Mist-Torn 01 - The Mist-Torn Witches (25 page)

Perhaps Karina was still shaken from her fears that Anton might have been on his deathbed. But the words coming from her mouth were startling. Céline had no idea she was so ambitious for Anton. Was she equally ambitious for herself? Seeking at least partial power to help rule through him? Pavel had clearly said she was given a voice here in matters of state.

Karina ceased her pacing near the bed. “But the deaths of these girls will have no impact on Prince Lieven’s decision, and I fear the murders will not be solved, even with your good help.”

“They must be,” came a whisper from the bed.

Anton’s eyes were open, and he’d been listening. Though probably as weak as a puppy, he wasn’t sweating or shaking. He was looking at his aunt. “We must stop these murders. My lady, arrange another banquet, for tomorrow night. Céline must continue reading the young women. At present, we have nothing else to try.”

The thought of even one more reading was almost more than Céline could face, but she had other worries.

“You won’t be on your feet by tomorrow night,” she insisted.

His quiet voice was firm. “I will.”

*   *   *

Although she was weary to the bone, Amelie couldn’t sleep. Finally, she climbed out of bed and stood on the cold floor, wondering if perhaps she shouldn’t just go and sit with Céline and the Lady Karina. Here, alone in this room, she had too much time to think. Much too much.

Her mind kept going over her experience that afternoon with Jaromir, how he’d told her of his past. It was difficult to admit, but she felt differently about him now. She understood him better.

And she didn’t want to understand him.

She certainly didn’t want to be standing by the firelight from the hearth, thinking about him.

Sighing, she reached for her breeches and then noticed that the miniature of Lady Bethany was back on the dressing table, leaning against the mirror. How did that thing keep getting out of the drawer?

Walking over, she picked it up. With everything that had happened in the past day and night, they’d completely forgotten to try to get it back to Anton. Pausing, she looked down into the pretty face of Lady Bethany. Poor woman, to have died so young, leaving her sons without a mother.

Bethany’s face was rounder than Karina’s, and so were her eyes. Their thick chestnut hair was the same, though, even the manner in which they wore it, piled high with a few loose curls hanging down.

Then suddenly, even in the light of the fire, Amelie felt cold, and she looked up. The room appeared
to be filling with white mist. Her eyes dropped back to the portrait just as the first jolt hit.

“No!” Amelie said aloud, speaking to the portrait.

But she was jerked backward, rushing down the corridor of swirling mists, almost unable to believe what was happening. The journey was long, and she grew light-headed, fighting to break free from the mists, to get back to her room.

The mists cleared, and she was outside, in broad daylight, with a cluster of red apples hanging over her head.

Half turning, she saw that she was standing only a few paces from a young woman, perhaps sixteen years old, who knelt on what appeared to be damp ground beneath an apple tree, inside an orchard. The day was clear and the sun shone bright in the sky, but beyond the orchard, Amelie could see pools of still water filled with more cattails than she could count.

The Everfen?

“Bethany?” a smooth voice called. “Are you out here?”

The young woman raised her head. It was Anton’s mother…only younger than the image in the miniature. She was little more than a girl, wearing a muslin gown, soaked through the skirt where she knelt.

At first she didn’t answer the call, and then finally said, “I’m here, Karina, over here.”

The sound of sweeping skirts answered, and
another woman came around a tree. Amelie gasped. It was the Lady Karina…but she appeared to be in her late twenties. She looked exactly the same as when Amelie had seen her in Anton’s rooms less than an hour before.

“Whatever are you doing? Father is waiting to tell you good-bye,” Karina said as she stopped walking. “You’ve ruined that dress.”

“I don’t care.”

“Oh, stop playing the martyr and get up.”

“I don’t want to go.” Bethany seemed near to tears. “Can’t you go for me? Can’t you take my place?”

“Would that I could,” Karina answered coldly, and then her face softened. “Forgive me…I’m…I know this isn’t your fault. But Prince Lieven is determined to expand his territories here in the south, and he wants a bride from the House of Yegor. The head of any southern house would jump at the chance to connect with Pählen. Father wrote to offer him a daughter, with some lands thrown in for a dowry, and Lieven agreed. That’s all there is to it.”

