Chapter 3

W hen I woke up the next morning, I was invigorated. My body felt more rested than I had been in a while. The surge of my magic coursing through my veins made me eager to start the day and confront my mother for using her mear magic.

My mother possesses a special type of magic that no one else has unless you’ve given birth. Humans called it Mother’s Touch, but we called it Mother’s Magic, or if you’re from New Orleans, like my mother is, Mear La Magie…Mear Magic for short. Humans have this saying “ it takes a mother’s touch to calm an infant or to soothe a child ”. Little did they know that magic is real. From my royal classes and my mother’s teachings, this type of magic announces itself when the birthing mother’s milk finally comes in. And it never leaves them, either. It just doubles the mother’s magic watching over her child from deep within the mother, even when they’re older.

Throwing off the warm comforter and slipping into my slippers, I got ready for the day. I placed on my favorite long white dress that hit my shin, which was rare, with a faux waistband. The puffy sleeves of lace made me itch, but I loved the dress. I brought it on a rare trip to Houston with my mother. After slipping on my short white Mary Jane’s, I decided to leave my curly hair out. Dressed and ready for the day, I rushed to the dining hall for breakfast.

My body gloated out the door with my wide smile plastered on my face. This euphoric feeling that I woke up with this morning led the way as I speed-walked down the gray, cold steps to the dining hall, all while never losing my pace. My long hair swung from side to side as I walked down the staff corridor.

“Your Highness…” one housekeeper said as I passed one of the many rooms that lined the long hallway. The young man looked at me like I had grown a second head out of the tip of my nose. His bushy black eyebrows met his nonexistent hairline, and his steel gray eyes looked bugged as if filled with unshed tears. He stood glued to the doorway as he shuffled on his feet.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you in the way,” I apologized.

“I-It’s no problem, your Highness. Are you okay?” He stuttered while he threw me a shaky smile.

I stopped to peer at the nervous housekeeper and thought about his question. “Yes, of course, I’m okay. What’s your name?”

“I wasn’t sure, your Highness…” he replied over his words as he inched closer to the door. “My name is Arnold…Arnold Winchester, my family is one of the farmers in the village.”

Are we going to take that from this insignificant maid? Let me out so I can kill him…maim him and hang him ? —

For Youna’s sake, the cursed voice would have killed this man for nothing.

Blinking my eyes until the dark voice settled into its locked room in the back of my mind. The constant reminder of the imminent future that awaits me. I tried to lock the voice of the curse away, but that was easier said than done right now as the cursed voice continued to invade my mind. It had been four months since I’d felt the slow drawl of the curse. As its claws dug into the wet flesh of my mind, changing the basic structure that makes me who I am. And with no solution to end my evident downfall.

Too overwhelmed with shock and shame, I did something very out of character, even for me. I hugged him. When I pulled away, he was rooted to the floor, his eyebrows scrunched together, and then had the nerve to shake his head. “No. It’s alright, your Highness,” he said, holding his arms out.

I tried , I thought as I continued the long white hall to the dining room. He must be new. They’re the only ones that act as if the world is ending when I’m nice to them.

This boost of energy and my magic had my blood singing as I ran into the dining room with an infectious smile plastered on my face. My parents, who stopped mid-sentence, mouths twisted before noticing it was me. My father’s eyes widened as if he had seen a mermaid walk into the dining hall, which would be very rare since he poisoned most of the North American Mermaids. And if we were being honest, he was the reason every supernatural being was basically extinct. Whether it was Fae, Shifters, demons, and any others that stood in his way. Only the vampires managed to escape his wrath. His cup with his black coffee was hung in mid-suspension. While my mother, whose corner of her mouth twitched as she moved her hand to her mouth to hide her impending smile.

“Kaydian, I’m taking it you slept well?” my mother asked.

When she removed her hand from her mouth so she could articulate, it was in its usual firm line, but her emerald eyes flickered with amusement.

Such unqueenly behavior, I should say, but I valued my life.

“Yes, I did,” I replied as I sat across from my father and next to my mother. The hall walls were painted red like the blood moon, with a dark-brown wood batten wall that met the others halfway. Our dark-brown wood table seated fifty coven members and royals at a time. Joys of Joy . The only time my thick thighs appeared small was in this seat while my feet were planted on the gray-colored floors.

My mother sat at the head of the table because she held a higher rank than my father. Even though they ruled equally, my father was considered a baron. He was the only remaining one after the war between the royal covens and the opposition, which was headed by my father’s remaining family. My father’s position was lower than a royal, but just a tad bit more powerful than a coven witch. Their role in our world was to bridge the gap between the coven and the royals.

