1. Chapter 1

" W e're live on the steps of the palace, awaiting the announcement we've been promised. Many have rumored what Her Majesty will say, but they remain rumors until we hear from the queen herself. Oh, Queen Adira is now approaching the podium with Prince Malachi following behind." The reporter spoke in a hushed tone as the camera swung away from her to focus on the podium centered in front of the large gold-accented doors.

"Turn it off, Jules," I called out from across the pub before taking another swig of ale.

The pub was mostly empty. Everyone had hurried home to watch the queen's address for whatever big news she was supposed to share. There were a couple of people passed out drunk in the corner, a madam looking for customers, Jules, the pub's owner, and me.

I was currently trying to hide from the news that seemed to move through the town like the plague. Everywhere I went, folks were all atwitter about the queen. I'd been hoping to drown out the name in alcohol, but hearing the TV blaring in the one place I thought I would be safe had my eye twitching and my glass emptying faster than I intended.

"Sorry, my friend, but I really want to hear this. If you don't, I suggest you settle your tab and head home."

"Fine!" I threw some money on the table and stumbled off the stool. Perhaps I'd had enough anyway.

"Let me call you a ride, at least," Jules offered.

I waved him off. "No, thanks. I'd rather walk."

The cool night air would do me some good, and chances were the announcement would be playing on the radio of whatever vehicle I would ride in. I knew the path from the pub to my cottage well enough that I didn't bother with directions on my phone. I spent a lot of time there, though not usually getting as plastered as I currently was. The pub served as a place to feel connected, even if on a shallow level.

I didn't go into the main part of town if I could help it, and the pub was as far away from the Purlieu I ventured. Most of the people I interacted with came to me, but it was never for a friendly visit, always because they needed something. I didn't mind helping. I liked it, generally, but folks were leery of me. As much as they were grateful for my services, it never went beyond transactional encounters.

It wasn't just the people in the town I avoided. It was the billboards and LED screens and guards and the projection of perfection. The royal family were everywhere and you couldn't miss them. Each image of the queen or the prince felt like a dagger in my chest. It was surreal to feel so far apart from the very people I used to consider my family. Twenty years had passed and I hadn't heard a word from either of them since I left the palace. Or anyone, for that matter. There one day, gone the next.

I was only a kid when I had to figure out what to do or where to go. At thirteen, I'd lost my home, my best mate, the only family I'd known, all while trying to understand what was happening to me. Losing Mal had been the hardest of it all.

We had been raised together, maybe not as equals, but we'd had a tight bond, together as much as his position allowed. He never cared that I was below his station . With no other kids around, it was just us, playing through the palace and being boys. He would even sneak me into his room at night, and we would share his bed, with me slipping out before his steward would come in to prepare him for his lessons.

There were nights I would still wake up and feel for him, even all this time later, only to feel the crushing disappointment as reality set in. Mal wasn't there. He never was. When the former king had kicked me out, I held onto the hope that he would find me. That Mal would show up and save me from the streets I found myself on. He didn't. I knew it wasn't his fault, but knowing that didn't make it hurt any less.

My humble cottage came into sight, sitting at the edge of the forest, just beyond the reach of the city lights. I looked up at the stars, finally able to see them without the pollution of the LEDs that filled the city. With the wide expanse of sky above me, I breathed deeply, letting the cool air settle in my lungs and wash through me.

Settling in the Purlieu, the region that was set at the edge of the forest, hadn't been my choice, but now I found it soothing. The rustle of leaves from the trees, the clean air, the quiet away from the bustling noise of the over-populated capitol, it was serene and refreshing. More than that, really. I'd discovered that my magic recharged when I was closer to nature.

The fact that it added to the mystery and intrigue for my customers didn't hurt either, and the isolation served me fine. Most of the time. When loneliness crept in, I would go to the pub if simply to watch others interact and feel somewhat connected to society again.

My doorknob turned before I reached it, though the door stuttered slightly before opening. Maybe I'd had more to drink than I thought. I bounced against the door frame as I made my way into my house, which doubled as my shop.

The front room was for show. I had a long wooden bar with stools in front of a wall of cabinets. Under the bar, I had a variety of glass jars and vials, mixing bowls, and a pestle and mortar to grind up ingredients. The glass cabinets were full of herbs, dried flowers, mushrooms, oils, and other natural items, all non-toxic. No newt's eye for me, I refused to use animal parts. I was a humane witch. Not that I needed the ingredients anyway, but my customers didn't know that. They were all placebos.

