Witchling Fever

Chapter One

Manon took a deep breath before knocking. The exterior of the house was new, as all the others were, build almost a year ago when the witches marked their nesting place, both Crochan and Iornteeth. She doesn't bother to wait for a response, she is familiar in this household by now.
The new rug cushioned her feet as she wiped the snow from her boots and placed her sword on the wall. She peered through the open door she knew lead to the main room. The scene was one she expected; two witchlings sat on the ground holding dolls and toys—which she never understood— and another group of them were running around the small room giggling.
It was familiar now but it wasn't a year ago. A year ago she would have been appalled; witchlings are meant to learn how to hunt and survive, not play with fake animals and make snow balls.
Her grandmother, Glennis had taken the time to explain the Crochan culture and let Manon get used to the idea of 'letting witchlings be witchlings'.
As she was lost in her thoughts a young male bumped into her legs. Younglings were soft as she came to realize, they cried easily and needed a lot of attention. Instead of making a fuss as she had come to expect, the male bounced back and continued laughing, running off with the others.
Another aspect of life she was getting used to—male witches.
Crochans were able to bare sons more frequently than her Ironteeth sisters. That meant there were more men running around her city than she was accustomed to. This also came with the revelation that she could also bare a son, should the fates will it.
Glennis apppeared from the hall leading from the left wall and grinned at Manon.
"What do I owe the pleasure your Majesty?"
The children seemed to forget their precious activities in favor of running to Glennis, who scooped up as many as she could and walked to closer to where Manon was.
"I'm leaving tomorrow." The white haired witch spoke. "I spoke to my court this morning but I wanted to watch them for me."
Glennis looked at her carefully, eyes narrowing slightly. "You mean watch Samis." She clarified. "Don't worry she won't cause trouble, she's all threats that one, won't follow through."
One of the young witches pushed herself out of Glennis' arms and scurried across the floor to a seat where a doll with white hair was waiting, white hair and a red dress. Manon turned her head to look at the girl, momentarily forgetting Glennis. The witchling was shorter than the others in the room and obviously younger, she had black hair and pale skin, no ripped clothes signaled that she was most likely Crochan; Ironteeth witchlings tended to have less control over their claws and could ruin clothing easily making them quite a handful. Usually Manon wouldn't pay a second glance to a child, but lately that had been the one thing she could focus on.
The child was beautiful in every sense, an enchanting sight. She most likely belonged to one of her cousins as they tended to send their young ones to Glennis during the work day.
That was another cultural difference between her people. Ironteeth witchlings were never coddled or given to caretakers. Manon herself was given a knife and free roam from the time she could walk.
She turned her attention back to her grandmother. "I am not worried about Samis."
Glennis, who had definitely noticed her lapse in focus replied. "you've never asked me for help during one of your 'trips', what is different about this time?"
Manon looked away from the witch. "This trip may be longer than I am anticipating, there's something in the wind."
"Something that will change things here?" She questioned.
Manon didn't respond. If her plan worked she would not be coming back the same.
"I wish you luck, Majesty." Glennis turned and placed the rest of the children on the ground. "Come play me a visit when you return."
As Manon walked away she had never been more grateful for her grandmothers trust.

Dorian was ready to finish this meeting.
But nobility loved to discuss and plan for hours, if only to binge on the palace wine. Chaol, had arrived at the palace the night previous with his wife and daughter in tow, was standing at his back, which brought Dorian more comfort than he had expected.
"There's one more thing we need to discuss," the prince turned his head toward Simon Tavioux, the palace coordinator. "The entire Orynth court will be in attendance of the Yulemas Ball, we just received their acceptance of your invitation, but we have no idea how to receive them or what arrangements need to be made, sire."
Dorian stood from his seat at the head of the table. "We will discus this privately Simon, everyone else is free to go. Thank you for your time and service."
The room began to empty, all the men and women shaking hands as they slowly ambled to the now open door. Simon stayed.
"Are you worried about the number of guests?"
The tall man shook his head, long hair pulled behind his ears in a braid falling down his shoulder.
"No we have plenty of rooms, my worry which rooms we prepare for them." Simon wrung his hands, something that Dorian frowned at, it was a tell Dorian had learned not to do when he was a child, it showed nervousness and weakness.
"I'm not sure what you mean." Dorian said, still eyeing his coordinators hands.
"I don't know anything of the new court, not many people do sire. Aelin and her followers haven't traveled here and I am worried about room assignments, my job is for them to be comfortable."
Dorian hadn't thought about this part of entertaining the Orynth court, mostly because he hadn't seen his friends in two years, but also he didn't thing this particular group would care about room assignments. There was still the problem of his worried servant that he planned to comfort.
"I would be happy to host them in my hall, set aside the queens chambers for Aelin Galanthnyus and her consort, and then prepare four other rooms down the hall, I will personally see that they are all comfortable myself."
Simon was still on edge but he nodded, "If you think this will work best I will do as you ask, you know them better than me."
"Glad we agree," Dorian set his hand on his shoulder. "We're in for a handful with this group, they're very unpredictable, be prepared Simon."
He nodded, waiting to be dismissed.
"One more thing."
"Yes sire?"
"I would like a wood cradle ordered for my bedroom. Ill need it by a fortnight."
With confusion written on his face he nodded, knowing better than to ask.
"You're excused Simon."