WITCHCRAFT (A Paranormal Romance) (6 page)

And then he was gone, with a bow and a wink and a wicked smile. Wobbling, Helina only watched him leave, trying to catch her breath.

There was someone behind her. She turned and found Anoud, and felt herself sober up fast. “My dear, I have something to tell you. A man has asked for your hand, and I think you will just love him. He's a prince.”

Taken aback, Helina tilted her head. “But… there are no more witch princes, and I can't think of a human prince who might be available for marriage.”

“True,” Anoud said, nodding with a wide grin. “This one is neither witch, nor human.”

Neither one? What else did that leave? Sure, there were other beings in the world, but none with enough numbers to have a prince, a country, land.

Anoud chuckled, patting her hand. “It is a vampire prince, my dear. One from the French court. A very powerful man.”

Her thoughts flick back to the man she danced with, his pale skin and dazzling eyes. The effect he had on her. “I can't marry a vampire.”

Another man approached then, this one in the robes of The High Court. “I think you will find, child, that you can. If you want the throne, you will find it in your heart to wed this vampire, for if you refuse you will never wear the crown.”

Helina gasped, then furrowed her eyebrows. Her hand itched. She wanted to slap the man from The High Court, and then slap Anoud. To dare to challenge her position! Her birthright!

A scream halted her indignation, another shrill, terrified shout. All heads turn towards the sound. Anoud rushed to it, Helina close behind him.

One of the wealthy women from the crowd was on the floor, covering her face, sobbing. She shouted again, her hands shaking, and finally they saw.

They saw.

Her face was bubbling, festering, her mouth turning green. There was a wine cup on the floor, broken with wine pooling around it.

Another woman was poisoned.

Ten faces watched the old peasant woman gulp, holding a piece of bread to her mouth. It had been cut off of the same plate as Helina's food.

The woman was the daughter of an old factory worker, one that once made beautiful wands for the middle class. Her father made the mistake of selling a wand to a dark witch from Japan, and with that mistake he doomed generations of his family to squalor.

Helina hated it. She hated the class systems surrounding her. She wanted to tell the woman not to worry about it, that there were countless witches who could tell simply by waving their hand over a food whether or not it was poisoned.

The other nine faces around the table stopped her, however. If it had been Anoud in the room with her, she would have saved the peasant the fright of being her taster, but she was surrounded by eight members of The High Court, plus Remiel. She was there to learn.

“Before the food cools, if you please,” a woman said. Her face was lined with wrinkles. The High Court was forbidden from using glamour on themselves. Vanity was frowned upon.

Finally, the peasant woman bit into the bread and chewed. With a swallow, she looked around the table, tears welling into her eyes.

She did not die. She did not even choke. Helina let out a great sigh of relief.

“That will be all, dear. You may go. Anoud will give you your payment on your way out.” The peasant stood and all but ran out of the huge doors behind them.

Isaem cleared his throat. He was a rare witch, in that his mother had been a fairy. Fairy blood was one of the few ways to secure powerful magic for your child. It came at a price, however, because any half-fairy child had a terrible immune system. More died than lived.

Such children were called Faelings, though often their very existence was hidden. Fairies were known for taking mixed children back to their lands, especially fairies from Atlantis.

Thinking of Atlantis made Helina's lips curl up in disgust. What a horrible land, full of thieves and blasphemers. She saw that the others at the table noticed her sudden change in mood, and put her face back into a neutral expression.

Helina took her fork and picked at her food. The potatoes were lovely, but everything tasted bland. Her tastebuds were being overwhelmed by her fear. Being watched by members of The High Court put a heavy weight on Helina's shoulders.

“Your Grace, if you'll pardon my rush, we do need to discuss this.” Isaem looked around the table, hoping he hadn't offended any of his colleagues.

Helina chewed her potatoes, then crossed her arms. “Fine, we'll talk. I refuse to marry a vampire.”

“Helina, the fact is you have very little choice. We need to unite France's Fortean groups with the witches, for war is upon us. We don't have long before our people start dying, and we won't be able to keep it out of the press.”

Sighing loudly, she flips up her hand in a shrug. “But why must is be a vampire? Why not someone from another Fortean group? Could we not gain strong armies to protect ourselves by marrying into the fairies or the werewolves? Perhaps the Drakes in Iran? I hear they're growing stronger by the day.”

