Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 127026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
The stone was a light gray with a thatched roof and tulips growing out of the trellises. A vegetable garden was growing verdant in the front lawn. The trickle of a small fountain was the only sound. Smoke billowed from the chimney, and candlelight flickered in the front window.
“Plan?” she whispered.
He shook his head. “Hope for a wish.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
He shot her a look that she knew all too well. When diplomacy didn’t work, plan B was always violence.
“All right,” she said with a nod. Then, she took the last few steps to the front door and knocked.
Fordham’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“The people in these stories are always so rude. Just walking into houses and eating other people’s food and sleeping in their beds. I thought it best to be polite and see if that helps our circumstances.”
Fordham looked aghast, but a moment later, the front door creaked open. No one stood at the entrance. It blew inward, as if on a faint wind.
“Hello?” Kerrigan said, her voice wavering. “Is there anyone home?”
“Come in,” a lilting voice called.
Kerrigan glanced at Fordham. He shrugged. They’d come this far. Together, they stepped across the threshold. She half-expected the cottage to disappear and another glorious palace to appear, but everything remained the same.
The cottage was simple with a small fireplace, kitchen area, and a separate space for the sleeping quarters. A spinning wheel rested in one corner. A female sat in a rocking chair with needlework before her. Golden hair hung forward over her face. Her clothes were basic, probably from her own weaving.
“It has been many years since I’ve had visitors,” she said in that same musical voice. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”
Fordham stepped forward. “I am Prince Fordham Ollivier, crowned prince of the House of Shadows, and this is my companion, Kerrigan Argon, First of the House of Cruse.”
“Hmm,” she said.
Kerrigan pushed him backward. “I am Kerrigan, and though I do have a long title now, I once had no title. I was abandoned by my father, and my mother was killed in childbirth. I have been an orphan and unwanted, but I have found my place over time.”
“And you?” she asked Fordham.
He clenched his hands into fists and then released them. “I am Fordham. I have abandoned my titles, my life, and my love. I was exiled, and now, I should be king. But my titles matter less than what I have found beyond them.”
“What is that?”
“Love. A love worth fighting for.”
Slowly, she tipped her head up from her needlework. Kerrigan nearly fell to her knees right then at the sight of her beauty. She was ethereal and beyond stunning. The most beautiful face Kerrigan had ever witnessed. Wars had been waged for that face. If she’d had doubts before, she had none now. This was the witch of the mountain.
“My lady,” Fordham said, dropping to one knee and bowing before her.
Kerrigan curtsied low. She was in the presence of such immense power that there was nothing else to do but grovel before her.
“Rise,” she said evenly. “You have not come to fall on my floor. Ask your question.”
They both came to their feet, but still, it was hard to even stand in her presence. Hard to look at her too-beautiful face.
Fordham’s eyes were wide with awe. “Who … who are you?”
“Is that the question you have journeyed all this way for?” she asked with a melodic laugh. “Is my identity that important?”
Kerrigan could think of no more important question in her presence. She couldn’t fathom that this was anyone other than a goddess of old. But Fordham had not come before a witch to find a potential god for nothing. He had come here with purpose.
“My lady, at birth, a mysterious stranger came forward to give me a blessing that was a curse. Any who I love will end up dead, and I will end up alone. I have seen my mother die before my eyes. My first lover was beheaded in my presence. I fight for love, but I cannot fight a curse of this magnitude. I want to live a life with love. I ask that you remove this curse.”
The female was silent a moment before rising to her feet. She was nearly the same height as Fordham but seemed to tower over him. Then, to Kerrigan’s shock, she laughed. It was a melodious sound that made Kerrigan want to lean in.
“Oh, you poor child.” She set her needlework aside and walked forward, placing a hand on his brow. “I cannot lift your curse.”
Fordham crumpled under the weight of those words. “You cannot?”
She shook her head once. “I cannot.”
“But … were you not the one to place it upon me?” he asked, scrambling for anything to recover from this.
“Indeed. I placed a gift upon your house.”