Bypassing the front room, I went to the small bedroom that was hidden behind a curtain. I could have put a door in, but the curtain added mystique, and sometimes I would make more of a show out of stepping into my back room to add a secret ingredient, as if I were afraid of revealing my secrets. People loved mystery, it made the placebo even stronger, and was sure to do the job. Belief was a powerful tool, one nearly as strong as the magic that hummed within me.

The sleepless night before, dreading today's announcement, and the alcohol swimming through my body made me feel fuzzy. I collapsed onto my bed, not bothering to remove my heeled boots or my long velvety cloak. The clothes I wore added another layer to the full package. If people wanted a witch, they didn't want to come to someone who wore clothes you could buy at the big box stores. They wanted a person who looked like the legends of old. Which was fine by me, I was happy to play the part. Besides, I liked my velvet. It felt amazing on my skin, and I looked good in it. Thankfully, sleep overtook me easily, the buzz from the alcohol quieting the noise in my head.

When I woke the next morning, my head was pounding and the light streaming through the curtains made me wince. Unfortunately, the magic inside of me couldn't be turned inward, only outward. It was probably good that I couldn't use it for myself, who knew what kind of trouble an angry teen could have gotten himself into. Of course, this meant I would have to suffer through the hangover all on my own. I didn't mind though, because if I was focused on the ache, then it would keep my mind off the cause of it.

I slumped around, forcing myself to take a cold shower to try to shake myself free from the fog I was in. After brushing my long auburn hair, I braided the front strands into a crown on my head and the rest hung in loose waves. I love the feel of my long hair brushing against my shoulders, but the braid allowed it to stay out of my face. And I fully embraced the otherness folks sought out when they came to me.

I pulled on a dark purple velvet long-sleeved shirt and topped it with a black corset that laced in the front, over black faux leather leggings. I would have stayed in bed and sulked, except I had an appointment this morning. Today was a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of day. I looked in the mirror, ignoring my wince at the bright light, but overall satisfied with my appearance. For extra measure, I stuck a peacock feather into the braid, loving the pop of color against my reddish-brown hair.

In my small kitchen, I made some dark coffee and stirred some sugar into it. Even magic required a little caffeine boost, especially when fighting last night's bad decisions. I felt a shift in the air, and awareness shivered through my body as I sensed someone approaching. That was one of the benefits of being out here, too. The busyness and sounds of the city overwhelmed my senses and made it harder to key into the heightened instincts beneath the surface of my skin.

I chugged the coffee, before straightening my shoulders and fixing a smile on my face. Mystery and intrigue was one thing, scary and grumpy was another. I wanted people to feel safe enough to visit me. And truthfully, I craved the small moments of interaction.

A tentative knock sounded on my door. I walked across the small space, and inhaled deeply before opening the door.

"Welcome to Florian's Ferns & Flora Apothecary. Please come in." I bowed and held my arm open, inviting them in. It was all about the flare, creating an environment that helped the customers get into the mindset, ready to believe that I could help them. If there was doubt, it would be harder for the magic to work.

The young man, maybe around twenty, who'd called me to make the appointment took a cautious step into my home. His eyes glanced around, taking in all of the decor and artifacts, before landing on me, returning my welcoming smile with a slight one of his own.

"Hi, I'm James. Um, thank you for meeting with me. I'm at a loss, and I heard that you were able to do things that others couldn't."

"Sure, have a seat, and tell me what you're looking for." I led him to the wooden stools in front of the bar. Once he sat down, his eyes darting around once more, I walked around the bar to stand in front of him. His gaze returned to me, scanning over me, and lingering on the feather in my hair. I could see him relax, likely happy to see that there weren't any carcasses or snakes creeping around. Humane, mystical, and friendly, that was how I tried to do things.

"Well, you see the thing is…I have this condition, and the doctors won't help me. They say it's cosmetic. Which…yeah, but it also makes me feel really self-conscious, and it makes it hard to be, um, well, intimate."

I offered him a gentle smile, ignoring the twinge of pain in my head. "I understand, and I'm sorry that you haven't been able to get the help you needed. How about you let me see what it is we're dealing with, so I can figure out the best treatment for you?"

His cheeks pinked and his eyes turned downward. "It's kind of awkward."

I patted his hand to reassure him, he stiffened but didn't pull away. "This is a judgment-free space, alright? You came here for my help, but that help is limited unless I know what is needed."

