Princess Nymeria's Arc

Chapter 7 of 32

Nymeria and the wolf climbed the winding stairs. The steps curved up and up, worn smooth by years. At the top an open arch waited. Beyond it lay a wide room. Nymeria stepped through and stopped. Books piled high on one table. A fire burned low in a stone hearth. A cauldron hung above it, steam rising. Dried plants swung from the ceiling beams. A bench sat beneath a window, and gray light fell across the floor. The smell of smoke and herbs filled the air. An old woman stood by the cauldron. Gray hair slipped from beneath her hood. She stirred the pot slow, then turned. Her green eyes moved over Nymeria's horns and pale eyes. She did not flinch. She did not smile either. "So you found me," the witch said. "Sit. You're no use to me standing there half dead." This was Mirelle Ashwood, the witch the fishing woman had named. Nymeria had crossed a marsh and a forest to reach her. Nymeria sat on the bench. The wolf lay at her feet, watching the old woman. "I need to break my blood tie to my father," Nymeria said. "His curse binds my line to this world. I want to leave it." Mirelle set down her spoon. "Curses like that don't break for free." She crossed the room and took Nymeria's hand. Her fingers were dry and strong. She turned the palm up and studied it. "Your blood is old. Royal. Strong enough to do what I need." "What do you need?" Nymeria asked. "My youth," Mirelle said. "I've grown old waiting in this tower. Give me your blood for a youth spell. In return I open a door out of Shadowfen. A fair trade." Nymeria looked at her hand in the witch's grip. She feared her own blood and what it could do. But she had no other path. She thought of the hunters behind her and the walls of her father's world around her. "Take it," she said. Mirelle fetched a knife and a bowl. She pricked Nymeria's finger and let three drops fall. The blood glowed faint purple in the bowl. The witch carried it to the cauldron and spoke low words. The fire flared. The room warmed. "It works overnight," Mirelle said. "By morning I'll be young again. And I'll open your door." Nymeria's finger stung. The bargain was struck. She could not undo it now. She had traded her blood for a way out, and she did not yet know what a younger witch would ask of her next. The wolf pressed against her leg. Outside the window, the forest went dark.