The Dragon Bride | ✔️

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kora's POV

"Please calm down, Lady Kora," the youngest, apparently Ophelia, says pleadingly.

"Yes, you're going to tick off my Magna potion. It responds to loud noises, and right now you're on the right path to set it off and turn yourself pink!" the eldest witch, Evanora, tells me huffily.

"Oh, do hush, Lady Kora. Or else old Eva won't shut up about her godforsaken potion!" Beatrice says pointedly, shooting Evanora a look of irritance.

But I can't calm down. Koniel is nowhere to be seen and I'm surrounded by three witches, creatures that are meant to be extremely rare. Their hut, which I can now see is a treehouse, is decorated quaintly with deep purple accents, a black rug, and a ladder to where leads three mattresses.

"Wh- Where is Koniel? The royal guard?" I stammer, still untrusting towards these women.

"Oh, the charming Werewolf!" Ophelia gushes, her cheeks reddening, "He's ever so handsome, isn't he just?"

Evanora rolls her eyes, "You think every man that you come across is charming and handsome. He could be the utmost disdainful and you'd still gush like a schoolgirl,"

Beatrice giggles, which earns her a slight half-hearted shove from Ophelia.

"Well you always praise pretty, ladylike girls like this here Kora Moons!"

"How dare you, I do not!" Beatrice insists.

"Do too! I bet you have a crush on her, and that one princess from Lynwan, oh, what's her name?"

"You haven't answered my question," I state.

Ophelia turns to me. "The royal guard has gone to gather a few of my potion ingredients. You know, the usuals; hair of a white cat, a bottle of brandy, blood of a minotaur, eye of newt, poison ivy, lizard's tail..."

I gawk, absolutely stunned. "A lizard's tail? The blood of a minotaur?"

"Why, these are just needed for potion bases! The best part comes with actually creating the potion itself..." Evanora says, looking mesmerised for a moment.

Beatrice rolls her eyes, "Potion-making is Eva's thing. Ophie and I practice more modern ways of witchcraft,"

Ophelia nods, "Beatrice can cast incredible spells, you know,"

"Ophelia is amazing at charms and enchanting things,"

I try follow, but my mind is still utterly blank. All I can think of is how long we've spent in this forest, and how worried Synn will be. It sounds pathetic, but I haven't spent this long away from him since we met.

I hate being dependent on others, yet here I am.

There's a sudden knock on the door, and my eyes shoot towards Koniel, who's carrying a basket.

"Well, look who finally woke up," he remarks, smirking.

"How long has it been?" I demand, getting up.

"We both slept through the night. It's early morning now," he tells me nonchalantly.

"Koniel, we have to get back to the palace. Or else they'll assume us dead,"

"Oh, do you have to go so soon? You have some nasty bruises on your knuckles. Say, were you actually fighting?" Ophelia asks me, looking oddly incredulous.

"Yes, she fought off three Crimson mercenaries," Koniel says quickly, shooting me a meaningful look.

The three witches gasp, dark eyes wide.

"But Crimsons are dangerous! They're brutish and foul and... They- They're men! And you're..." Beatrice says.

"A woman?"

Evanora, Beatrice and Ophelia exchange a look. "Well, yes." Evanora replies pointedly.

I sigh. "Thank you for your concerns, ladies, but as you can see from my very much living body, you don't need to spoil me with any more of them,"

Ophelia smiles at me as if I'm an exhibit in a museum, "She's just as spirited as the rumours say,"

"Quite so," Evanora says huffily, "Like a wild, untamed horse, I shall give her that!"

"Oh, hush, Eva! You're just an old foddy," Beatrice turns to me, "You seem like a breath of fresh air to me, Lady Kora."

I raise my eyebrows. As if I care about this old Evanora's opinions of me. At least Beatrice and Ophelia are a little nicer.

"Yes, Kora, don't mind Evie. She's just raised this way," she jokes, earning herself an elbow to the arm.

"Hush you! There's nothing wrong with wanting to preserve some nice, traditional ideals,"

I shrug and nod, unable to say any more.

After all, it's easy to abdicate responsibility by saying it's just generational, but that isn't an excuse, not when other people's lives are involved. If so, where does it end? Ignatians are misunderstood do-gooders trying to give human immigrants a purpose? The generals who committed genocide against my people didn't know any different?

Sometimes a line has to be drawn to say that it's not about generation or a change in attitudes. It isn't about younger people versus older people, men against women or straight versus gay. It's about narrow-minded, bigoted fools being narrow-minded bigoted fools.

"Here are some of the potion ingredients," Koniel says, handing Evanora the basket. He then turns to me, "The palace isn't far now. Let's head off,"

I nod and turn to the witches. "Thank you so much for letting us stay the night here, and I'm sorry if we caused an inconvenience," I say to the two of them, and then turn to the third, "Evanora? Go shove your 'traditional ideals' up your ass."