Princess Esme's Arc

Chapter 4 of 7

For four days Esme rode east. She ate the last bread and apples the servants had packed on the first morning. After that she chewed nothing but her own worry. Her lips cracked. Her legs ached from the saddle. On the fourth evening the black shire slowed on its own, and she lifted her head. A slender stone tower rose from the trees ahead. Ivy climbed its walls. Clusters of purple flowers glowed in the last light. She had found the witch. Esme slid down and led the tired horse to the door. A raven-shaped knocker stared at her from the dark wood. She raised her hand, then stopped. The servant had said this woman helped girls the crown threw away. She had also said she did not know if the witch would help or harm. Esme knocked twice. The door opened before the sound faded. An old woman stood there, leaning on a walking stick. White threaded her dark hair. A black cloak hung to her feet. Her eyes moved over Esme's torn gown, her loose hair, her hollow face. "You've ridden a long way, child," the woman said. Her voice was low and calm. "Come in before you fall down." Esme's throat tightened. She had braced for a cackle, a trick, a locked door. Not this. "Are you Morganna Blackthorn?" she asked. "I am." Morganna stepped back and waved her stick toward the stairs. "Tie your horse. He can rest and eat." Esme climbed the winding steps behind her. The room at the top was wide and warm. A fire burned. Herbs hung drying from the beams. Morganna set a bowl of stew on the table and poured a cup of milk beside it. "Sit. Eat." Esme sat and ate. The stew was thick with meat and carrots. She had not tasted anything so good in weeks. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back. Morganna lowered herself into the chair across from her and folded both hands on her stick. "Now," the witch said. "Girls do not ride days to my door for nothing. Tell me what you desire most." Esme set down the cup. The question stopped her. She had run from the duke, from the queen, from the tower. She had not once said aloud what she wanted. "My stepmother arranged a marriage," she said. "To a man I have never met. She poisoned my father against me. I do not want a husband bought like a horse." Her voice shook. "I want to love someone who is truly mine. A love no one can force or take." Morganna studied her for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly. "That is a dangerous thing to want. Rarer than gold." She rose and crossed to a shelf of jars. "But I can set you on the road to it. If you have the courage to walk it." Esme stood. "I do."