Queen Rising (2 page)

Margot looked from the fire pit to the Fire Witch. Flames dotted the tips of Scoria's eyelashes and her flesh glowed red through the scorched places in her dress. The dress's hem was edged with fire. Scoria, perhaps seeing the horror that played on Margot's face, looked down at herself and stamped the flames out. Her lashes extinguished themselves in a single blink.

“Did you get this one from the cemetery? She looks half-starved,” the Fire Witch said, picking up the conversation with the Witch of the Woods as if breathing fire were an everyday occurrence. Margot assumed that it very well might be.

“You should see her little brother. He was positively robust . . .” the Witch of the Woods paused dramatically as if making a point that neither Margot nor the other witch could see. “The girl knows sacrifice.”

Margot shook her head. It was never a sacrifice to feed her brother first. Seeing him hungry was worse than any gnawing in her own belly.

“We will see . . .” said the Fire Witch as she busied herself with tending the flames.

Margot followed the Witch of the Woods down more circular stairs to a small room with an even smaller bed.

“Let's get you some food and clothes.”

Margot lapped up the strange green soup that the Witch of the Woods brought her and then changed into the nightgown that she was given. It took her until just before she closed her eyes to recognize the texture of the gown. It felt like cloth on her skin, but upon closer inspection it looked more like paper.

The Witch of the Woods had given her clothing that was made of her very self. In just a few hours, she had shown Margot more kindness than her mother ever had.

4

In the morning, Margot met a girl, prettier than any she had ever seen, in the hearth room. The girl had blond hair that fell in curls down her back and one of those faces with full lips and wide-set eyes that belonged on one of the palace's statues.

“I'm Ora. You must be Margot.” she said. “I'm the seamstress around here. Among other things.”

Margot nodded, her hands idle for the first time in her life. Growing up, mornings had always meant making sure everything was clean and in its place so that her mother would have nothing to erupt about.

Margot could feel her new companion's piercing brown eyes on her as Margot used her palm to sweep some crumbs off the floor.

“You are not here for that,” Ora said.

“Then what am I here for?”

“To learn.”

“What are you talking about? What do I need to learn?”

“How to be a witch of course,” Ora said casually.

“Is that what you're here for, too?”

“No, I'm already a witch.”

“But you're so pretty,” Margot blurted. “You look nothing like . . . them.”

“Thank you,” Ora said, smiling brightly. “Witches come in all shapes. And beauty is not a tenant of the witch. Beauty is a human concern.”

Something about the way she smiled at the compliment made Margot unsure if Ora agreed with the witches or not.

“Why did the Witch of the Woods pick me?” Margot asked. “There were a lot of kids at the palace. Why did she bring me here?”

“Because they are hoping for something more from you.”

“What could they possibly want from me? Why me?”

“You have more of something than most people in all of Algid.”

Margot could not for the life of her think of anything she had that anybody would want. Her brother was the last thing of value she had had in all the world. And as for herself, she had no skills, save for cleaning. And according to the back of her mother's hand, she had never been good at that, either.

Ora laughed. For whatever reason—pure kindness it seemed—Ora had taken to interpreting the witch world for her. “Witches like me and the Witch of the Woods and the Fire Witch are born with power. But humans like you might be able to access it—some more than others.”

“Access it? How?”

“If you aren't born with magic—and even if you are—magic requires payment. Words, sacrifice, blood, pain . . . They all control magic. If you have magic like me, you can sacrifice a little less.”

Margot felt the dull ache of recognition upon hearing the word “pain.” She felt as if her reason for being here, for being bought by the witch, had suddenly crystallized. But the idea of her pain being worth something still seemed somehow inconceivable. Almost as unimaginable as being adopted by witches had seemed a day ago. Yet here she stood.

“What is your magic?” Margot asked.

Ora
blinked and then opened her palm. A small flame danced in the center of it. Ora closed her palm, snuffing the flame out.

“You're like the Fire Witch,” Margot exclaimed with wonder.

“Yes, and not at all.”

Ora didn't elaborate. Margot could see the physical difference: Ora's eyes had remained their pretty brown instead of turning into fiery eclipses. And she did not appear to be burning through her dress.

“I would give anything to be able to do that,” Margot blurted.

“Be careful what you wish for. You might just have to . . .” Then she laughed a sweet little laugh, but it chilled Margot to the bone.

“I see you've met Ora,” the Witch of the Woods said, which Margot thought was a welcome interruption. “Are you ready?”

“For what?”

“To see what you can do. To see if you have magic. To see what power is within.”

5

There were a dozen other would-be witches who lived in the Hollow. They formed a semicircle around a fire near the River, along with the three witches of the coven: the Witch of the Woods, the Fire Witch, and the River Witch.

Margot stood in the center in a special stark-white dress that Ora had made just for the occasion. The others were dressed in white as well and the light of the fire danced shadows upon them.

“We call fire, water, earth, and air.

Will you come to our new guest?

Will you make her our sister?”

Margot looked around, unsure of what was going to happen next and worried she would be a huge disappointment for the witches. For all of her life, Margot had been utterly normal. Her only talents were being silver-tongued, quick on her feet, and lightning swift with her hands. But those were skills brought on out of necessity to stay three steps ahead of her mother and to keep her brother out of trouble. Would the chanting change her? Would she sprout branches like the Witch of the Woods? Or tentacles and fins like the River Witch? Would she breathe fire like the Fire Witch? Or worse yet, would nothing happen? Nothing at all?

“We call on you fire, earth, air, and water.

Will you come to me?”

Margot felt silly saying the words out loud. But she found that she wanted the magic to come—and when nothing stirred, she felt a crush of disappointment. Asking for something was the surest way of knowing whether you wanted it or not. And she wanted it.

