Erasmus.
Erasmus could do it. He could tell them I wasn’t a traitor. He was the only person in the palace who wasn’t afraid of witches.
I scrambled to the door and pounded it, ignoring the splinters digging into my flesh. “Is anyone out there? Please let me see Erasmus Lenard, the royal inspector!”
My plead was met with silence. Echoes of the other prisoners’ cries seeped in through the stone, but no answer to my request. I banged the door again. “Please! Someone call for Erasmus Lenard! I’m innocent and I can prove it!”
The slot above my head slid open.
“Quiet down,” a gruff voice of a guard said. I didn’t recognize the bushy brows and creased eyes, which was a good sign. Maybe he didn’t know I was a witch.
“Please, sir! There’s been a misunderstanding. I’ve been wrongly accused. I can prove my innocence if I see Erasmus Lenard, the royal inspector.”
The bushy brows lowered. “You’re the witch?” he said. “The one who has been poisoning Her Majesty the queen?”
“I-I didn’t poison Queen Cordelia!” I said. “I can prove it—”
“You’re a witch?”
“Well, yes, but—”
The guard snorted. “Then it doesn’t matter if you poisoned the queen or not. Either way your trial and execution are in one week, when the king and crown prince return from overseas.”
The air seemed to be sucked out of my lungs. “What? Trial and execution?”
“That’s right. Save your breath for the king. I don’t want to hear your jabbering.” He began to close the slot, but I stuck my fingers in before he could.
“B-but sir, I’m begging you—”
The guard’s eyes narrowed. “Make any more noise and you’ll be executed tomorrow.”
He slammed the slot closed. I yanked my throbbing fingers out and kicked the door in frustration, stubbing my toe. Tears welled up in my eyes and fell down my face in fat droplets.
I had one week. If I didn’t prove my innocence, I’d die. And if I did, I’d die. All because I was a witch.
Lana had been right all along. Witches could never live among humans. They could never trust us, especially those with power.
How could I have been so blind? Of course Ash felt the same way about witches—he was a prince. He wanted to be involved in royal business. And he was taken aback by the idea of me associating with witches. Even after what I had done to help him, he still believed Narcissa over me.
“Miss Flora? Is that you?” A faint voice came by the wall I was sobbing against. I paused.
“Who is it?” I said hoarsely.
“It’s Greenwood.”
The captain’s voice was just as I remembered. From a gap between two stones, a sliver of an overgrown beard and crinkled eyes appeared.
“I’m guessing you heard everything,” I said, embarrassed to be caught in hysterics.
“I did.” To my surprise, there wasn’t a hint of fear or disgust in his tone. He sounded almost defeated. “I suppose I’ll be joining you in a week.”
I sank onto the floor and hugged my knees. “No, you won’t. You’ll be released. There’s no reason to keep you here when they have me. I’m the witch and therefore the only culprit.”
“Make that two culprits. I, too, am a witch.”
I paused. Had I heard him wrong? “Pardon?”
“I am a witch,” the captain said simply, as if he hadn’t shocked me to the core. “I’ve hidden it for far too long, but I’ll be sure to bring it up at our trial. It’s only fair. You mustn’t shoulder the burden alone.”
“W-what?” I sputtered. “Why aren’t you down in Witch Village? Why did you decide to stay here?”
“Simple. I was curious and then I fell in love,” he said.
Curiosity and love. It seemed that all they did to witches was kill them.
I laughed bitterly. “Do you regret it?” I said. “Was your wife worth the trouble?”
“It...wasn’t my wife,” he said. “It was Wilhelmina.”
Yet again, I found myself at a loss for words.
The captain continued. “She was a different woman once, if you can believe it. Jealousy ruined her. I will always treasure our love, even if it was fleeting.” He sighed heavily. “The only thing I regret is leaving my daughter with her.”
“You had a daughter?” I said.
Dread pooled into my gut when I realized who she was.
“Yes. You know her as Lady Narcissa.”
My fists clenched. I dug them into the floor. “Narcissa is half witch.”
“Yes. A herbwitch, to be exact. She was born between two worlds, but was as carefree as any other child. I’d let her use her magic when she visited me. She had a wonderful way with animals,” the captain said wistfully.
Animals. Narcissa had a way with animals. “How did her magic work, exactly?” I said.
If he noticed how tense my voice was, he didn’t show it. “She could read their thoughts and feelings and persuade them to do things for her. One time her favorite kite got stuck in a tree. She asked the pigeons to retrieve it,” Captain Greenwood said with a chuckle.
“Would it be possible for her to convince swans to flip over a boat? A cat to do her bidding? Or maybe mice to spy for her?” I said stiffly.
“Yes. I would imagine she could,” he said, “but Narcissa never used her magic for harm. She had the kindest heart. She used to help the neighborhood squirrels prepare for winter.”
It was difficult to imagine the snobbish, cruel Narcissa as the girl Captain Greenwood was talking about. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the duchess had stripped all the good from their daughter, so I merely grunted.
One thing was clear, though. The duchess and Narcissa were behind everything. And they made sure a witch would be blamed for all of it.
I did not know how many hours passed when I woke up to a noise at the door. A tray clattered in through the lower slot. The contents rolled onto the ground—a stale hunk of bread