Over the centuries, their role dwindled as the coven became more reliant and loyal to the royals. Deeming the baron’s only purpose was to be lucky enough to be a royal’s fated mate. My father was one of the few chosen ones, and he used his position to fit him. Every coven has a reigning royal ruler, be it a queen or a king. Next would be their heirs, whose role is to be their shadows. While learning, overseeing some of the coven’s positions, and waiting for our day to come to sit on the throne. And then we have our right hand and our army, which wasn’t a lot. Sometimes, after his trips, he would sleep and sequester himself to the royal wing for days before he reappeared.

With my arms crossed under my breast, my top lip hitched to one side as I threw my mother a distasteful look, but was unsuccessful as it turned into an outright giggling fest. My mother joined in after a minute while my dad looked on and slowly shook his head. Even though I felt the magic waning, it still wasn’t enough to allow me to be mad at my mother.

“I guess your mother slipped a bit of her magic in with her Mears Magic.” My dad sighed and ran his long hand over his short brown hair. He was sporting a rough morning beard that made him look older than his hundred years.

“How was South America?” I asked, deciding to change the subject.

My dad shifted in his seat, clearing his throat as he fidgeted with the white coffee cup.

“The problem was taken care of before I got there. You know, the cast out witches want to be seen from time to time. I can’t complain because I get to come back to my girls early,” he said.

Another question was on the tip of my tongue, but the clacking of shoes against the concrete floor drew my attention. The sound made the hair on my arms stand up. It was one of the new housekeepers that was drawing her feet into the dining hall. Her red-rimmed brown eyes cast down onto the silver serving tray, or should I say, the shaking serving tray. Her tawny brown skin was flushed. My mother and I glanced at each other for a moment before the Housekeeper placed the silver tray down with a thud that made us flinch. The movement sent some of the fluffy eggs and a strip of bacon onto the silver tray.

I was in her shoes one time.

When I was younger, my mother made Ms. Kincaid teach me etiquette lessons after I knocked Sir Cross, the European coven leader, and his son, Liam Cross, right on their ass.

I placed my hand over the housekeeper’s hand. They were small and rough under mine. She looked so young when she turned to me. Her big brown eyes nearly popped from her sockets.

“It’s okay,” I said, offering her a smile. “What’s your name?”

Her small hand trembled in mine. “I-I’m not to be heard or seen, your Highness.”

“Meh, enough with that highness shit! What’s your name?” I pondered as the heat from my mother and father's gaze scorched me. I knew a stern lecture would follow after the young housekeeper leaves.

Her eyes shifted to my parents before she said, “My name is Clarissa Manet, your Highness.”

“It’s okay, Clarissa. Thank you for bringing my breakfast. Give Chef Dubois my compliment?—”

Before I could finish, Clarissa turned and nearly tripped over herself, trying to run away.

Poor Girl.

My stomach gurgled a little too loudly for my liking, reminding me I hadn’t touched my breakfast. I wasted no time devouring the fluffy eggs, seasoned bacon—thank you, Del—buttered toast, grits with butter, and freshly squeezed orange juice. My parents continued with their talks about coven matters. Supposedly, I should have been paying more attention, but the food and my stomach had other plans for me. If there was one thing I loved more than drawing, it was eating.

After I cleaned my plate, I placed all the glassware onto the silver tray and was about to leave when the white edge of a notebook page peeked out from under the tray. I thought it belonged to Clarissa, so I pulled it out before my mother could see it and excused myself from the table. By that time, all of my mother’s magic had vanished, so I didn’t have to worry anymore. As I made the turn toward the housekeeper’s area, I opened the busy door to the kitchen and saw the housekeeper’s lithe body at the kitchen sink, cleaning the pots from this morning’s meal.

I cleared my throat, and if I had thought she was nervous before, she definitely looked petrified as her tawny skin turned ashen. Clarissa looked like she’d seen death at the door with its bony finger making the come hither sign. The other five kitchen attendants stopped in their tracks as they bowed their heads to acknowledge me. I hated this. The staff feared breaking many rules my parents erected and walked on eggshells throughout the castle. Even holding their head down as they walk through the halls.

“Your High-Highness, what are you doing here? Was the food not to your liking? Did I not make your eggs fluffy enough? I—” cutting off poor Chef Dubois before he had a complete and utter breakdown.

“Chef Dubois, your food is nothing but the best in the south. I just wanted to give something to Clarissa.”

Chef Dubois looked ready to pass out. “Y-Y-Your Highness, whatever Clarissa did, please forgive her! She’s my niece, and I wasn’t hard enough on her during training,” he pleaded.

