Chapter Three- Another Ten Years Later
Arwen Darkwhite, known to everyone as Arwen Whitewing, is now a young woman of sixteen years. She still woke up at seven in the morning to the crow of a rooster, she still gathered chickens and did all her other chores, and she was still an unmarried girl living in her mother's manor. But for the past ten years, Arwen had also learned the art of witchcraft.
Arwen now knew pretty much everything she had to know to be a witch. She knew herbs and how they could be used and what for; she knew different spells to speak in different languages; she knew recipes and talismans and many more things. Her mother had taught her well, and now as Bianca watched her daughter gather the chickens into the henhouse, she knew Arwen was ready.
"Arwen!" Arwen came at once at her mother's call.
"I'll wash before dinner," Arwen said, wiping her hands across her skirts like she was still a little six year old. Arwen had grown up to look like the spitting image of her mother: the same kissable lips, the same shiny blue eyes, and the same mixture of an angel and a demon in her enchanting, confident smirk. Her hair was the same dark, ebony color as her mother's, long and and straight. It swam down her back like a river, and everyone who looked at it wanted to touch it and feel the cool softness of it. She was a beauty like no other in the White Spring Realms of Emery, the Beauty of Brigantia, as her neighbors and friends called her. Her mother was proud of her beautiful, witty, and witchy daughter.
"No. Come with me first. We have to talk before dinner," Bianca led the way into the manor, then up the stairs and down the hall, and into her privy chamber.
Arwen noted that this was strangely like her sixth birthday, when her mother had told her about her witch's blood. She entered the room and sat by the fireplace as her mother began closing the curtains and lighting candles. The smell of the candle's dripping wax enveloped the room. Arwen could smell lavender wax for mental clarity, chamomile for brightness, and yemonja root to convince unwilling hearts. Her mother was going to tell her something important, and convince her to do something she might resist at first. Arwen prepared herself for the news, focusing on the lavender scents to clear her mind.
"Mother, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, Arwen. You always think the worst, my child." Bianca patted Arwen's head as she sat next to her. Bianca clasped Arwen's hands and smiled brightly. Arwen could see the ambition and pride in her mother's eyes.
"There is something I have to do, isn't there?"
"Yes, something very important, my dear. Essential to our bloodline, to continue the Darkwhite family tree."
"What is it?" Arwen asked, eager. She knew many things about witchcraft, but she had never had an important mission before. She had to pretend she wasn't a witch to her neighbors, or at least not a strong one. Arwen was sure people suspected, but no one thought she and her mother came from the powerful Darkwhites.
"Do you remember your vision? The one that claimed you were a witch on the night of your sixth birthday?"
"Yes, mother."
"It is time you know the meaning of your vision." Arwen's heart hammered against her chest as her mother continued. "My dream, and your grandmother's dream, were visions of death. But yours is of rebirth."
"Rebirth?"
"Yes. Your destiny was writ in your vision. You are the key to continuing our family tree."
"Yes, but how do I do that?" Arwen asked, her excitement making her impatient.
"By marrying." Arwen stared blankly at her mother.
"Marriage? Is this a jest?" Arwen stood up, disappointed. How could marriage be her great destiny?
"Listen to me, child. This is an important time for you."
"But mother, marriage? I don't want to get married! I want to be a witch, and learn more about my bloodline."
"But by marrying, you will be helping our bloodline immensely!"
"And who does my destiny say I am to marry?" Arwen asked snidely, anger boiling in her stomach, her blue eyes burning with rage.
"The White King."
"I beg your pardon," Arwen blanched, falling back into her seat as she registered her mother's words. "The White King? One of the four rulers of Emery? One of the descendants of the kings who killed our family?" She couldn't believe a word of what her mother was saying.
"Yes. Don't you see, my child? You shall marry the White King, ruler of Brigantia, the White Spring Realms of Emery, and become his White Queen. You will mother his children, raise them to be strong and bright, the next in line for the White throne. And no one will ever know that his children have Darkwhite blood in them. Our revenge on the men who killed our family will be a quiet one; it will be a secret between you and me. Only we will know that the son of the man who killed our family is now the father of that very same witch blood."
"So my destiny is revenge?" Arwen didn't feel right as she said the words, almost disgusting and evil.
"No. Like I said, our revenge will be quiet. Only you and I will have the satisfaction of knowing the truth. The main part of your marriage is actually to ally with the king."
"Ally? To help him?"
"Yes. He may be the son of a man who destroyed our bloodline, but he is our king. Remember your grandmother's prophecy?"
"Who could forget?"
"She said that a Great War is coming between the four kingdoms of Emery. Only one ruler can win. We have to make sure our White King is the champion."
"But why?" Arwen asked, still in a daze.
"Because, my sweet. Can you imagine what would happen if one of the other rulers won? Can you imagine being ordered around by the sinister Black King? Or the hot-tempered Red? Or the icy Grey Queen? As White Queen, you will have the most influence on the king, and you can sway him in the right direction. And as a powerful witch, you can secure a championship for Brigantia, so that Springtime will rule, and we can live in peace."
Arwen listened to her mother, enthralled by her plans. She could tell Bianca had been planning for this for a long time. She imagined herself as queen, wearing the white crown in her vision from long ago. She imagined helping to win the Great War to come, making Brigantia the leading kingdom in Emery, and Spring the eternal season. She sighed and looked into her mother's determined gaze.
"What do I do to make the White King fall in love with a commoner like me?" Arwen asked, and her mother smiled mischievously.
"You shall see tomorrow night, on the full moon."
~
YOU ARE READING
The Emery Chronicles: The White King's Woman (FIRST BOOK)
Romance(FIRST BOOK) In the mystical kingdom of Emery, four cousins rule side by side, haunted by an old prophecy that would bring their destruction. As one of the kings of Emery falls in love, he does not realize that his lover is a woman who is descended...
