Grey Eyes: Book One of the Forever Trilogy

Chapter Eight

When my eyes opened, a dozen faces hovered above mine, each suddenly relieved.  “Oh thank goodness,” said one of them.

I was back in my room.  I recognized Darren’s grandmother in the group huddled over me.  She smiled and touched my hand and then stepped away.  With my eyes, I followed her over to another group.  This one included my grandmother and Helena, and a very tall woman with long jet-black hair, among others.  They were very animated in whatever they were discussing, that is, until Darren’s grandmother arrived, at which point they each turned to face me.  The tall dark haired woman strode over quickly and the group surrounding my bed parted to give her space.

“Well hello there,” she said, smiling. “Pushed our self a little too hard did we?”

I just stared.  What happened to me?

“Anastasia, would you mind if you and I have a few words?” she asked sweetly.   The woman had a kind face, and an accent haunted her words, reminding me of my French teacher back in Pelion. 

“Okay,” I answered.

The woman turned from me and nodded at the others.  A symphony of whispers and murmurs erupted and everyone headed for my bedroom door.  My grandmother watched me with concern as she moved with them, lingering an extra moment before passing through the doorway. 

The woman took a seat on the bed next to me.  She smiled again once everyone had left the room.  “My name is Genevieve.  I am sorry that I could not attend your welcome party yesterday, I had urgent business in Prague...“

She paused when she noticed me staring at her eyes.  “We have something in common, do we not?”

“You’re…like me,” I managed.

“Indeed.  I am the heir of the Merovingian line of witches.  As you may have guessed from my accent, my native safe haven is located in France.  Have you ever heard of Marseille?”

I shook my head.

She laughed.  “It is all right.  When you are feeling better, perhaps you would like to visit. On the other hand, perhaps I shall accompany you in your first official visit to your family’s native haven, in St. Petersburg.  The witching community there was especially fond of your aunt. Given your resemblance you are a shoe-in for the same affection I am betting.”  She still smiled once she finished speaking, but there was something more than friendliness behind her eyes now, a strange intensity that made me uncomfortable.

“I-I’m just getting used to being here,” I muttered.  Since I was not entirely sure how to respond, I had said the first thing that came to my mind.  Anything to break that painful stare.

“Now, now, you mustn’t neglect your foreign subjects.  It is like choosing one child over another.”

“You make it sound like they belong to me,” I replied.

“Of course,” she said with a surprised tone.  “Have they not made you aware that this haven is your inheritance?  When you are twenty five you will be made lord of the witching community both here and in St. Petersburg.”

“Oh,” I said, genuinely astonished.  “I thought it was just for show like they do in England.  I didn’t know I’d really be like a queen or something.”

“Do not let it trouble your mind.  It feels overwhelming to you now, but you will be more than prepared to assume the responsibilities of your title when the time comes.  Shall we come to the reason why I am here tonight?”

“Okay,” I replied nervously.  I sat up a little in my bed.

She stood up.  “You are at an age where you are still maturing, Anastasia, not only physically but mentally as well.  As we speak, your mind is undergoing the changes necessary to become more attune to the rhythms of nature.  Soon, you will be able to manipulate it—simply put, magic.  As a grey-eyed heir, you will find yourself extremely competent in one area of witchcraft—your affinity.  My affinity, as it has been for most of my ancestors, deals in the restorative properties of nature.  The art of healing.