Chapter 23

23

Ella

Cara hurried over as soon as I returned to the women's residence. "I'm so glad you're okay!" She started to embrace me but hesitated. "You are okay, aren't you? From the rumors, everyone thought you had the plague."

I looked around, then pitched my voice low. "I made myself sick so I could get into the infirmary and see my sister."

Her eyes rounded. "You cunning wench! Did it work?"

I gave her a few of the details. I was tempted to tell her everything—about the prince, the magic, and the old woman in the woods—but I didn't dare. That kind of information could get her killed, and she had become too good of a friend to put in harm's way.

She was really all I had in here.

As soon as I had a moment alone, I scratched out a note to my stepmother on a scrap of parchment from the kitchens. I didn't want to implicate Belle by mentioning her name or condition, just in case it was intercepted, so I settled on six words: Found her. She's okay. Investigating leads.

I didn't mention magic or imprisoned mages. For one, that kind of information would probably instigate a castle-wide investigation if the bird were caught and wind up as a death warrant for anyone who was even a suspect. Second, I needed to verify the information. My stepmother might brush it off as nonsense, but she hadn't seen Belle's face. She believed .

That meant I did, too. If I found the old woman in the woods, I'd understand more.

After sending the bird off with my message, I went about my duties, hoping for an opportunity to sneak away. Apart from our first day on the job, first-year staff weren't generally allowed out of the castle. Perhaps I could slip out during my shift in the stables, but there was no way on earth I was venturing into the woods at night.

Luckily, Bianca's ruined shoes and dress provided me with the perfect excuse to leave.

"There's a woman in town who can get the stains and smell out of anything," I calmly explained to the fuming Bianca later that night. "I can take them to her, but I'd need to leave the castle during the day."

I kept my face placid, but my insides were churning. Would she buy the ruse?

Bianca glared at me from ten paces away, still too afraid to come anywhere near me and my virulent disease. It was the only thing protecting me from the beating of my life. "I don't care if you have to take it to the devil himself . Just fix it, or I will turn your backside into my next pair of heels."

Armed with an official pass from Her Ladyship, the Mistress of Ceremonies , I headed out the next morning at dawn and dropped off the clothes. Fortunately, I hadn't been lying about the washerwoman. I was tempted to head back home and speak with my stepmother, but our manor was on the far side of town. I'd lose hours, and there was no telling how long it would take to find the old woman's cottage. Plus, I didn't know anything concrete yet about the magic or imprisoned mages—nothing my stepmother would believe, at least.

Getting an explanation from the old woman in the woods was the priority.

The red cobblestone trail Belle had described was a well-known forest access. I followed it until I heard the sound of a waterfall. After searching about, I found a heavily worn game trail and took the right branch. That was where my luck began to run out. After an hour of tromping along the thinning trail, I'd found no sign of a particularly tall anything . Just trees and more trees.

My best option would be to head up to the ridgeline, but that would take hours, and I didn't dare linger in the woods past dusk. I'd grown up with rumors of monsters stalking the forest at night, and they were scary enough that I would heed them. Not to mention that if the sisters discovered me missing come nightfall, there would be hell to pay.

My shoulders slumped. I'd have to give up soon and find a way to try again another day. I scanned the forest around me, hoping an old woman would just pop out of the brush. The only signs of life were a few redstarts, flitting from branch to branch. I eyed the birds. We weren't in the castle anymore, but…

I stepped closer. "Hello. Can you understand me?"

It felt absolutely insane to ask, but I lived in a castle full of insane people, and it was probably rubbing off. I was willing to cut myself a little slack.

None of the birds responded outright, but a little male flitted down to a closer branch and bobbed at me as if to say hello. He was a beautiful bird, with a big bittersweet red breast, black throat, and gray cap.

I narrowed my eyes. I hadn't heard his voice in my head like with the horses, but I was almost certain he could understand.

I took a step closer to his new perch, but he didn't fly away. "Hey, there, handsome. I'm looking for a house out here in the forest. An old woman lives there. Have you seen it?"

He bobbed again and then warbled at me before flitting to a branch a little further away.

"I should follow you?"

The bright redstart gave a soft melodic trill, then flew further on.

Could it be possible? I would have thought myself mad for even trying to follow the bird, but after what the other birds had done for me in the stables, I wasn't above it.

I followed, fighting through the thick brush. Once I drew near, the little redstart flew another thirty feet forward and warbled to encourage me on. Step by step, he led me further into the woods. We found another trail, and he began moving faster along it. Confidence growing, I hurried to keep up. Eventually, the trees thinned, revealing a sunlit clearing—and in the middle of it, a ramshackle cottage.

There was no doubt about it now. The forest around the castle was filled with magical creatures—ones that were happy to help. A smile broke across my lips. The magic wasn't trapped, like I'd imagined, but rather all around me.

I grinned in delight at the bright redstart. "Thanks for your help, little guy."

He dipped his head, then with a flutter of wings, disappeared into the trees.

I approached the edge of the clearing cautiously. The cottage seemed like it had been cobbled together by a handful of different builders, all with their own contrary opinions about how a cottage should look. Part stone and part woodwork, it had a second floor much larger than the first—so much so that it seemed like it was ready to pour off the top of the house. A large porch wrapped around two sides of the building, and three chimneys poked out of the slate roof, though only one was going. The smoke carried scents of herbs and animal fat. Apparently, whoever lived here had an early start on dinner.