Clarissa stood by the overflowing sink. Her brown eyes bounced between Chef Dubois and I. Overreacting must be a family trait.

“Clarissa, may I have a word with you?” I questioned while ignoring Chef Dubois as he twitched, and the other kitchen attendants pretended to be busy cleaning the kitchen.

Oh, brother! Can’t I do one good deed today?

Clarissa hadn’t moved one inch from the sink, but I saw fat tears welling up in her eyes, so I took matters into my own hands. My shoes clicked as I walked over to her, dodging some attendants who were too busy trying to eavesdrop. As I grabbed Clarissa’s tiny wrist and dragged her into the Housekeeper’s hall. She dropped to her knees and begged for forgiveness.

“Please forgive me, Your Highness… If you plan to fire me, can I at least have time to gather my things before I leave?”

I exhaled. “I wanted to give you your paper. You forgot it under the tray. That’s it.”

Her head popped up, and she stared at me with her big, brown, watery eyes. “It’s not mine, your highness. I-I did a favor for Merrell. They asked me to slip that note to you. They promised me that I wouldn’t get caught. But I was so nervous because this is treason, and if I’m c-c-caught?—”

I scratched the inside of my wrist, a nasty habit when I’m nervous. Merrell owned the town’s books and art store, affectionately called Merrell’s magical corner. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why they couldn’t have waited until I made my way into town on Friday as usual.

“It’s okay, Clarissa. I won’t tell anyone.”

She all but kissed my shoe as she pulled her petite frame up from the floor and ran back into the kitchen, leaving me just shaking my head. My parents have never created an environment of fear. They just demand respect, and if you cross that boundary, I would hate to be in that person’s shoes. Clarissa made me cringe because I’d always wanted to make friends with the younger housekeepers, but they were always too afraid of me. Pushing back my unruly curls, I read the note from Merrell.

In the black square

Merrell’s letter seemed indecipherable to understand, but the code name of our favorite painting was a beacon. A jolt of happiness bolted through me as I flew through the castle. The infectious smile painted on my round face probably made me look crazy. Bursting through the heavy front doors and stepping onto the wet lawn. I thanked Youna that I threw on the flat Mary Jane shoes. The wet sucking sound of my shoes leaving the wet ground caused me to wince. These were my favorite pair of shoes, and I knew I’d ruined the white fabric. My magic will do overtime to clean them and the little splashes of mud on the bottom of my dress.

“Your Highness, quit running in the yard! It’s wet. You might slip and fall!” The gardener yelled out. If I had to guess by the squeaky voice, it was Raynaud’s father, Raynaud Dando II. Luckily, the coven, or like my parents called them, common witches, typically brew potions, and because of their limited powers, I didn’t have to worry about his power stopping me.

I should have been more discrete, but I didn’t care.

Pain raked my lungs, which threatened to take me out, while the muscles in my thighs contracted, but I was determined to make it to the square before I collapsed. As Tou-sin drew nearer, I started losing momentum with each step. All thanks to my thunder thighs—and my ass as well. My calves screamed with each hard step I took on the small, muddy hill that the castle sat on. I was almost there. The last muscle contract caused me to stop as I reached the back entrance of Tou-sin Square, both hands on my knees, bent over and sucking in air like a madwoman. Sweat dripped from my back down the sides of my breast. This made me realize that I’m not ten years old anymore, and even though I could get away with training with Sir Reid, I could barely make it to the square.

Several minutes went by as I gathered my sweaty body against the orange-brown brick building. With time being of the essence, I pulled myself from the wall, making sure no one was around. Wordlessly, my inner voice echoed the incantation word, SeilqofeiII, transformation, in my mind. In the royal tongue, summoning my magic, which hummed with excitement. The green aura hit the Houston sun, making my usual deep green seem lighter as it whirled around me, enveloping me in its warmth and love. My magic and I are one, and I belong to it as much as it belongs to me. One may exist without the other, but would be an empty shell. Wincing at the slight pinch as my face contorted into someone else made me frown. I hated this part. Sadly, I had to hide because the Golden Army and our house guards patrolled every corner of Tou-sin Square. If they even caught a whiff of me in the square heading toward the Books and Arts store, my parents would know, and I definitely would be punished with my ring for months on end.

When the transformation was done, I used the alleyway to enter the square because it was closer to Merrell’s. Big mistake! I had to turn sideways to squeeze between the two narrow old buildings. Even that was a fight, as I used my hands, which were the color of espresso coffee now, to guide me out of the tight alleyway. The rough texture of the wall was like a grater as it scratched my back and the palms of my hands. It smelled like horse manure and urine. I was halfway through the blasted alleyway when I sucked in my soft stomach, which only slightly helped me as I pushed through. No more bread for me. The light from the sun was close as I gave a last quick tug and slipped out of the deathtrap alley and right into a man who just so happened to be passing by.

