I couldn’t stay quiet when Theodora finally said my name. I wrenched open the door.
“What are you two talking about?”
Rowena spun around, a crinkled letter in her hand. She tucked it behind her.
“Amarante, let us explain—”
“There’s nothing to explain,” Theodora interrupted. Her lined face was emotionless, but the crease between her brows told a different story. “You must be tired. Go to bed, dear. It’s nearly midnight.”
I stepped further into the room, shaking my head. “No. I-I heard everything,” I said. “You can’t tell me to go to bed when I heard everything. The magic. The spell. Tell me what it means.” My voice went an octave higher. I was sure I sounded raving mad.
Rowena wiped her tear-streaked cheeks. “She’s right, Theodora. We have to tell her,” she said.
Theodora’s stoic facade crumbled. Despair flooded her mien. “Amarante,” she said, taking my hands in hers, “Rowena and I are witches. And so was your mother.”
I fell back into a chair. It sounded even more absurd out loud than in my head. Witches were wicked creatures. Everyone knew that. I stared at Theodora’s warm, wrinkled hands. But my nannies weren’t wicked. I wasn’t wicked. And I was sure, with my whole heart, that Papa could never love someone who was.
My vision spun. “Prove it, then,” I said, raising my chin. “If you’re witches, then why are you in Olderea? Everyone knows they were banned two generations ago at the inception of the Non-Magic Age.” History never was my forte, but King Humphrey’s witch ban was a piece of Olderean history everybody knew.
“Much of the history involving witches are skewed beyond recognition, Amarante,” Rowena said.
“Prove it,” I repeated.
Theodora sighed, exchanging a look with Rowena. Then, before my eyes, the air around them shimmered and shifted. Theodora’s brown eyes became golden and strands of Rowena’s wild curls gleamed metallic champagne.
I tightened my jaw. I didn’t know if I was on the verge of screaming or laughing. “This is a joke, isn’t it?” I said. A giggle burst out in spite of myself.
“That was an enchantment,” Theodora said, pulling up her sleeve. Her mosaic of sun spots shimmered like gold leaf. “We were hiding our witch traits—all witches have to if they dare stay here. The enchantment dissolves when we willingly reveal ourselves to others.”
“Ha! Witch traits? Enchantment?” I said, my cheeks aching from laughter. “This is a joke!”
“Amarante...” Theodora’s voice died off. I kept laughing.
Rowena slammed her hand on the table, rattling the silverware. I stopped at the sight of her flashing eyes.
“Is this proof enough?” She jutted her finger out at a vase across the room. It levitated and fell back down with a heavy clink. “Or this?” She waved her arm toward the curtains. They swung shut on their own accord. “And this?” My chair began spinning, blurring the room before me. I clutched to the armrests as it went faster and faster and faster and—
“Rowena, enough!” Theodora’s angry voice halted the spinning at once. I lurched forward onto the carpet on my hands and knees, limbs trembling. A choked sound erupted from my throat and wouldn’t stop.
“Oh, Amarante! I’m so sorry.” Rowena knelt next to me. Her hands were shaking too. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”
“W-well I believe you now,” I sobbed. My tears dripped onto the carpet and I hastily wiped them away. I was bound to believe them. A part of me believed them the moment I walked into the room. But I simply couldn’t bring myself to accept it.
Theodora offered me her handkerchief and sighed. “There, now. This is going all wrong isn’t it?”
“It’s my fault,” Rowena muttered. “You’re half witch, Amarante. Magic is a part of you and the fact that you had to grow up without it...” She shook her head and withdrew the crinkled letter from her pocket. It was the other half of Papa’s letter.
“But I thought...”
“Read it, dear,” Theodora said.
I must thank you for alerting me to the other situation. I don’t know how long I can conceal the circumstances of her own birth from her. Sometimes I forget she is like her Mama. Each year I convince myself that deception is the right thing to do and each year I succeed. Have I become too comfortable being a liar, knowing that cheating my daughter is for her own protection?
Forgive me, I am rambling.
If there is anything you can do to suppress her powers a little longer, or for good, please do so.
All the best,
Julien
“He always told me Mama was a nobleman’s daughter who left us and passed away,” I said. My mind flashed back to the first time I had asked Papa about my mother. I wasn’t too introspective at eight years old and his spectacles obstructed my view. Now, I fancied that there was a glimmer of tears behind the frames.
I knew enough then not to pry. Over the years I assumed that she had broken off the marriage and went off without caring a wit for me or Papa. To think she was a witch!
“Ridiculous thing to say to a child,” Theodora said.
I gave the letter back to Rowena. “So,” I said shakily. “Are you going to get rid of my magic?”
“We cannot get rid of it for good,” Rowena said, helping me back into the armchair. “But we know someone who can.”
I tried to calm myself. “Who?”
Theodora fiddled with her apron. “We’ll have to find her first, of course.” She shook her head at my panicked look and said, “There is no reason she wouldn’t do it.”
“Will everything go back to normal after that?”
“It will, dear,” Rowena said. “As long as you never tell anyone about this.”
I nodded. I didn’t ask for this secret, but there was no doubt I had to keep it. To think I came here for raspberry tarts and got all this instead.
That reminded me. Genevieve!
Wiping my eyes, I said, “Do you have any raspberry tarts, Theodora?”
After thrusting a generous amount of pastries in my hands, Theodora