“But Father has four daughters. Why did he have to pick me?”

“Because of your youth. Because princes like Lieven tend to prefer sixteen-year-old girls; that’s why. Father says I’m too old, that if I arrived at Castle Pählen as the sacrificial lamb, Lieven might send me back. He won’t send you back.” This last was spoken with bitterness.

“Yes, but you’ve rebuffed every man who’s asked for you.”

“Because there’s been no one from a great house!” Karina answered. “Which is why Father never tried to force me…and now it may be too late.” She moved closer to her sister. “But it’s not too late for you. Prince Lieven’s influence and his lands are growing. You’ll have sons. Lieven may not be the grand prince in his time, but if the power of Pählen continues to grow, you could be the mother of a grand prince, enjoy power through him. Try to imagine that far ahead, Bethany. It will sustain you.”

Bethany stared at the damp ground. “Father claims to love me, but he knows nothing about Lieven. He’s sending me to the west, to share a bed with a man he’s never met. Is that love, Karina?”

“Yes,” Karina answered. “In this case it is. And I wish I was your age and you were mine. I’d take Father’s brand of love in a heartbeat.” She reached down. “Come on. You’ll need to change that dress before the caravan leaves.”

Bethany gripped her sister’s hand. “You’ll write to me? We’ll share everything that happens to us both?”

Karina nodded. “Oh, yes. I will follow everything that happens in your life.”

Bethany climbed to her feet, still holding Karina’s hand.

The scene of the orchard vanished, and Amelie
was back in the glowing firelight of her room staring down into Bethany’s face. How had that just happened? How had touching the miniature pulled Amelie back through the mists?

But immediately, a more important revelation hit her. If the vision had been real…then Lady Karina had not aged a day in more than twenty-five years, since before Sub-Prince Damek was even born.

J
aromir lay on his bed, trying to sleep and failing. He couldn’t stop thinking on those terrible hours with Anton tonight, watching his friend vomit and convulse and finally fall unconscious.

He’d feared that Anton had been further poisoned, but once Céline had voiced the truth, he’d chastised himself as an idiot. He should have figured it out himself. He’d seen enough men who loved strong drink, who had fallen on hard times, and then suffered from a lack of gin. He’d seen the shaking and sweating and sickness.

But the way Céline had stepped in and taken over had given him more relief than he could express, and now it seemed Anton would recover.

But Jaromir couldn’t fall sleep. He was still recovering from the experience himself.

A knock sounded on the door. Sitting up, he hesitated, hoping it wasn’t Bridgette. He wasn’t about to let her in, and he wasn’t up to sending her away. But he couldn’t ignore the knock, so he walked over and opened the door.

Amelie was standing in the passage, pale and shaken.

“What is it?” he asked, thinking this must be about Anton. “Is he worse?”

“The prince? No, I think he’s…I haven’t heard anything more.”

Jaromir moved aside, opening the door further. “Then what’s wrong? Come inside.”

She shook her head and wouldn’t cross the threshold. “No, I just…I was thinking about earlier, about what you told me…and a few things that Pavel told me and Céline.”

After all they’d been through tonight, he didn’t feel like speaking of his past anymore. “What about it?” He knew he sounded short, but he couldn’t help it.

She didn’t notice his tone. “The Lady Karina was already with Anton before you came here?”

He frowned. “Yes, but just before.”

“How well did Anton know his mother’s family?”

This was indeed becoming odd. Puzzled, he said, “I don’t think at all. From what little I know, the marriage of his parents was arranged between the families via proxy, and his mother was sent up from the south in a caravan to marry Prince Lieven. Common enough among the great houses. I don’t think Prince Lieven ever met her family.”

“But years later, long after Bethany was dead, Lady Karina learned that Lady Joselyn had died and that Anton had fallen into mourning, and
she came here to offer him her help. How would she have known he needed help? And why would he have accepted?”

“Amelie, I’m tired. Why are you asking these things?”

