Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I don’t know what to do. Tears well in my eyes. My heart races, all out of rhythm. The feeling I get from this woman is one of safety and peace, but how can I be sure of that?
I have Hansel’s arms around me. For now, that has to be enough.
It’s a small comfort. It lets my heart settle down a bit, beating softer. It’s still going far too fast.
Moment by moment. Question by question.
The witch studies us, then lets out a quiet sigh. A flick of her hand, and the cottage is transformed. All the dark, dusty wood is replaced with whitewashed plaster walls. Fresh flowers spring into a vase near the sink.
Fresh flowers, in the middle of winter. If I cared to let go of Hansel, I would go over and touch them, because—
They’re impossible.
The iron oven disappears. A cozy fireplace appears in the wall where the oven used to be.
This is all impossible. For a moment I question my sanity and if I’ve slipped into the depths of sleep again.
But it’s all real. I know it in my heart. I don’t know if I can stand another heartbreak. It would be one too many, and for Hansel…
I don’t think Hansel could stand it, either. I think he might finish tearing the cottage to the ground no matter how many times this witch repairs it.
He might insist on trying for the rest of his life.
I wouldn’t blame him for that, either.
The witch glances around and smiles at her work. “That’s better. Perhaps I should have redecorated before you came. Though…I also know what you did before, and I couldn’t risk that, could I?”
Neither of us can answer, and I don’t move. I just want to stay close to Hansel and feel his heartbeat. I’ve needed him so much since my father took me away, and now every second I have to touch him is worth—
It’s worth more than anything to me. It’s worth my life. I don’t have an answer for the witch, anyway.
She glances between Hansel and I, her lips pursed, then seems to make a decision.
“You there.” With a graceful hand, she points at me. “Gretel. Speak.”
The magic she had used to silence me fades. I hadn’t realized I could feel it in my throat and only notice it once it’s gone.
“Please.” I’ll never say anything more important. I don’t care about myself. I just need her to leave Hansel in peace. Although Hansel cares about me. I should beg for my life, but my throat is too tight. My voice is too raw. I love him too much. “Please don’t hurt him.”
The witch’s face softens, and she lifts one hand as if she wants to touch us, to comfort us.
“Oh, sweet child, I don’t intend to hurt either of you. This—” She gestures around at the now-gorgeous cottage, encompassing the door to the bedroom, too. “Does this look like pain to you?”
Tears of hope prick my eyes although I don’t trust the relief her words promise. I can’t speak, though the spell no longer stops me. Of course it doesn’t look like pain. It looks beautiful. But the cottage had not looked truly dangerous before. I don’t know how to trust anything anymore. I don’t know how to trust her.
The witch seems to sense that, because her gaze turns even kinder.
“It is not,” she says reassuringly. “This is healing.”
“Healing?” I choke out in blasphemy. I can’t deny that some of the time we’ve spent here has been healing. It was at least a gift I’ll be grateful for as long as I live. I didn’t even want to live this much before Hansel opened the door and let me inside. I would have been so lonely without him. “You brought us here to heal?”
“You brought yourselves here,” she answers gently. “But…I may have helped you along.”
“Did you—you left those stones at my house, didn’t you? You left them on the path, and you left them in my living room so I had to see them.”
“I did,” she confirms, looking only a little sheepish. “But I promise to you—I had no evil intent.”
My throat closes, and I can’t speak. I thought she was coming back. I thought I had brought her back to the village, and I couldn’t live with that. I’d already lost my father, and I’d lost Hansel, and I couldn’t lose what was left of my life again.
“I do have sorrow that I have caused you pain,” the witch says. It sounds like a true, sincere apology, with real sorrow in her voice. “I did not wish to frighten you. I only desired to right the wrongs that had been done.”
“You’re not her, then?” Hansel says brusquely. He doesn’t sound afraid although his voice is rough and low. He sounds as if he’s still ready to defend me from anything—even magic. I’m more in love with him than ever, and I’ve loved Hansel for as long as I can remember.