Chapter 20: A Treacherous Bargain
The fire crackled low in the old witch’s eyes as she observed Wardell in the shadows of his room. There was something almost serpentine in the way she moved, graceful and quiet, her cloak flowing behind her like ink in water.
“I see potential in you, Wardell,” she whispered, her voice a dark melody. “You’re far more ambitious than your cousin, far more worthy to lead. Yet, your family binds you to a future you don’t want—a future you know should be yours alone to shape.”
Wardell shifted, his jaw clenched. Part of him wanted to dismiss her, to cling to his family’s traditions and trust in their choices, but her words ignited something deep within him. Willard as king? The thought was absurd, insulting, even. He deserved the throne more than his soft-hearted cousin ever would.
“What do you propose?” Wardell asked, his voice steady but edged with a hint of uncertainty. He knew enough about this witch to understand that any deal with her would come at a price.
The witch’s smile widened, revealing sharp teeth. “An alliance,” she murmured, reaching into the folds of her cloak. “You help me, and in return, I help you.”
She held out a small vial, its contents a swirling silver liquid that shimmered in the dim light. “This potion,” she said, “will allow you to see through illusions, to uncover truths hidden by magic. Take it, and you’ll be able to spy on Willard, Joy, and her friends—even in their most guarded moments. You’ll know exactly what they’re hiding.”
Wardell’s eyes flickered with interest as he reached for the vial. “And then?”
The witch’s smile never wavered. “Then you bring me whatever secrets you find. Information is power, Wardell. With it, we can dismantle the foundations of the Council itself, reshape the kingdom as you see fit.”
A thrill shot through him. If he could expose Joy’s secrets, if he could understand why she was prying into his family’s history, he would have leverage against her, against Willard, and against anyone who stood in his way.
But he hesitated, glancing at the witch warily. “What’s the catch? No one offers this kind of power without asking for something in return.”
Her gaze hardened. “Smart boy. All I ask is a favor—a simple one, when the time comes. When I call upon you, you will obey without question.”
Wardell’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t naive. He knew that favors to witches like her rarely ended in anything short of disaster. But the thought of his family choosing Willard over him fueled his resentment, and the promise of power was too tempting to ignore.
“Fine,” he said, his voice rough. “You have a deal.”
As he took the vial, the witch’s laughter echoed through the room, low and triumphant. She disappeared as quietly as she had come, leaving Wardell alone with his thoughts and the newfound sense of purpose that pulsed through him.
The next day, Wardell waited for the perfect moment to test the potion. He’d learned enough to know that Joy, Willard, Ash, and Zephyr often met in a secluded corner of the library after classes. By now, he was certain they would be there, poring over whatever secrets they’d uncovered from Barbara Moon’s journal.
He uncorked the vial and drank, the cool, metallic taste flooding his senses. For a moment, his vision blurred, but then everything sharpened, colors brighter, shadows darker. Every hidden corner, every concealed book, every faint sound became visible and audible.
Wardell slipped through the halls and into the library, keeping to the shadows, undetectable. As he approached the trio’s usual spot, he could hear fragments of their conversation.