Givael slammed her hand onto the table. “Your stubborn nature will kill us all! You and your sister both need to learn respect, but your disrespect could destroy the entire kingdom! Prince Roman not only wants to help us, but he has had his eye on you for years.” Her eyes closed into tight, angry slits are she spoke, her gnarled finger poking in Helina's direction.

“It's not as if that makes me more confident about him. I'm only just an adult. You're telling me an ageless prince has been eying me since before I came of age?” She shivered, mostly for effect. It wasn't unusual to marry young if you were royalty. Truthfully, Helina would have said anything to avoid marrying a vampire.

Old woman Givael rolled her eyes. “Prince Roman is the perfect choice, child. He respects our culture, and respects you. He does not hate witches. He wants to help Mindren, and all witches, heal from the wounds caused by his own people.”

“Perhaps, but don't you think that sullying two pure blood lines might lead us right into war anyway? I think that an heir that is half witch, half vampire might have trouble securing the throne. Don't you?” Helina gave up on her food, pushing the plate forward. She looked to Remiel, who was watching with wide eyes. Her hands were shaking.

The door opened again, and all heads turn to see who entered. Prince Roman stepped into the room, and all but Helina stood to bow. He was radiant. The sun from the window glinted off of his golden armor. On his head, he wore a golden diadem inset with an onyx stone.

He was looking handsome, even more handsome than before. His pale skin shined, opalescent in the artificial light. Helina wondered how she ever didn't realize he was a vampire.

She hated him. She hated him for deceiving her. She hated him for being beautiful. She hated him because she wanted to trust him, for having such an innocent face.

Prince Roman came to her chair, where she sat still with her back straight, glaring up at him. Giving her a goofy smile, he held out his hand. “Princess Helina, may I have a private word with you?”

“Absolutely not,” she sniffed, turning her head away. Givael's eyes nearly popped out of her skull, her face turning bright red. “I barely know you. I will not be alone with you.”

Chuckling, he pulled his hand back. “I assure you, you will be safe. Your guards are outside, and I think you will want to hear what I have to tell you.”

His voice seemed grave, serious. It made Helina curious. She sighed, then stood. “Fine.”

Roman led her out of the room and into the hallway. Her guards watched them, but from afar. The prince leaned in close, pushing her hair behind her ears and then whispering.

“Your High Court is trying to kill you.” His tone was deadly serious, but he kept a flirtatious smile on his face.

She stepped back, surprised and angry. “How dare you!”

“Shh, come back here. It is either a few of them, or all of them, but I can guarantee that this is true. After the woman was poisoned, I had my men search your manor. We found a servant with a deadly poison on her, one that I have never seen before. We sent it back to France to be analyzed.”

“Oh, good,” she quipped. “A new poison for the vampires.”

He shot her a withering glare. “There is evidence that more servants are working for someone, trying to kill you. Most worryingly, the evidence comes from this letter,” He handed her a slip of paper. On it was a seal. “Is this not the seal of The High Court?”

She looked at it, hard. It certainly matched all of the imperfections and details in the official seal. “It would seem so.” She touched her finger to the moon on the seal. It sent a magical confirmation through her. It was real.

“If it is, then this is proof of someone on The High Court trying to poison you. Inside you'll find instructions. That your servants are making mistakes is a blessing, a very strange one. If they were more intelligent, you would not still be alive.” He paused. “I also don't think that The High Court is at the top of this chain. They serve someone, too.”

Her face screwed up, irritated at him insulting her staff, but then realizing they were the same people trying to kill her. She sighed. “Why are you even telling me this. Don't your people want me dead?”

Roman looked into her eyes, and she saw that she was trying his patience. The look made her blood run cold. “We have sent countless letters. We have sent countless messengers. We have tried to tell your people, including your father, Anoud.” She wanted to correct him, but kept her mouth shut.

He took her by the shoulders, then, shaking her and forcing her to look into his eyes. “We are not your enemy. We are not trying to kill you. The vampires you are fighting are our enemies, too, and we need your help as much as you need ours.”

He let go of her, then stepped away. “You know,” he said. “I loved you when I first saw you. That was two years ago. I know, you were still young, but I saw your potential. I saw your love for life, and more importantly, your love of politics. Your strength. Your intelligence. I saw all of that from afar, not wanting to sully your good time. It was your birthday party, and I spent the night watching you dance with random men, and I seethed with jealousy. I wanted to pull you from their arms and into mine, but I gave you room.”

