Savage Beauty(8)

The witch. The witch of the dark forest.

This is insane.

I raked my hands through my hair, pulling at the roots and releasing it.

How is this possible? Witches aren’t real.

Rolfe was scared out of his mind when he neared the border. He mentioned this woman, saying she’d boil our skin away or something equally disturbing. But this woman, this young woman, was beautiful. I eased closer and stood on my toes to get a better look at her.

Her ears were pointed at the tops, her skin was pale, and her lips were full, the color of ripe plums. There were two scars slashing through her right eyebrow, but even with them, she was beautiful. They had healed into delicate lines, curving to resemble crescents.

“Miss?” I said, trying not to frighten her.

I tried to nudge her shoulder and called out to her in a loud voice, but she never answered and she never woke. The only sign that she was alive at all was the shallow rising and falling of her chest.



For six days and nights, she hovered over her bed fast asleep. I tried to wake her every way I knew how. First I tried to nudge her shoulder, and then I even gently tugged at her silken hair. I stomped around the room, through the house, and put the cat on her stomach. I even shouted at her to see if I could rouse her.

Part of me was scared she would wake. If the stories and superstitions about the fae were true, she could kill me with a single glance. But if I didn’t try to let her know I was here, a trespasser by all accounts, and she found me in her home, she might kill me just for being here.

When even a cold rag wouldn’t rouse her, it became clear that nothing would. So I left her alone, occasionally peeking in to see if she was still there... and she always was.

The fire burned, never needing more wood, and the sage never burned away. I drew water from her well out back to cook with and to bathe as best I could. There were no animals except for her cat, no horse to take, and I couldn’t walk or climb out of here yet. Not that I knew which way to go even if I were able.

Deciding to stay put and heal as best I could, the cat and I became fast friends. Each day, she would bring me a gift. A mouse, chipmunk, ground mole, and once a large, green Luna moth. She was particularly proud of that one. I ate from the witch’s small garden outside, feeling guilty with every swallow. It was obviously grown with the intention that only one person would be eating from it, but I reasoned that I could send food from the palace’s stores to replace it.

Slowly, the raging inferno in my ribs faded to a flickering campfire. At night, I could rest. I was getting stronger. Soon, I would be able to move about much easier. I could leave.

I didn’t know if the woman would know she’d had a visitor or not, but it wouldn’t matter. As I felt better, I tidied up the place, cleaning up the furniture and floor, sweeping away the dust and cobwebs with a large broom I found in the corner.

The kitchen was filled with every spice and herb imaginable. The woman’s cottage was better stocked than the palace kitchens, I was sure of it. I wiped the dust from the lids and put them on the shelves over the long counter.

Candles sat on every surface, their wicks half-burned and trails of wax leaking down the sides. There were white ones, black ones, purple ones, red ones. Ones that were sickly green and pale yellow ones like the delicate lilies that bloomed outside at night. Moonflowers, I believed they were called.

And in every window sill, strewn between the candles, there were stones and crystals. I didn’t know their names, but the colors of those varied as well.

The door across from the witch’s bedroom had thirteen locks on it in varying sizes, each requiring a different key. She didn’t want whatever was in there to come out or anyone to get in, but I couldn’t help but wonder what lay behind it. Was she trying to keep people out, or keep something dangerous inside?

Forget the door. It wasn’t wise to snoop through someone’s house. I wouldn’t want anyone rifling through my things if I was asleep and not expecting such visitors. Though, I wouldn’t be levitating above my bed in a strange state of rest, either.

I thought of kissing her to see if she would wake. She was real, the very stuff of fairy tales, and every fairy tale I’d been read as a child told of spells being broken that way.

They’re only supposed to be stories, I reasoned. But witches aren’t supposed to exist, either. None of this is supposed to be real.

If she was the dark witch, a kiss might anger her. The action might cause her to seek vengeance on me, and then I would become dinner. Rolfe’s terrorized expression and his urgent cries flashed through my mind.

Staring at her bedroom door, I wondered if such a beautiful creature could truly hurt me. I wondered what color her eyes were, and if her smile was as brilliant as it was in my imagination. And if she was deadly, what weapons would she wield against me?

I needed to get out of there. A nagging feeling of danger had settled into the pit of my stomach, and while I didn’t trust many things, I trusted my intuition. It had saved me on more than one occasion. Of course, it didn’t help me the day I fell from the cliff, but I was being foolish; trying to be like William instead of using my head. Rolfe felt the wrongness of the woods, and the horses were skittish. I should have listened to my friend, and if nothing else, I knew animals had a sense for bad omens and foul weather. I shouldn’t have gone near the fog. Not even for a stag as large as the one hiding within the mist.

Feeling better than I had since stumbling upon the cottage, I decided I would leave tomorrow at dawn. My host had shown no signs of waking, and I wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep. Having washed and eaten dinner, I sat in the chair by the fireplace, petting the cat who’d curled up beside me, eyes squinted closed and purring happily.