“Hey, are you stupid?” His face was in a scowl, and his orange eyes narrowed at me. If he knew I was the princess, he would have begged me for mercy.

“I’m sorry I didn’t?—”

“I don’t care! Watch where you’re going next time,” he scoffed and walked off, leaving me standing there with my jaw on my chest. The nerve of the asshole! My magic flickered and churned as I fought to control my emotions. Kill him! Make an example of him. The dead voice shouted in my head as my balled-up fist dug into my thighs. If I wanted to reach out and strike him down for being rude, I would have to force my magic to choose between what was most important. String the man alive or holding up my transformation spell? I couldn’t force my magic to do two major spells at once.

Don’t let him get away, Kaydian! Let me take over and avenge our name.

I watched as he disappeared down the long road of Tou-sin Square. My jaw clenched as he continued to walk without a care as he bumped into other witches in the crowded square. A part of me let him go because I had better things to do than to get caught by the guards for skinning him alive. And I didn’t want to give the voice the satisfaction. Fucking men! When you found a good one, best believe there were a hundred foolish ones that followed.

I won’t let this ruin my day. A coven member who watched the interaction stopped to see if I was okay, and I smiled while I nodded at her before excusing myself. The square was bustling with witches, young and old. A couple perched on the white stone statue of Youna placed in the center of the square for display. Both of them were rosy colored, as their lips were locked together as they blocked out the crowd. A slight heat singed the tips of my ears. There wasn’t any confusion. They were bonded together, and I felt intrusive as I stood there wishing it was me.

“They’re so adorable,” an elderly coven woman sighed beside me.

A light breeze blew her floral perfume around me. “They are,” was all I could reply as I excused myself.

My family insured the coven members had no need or want to go into Houston. Every store was tucked into a medium size orange-brown building with black pointed roofs that appeared to be endless. Uniformed just like my parents liked it—well, everything except for the windows. That’s where the most colorful decorations were placed to draw in witches and served as a type of resistance to the strict rules.

Tou-sin was scorching hot, as there were none of the mammoth-sized elm trees to shade the square. It was sad because the colorful variety of horses tied up at the hitching post suffered the most. My father would only accept your feet and magic as the modes of transportation. Even though he knew the common witch couldn’t use their magic to travel, so they didn’t have a choice in the matter. It felt like we were ten decades behind the humans. At least they have cars and paved roads! I didn’t know why or how my mother gave my father such free range over making the rules. I continued on the brown dirt road and blended into the crowds.

Merrell’s magical corner store was on the opposite side of the square and near the end, where if you blinked, you’d miss it. It was almost as if my family knew I would have an addiction to the arts, because if I could, I would have the quaint store right next to my bedroom. As I crossed the street to the aging bookstore, my mouth widened, and all of my teeth were on display as the colorful storefront inched closer. Merrell had placed every color known to the goddesses in the window. Merrell had tons of photos of new books and art supply flyers enticing the art fanatics, such as myself, to come in.

If my father was here, he surely would have met Youna quickly.

My heart pounded, and the heat from the sun had nothing to do with the blood that rushed to my face as I placed my hand on the metal doorknob and opened the purple door. Merrell was my spirit twin, an artist with a passion for books. The bell dinged loudly in my ear as I entered and was greeted with the warm citrus scent Merrell loved. The faint, harsh turpentine aroma wafted through the tiny store, which led me to believe Merrell had opened the wooden door in the back to let the fumes out. Soft music filled the quaint store. A soft click came from behind me, making the door chime ring once more. Merrell never kept the door open because it would invite unwelcome guests, such as my father.

“Merrell!” I called out in the shop. There were a couple of ladies in one of the five rows of packed bookshelves that stopped and peered at me with their faces turned up at me for interrupting them. One lady had her blonde hair in a high bun that appeared dry and brittle. Her black dress was almost see-through, like the flappers I’d seen once in Houston. The second lady had a beautiful brown afro of curls that matched her light brown shirt. She paired it with a dark blue skirt that almost touched the ground. The last lady looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her face. She wore a plain white shirt and black trousers. Her white socks could be seen from a mile away.

I rolled my eyes at the witches after they gave me their backs to stare at.

“Hello, how may I help you?” Merrell peeped their head out from the row closest to the back stockroom.

Before they recognized me, I grabbed them and dragged them into the tiny back room. Merrell wanted to protest, but I spoke first.

“Fire and Ice make everything nice,” I said, speaking our secret phrase.

