell half-open. “Ordered?”

Jaromir glanced away, and she could see how much he wanted this discussion to end. Suddenly, everything became clear to her. Jaromir had probably spoken to Anton that morning, Anton had refused the request, and Jaromir hadn’t wanted to face her or Amelie with the news.

Céline had no wish to pain him further. He’d had no sleep and had just lost Lizzie.

“I see,” she said. “Thank you for trying.”

At this, he glanced at her in surprise. She was not one to give in easily, and he knew it.

“Try to get some rest,” she said. “I’ll tell Amelie the news myself. Have you told Helga?”

Misery shone from his face. “No.”

“You’ll probably see her before I do.”

He nodded.

Satisfied that he believed she was dropping the matter, she stepped out and closed the door. Then, with determination, she headed across the courtyard toward the castle.

*   *   *

As was his custom, at the dinner hour, Prince Anton walked into the large dining hall of the castle. He only
hosted formal banquets once or twice a month, and other evenings the dining hall served as a gathering place for various factions who either lived or temporarily resided or worked in the castle.

Any of the guards stationed inside were welcome to spell each other and come here to eat. Some of the servants also ate here as opposed to the busy kitchen. These people dished up from a long faded table set near the hearth.

Anton ate at a polished cedar table set at the far end of the hall. This was reserved for himself and any other nobles or guests of importance.

Lieutenant Jaromir also sat at this table—if he took time for dinner. Tonight, he was nowhere in view.

In all honesty, Anton would rather have eaten in the privacy of his apartments, especially since Jaromir wasn’t here. Small talk exhausted Anton, but he felt that coming in for dinner was something he ought to
do
.

Looking toward the head table, he was relieved to see only a few people sitting there. Lord Cirren and the Lady Edith lived here at the castle. Cirren was Anton’s second cousin and a solid financial adviser. A family of prominent wine merchants from Enêmûsk was also seated, but Anton knew them well, and they disliked small talk as much he did.

Perhaps dinner tonight would not be such a trial.

He had started toward the table when a familiar voice sounded from behind him.

“My lord?”

Turning quickly, he fought to keep his expression still.

Céline stood a few paces behind him, and all
thoughts but her fled from his mind. Her hair was down, spreading over her shoulders, and she still wore the same lavender gown from last night. Her presence affected him in ways he couldn’t always control internally, which was beyond troubling. Though he’d only known her a year, and she did not know him well, she knew him better than anyone else in the world, including Jaromir.

He knew the soft feel of her mouth on his, and if he’d been anyone but a prince of Pählen, he’d have married her by now—if she’d have him.

However, he couldn’t ever remember her coming to the castle in search of him.

“Céline,” he said, for lack of anything else coming into his head. Then he saw the determined look on her face, and his pleasure at her arrival faded. Certainly, she could not be here to discuss that awkward business Jaromir had mentioned earlier today? Anton had made it clear that topic was closed, and he was unaccustomed to being disobeyed.

“May I have a word?” she asked.

He didn’t move and pitched his tone to sound cold. “In what regard?”

His tone had no effect, and she pointed to the open door of a side room. “Please.”

With growing trepidation, he followed her through the door. The room was small, with a single table, two chairs, and no window. Several candles glowed from the table. He often used this chamber for private conferences.

Céline closed the door, and they were alone.