She watched him, her heart beating faster as he spoke.

“I gave you room to grow and learn more. And now I need your help, and you need mine. Both France and the witches are under attack. I am sure you see the political necessity of our marriage, and I hope you will come, in time, to see me as a friend, if nothing else. An ally.” His eyes betrayed his hope for something much more. The look he was giving her made her feel very warm.

“I can't just decide this right now,” she pleaded.

He held up his hand. “I'm not asking you to. Just give me a chance. One night. Meet me tonight, and we will have a picnic under the stars, surrounded by your roses.” He watched her, waiting for a reply. Helina could only manage a nod and a gulp. Her palms were sweaty, and she felt drawn to this strange man. This vampire.

“Good. I will see you then.” He leaned down, pushing her chin up with one hand and pressing his lips to her cheek. His touch was electric, sending a pulse of sensation through Helina's whole body. She felt faint.

Handing her the letter, Roman turned and left, joined by his own guards as he rounded a corner. Helina pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm her fluttering heart and stop breathing so hard. Folding the paper, she slid it into her corset.

Stepping back into the dining room, all eyes were on her and her anxiety came back. They watched Helina as she stepped back to her chair, sitting in it slowly.

This was only the beginning. If she married, she would become queen, and with that the world would rest on her shoulders. She shivered at the thought, and suddenly understood why her sister had resisted Helina's world. Why she had run away.

“Well?” Remiel squeaked. Her eyes were wide. The other members of The High Court shushed her.

“I will be getting to know this prince before I make any rash decisions. That is my final word on this. Now, if you will, I am going to finish my food and would like to do so in peace.” She held her chin high, hoping it didn't quiver. She felt awash with emotions, swirling in her stomach like a bad omen.

“That is good enough,” Givael said, running her hand over her creased forehead. “We will leave you, Your Grace.”

The room emptied. Even Remiel left, though she lagged behind, hoping that Helina might ask her to stay. Once alone, finally, she pulled the letter from her corset.

N,

The herbs have been stashed in the cupboards for breadmaking. Mix it in whatever you can. The task must be carried out soon, before she can marry. The Black Hole will be quite pleased if you pull this off, and your work will be well rewarded.

X

“I can't trust anyone,” Helina whimpered, leaning against the dining table and shoving the plates and cups away from her. “I wish Terra was here. She would know what to do.”

Rereading the letter, she wondered at the phrase 'The Black Hole'. Was that someone's name? Their title?

She couldn't even trust Remiel. Helina felt only despair.

Climbing the stairs to her bedroom, she heard voices within. At first, she was guarded, worried that someone might be plotting another attack, but then she relaxed as she recognized the voices.

“What are you two doing in here?” She asked, grinning at her friends. Anais was wearing some of her necklaces, Remiel had her lips painted with her lipstick. Remiel blushed. Helina was sure that Anais had applied the cosmetics, since it looked awful and Remiel would never match colors so horribly.

She loved her friends. Having to lie to them and hide from them for too long would surely make her go mad. Helina suddenly wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

“Sorry! We just thought we'd come up and wait for you, and we got to talking about how we used to play dress up.” Anais took the gold chains from her neck and placed them back in the jewelry box. “I hope you're not upset.”

Helina shook her head. “Of course I'm not! Just surprised you're up here.”

“So tell us,” Remiel grinned, wiping away the lipstick and staining the sleeve of her dress. “What is the prince like?”

“Is he as handsome up close as he is from afar?”

“What does his voice sound like?”

“Are you going to marry him?” Both girls closed in on the princess, making her laugh and put up her hands in surrender.

Helina sat on her bed. “He's… hard to describe. Intelligent, and definitely smooth. Yes, he's very handsome up close. He has freckles. Did you know vampires could have freckles? As for what he sounds like… his voice is deep, but not gravelly. He has a French accent. It's very romantic.” She grinned, blushing. “I don't know if I will marry him, though. I have to think, first. Get to know him.”

She almost told them her plans for the evening, but realized it wasn't safe. Her chest ached. She hated hiding things from them.  Aside from her relationship with Edward, she had almost never lied to them before. They were her secret keepers.