Kingdom of Scourge and Shadow (The Sightstone Series #1)

Chapter Two: Judith

"And so it is proclaimed that any child born of a witch shall be considered a witch, and is hereby commanded to present herself bodily to the New Army for training in the military and occult arts before her nineteenth birthday. Any witch who refuses the summons shall be treated as a traitor and deserter."

-Terms of The Treaty of Almburgh, signed by Queen Alya and the First General to end the persecution of witches in Caedland

***

Anrath Township, Caedland

Conscription Day

The village was unnaturally silent as Judith made her way back from school. In honor of Conscription Day, a national holiday, they'd been given a half-day, and the church bells softly chimed the hour as Judith wove between the stone cottages and along the dusty road, grit and gravel crunching under her boots.

Her skirt dragged in the dirt, and, if her mother had still been alive, Judith knew she'd have been in for a lecture when she got home. As it was, though, she knew her father wouldn't care. Besides, the state of her hemline didn't much matter, anyway. This time tomorrow, she'd be gone, and she would probably never wear this dress again. After all, in the military, witches had to wear uniforms.

She passed the local pub where, even on Conscription Day, several men lounged outside, three sheets to the wind and counting. Judith ducked her head and hurried forward, uncomfortable under their leering stares. One of them let out a piercing whistle as she passed, and his friend shouted something unrepeatable.

Judith kept her gaze firmly on the ground, praying they couldn't see how her cheeks flushed in shame at their lewd words. Another man murmured something about doing something anatomically impossible with her, and Judith had to fight the urge to break into a run. Saints and gods above, she hated that place.

She made it past unscathed, finally, and ducked down a side street as a chill wind wrapped around her, tugging at her hair and clothes and promising a storm in the next few days. In Anrath, barely south of the arctic circle, freezing temperatures in Bone Moon weren't unheard of, and they usually got their first snow by Samhain. If the chill seeping into her bones was any indication, there would be frost on the ground tomorrow.

Judith shivered and hurried on, past grey stone houses with chimneys spewing woodsmoke, past muddy gardens that had been cut back for the winter, past the reputable parts of town and into the collection of poorer, grimier, more run-down miners' cottages on the very edge of Anrath.

Her family's cottage was located at the very end of a narrow, muddy road so narrow and overgrown it was almost overgenerous to call it a path, or even a track. Unlike the other cottages around it, despite the sagging roof and smoke-stained stone walls, it was in fairly good condition, the front door and shutters freshly painted, and a neat fence surrounding the garden, which, despite having been stripped bare for winter, still managed to look tidy. Her father's handiwork.

On the rare days he wasn't working at the textile mill, he spent his time tending to his beloved plants. Some of Judith's earliest memories had happened in that garden–picking flowers for her mother, tending to the vegetable past, pruning roses. Once, she'd loved to help him out there, but, after her mother's death, those times had faded away to almost nothing, and sometimes it seemed as though a yawning chasm had opened up between them, full of the things they both left unsaid.

Judith let herself in through the whitewashed gate and hurried to the door as the cold pressed in around her, making her cheeks flush and her eyes water. She fumbled briefly with the door handle, her hands stiff despite her gloves, but finally managed to undo the latch. The door opened with a creaking groan, and she sighed in relief as warm air wafted out, wrapping around her like a blanket.