She could see the Witch of the Woods's leaves rustling. She could tell that the witch had grown impatient.

Margot closed her eyes and focused. She did what Ora told her to do. She went to the saddest place she could think of in her mind. Her mother had given her a wealth of bruises to choose from, but it was the parting from her brother just yesterday that she called upon.

Suddenly, she felt warm from the inside out, from her extremities to her core. Her hands began to burn. She lifted her hands in front of her and turned them over so that her palms were facing up. The air quivered between them and a flame appeared over each palm. Then, just as quickly, the flames went out.

She looked around at the faces of the other girls to see if they saw what she had seen. Ora was smiling. The Witch of the Woods and the Fire Witch nodded at each other.

“I have the gift?” Margot asked, looking around the semicircle.

“You show promise. Tomorrow we begin again,” the Witch of the Woods said.

But Margot was barely listening. What she had felt in the glow of that flame was comparable only to the warmth she felt with her little brother's arms around her neck. It filled her with a sense of well-being and hope and power—a sense that nothing could hurt her and nothing was impossible. If she was being honest with herself, the feeling was even better than Go's arms.

And
so it was. Out of all that pain Margot had experienced, something good had come after all. She looked at her hands as if they were brand-new. They had been powerless for so very long. But now this.

6

Before Margot knew it, a month had flown by. It was time to visit Go, and she was determined not to break her promise.

“Leaving us so soon?” the Witch of the Woods commented when Margot started to climb the stairs up the tree.

“I'm going to see my brother. I will stay with you and I will learn from you. But I will never forget my brother,” Margot said with determination.

“Very well. But know that holding on to human things may keep you from ever becoming one of us.”

Margot heard the words, but there were some sacrifices that she was not willing to make. With a nod, she continued up the stairs.

Margot was surprised that she remembered the way back to the palace. She was grateful when she saw its white spire towering over the treetops. When she arrived, the guard gave her a pitying look before allowing her inside.

She was led to a large anteroom for visitors.

After a few minutes, Go finally appeared. He was holding hands with a maid who looked like she was barely old enough to hold the position. The girl was petite and smiling, in contrast to the hulking somber guards. Margot felt a rush of jealousy for that maid and her hand. Her own palm twitched as she remembered how it felt to have Go's tiny hand in hers. But just then his face lit up as he found hers. He dropped the maid's hand and they ran to each other as if an eternity had passed instead of just a month.

When she broke the hug, she noticed that the maid was gone. Margot pushed her brother away from her, holding him still at arm's length. He sighed with annoyance but did not squirm away from her. He was happy to see her, too. He stood more upright than she had ever seen him.

“You're taller. Tell me everything,” she insisted. “Tell me what the Prince is like.”

“It's like he's never had a friend before. He's very odd.”

“Well, you can be his friend,” Margot said gently.

It was hard getting the words out. Some part of Margot hated that Go had been bought to be a companion to Prince Lazar. She wanted to tell him that he did not have to like him. But she also wanted things to get easier for him. She didn't want to know what would happen to him if he was seen as an unfit friend for the future king. Still another part of her wanted to know what it was about the Prince that kept him from other children. He was rarely seen.

“I bet he's just really lonely and doesn't know how to make friends. Maybe you can teach him.”

She knew her little brother. She knew that what he liked most was to be helpful.

“I can try,” Go said finally.

“Good boy,” she said with a hair ruffle.

“Is it okay, where you are?” he asked finally.

She wasn't sure how to answer. She didn't want him to think that she didn't miss him. She didn't want him to know that her new life was filled with magic and wonder. Not yet. Not when he was so sad.

“It's fine. It's better than fine. I live in a tree house filled with witches.”

Go didn't blink. He knew about witches. And he thought they were the best things in the world.

“
Are the witches scary?” he asked, his eyes widening as he waited for her answer.

“Very,” she said dramatically. But thinking of Ora, she added, “But they are kind, too.”

Go frowned, suddenly remembering something.

“What is it?” Margot whispered, concerned.

“She's not coming back, is she?”

Margot's gut sank. He was asking about their mother. She couldn't lie. And she couldn't pretend not to be happy that she was gone.

“No, she's not.”

He nodded. There were no tears this time. Only acceptance. Perhaps he was too young to understand that their mother had sold them, but he seemed to know this much.

The soldier who had led her in appeared again in the doorway of the anteroom. Their time was up.

She kissed her brother's forehead and got up to leave. “I will be back as soon as I can come. Okay? And don't you worry about the witches.”

“The food is strange. The boy is strange. I miss you. I don't want you to leave,” Go's words came out in a rush.

Each one struck Margot squarely in the heart. But she didn't want Go to see.

“You know how stories begin, right?” she asked, forcing a smile.

“Once upon a time.”

“And how they end?”

“Happily ever after,” he said automatically.

“Well, right now we are still in the in-between. And I promise . . .” Her mouth stalled on the word “promise.”

There is no bind that cannot break
, the witch had said.

“I promise you there is an end for us and it is happy.”

“And we will be together?”

“What other kind of happily ever after is there?” Margot asked with a smile.

“No, Margot, you have to say it. You have to promise.”

“I promise.”

She hated the lie. Nothing in their lives had ever ended up happily ever after. But she was not going to be responsible for turning out the light in her little brother's eyes.

7

When Margot returned to the Hollow, she found Ora in the hearth room. Ora couldn't wait to hear what the palace was like. Margot could tell that Ora cared about what happened to Go; but she also wanted to know about the royal family, what the castle looked like, and how the Prince was. If Margot didn't know better, she would have thought that Ora wanted to be a princess in the palace more than she wanted to be a witch.