Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Yet I cannot bring myself to put down the invitation and take up my pen to write my answer.
I read it over again as if there will be something new this time, then put it back in the envelope. I take it back out again, thinking I might need it to write my reply.
I wish one of my sisters was here to talk to me. I wish they were not to be silent forever in an afterlife I cannot reach. I do not know why it is nearly as painful to think of this cottage rotting into the ground and the meadow going silent, too, all of us forgotten.
Should I attend the wedding?
No. That is a fool’s errand. It is not only dangerous, it will not bring me joy. Only pain lies beyond the veil of protection here.
I’m still holding the letter, reading it over in the light of the moon and my candles, when a long howl rings out from the woods.
The hairs on the back of my neck creep up. I take one step back from the window, then two, holding my breath. With a wave of my hand, all the shutters slam closed, and their bolts fall into place. The door shuts and locks. All of my candles go out aside from a single flame. I take two determined steps to the fire and kneel down before it.
Then I stare into the flames, concentrating. Gathering my power. Feeling the constant flow of the moon through the skies and of her light down to the land.
“Let them see me not,” I say, then blow the fire out.
Love Spell
For the good of all and to the harm of none…
Dry one eggshell, and write the name of your intended on the shell in oil as it dries.
Next, crumble dried rose leaves in salt in a mortar and pestle, then add the eggshell once dried. Grind together with the intention in your incantation: You love me in the light and in the dark. You love me for who I am not who you think I am. Love so pure and protected, love divine and never broken.
Once the salt is pink in color you have ground it sufficiently. Sprinkle your salt on a morsel intended for your lover to eat. Any amount shall suffice. So mote it be.
RYKER
Fucking hell. I have to tug harder to get my jeans unstuck from a thorny vine that snuck up on me. All of this for a flower? I grit my teeth and push through, shaking off the inconvenience and grateful I’m nearly done with the task.
I’m pleased to do a favor for a friend. That much, at least, is true. But the pleasure I feel in doing this errand for my friend is not without its vice. Namely, that I was not honest when I accepted the work. There was much I didn’t say. For example, I did not say I would rather do anything but attend this wedding. I would much rather waste my training on gathering florals for the upcoming event.
Gritting my teeth I scan the forest for more of the blooms.
That is exactly what I agreed to do, pick a rare flower in an uninhabited region—apart from a supposedly powerful witch who hates all others.
I’m here at the edge of a quiet woods near sunrise because the wedding of Prince Adom and Princess Charlotte could not go on without the florals—this specific bloom that the princess required.
I have sought the florals throughout the woods. Even at this hour, the moon is bright enough that I can continue until I’ve gathered everything that is necessary and then some.
There, at the edge of the path, is another one of the florals I’m meant to collect. Its large, delicate, scarlet petals are beautiful…but so is any other flower. I trudge along, ignoring the stinging of the cuts on my arms as they heal in no time. A perk of my wolfen blood. The rate of healing is also why I’m a fighter, and a damn good one. A fighter picking flowers…
A crack behind me stops me in my tracks. A branch snapping under the weight of some creature. Pausing, I hold my breath and listen. The forest is alive with sounds, but none of them indicate anything other than woodland creatures in the underbrush and leaves blowing in the branches. Woods in the very last hours of night, when most of the creatures sleep or are bedding down.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
When I’m sure once again that no one is near, I bend and cut the floral, then place it into my pack with the rest.
Flower-picking. That is what my life has come to. I would wager all the money I’ve ever earned that the worst danger in this stretch of forest is me. There is nothing in particular for me to fear. I would have caught the scent in the wind long ago.