Merrell’s frown softened, and a cheesy smile spread across their face.

“Princess Kaydian, I was about to turn you into a toad,” they joked.

Matching their toothy smile as I hugged them. Merrell was just as tall as me, so we saw eye to eye. Literally, I can see all the yellow flecks in their aquamarine eyes. Today, they had green hair that hugged their shoulders with lots of frizzy curls, a style Merrell loved. Their lips were red, clashing with their green eyeshadow. They had on a yellow dress that had seen better days and no shoes—a common thing for Merrell. I shook my head. Some things never changed, and I was glad Merrell never did. They took off their glasses, which were tethered to a gold chain, and it bounced against their chest. Merrell, like some covens, preferred everyone to use their, theirs, them, themselves, or they to identify them. Everyone respected that even my parents, who made a rule, the only rule I probably agree with, that anyone who disrespected this rule would be sentenced to time in the dungeon or become a part of the cast out witch’s coven in South America.

Okay, maybe I am turning into my mother. The thought made me run my hand down my face.

“I would love to see you try, Merrell,” I teased. “You know Sir Reid would have my ass if he heard I was turned into a toad. He would just say…”

“Bloody child!” we said in unison and chuckled.

Merrell was the closest thing I had to a friend outside of Del. I love them with all of my heart. They opened my mind up to so many avenues within art that I loved, like introducing me to painting.

“Did the canvases come in?” I asked, as my eyes misted.

I’ve wanted these canvases for a while now, but unfortunately, Merrell didn’t have them stocked. They were, however, able to sneak out of the village to retrieve them from Houston.

Merrell just nodded and pulled me into the stockroom. We didn’t get far because the room itself was as big as the dungeon cells underneath the castle, cramped. They came to a halt in front of two canvases made with a primer that would protect them from rotting. An important lesson I learned one day when I went to retrieve one of my old canvases and it crumbled in my hands.

Sadly!

“Oh, Merrell, they’re gorgeous!” I said, even though I knew that was silly since, technically, they appeared to be like all of my other blank canvases.

“I know, right!” Merrell’s light green eyes danced as they stared at the blank canvas. “And they’re all yours. Luckily, this time, you wore your white dress with your magic pockets.”

“Honestly, I forgot about the canvases, but it must have been the goddess Juna who helped me pick this dress,” I said as I thanked Juna, Goddess of Judgment.

The magic pocket is something my fourth great-grandparents had created to bind to your clothing to help protect them from the witch hunters, a group of humans who knew of our existence and hunted us down. The thought was for them to strip out their clothing, hide the clothing, and then wait in their pockets until they thought the coast was clear. Luckily, they destroyed the last of the hunters, and we hadn’t seen or heard from them again.

Humans! For goddess’ sake.

Merrell smiled and said, “Whatever the case, I’m just glad. You have a knack for the arts, and I want to nurture it whenever or however I can…even if that means going head to head with your father.”

Honestly, I think Merrell would drag my father, all seven feet of him, through the muds of the bayou. A haughty smirk found its place on my face. And soon we were laughing. The stitch in my side found its home again as we woofed down the air like we were drowning.

I loved Merrell.

“Merrell, thank you for getting this for me. I truly appreciate it.”

“Wait, I got a little something extra for you.” They produced a small paperback book and handed it to me. The tears welled in my eyes as I read the cover. “I couldn’t have risked going into the big bad human world and not get you this new book.”

“The Transformation of Phillipé,” I read out loud.

“It’s a historical romance novel,” Merrell said, as they wiggled their eyebrows at me.

My arms circled their thin body as I breathed in Merrell’s book mixed with the peppermint scent. I wanted to stay longer and read it with them, but the longer I was gone, the more my parents would become suspicious. Hurriedly, I tried to tuck the two canvases and the book into my magic pocket, sliding the snacks I had long since forgotten about to the side to make room. I made a mental note to stop binging on snacks because that was why my thighs always tried to start a fire when I walked.

“Get on now,” Merrell said, as they shooed me. “I don’t need to see the dragon come down here looking for you…and I’m not talking about the ones in the dragon’s wood.”

Shaking my head as I slipped out of the backroom, I was about to approach the back door. Normally, I would never eavesdrop, but when I passed the row with the gossiping witches, I heard one of them mention my father’s name. This made me pause, so I took cover behind the end of the row closest to the exit.

Curiosity killed the cat, yes, but I wasn’t a cat, and I just wanted to listen for a few seconds.

“Yes, you know the king visited me after he came home from his trip,” the witch with the brittle blonde hair said, as I watched her smile and twirl the strands of loose hair coyly.

The two other ladies gasped and fell into a giggling fit.

