Treacherous Witch
Prince Bakra's Message

"I chose the order of priestesses to represent the three aspects of womanhood. The maiden, the priestess who is a friend to all. The mother, the High Priestess who leads her village as she leads her family. And the elder, the Abbess whose power and wisdom will guide our future."

Maska’s Testimonium, III:IV

She awoke to sunlight and Lord Avon’s concerned face peering over her.

“Valerie.” His eyes shone with relief. “You had me worried.”

She blinked, stretching her aching muscles, and sat up to orient herself. She was in the bed of the guest chamber in the castle, her head resting against a plump pillow. Why did she feel so shaken? Her heart was palpitating.

“Drink some water,” said Avon, offering her a glass.

She sipped gratefully, shifting under the covers, and noticed that she had been changed. Gone was the scarlet dress. She was wearing a cotton nightdress, and her hair was loose. The maid must have undressed her.

“Was I out the entire night?”

“Yes,” he said, sitting on the bed next to her. He was fully dressed in the usual Drakonian finery, though not as formal as at the ball. “What happened? How do you feel?”

What had happened? She’d been dreaming... Something about a tree. Something important. But already the fragments were flying away, fading out of mind.

“I’m... fine, I think.” She tried a smile. “Just a little tired, my lord.”

“Did you receive the blessing?”

“I—I think so.”

She’d felt the magic flowing into her. That hadn’t caused her to faint. It had been... Her heart skipped a beat. The woman! The strange woman in the forest. She’d recoiled away from the woman’s touch and snapped back into unconsciousness.

But who was she? And what was she doing there? Valerie had never experienced anything like it. The silvertrees, the awful desolate landscape of dead tree stumps. Somehow, it was real. The silvertrees were connected.

More importantly, how did the strange woman know her name? What did the woman want with her? Remember, she’d said. Remember what? There was a purpose to all this, she thought, but what it might be eluded her.

Valerie shivered, coming back to the present. Avon was still watching her closely. And she became aware of something else as well, a slight vibration at the edge of her senses. A line of power. She closed her eyes and focused. There. A light. Not quite a mile away, in the city of Orlin, the silvertree stood. She sensed its presence like a far-off beacon.

Well, that’s new.

She opened her eyes and looked at Avon. There was something about him too... Her gaze lowered.

“Can I see your sword?”

He looked puzzled but complied, standing to half-draw his sword from the sheath at his hip. Valerie sighed in contentment.

“I see it,” she murmured. “It glows brighter than before.”

She’d been able to detect the sword’s power when he’d tested her all those weeks ago, but it was a faint aura, easily missed from a distance. This time the sword’s radiance was unmistakable, like the light of a silvertree. Not blinding but a steady, sure glow.

“Then you did receive the blessing,” said Avon, understanding. He sheathed the sword, a smile playing on his lips. “I expect great things.”

She nodded, feeling weary.

He glanced over at the door. “Our ship is departing today, and I’m already late for breakfast. Do you feel well enough to join us? You can rest until we leave if you like.”

As if on cue, her stomach rumbled. Valerie sat up straighter. “I’ll come for breakfast,” she said. “You don’t need to wait for me, my lord. I’ll join you soon.”

He nodded. “I’ll send for a maid.”

With that, he left, and Valerie stretched, trying to adjust to this new awareness in her body. Her magical senses had amplified. As for the woman and the trees... She shivered. It had felt wrong, all of it, and she didn’t know if she was supposed to fix it or if she even could.

Restore the silvertrees. Bring back magic to Maskamere.

Could the strange woman help her? Or did she have a more sinister motive?

And what was she supposed to remember?

Between the maid coming in to dress her and a guard appearing to escort her to the dining hall, she had no time to dwell on these questions. Lord Hafnir and his contingent had joined their Drakonian visitors for breakfast. She spotted Lord Dryden staring at her but ignored him, excusing herself to take a seat amongst the courtiers.

A beautiful selection of fruit awaited on the table. She filled her plate.

“Well, well,” said Pedram slyly, ”someone had a long night. Lord Avon too.”

Dealing with court gossip was the last thing she wanted right now. She suppressed a sigh.

“Lord Avon and I went for a late-night stroll. A treat for our last night in Enyr.”

“I wish Lord Sandford were so thoughtful,” said Lady Mona. “I’ll admit I felt a little homesick.”

The other courtiers offered their sympathies. Valerie looked for Lord Avon, but he was deep in conversation with Lord Dryden and Lord Gideon. She returned to her morning tea. A few minutes later, Dryden stood up and clapped his hands.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, looking around until silence fell. “Your ship departs in an hour. Before you depart, and before I bid you all farewell, I wanted to extend my thanks to our gracious host, Lord Hafnir. I’m sure this is only the beginning of a most fruitful partnership, and I look forward to working with Lord Hafnir and the Duke of Enyr very soon.”