“Could they have been writing to each other, Anton and Karina?” she asked. “Maybe she wrote to him once he was given Castle Sèone, or even before, and she worked to establish a connection between them?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible. Anton has always been good about answering letters, and Karina is his mother’s sister.” He stepped forward. “What is this about?”

But she drew away from him, and he was reluctant to grab her arm after what she’d said to him up in the portrait hall.

“I don’t know. I need to talk to Céline…” She turned. “Good night, Lieutenant.”

And then she was hurrying down the passage. He knew better than to follow.

*   *   *

Upon returning to her room near dawn, if Céline thought she’d get any sleep, she was sadly mistaken.

For she walked in to find a very distraught Amelie pacing the floor.

Amelie then rushed to her and spilled out an astonishing story, speaking in fits and starts from the moment she’d picked up the miniature of Lady Bethany to her visit to Lieutenant Jaromir
for any possible extra information. By the time she’d finished, Céline was more than skeptical, but she knew she’d need to tread carefully.

Drawing Amelie over to the bed, Céline motioned her to sit down. “Are you sure it wasn’t a dream? We’ve been through so much in the past few days and nights.”

Amelie’s expression moved from shock to anger. “It wasn’t a dream! How would I have known what to ask Jaromir? How would I have known to get him to confirm that Prince Lieven knew nothing of Bethany’s family?”

Suddenly, the weight of what Amelie was saying began to touch Céline. “You really saw a vision of Bethany when she was sixteen…and Karina was the same age she is now?”

“Yes!”

“But that would been at least twenty-six years ago.”

Amelie nodded vigorously. “Before Damek was even born.”

Céline sank onto the bed beside her sister. “She said something tonight, something about being certain Anton would be named heir to the House of Pählen and then become the grand prince. Do you think she’s seeking power through him?”

“Maybe, but how has she not aged?”

“I don’t know.” Céline’s mind began turning over their options. “We can’t go to Anton or Jaromir with this. All we have is your word—from a vision you saw by touching a portrait that
shouldn’t even be in this room. And then what would we accuse her of? Looking younger than she should?”

“She should look about fifty-five.”

“We can’t prove that.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

Céline looked around the room, at the silver brushes on the dressing table, the gowns in the open wardrobe, and the wooden screen in the corner.

“Set a trap,” she answered.

*   *   *

The following evening, as Amelie stood before the full-length mirror, she was beginning to regret how easily she’d agreed to Céline’s plan.

“Céline…I don’t know about this.”

“Oh, will you stop?” Céline answered. “You look lovely, and this is the only thing I could think of to get her up here alone. Surely you can stand wearing a gown for an hour or so?”

But Amelie wasn’t so sure. She didn’t feel like herself. Céline had laced her into the silk midnight blue gown that Inna had initially brought the day they’d arrived. It was tight at the waist and the skirt felt heavy, and she looked like a stranger to herself in the mirror.

“I’ll bet Jaromir would pay a year’s wages to see you in that,” Céline said, straightening the brushes on the dressing table.

An angry retort formed on Amelie’s lips, but she managed to bite it back. She wished Céline would stop teasing her about Jaromir. She was
conflicted enough about him as things stood. “I doubt he earns a wage,” she answered. “He probably has the run of the castle treasury and just takes whatever he wants.”

The fire burned brightly, but the spring night was unusually warm, and the room felt hot and stuffy. Moving to the window, she opened the shutters and breathed the night air, looking down into the courtyard.

“All right,” Céline said from the dressing table. “I think we’re ready.”

“What makes you think she’ll come herself?” Amelie asked. “She might just send one of her maids.”

“Oh, she’ll come. Trust me.”

A short while ago, Amelie had a written a note—dictated by Céline—that read:

They’d given the note to a castle maid and had it sent directly to Karina’s room. Amelie objected
strenuously to the wording of the note, as it sounded nothing like her.

But Céline continued to insist that it would appeal to Lady Karina and bring her here directly. “For all her polite ways, I suspect your breeches and dagger offend her. Women like her are forced into a role by their birth and station, and most of them can’t stand the thought of another woman escaping that role. I know for certain that she’s been dying to put you into a gown and to dress your hair since we first arrived.”