“Again, Francesca?” The familiar one mentioned. She had her back to me with her hands on her narrow hip.

“Oh yes, we spent the day together…” she paused. “With me on top of him.”

The acid in my stomach seared my throat. The gall of this common bitch—not a witch, to say this about my father.

“Francesca!” both women whisper shouted, which sent them into another giggling fit.

“That’s so scandalous but not surprising,” the lady with the curly afro said. From my angle, between the small space that separated the shelves, I could see the haughty smirk formed on her nude-colored lips.

“What do you mean, Sophie?” The familiar one asked.

“Well, Amanda. King Thibodeaux has fallen into my bed once or twice before,” Sophie said with a shrug of her wide shoulders.

“Am I the only one who hasn’t fucked the King?” Amanda asked.

How many times will our father dearest embarrass us? He is nothing but a lust-drunk baron.

My dark voice had a point, but I tried my best to block it. The other two witches nodded.

Amanda snorted, but I couldn’t see her face. “What would the great Queen Thibodeaux say if she found out?”

“Well, we were just doing our rightful duties and servicing our king. It’s our duty to make sure all of his needs are met,” the swamp blonde said. I wanted to wipe the ugly smile off her face.

These women were committing treason out in public…right in front of me. My blood boiled as they continued to heckle about my father. The stinging sensation from the rounded edges of my nails stinking into my palms didn’t help one bit as I grappled with losing control of my magic. Let’s slice their throat open, then they won’t be able to speak on dear old father again. My rational brain went as I muttered, “My father wouldn’t lie down with these whores.” My father wouldn’t do that…

“It’s not like we hadn’t heard the rumors, Amanda. Our king loves to dip his bejeweled staff into any and everything. Mermaids, the Fae…” Sophie said with a wave of her small brown hand.

“You think it’s true?” Amanda asked. Curiosity blossomed in her deep voice.

“Why do you think the king and the Golden Army went around America basically eradicating all the other supernaturals?” Sophie tapped her brown sandals on the wooden floor.

“He wouldn’t roam if he had it good at the castle, would he?” Francesca wondered. “Maybe if we told her the truth, she would get her head out of her ass and leave. I could take over as queen.”

Amanda snickered. “What about our dear princess?”

“Well, everyone knows she’s a flight risk, or should I say a psycho risk,” Sophie said as she threw back her head and laughed. “How long do you think it will be before the curse sets in? She’ll be a looney case soon. It’s sad really. She’s twenty-five and still hasn't found her mate. Alone and abandoned by Youna…I couldn’t imagine being the descendant of the goddess of fertility and can’t even find a mate to procreate with. What a waste of the goddess genes.”

I wasn’t usually a weak woman, but the bitter words made tears spring out of my eyes. My actions were not driven by foolishness. Well, not always. I knew the coven gossiped about me not finding my fated mate and the ticking time bomb of my downfall, but hearing it out loud in public made something tick inside of me.

“I give it another year. She’ll be done for, and then I can comfort King Thibodeaux with my pussy on his beard—” the blonde bitch Francesca said, but I’ve heard enough.

Magic fed off of your emotions. If you weren’t careful with it, you could burn down the earth with it, and at this very moment, I was beyond being careful. Let’s play with them, Kaydian. The voice echoed in my head. My magic, no better than the dark voice, wanted to watch as the three witches’ skin turned to charcoal as they beg for mercy on their knees with their skin falling off the bone. Let’s lace their blood with their tears and watch how they beg us, the mateless psycho, for their lives. With my eyes closed, I prayed to Youna. My insides shook as much as the witches did when they laughed. Then, we can draw what was left of the pathetic excuse of witches out to the square and mount them on the statue of Youna as an early sacrifice.

No, No, No! I felt myself slipping into the dark part of my mind, and I would definitely kill everyone in the store. Even the group of kids I heard in the background chuckled as they spoke. My hands found the edge of the bookshelf as I felt my magic slip away, bringing my true identity back to the forefront. A loud bang followed by more bangs filled the store as the books fell one by one from the tremors that ran through me. The disturbance caused the three gossiping bitches to stop, and Merrell stuck their head out to see what the problem was.

“Princess Kaydian, Your Highness!” Merrell called out.

“One…Two... Three…Don’t mess me up today!” I bellowed at the voice in my head.

Time stopped as I stood in the tiny shop, but when I looked up, Merrell was saying a chant to help soothe me while the three gawking bitches stood there watching. Their brown and blue eyes bulged from their ugly faces. My hands ached from how tightly I had gripped the shelves. When I locked the darkness in the corner, I unwrapped my hands from the shelves as I pulled away and waited in silence.