Murmurs of approval. Valerie looked at Hafnir, who wore a bland smile, impossible to read. She wondered what negotiations she’d missed among the festivities.

After several more goodbyes, well wishes and flattery, the court began to disperse. Valerie, too, needed to pack before leaving. Since Avon was still with Dryden, there was no immediate rush. She headed out from the dining hall to the terrace where she had a wonderful view of the ocean beyond the low stone wall. Some way below, the ship in the harbour was flying the Drakonian flag: a silver dragon in a black sky.

Not the Maskamery colours, the goldentree on red cloth. They weren’t even pretending at representing Maskamere.

Footsteps alerted her. She looked away from the sea view as Gideon and Hafnir crossed the terrace, their heads bent close together, talking intently. Valerie frowned.

Gideon spotted her first. “Lady Valerie! Are you out here alone?”

“I wanted some air.”

“Or a chance to sneak off.”

She gave Gideon an unimpressed look, not bothering to dignify his insult with a response. There was a furtive air about them, though neither were obvious about it. Gideon smiled unpleasantly, while Hafnir regarded her with a wise, penetrating gaze.

“No matter,” said Hafnir, stepping in. “Allow me to escort the lady back to her quarters.”

Gideon’s lip curled, those nostrils of his flaring, but after a moment he gave a short bow. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

That was directed at Hafnir. He said nothing to her. Valerie watched him leave the terrace, then turned to Hafnir. She expected to be led off in short order. Instead, he stepped forward to gaze at the sea view, his expression pensive. He drew a silk handkerchief from his top pocket and wiped his glasses before replacing them on his nose.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? The ocean reminds us that we are but specks on this earth. The sea goes ever on. We will not be remembered.”

She ignored that. “What were you talking about with Lord Gideon?”

“Business.” He paused. “I see you are a practically-minded lady. I have been hoping to speak with you.”

Her breath caught. “About what?”

He glanced behind him to make sure that no one else was nearby and then took a step closer, his tone low and urgent. “I have a message from Prince Bakra. He is aware of your situation, and he implores you to keep your spirits up.”

She stared at him, her heart thumping. Prince Bakra! A message from the resistance?

“You spoke with him? When?”

“Three days ago. He departed these shores shortly before Lord Avon arrived. He has a plan for the resistance, of which you are an integral part.”

“He’s going to rescue me?”

Finally! Hope bubbled up like the fizz of a champagne bottle.

“No. He asks that you stay exactly where you are.”

And just like that, the bubble burst. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. She managed a single word: “What?”

“You are in an advantageous position, my lady,” said Hafnir. “You are at the very heart of Lord Avon’s court, as close to him as it is possible to get. He asks that you make yourself Avon’s confidant and gather as much information as you can about his plans, his movements, anything that might help the resistance.”

“He wants me to become a spy.”

She said it in a whisper, her mouth turning dry. The enormity of what she was being asked to do was only beginning to dawn on her.

Hafnir nodded. “He’ll send an agent to the palace to pass on your messages—”

“Wait,” she said. “Wait, no, he doesn’t have any idea why Avon wants me in the palace. I can’t stay there.”

“I know it must be difficult, my lady—”

She shook her head. “No—no. We have to act right now. You need to contact the prince. I have an urgent message for him—he’s about to be betrayed.”

Hafnir’s frown deepened as she explained what she had witnessed the previous night: Avon’s deal with Quintus, the captain of the royal guard being a traitor...

“That is serious news,” he said quietly. “I’ll do what I can. Will you stay with Lord Avon?”

Valerie took in a deep breath, steadying herself against the wall. She hadn’t anticipated anything like this. She had been so focused on escaping, on warning Bakra...

He hadn’t given her much of a choice.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll do what I can.”

“The agent will ask you for a rose. Show them this.” He pressed a golden locket into her hands. “Proof that we’ve spoken.”

She looked down at the locket, the gold warming in her palm. It was a tiny but well-crafted piece, an oval shape engraved with a simple rose. No magic. Just an ordinary locket.

“What is it?”

“It belonged to the queen. Keep it hidden.” Hafnir glanced over her shoulder. “We should go before they notice your absence.”

She had one last question. “Does this mean that Enyr is an ally of Maskamere? I mean, the royal family. All this talk with Lord Avon and Lord Dryden...”

Hafnir smiled. “The ties between our nations go back centuries. It is in our interest that your resistance keeps the Empire occupied. I wish for Enyr to remain independent. But we cannot be seen to openly support your prince, do you understand?”

She nodded. “It’s a secret, then.”

“As is our conversation.”

Of course. She tucked the locket into her skirts, and he escorted her back to the entrance hall. Her mind was racing.

A spy...

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