The Unordinary Life of the Enchantress

Chapter Twenty: Suspicion

Silence emanated through the room, the air stinging with tension as the Enchantress ripped her gaze from the boy to face the Master that approached them. She looked at the child, her breathing heavy and eyes wide, opening her mouth to say words that she could not sound. Several minutes passed whence the Master stood, fear accumulating within her eyes as she struggled to find the words to meet the child's ears.

"You..." she finally breathed, her voice a strangled whisper. "What are you?" The woman shook her head, her hand reaching to touch her temple. "No, never mind that. What you showed us – is it real or is it something you've made up?"

The child gave a slight tilt of her head, her brows furrowing as her lips twisted with confusion. "It happened," she flatly responded. "I showed you what I saw. What is happening near the forest."

"So, what we just saw," the Enchantress piped in, "it was all happening as we watched? Or did you show us the future... or the past?"

Zel shifted her attention to the Enchantress, shaking her head as she listened to the latter suggestions, irritation etching itself into her face. "I showed you what is happening," she repeated. "Now, they are all inside. The king is eating his dinner. Tomorrow, they will try and find the ladies again, but they will not find them because the ladies will be away, looking for the weapon."

"Who were those ladies? Do you know?" The Master began to scratch the skin near her right ear, a nervous habit that the Enchantress knew to manifest in dire situations.

"The Witches," she stated matter-of-factly.

Although the possibility had lingered on the minds of the party, none had the courage to accept their suspicions. As the child's innocent lilt and casual demeanour addressed the question, the Enchantress felt a weight lift from her shoulders as heavier one placed itself on her heart. She let go of Zel's hand and turned to look at her mentor. The woman returned her gaze, the same statement etched in her features as were in her pupil's.

To them, it was no question as to what the 'weapon' was – or rather, whom it was. A cold chill filled the air between them. Silence barely lingered as the boy spoke, a sudden sound that stole the attention of both the Enchantress and her Master.

"Do you know what the weapon is?" he asked, his eyes studying Zel, concern and fear filling his gaze.

The little girl turned her attention to him. She hesitated before releasing his hand, and that of the Enchantress, and taking a step away from them. A pout formed on her quivering lips as her small hands formed fists around the fabric of her dress. A sharp nod shook her being, a ragged breath escaping from her lungs.

The boy let free a soft sigh. He crouched down near the child and placed his hand on her shoulder, an affectless act of comfort. "Let's get you some rest. You must be tired," he stated, taking hold of her hand and turning to face the Master.

The woman gave a nod before the boy spoke to her, reaching out and taking hold of the child's hand and guiding her towards the staircase. The Enchantress watched after them, her mind sang in silence as their footfalls filled the halls. As the two vanished from view, she turned her attention to the boy, who still crouched on the ground near her. Tentatively, she approached him. Her hand found its way to hover near his shoulder, her fingertips threatening to brush the cloth of his top.

The boy must have had some emotion about seeing his own king act in a manner so brash. He must have some sadness, mayhap regret, about finding his leader's true colours. He must have had some small iota of pain flowing through his heart, so the Enchantress thought.