Witch of Iria

Appearances are deceiving

The castle is a hulking shadow, its main entrance like a great mouth with spiked teeth glistening. We're walking towards it, the horses abandoned at the stables. I feel hunted, even as Finn notices my discomfort. For a moment I have entered my dreams, where my mother holds sway in the cursed city of Iria. I can see her lovely face, her dark eyes sharp and piercing.

Finn brushes my arm, making me wake up.

"Seriously," he drawls. "We're not going to hurt you."

"So relax," Owen laughs, as if such a thing were easy.

Guards melt away from the entrance and stalk in different directions. I force my panic down.

"Relaxing isn't something I do often," I murmur, eyeing the marbled floor.

"I can help you with that." Finn grins and I feel the urge to punch him.

As we enter the gaping maw, my mouth falls open in shock. Two bone white staircases ascend to either side of the grand room. They glitter in the light, as if made from pearl or seashell. The night-black floor glistens as well, luminous. The images in the windows are hard to make out; but a woman graces one, her golden hair intricately painted. People mill about, dressed in silks and velvet. They stare at us and whisper behind their hands to their neighbours, their mouths twisting into vicious smirks. Even I know enough to recognise courtiers.

"You seem popular," I mutter to Finn and he simply shrugs.

Owen's eyes narrow as he watches the courtiers.

The oddest thing is how ordered it is. As if gods had swept in and created a pristine monotone chamber. I'm used to the wild madness of the trees, the rioting colours of the heather and gorse. The terror and exhilaration and violence. Not this cage of civility. It feels like a trap. My knee aches and I make myself walk forwards, refusing to show weakness.

"My lord." An older woman bars our way. Her hair is pinned up in a fussy updo and her hands and neck are adorned in yellow gold. Her lips curl back into a smile, revealing her teeth. "You have returned. And not empty handed, it seems?"

Her gaze flits to me and I see the disdain there. Finn stiffens and then gives a beatific smile.

"Mistress," he says in greeting. "I did not think to see you here. But yes, I have returned with something valuable."

Irritation burns through me. Something.

"She looks a bit worse for wear," she sneers, her hand going to her throat. No doubt to show off her golden necklace.

"Appearances are deceiving," Finn replies, taking my arm. I want to squirm away from him, but the thought of Dorcha stops me. I'm his something until this is over. Then we can go home.

"Well, good luck," she says softly, even though it's obvious she doesn't wish him anything of the sort. "Idris has a master mage to do his work for him. I don't think all the luck in the world will help you." She glides away, her sneer masked by a charming smile as she speaks to someone else. Finn is trembling, barely containing some emotion.

"Who was that?" I ask, still watching her.

"Mistress Celeste," he says through his teeth. "Don't concern yourself with her. She's dangerous."

Despite the fact that these people are swathed in rich fabrics and would probably squeal like children in the forest, I believe him. There are different types of danger. And I don't know this place.

The other courtiers continue to stare as we make our way up the left staircase. I think I will stain the pale steps with blood and so I do, small drips marring the shimmer. Finn notices my knee and supports me with his arm. I only breathe out when we reach a black door at the top and leave the unsettling chamber.

Finn introduces a middle-aged man who turns out to be a healer and I'm hustled to a room, followed by guards. It's pale, just like the staircase. And it...boxes me in. I'm not sure what to make of the bed, plush and soft with pillows. A lone candle burns, outlining the cold fireplace. I'm not used to such comfort. I used to live like a queen, my mother would say. I had so many jewels, Gwyneth. I never understood why she needed so many, or why it mattered.

Finn and Owen watch as the healer wraps fabric around my knee. I stare at him, sitting uncomfortably on the soft bed.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my head cocked to one side as I touch the white fabric.

"Bandaging you up," he replies calmly.

"You're a healer?" I ask, eyebrows raised. He nods, perturbed.

"Then heal me," I command, waiting for the magic. But he just watches me helplessly.

There's a beat of silence in the room.

"I-I have," he says, gesturing to the fabric. Which doesn't help much. This place is so strange. That extra sense I have, that awareness of power, is missing. I suppose it doesn't work here. I can only feel the pulse of power from Finn and some of the guards. The pain in my knee flares and it becomes annoying. I untie the useless fabric and toss it aside. 

"Fine," I hiss, dredging up my wisps of power. "I'll do it myself."

The group stands transfixed as my wound glows a faint white and begins to seal, the blood drying on my knee. I wince, because I'm not supposed to use this type of gift. Never again. I promised my mother I wouldn't use the silver magic that slumbers in my veins. My shadowy magic came from my mother but the other power is a mystery. She would panic when I used it. But what do promises matter now? Especially to someone like her, who left me. 

When I glance at Finn, he's grinning. It stretches his face and makes it look greedy, somehow. I don't like the expression.

"You're perfect," he breathes and I shiver. Not in lust, but in fear. I feel like something and not someone. Like a witch of the forest and not Gwyneth. His gaze rakes up and down my body and the healer backs away, as if I would hurt him.

I glower at Finn, wiping that grin from his face.

"Don't you have any real healers?" I ask sharply. "And what am I to do here?"

"You're to rest," he answers, his expression solemn again. Owen nods, watching my knee. "And we'll discuss it later on."

Without another word, he strides out of the room, the healer in tow, and I am left alone. In a cage of plush white comfort. The candle emits a loud spark and it sounds like bones breaking.