I approached the cottage, leaving the edge of the clearing, which was populated with shrubs and wildflowers, and entering the eclectic garden that surrounded the house. Patches of gaudy flowers tangled with rambling blackberry vines and the green tufts of root vegetables.

The deafening crack of a musket split the easy silence. I dropped to the ground as the little redstart burst into the air and flew off over the top of the clearing.

"Who's there?" a woman shouted, followed by the slamming of a door. "Show yourself if you mean no harm!"

What in the Fates…? Had she been shooting at me ?

Heart hammering against my ribs, I slowly raised one hand. "Please, don't shoot! I mean no harm."

"I'll be the judge of that," the craggy voice said. "Stand up!"

Could this really be the helpful old woman my sister had told me about?

I slowly stood. "Are you Siggy? Belle sent me."

The old woman stood on the porch, musket raised and pointed—rather unsteadily—at me. Her hair was streaked with black, white, and gray, and she wore a patch over one eye. "Aye, I'm Siggy. How do you know Belle?"

"She's my sister. We've got the same eyes, if you want proof."

"I can't see that from here, but I doubt anyone else would be as foolhardy as that girl to go wandering about in these woods," Siggy grumbled as she descended the porch stairs and stalked closer.

The barrel of the gun danced back and forth unsteadily, and I prayed she had a light trigger finger.

The old woman paused ten feet away from me and lowered the gun. "Well, the eyes match, if not the hair. Where's your sister, then?"

I lowered my hands as well. "She's got a broken leg, and she's locked up in the castle infirmary."

"That's a stroke of bad luck." Siggy's face fell. "Why on earth did she send you this far out alone? How did you even find your way?"

There was whiskey on her breath, but her good eye looked at me with an intensity that threatened to burn the hair off my skin. I certainly wasn't going to say I followed a bird.

"Belle said you could help. I have questions about magic and the castle."

"Well, you came this far. You'd better come in." The old woman slung the musket over her shoulder and headed back to the cottage.

The stairs creaked as I followed her onto the porch and inside. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating a messy kitchen that adjoined an open sitting room. Every available surface was covered with bits and bobs and old bottles. Dozens of bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling and filled the space with a pungent scent.

"You've strayed a long way from the village." She leaned the musket precariously in a corner. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Yes, please," I said, folding my hands and looking around. There was a pot simmering on the hearth, the source of the aroma I'd picked up outside.

"It's Ella, isn't it?"

"Yes." I didn't know if I should be relieved or worried that she knew my name.

"I'm afraid I don't have visitors often—which is how I like it." She gave me a stern glance to set my expectations about the depth and breadth of her hospitality, then grabbed a kettle and headed for the hearth.

"How do you know my sister?" I asked.

"I met her gathering medicine in the wood many years ago." The hesitation in her voice told me it wasn't the whole truth. "What happened to her?"

"Hunting accident. She was brought back to the castle by one of the lords, but she refused to drink his blood."

"Terrible pity. That will be a long recovery." She removed the simmering soup and replaced it with the kettle, then looked up at me. "Do you live in the castle?"

"I just started working there after Belle went missing. I applied because I wanted to find her."

"Ah." Her tone was unreadable. "And how do you find it?"

It was my turn to hesitate. How open could I be with her? "It's a horrible place. Unbelievable wealth clutched in the hands of some very bitter people."

Apparently, very open.

She turned and began fidgeting with some things on the counter. "Once you have wealth and power, it consumes you. That's why I like to lead a simple life and not get too caught up in material things."

I raised my brows. There were possibly more material things crammed into this one room than we had in our entire manor—stacks of mugs, bins of bird feathers, a pile of candle stubs, more books than I'd ever seen, and a very fat, very surprised looking stuffed owl in the corner. I turned my back on the mangy bird with a shudder and watched the old woman work. She was grinding quite a lot of things with a pestle, and I became increasingly nervous about the nature of the tea she'd offered.

She caught me looking but just kept on with her work, smashing up some kind of flower bulb. "You said you wanted to know something about magic. What?"

I bit my lip. If Belle trusted her, I was certain I could, too—but I wasn't sure where to start. I wanted to know everything.

"Until I arrived at the castle, I didn't believe magic was real. And, well, it was rather a shock. Floating lights. Talking animals. Even hot running water, if you can believe it."

"You were willing to accept that your land is ruled by immortals but didn't believe in magic?" She chuckled as she bustled about.

It wasn't as easy as that. They'd been around forever, and just because we'd never seen one die of old age didn't mean they couldn't.

"My stepmother always told me that there was no magic left in the world and not to hold my breath for miracles," I said, realization making my heart sink. She would've known what Belle knew—that the rumors of magic in the castle were real. It was another lie to keep me safe.

"What an unfortunate thing to tell a child." The woman's eyes twinkled. "I would hate to live in a world without miracles."

She waved her hand, and the kettle rose up off its hook and wobbled through the air toward us. She held out two cups in front of it, and the kettle carefully filled them with steaming water.

My eyes rounded. I would never get used to this.

The kettle returned itself to a spot on the counter as the old woman handed me a cup of tea. "Don't stand there with your jaw flapping in the wind. Have a seat."