The Royal Witch

IV

I want to thank THE_BEAUTIFUL_LOST1  for this wonderful cover😍 how beautiful is this?! I appreciate your time and effort <3

The Royal Witch
Chapter Four:

SERAPHINA STROLLED through her home, rushing past the familiar faces in the castle. She had just left her mother's empty bedroom and she was now searching for her within the mighty, stone walls.

"Mary!" Seraphina called, stumbling forward. "Mary, hello," she breathed out.

"Princess," Mary—the friendly maid—beamed, slowing down her pace, "is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine—have you seen my mother?"

Mary's thin eyebrows stitched in the centre as she tucked a stray hair back into her clumsy bun. The afternoon sunlight gleamed across her fine, brown hair and illuminated her mocha eyes, transforming them into the shade of a new dawn. "I think I saw her walking towards the kitchen. Shall we walk together?"

Seraphina nodded, her midnight waves bouncing around her shoulders. The two girls trudged along the hallway, pushed open a pair of wooden doors and emerged into the kitchen.

A small handful of men and women clanged together pots and pans, stirred boiling soup, chopped vegetables and shared friendly conversation. Younger girls and boys were sprawled across the large room, leaning against tables, slouching on chairs. The castle is a sanctuary for those in need of company and shelter, or for those yearning for a place to call home.

"Looking good, Neo," Seraphina said, grinning at her friend who was lazily sat crosslegged on the wooden stool.

"You took your sweet time—we were waiting for you." Neo stretched out his long legs and yawned, his eyes falling shut.

"Good day, Your Royal Highness?"

Seraphina turned around to face the source of the chirpy voice.  "Quite good, Mr. Wynn," she smirked, playing along with the pretend royal-like formality, "how's Betsy?"

Wallace snorted—his polite facade falling—and rolled his sleeves up as he leaned back against the table. "Oh, man, you should see for yourself. Simply fantastic—thanks to that big old bag of biscuits you fed her. She can't even carry herself anymore."

Seraphina helplessly grinned, picturing Betsy rolling around and wagging her tail. "Biscuits? What biscuits?" She slowly backed away, raising her hands up in mock confusion. "Honestly, Wallace, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Josette sniggered, muttering a snide comment about Betsy's weight to which Wallace swiped her elbow that was leaning against the table, sending Josette crashing down.

From the corner of Seraphina's eyes, she spotted Evanora conversing with Jonathan in the far corner of the hall, showing him the meat cutlery spread across the table. The shadows hid any trace of them but Seraphina could identify their blazing, green eyes reflecting off of the metal, sparkling in the distance. She waved a quick goodbye to her friends before jogging towards her mother and uncle.

"Uncle John!" Seraphina squealed, her bright eyes lighting up with joy. "I'm so happy to see you! When did you get back?"

"And here she is," he grinned, spreading his arms apart like an eagle taking flight, "in all her might and glory. Seraphina Raven Blackwood, daughter of Evanora Acacia Blackwood, niece of Jonath—"

"Oh, please," she whispered frantically, heated up from embarrassment as she glanced at the humoured faces around the kitchen—Josette stood up and applauded, with Neo blowing Seraphina several kisses, "you always do this."

A hearty laugh exploded from his mouth and he playfully bumped her shoulder with his hand. He jumped into a lengthy description of his month course of teaching and training after Seraphina asked for a full analysis of his long journey. As he was absorbed in words, she noticed his tall frame and the extra padding of muscle hugging his body and suddenly she saw her uncle as a true knight. A real warrior. Soon, he would train more to be like him.

Evanora quickly swiped the cutlery off of the table, the sound of sharpened blades hissing through the air. She wrapped them in a clean cloth, throwing them into a large, leather satchel.

Except, they weren't cutlery. They were abstract blades bent into dangerous shapes, varying in size.

"Mother," Seraphina furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, "what are you—"

"Never you mind," Evanora waved her hand dismissively as though she was swatting a fly, "what is it that you wanted?"

"I... I wanted to tell you—"

Seraphina's mind was in a blurry haze. The dangerous flare in her mother's eyes were more visible than ever. Carefully, she shifted her gaze to her uncle, hoping for a sign or clue of any sort.

"Yes? What is it?" Evanora impatiently crossed her arms.

"Hazel has settled in well," she stumbled over her words," but, she wishes to leave soon."

"That's fine. I will speak with her."

"Can I ask—"

"No, you may not. No, Seraphina, don't argue with me. And, don't think about following us. That curious mind of yours? It may well kill you. Stay well within these walls, don't ask another question." Evanora wrapped her cloak tightly around her waist and calmly walked away, her shoulders as light as a leaf leaving its branch.

"Mother!" Seraphina stepped forward anxiously, reaching out a desperate hand. She whipped her head around to face her uncle who was rooted to the ground. "Uncle John, what's going on? Mother wasn't like this until you arrived. You must know—"

"Seraphina," he sighed, "with these witch executions, it's not safe for us." He lowered his voice and Seraphina strained her ears to hear every word. "Your mother, she knows what she's doing. Leave it to her."

With one last squeeze of her shoulder, he departed, leaving Seraphina—once again—alone.