He gave a subtle nod before standing up. His fingers went to the zipper of his pants, but he froze, eyes darting to the front door.

"It's safe, James. I don't have anyone else scheduled, but I would know if anyone were to approach."

He blew out a heavy breath. "Okay."

While he unzipped his pants, I came around the bar and sat on the stool beside him. His cheeks flamed red, when he lowered his pants, revealing his briefs beneath.

At the edge of the underwear on his inner thigh was a dark area on his skin. I thought it was a mole at first until I noticed a pattern.

"Is it okay if I get a closer look?"

James mumbled "yes" and looked up at the ceiling while I knelt before him, clearly uncomfortable with the entire situation. I looked at the spot and saw…scales.

"Hmm." I stood up again and put some distance between us to allow him to recover from the embarrassment. "You can fix your clothes."

"Do you know what it is? Can you help me?" Desperation mixed with his discomfort as he asked.

I'd seen something similar. It was very rare, but it could become permanent or possibly grow. "Have you been in the Eastern woods?"

His eyes grew wide. "I have! My…friend and I went exploring."

I simply nodded and began collecting jars from the glass cabinet. "The good news is I can help. But my suggestion would be to stay away from the bluish-brown toadstools near the stream."

They typically clung to trees, but anything with a source of water would do, and humans contained a lot of water. As far as I knew there were no harmful side effects besides the cosmetic appearance, and clearly the medicine practitioners didn't know what to do with it. It sunk its roots deep into the skin, spreading like the long roots of giant trees, making removal nearly impossible. The only way to get it to leave was to ask it.

He watched me with pure fascination as I mixed several herbs and flowers into a potpourri. It didn't do anything but smell nice. From beneath the bar, I grabbed a vegan leather pouch and a length of cord, and poured the potpourri into it.

As I stirred, I closed my eyes and reached out with my magic. Invisible tendrils stretched between us and I willed them to the fungal growth. I focused hard and sent images of tall, healthy trees that would provide endless sustenance for the toadstool. I could feel the belief growing within James and that fueled the intent I sent, telling the toadstool that it would find a better home somewhere else. When I felt a little give from it, I knew my magic had reached it. I thanked the toadstool, as it was simply trying to survive.

When I opened my eyes, I offered him a smile. "Wear this around your neck for a week, and sleep with your legs exposed and it should go away. If it doesn't, come back and see me."

The young man's eyes shone with hope. He took the pouch from me and hurriedly fastened it around his neck. Shaking my hand rapidly, he said, "Thank you ever so much! I can't tell you what this means to me. I've been with someone for a while and we've been, um…wanting to take things further, but I was too afraid of what she would think if she saw it."

"Give it a little time and keep that pouch. But in the meantime, there are plenty of other fun ways to enjoy each other." I gave him a wink.

His cheeks flushed bright pink again. "Um, right, well, thanks again."

James paid me and left clutching the pouch to his chest. People liked something tangible, things they could touch or see, or have actual steps to take. They trusted that a lot more than what they couldn't see. Especially now with how far technology had advanced, magic was this mysterious thing of the past that didn't feel real to most. But home remedies, potions, balms, teas-these were things that made sense in the modern world.

I wiped down the bar and put the jars away. With no other clients planned for the day, I decided to work on inventorying my supplies. Most of the flowers and herbs I collected nearby, though I went deeper into the woods than most, so I could find more exotic-looking ingredients.

When I was working through my second cabinet, I felt a strange stirring within me. Someone was near, but it wasn't the usual sensation I felt. There was a tug deep in my heart, practically knocking the wind out of me.

The light knock on the door pounded in my chest like a marching band. I was frozen in place, unable to step toward the door to greet whoever was there.

"Yes?" I squeaked out. Forcing a cough to clear my throat, I tried again, louder. "Yes? Who is it?"

A deep, muffled voice sounded through the door. "I'd rather not say, but I need your help."

Reaching out, I tested the intention of the man at the door. I didn't sense any ill will, but I felt uncertainty, wariness, fear, and something strangely familiar that paralyzed me.

"Come in!" I shouted, with my hands braced on the bar for support. I tried to force a smile past the headache and the unsteadiness I felt.

The door opened carefully and a tall figure stepped through the door, face concealed by the hood of his coat. My heart raced in my aching chest. After the door closed, he pushed the hood off his face, and I felt all the oxygen leave my body, and with it a name I hadn't said in twenty years. "Mal?"