Would the Golden Army come and haul me back to the castle? A minute or two passed before I decided I was in the clear, and my racing heart finally calmed down. They would have been here the moment my magic rippled in the air if that were the case.

“Princess Kaydian, are you okay?” Merrell asked. Their voice was barely above a whisper.

“I’m fine, Merrell. Thank you so much.” I said while I touched the back of their hand, which rested on my shoulder.

I gave them a tight smile, which they knew was fake. I’m glad I didn't slip into a total meltdown. That was the main thing. Turning my attention to the three nosy witches.

“Francesca, Sophie, and Amanda,” I said. My voice shook on the last note, but I cleared my throat and straightened my back. “You were in public speaking about my father, who you know shit about. If the rumors were true, I would chalk it up to my father being senile to lie with y’all.”

My formal teaching slipped just for a moment as I fought to find the right words.

“My father would never look twice at you hapless hags. You’re jealous.” Pausing, I looked at the three wide-eyed fools. With a smirk on my face, I continued, “If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought how three pathetic humans had found their way into Tou-sin.”

Francesca’s trembling teeth played in tune with the music in the room as she looked poised to sprint out the door. If I were a betting royal, I would say she would have left her friends for dead. The young kids and teens had gathered at the end of the bookshelves.

“You- you’re right, my Highness. We were just gossiping and lying…” She licked her thin, chapped lips as she stumbled over her words. “Forgive us, we’re just bored?—”

“Bored peasants, you meant,” I corrected her.

“Yes, yes, your Highness.” Amanda’s shrill voice made me want to silence her forever. “We’re just bored peasants… nothing we said was true. Please?—”

“Thank you for agreeing with me, Amanda. It seems only you have enough sense between you and your daft friends.” I turned my attention to the other witches. “How about this? I will allow Sophie to plead your case.”

A glance between the three pairs of shaking limbs as uncertainty and a small slice of hope filled their closed-off circle. Sophie’s once tan skin had turned gray, like the books on the floor behind her. Her once curly afro now laid flat on her sweat- drenched skin. She tried to take a step back, hiding from my view, but Amanda and Francesca pushed her to the forefront.

“I—Your Highness. We…um…yes, we deserve a second chance because,” she paused, rubbing her hands together quickly. I thought she would start a fire in Merrell’s store. “We mean no harm. We will go back to our jobs and keep our heads down. And never speak again about today or your Majesties.”

Miss Sophie wasn’t as confident and brave as she was when she had the nerve to speak on my father’s name.

“Thank you, Sophie. I know you defend yourself and your friends to your mental capability. Loyalty to Thibodeaux means more than any friendship or pathetic apology. Don’t worry your ditsy little head. When you and your little friends are wasting away in the dungeons, then you’ll have enough time to gossip about my father.”

Amanda's and Sophie’s loud sobs made the children snicker as their alligator tears, mixed with snot, dipped down their faces. They were all talk, no action as they clung onto one another.

“Your Highness, may you take pity on them? They may be foolish, but—” The doorbell chimed and interrupted Merrell.

My glare was lasered on the three flighty bitches until I heard the heavy, deep baritone voice of Sir Reid.

“What’s the meaning of this?” The deep timber of his voice bounced off the walls.

His tone broke the silence that fell over me. I had to turn this around in my favor.

“Sir Reid, take these three witches into the dungeon, separate cells.” A wicked smile crossed my face. “They will be held for treason.”

“M-My Highness, please—” Sophie stumbled.

I held my hand up to stop her blundering. Poor Merrell stood to the side. Their eyes bounced back and forth between us.

“Are you sure, Princess Kaydian?” Sir Reid asked low enough that only I could hear.

When I turned to him, his inky black eyes were already focused on me. As much as I complained about Sir Reid, I knew he had my back—well, unless it was something that would make my parents send me to the underworld. His armor covered his scared back, which held our family’s promised gem, the emerald. I stared at the Marquise-shaped emerald and wondered if I was overreacting. Probably, but I was too far gone.

“Yes, throw them in the back of the dungeons for now,” I said with a nod.

“As you wish, your Highness,” he said, bowing slightly.

Sir Reid snapped his fingers. The ends of my hair fluttering against me were the only indication he listened. Sir Reid, like the others in his family, was gifted a more powerful magic than the coven members after they took an oath to Youna to protect and serve her descendants until our line dies—which, by the look of things, it may stop with me.

Two of the Golden Army men marched into the tiny store, shaking the shelves more than my magic had done. Their golden armor was out of place in the tiny shop. Our family crest, a Norman-shaped symbol with a picture of Youna and her emerald eyes as she’s surrounded in a green halo, is stamped into the chest of the breastplate as a shining honor. The only signs you can tell there was a witch in the suit were their gold-rimmed eyes that glowed in the darkness of their helmets.

