King Maximus was quiet when I finished, preoccupied with stroking his beard. He glanced at the queen. “What do you say, Cordelia?”
“I say it is time to end the Non-Magic Age,” Queen Cordelia said.
“Perhaps with work, this is plausible.” The king gave a slow nod. “Then, Miss Flora, I grant you your wish.”
Cheers, mixed in with some grumbling, erupted in the throne room. I beamed and curtsied low, the applause and shouts like music to my ears.
When I turned, Elowyn and my nannies were smiling, and there were tears in Lana’s eyes.
35
My arms burned under the weight of a crate filled with clinking containers of glue and sloshing potion bottles.
“I’m sure you could buy a cart and a horse of your own now, Aunt Lana,” I said over a bottle.
“Nonsense,” my aunt said. She was several paces away, burdened only by a light satchel. “Where will I ever put them?”
“In Papa’s stables,” I said, narrowly missing a divot in the paved road. “You know you’re always welcome at home.”
It had been four months since my hearing with King Maximus, and three months since he passed the decree ending the Non-Magic Age. All the witches in Witch Village had been above ground at least once. The bolder ones stayed and applied for work. Others emerged only for the Witch Market, which had moved next to a major marketplace in Delibera. Witches were now paid in coins and allowed to purchase from human vendors.
We were headed toward Lana’s stand in the marketplace that morning. It was ridiculously early, but there was still quite a bit of traffic. I recognized Beatrice with Rowena and Elowyn and waved at them. They were setting up a shop of their own, selling charmwitch trinkets.
“I don’t know,” Lana said. We finally arrived at her stand and I set the crates down. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Papa came home from Aquatia last week,” I said in a singsong voice.
My aunt scowled. “Help me unload, why don’t you? I have twenty orders of extra sticky glue to fulfill. No sense in keeping people waiting,” she said, unwinding her scarf. Then her expression softened ever so slightly. “Aquatia, you say?”
I nodded, setting down the final pot of glue. “He had business there. I suppose he’ll go back soon, now that Olderea is open to magic again. Perhaps magic Aquatian wares will pop up in our marketplaces.”
“Never mind the wares,” Lana said. I looked up, surprised at the enthusiasm in her voice. “Think of the books and knowledge we witches could get from such a kingdom! I don’t believe a single Olderian witch has ever step foot in Aquatia.”
“Would you go if you could?” I asked.
Lana’s eyes glimmered. “Of course. But,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “I don’t see that day coming anytime soon.”
By the time the sun was high in the air, our stock was gone. I helped Lana pack up. When she started toward the path to Miriam’s shop, I stopped her.
“You really ought to come back with me,” I said, holding her elbow. “Papa has been asking to see you.”
I could see the conflicting emotions on her face. When she didn’t reply, I said, “Maybe he’ll tell you all about Aquatia.”
The muscles on her arm eased, though her expression didn’t change. “What makes you think I’d ask him, of all people?”
“Aunt Lana.”
She heaved a sigh. “Very well, if you’ll stop pestering me. But don’t expect anything out of it,” she said, turning around.
I beamed.
PAPA WAS IN HIS STUDY when I returned home with my aunt in tow.
I led her through the pristine parlor and up the stairs, past my stepmother’s room and down the hall. Lydia had made herself scarcer than ever since Papa returned, though I suspected it was because she was channeling all her energy into planning Genevieve’s wedding.
It was lucky for both of us, as my stepmother was still a bundle of nerves around magic. Plus, she still hadn’t forgiven me for not marrying Crown Prince Bennett. The last thing I needed was my stepmother’s hysterics when she saw an actual witch from Witch Village in the house.
“So. Here we are,” I said, gesturing to the mahogany door of Papa’s study. Lana stood before it, looking as if she had tasted something sour.
I gave her a look and knocked lightly against the wood. “Papa?”
“Come in.”
He was at his desk per usual, his spectacles low on his nose. He looked up at my entrance.
“Done helping your aunt, my flower?” he said.
“Even better,” I said, opening the door wider to reveal my companion. “I brought her.”
Lana stood as stiffly as ever. I tugged her inside. Surprise flashed across Papa’s face, but melted into a welcoming smile.
“Lana,” he said.
“Julien.”
My crystal glowed, warming my skin. Both Mama and I knew that their conversation must be had alone. I backed out of the study and closed the door, humming as I made my way down to the gardens. Just as I passed the marigold bushes, I spotted a mail boy standing behind the gates.
“Letter for Miss Amarante Flora,” the boy said, holding out an envelope.
I trotted over and took the letter, recognizing the royal seal. “Thank you,” I said, turning on my heel.
I had barely touched the wax before the mail boy said, “Did you really kill the evil duchess with your witch magic, miss?”
I held back a smile. It seemed that the wild rumors about what happened at the masquerade hadn’t ceased entirely.
“No one killed anybody,” I said, turning back and putting my hands on my hips. Duchess Wilhelmina had been sentenced to a lifetime in prison immediately after the masquerade. The king and queen had pardoned her life on behalf of their previous friendship. She deserved much, much worse, in my opinion, but I wasn’t going to discuss my