“Take them to the back of the dungeons,” Sir Reid ordered, while nodding at the two soldiers.

“Please, your High—” Amanda pleaded.

“Only the graciousness of Queen Thibodeaux can save you now,” Sir Reid said, silencing the three pathetic grinches as they cried out of the tiny store. With just Merrell, Sir Reid, and me in the tiny store, the weight of the day wore me down. I hugged Merrell and apologized. They were shaken, but they understood I had to make an example of them.

As we left the tiny store, my shoulders finally relaxed. Sir Reid walked ahead of me, and I couldn’t help but become suspicious of him not complaining about my actions, but I kept my big mouth shut as I stared at the gleaming emeralds that lined the back of his armor. If only the coven knew that those pretty gems were painted to hide that one thing that was associated with our family was the same thing that could drain us of our powers. I could still remember the time my mother and I stayed in her office painting some of the new diamonds for the guards.

Just another secret to keep.

It wasn’t until we were almost to the guard door that my silent, menacing companion turned around, placing his hand on my shoulder and steadying me before I tripped backward. Even though I was five ten, he still towered over me. The muscles in my neck ached as I craned to look at him.

“Before we go in, you should hand me the book and canvases in your pocket.”

I had one shot to play it cool. Relaxing my face and putting on my best smile.

“I do not know what you’re talking about?”

With an eyebrow arched, I waited for his reply. To tell you the truth, between the scorching sun on my back and the blazing stare from Sir Reid, I didn’t know what made my heart pound faster. I couldn’t phantom the thought of enduring the three brittle witch’s situation just to lose my gifts.

Where is the justice in that?

“We can play dumb, or we can stop wasting each of our time, your Highness.” He folded his enormous arms. “Either way, your mother will find them and take them away.”

“Please, Sir Reid…” I begged, and I’m not above it. Especially for my art equipment. I got on my knees, my white dress be damned, “I’ve had a bad day, and this will make up for everything.”

Sir Reid’s blank face stared down at me as I groveled on the floor. In the back of my mind, I knew this would lead nowhere, but I was determined. The gardeners and the guards at the door stared at me as if I undressed and went running through the front lawn…maybe I was going mad, like those witches said.

“Your mother knew you went to Merrell’s store. If you were paying attention, you would have seen the magic shield she had put up. You were too busy with your head in the sky! And I had to come fetch you as if you were some petulant child.”

My shoulders slumped as I dragged my hand down my face. Of course, I hadn’t seen the shield. My mother had way too many tricks up her sleeves for me to count. Biting my lip, I fought the urge to lash out in defiance. What good would that ever do? My frown deepened at the thought. If I ever get the chance to have children of my own, they won’t have to conform to their parents’ rigid ways, because I would change every prehistoric rule in the coven. Reluctantly, I stood up and reached into my magic pocket to take out the canvases. Sir Reid’s hand shot out to capture my prized possessions. He rolled those black abyss eyes and proceeded into the castle.

At least he hadn’t taken the book as I stifled my silent winning victory over the brute.

When we walked through the door, my mother and father stood, perched at the door. My mother’s beautiful large lips were serried together. My father tsked his disappointment—the irony.

“I know, I know…” I mumbled as I tried to walk past them.

“Kaydian Thibodeaux!” my mom said as I cursed in my head.

Slowly, I turned around to see her waiting outstretched hand. The tiny hope I had all but disappeared as I knew what she wanted, the book.

Youna!

I’d taken my poor goddess’s name in vain way too many times, I thought. Digging into my pocket and placing the book in her hand, I groaned. This was worse than being sliced by Sir Reid’s knife.

My mother turned the book over in her hand and read the title, “The Transformation of Philipé …he’s attracted the attention of a dashing new suitor…”

“We should have gotten rid of that store and Merrell.” My father’s deep voice washed over me like a cold sweat.

Wiping the mist off of my top lip, “Father, now that’s a bit extreme. Merrell’s store is not only beneficial to me, but also to the young witches in town.”

My father and my mother stared at me as if I had lost my mind, which I couldn’t fault them for. It was my careless neglect that caused me to be in this mess.

There, in the middle of our foyer, I wished I could die. The mist of sweat broke out on my forehead. I couldn’t even drag myself to look at my parents or Sir Reid. As if it were second nature, I turned and ran up the steps to my safe haven. Away from the embarrassment, the gossiping witches, and losing the only thing I was looking forward to getting my hands on for weeks.