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For anyone who has ever had to claw their way forward.
The other gentleman of around three decades, utterly breathtaking with his sepia skin and green eyes, had no expression whatsoever. Intriguing. But the last man, around the same age, was dishevelled—as if he’d been in the same expensive clothes for days. He regarded her with hatred. Ire at the very, very least. That must be the one she was doomed to marry, then.
He was not an ugly creature by any means, tall with tawny skin, dark features, and a strong jaw. He hadn’t seen a shave in several days by the looks of him, and the waves of his midnight hair were as chaotic as his wrinkled shirt and waistcoat. The fury twisting his face, though, darkening his cinnamon eyes, was rendering his countenance irksome. Wedding this prince would be a cumbersome task.
“She has a bat upon her shoulder for Goddess’ sake.” Entitled little prick. Mabon squawked in a similar response and flew up to the rafters.
Enjoy. Sit and eat, Agatha did. The prince sulked, drowning himself in goblet after goblet of wine. If she were being honest, Agatha would have liked to do the same.
There were many unknowns and a plethora of things to worry about, but at least she wasn’t in a goddess awful gown. It improved her mood considerably.
“You do not believe in love, then?” “Of course I do, which is precisely why I loathe archaic cattle breeding events meant to allow aristocrats and dandies to manipulate women into marriage.”
Gaius pulled them to a halt. “To put it plainly, Agatha, Prince Grimm has worked with incredible diligence to uphold his”—he broke off, head tilting to one side—“reputation. This marriage undermines that considerably.” “You mean to tell me your prince has worked with diligence to be a pompous arse?” She expected him to snort, or deny it, but Lord Gaius remained sober and stone-faced. “Yes.”
“I did not peg you for an intellectual, prince,” she mocked.
I thought Grimm was just an arse, but he’s clearly up to something—” “Who?” Sorscha interrupted. “Oh.” Agatha looked at her hands. “Prince Thackery. He’s called Grimm by most.” Sorscha snickered. “Fitting match for you, then, Sister Sunless.”
“I will simply find a way to raise the people without endangering them.” Lord Gaius looked out to sea then back at Agatha. “I don’t think that’s possible, Lady Agatha.” “Funny, I didn’t ask what you thought.”
“If you’ve seen something amusing, please share with the class. I’m nearly dead from boredom out here.”
Agatha smoothed her hands down the sides of her dress and felt something. She patted it for a moment, digging through the folds of the fabric. Grimm stopped walking and eyed her curiously. Agatha gasped. “This gown has pockets!”
“The prince within the castle is not the same man outside of it. Open your eyes.”
Alas, a novel had caught her eye on the shelves and she’d given into temptation.
“I intended to look for it, but I found a novel by Marlowe I hadn’t yet read. The one about Lady Magic’s faerie realm.” Sorscha perked. “Oh! I’ve read that one. It’s delightful.” Agatha squinted. “I know. I hadn’t read it because I let you borrow it and you gave it away.” “Oh, please. That was a hundred and fifty years ago.” “It was a new release!” Sorscha snorted. “You stole my favourite shoes and ruined them.” “You never even wear shoes, and I stole them because you burned my damned house to the ground.” Sorscha scoffed, throwing her hands up. “One time. It was one time.” “That’s an awful
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“People will always follow someone they can believe in, Aggie, and there is no one better to follow than you.”
What’s the fun in being a witch if you cannot sleuth out filthy secrets from the pure? Sorscha would say.
One must take pains to remember that life deals in greys. What is white to one might very well be black to another. It matters not who is right or wrong, but how we mutually treat one another in the midst of the grey.
Despite her odd sense of fashion and loathing for shopping, she did appreciate a lovely item of clothing as much as the next witch. And, she had quite a fondness for the man of small stature and gargantuan personality that stood before her, paper measuring tape looped around his neck.
“Fashion makes a statement. And this gown is your first act as Princess of Seagovia. What do you want it to spoke?” “Defiance,” Agatha said fiercely without thinking. A fire lit behind Tindle’s eyes. “Of?” he urged. “Oppression. Suppression. Inequality.” Her hands formed fists at her sides. “Of being shoved into a shell of yourself at the hands of what someone else tells you is right.” Tindle gave her a small, powerful smile. “The prince, it appears, has not failed us.”
Granted, one could only balance so many open books in their lap. She currently had five.
“Marlowe, hm?” He glanced at the cover and held the novel out to her. She snatched it from his hand. “You know Marlowe?” Agatha scoffed, but she was impressed, truthfully. “Of him.” Her, Agatha corrected mentally with a sense of pride. Marlowe’s success was one of her life’s greatest joys as a Sister Solstice.
She lifted her eyes up to the canopy of giant trees, so alive with vibrant, dying leaves. The irony had always struck a chord with her. A macabre display of artistry.
Well then, what is your favourite of Dulci’s confections?” He already knew she’d say something with pumpkin. “Anything with pumpkin.” Something about his accuracy lit a flame in the dark caverns of his soul and he had to look away. “Not a bad choice.”
If this was her pulling punches, Agatha Joubert was a formidable opponent yet.
The greater good will always be the path less traversed. Let it be mine.
Let her silent roar bleed into their very souls until it reminded them of the burned witches, the brutalised outsiders, and the abused peasants. Let it remind them that their time of oppressing others was through. Agatha wore the colours of the Sisters Solstice: White for Winnie. Red for Sorscha. Gold for Seleste. Black for herself. And the four witches did not go down without a fight. Despite their Orders, they left their own mark upon the world. And that was exactly what Agatha planned to do.
“Cry your tears for Ira. Cry them for yourself. Then take this. It will dry your tear ducts. You are to be queen one day, and you will not cry in front of them, Aggie. You will change this world.”
They were taking a brief pause after the ceremony to collect themselves, which was code for ‘they don’t let us kiss up there, so we’ll do it in the bridal suite.’ In their case, it meant running away from one another to process what had just happened.
“You’ve nerves of solid iron,” Grimm whispered out the side of his mouth as they walked away. “If the magus harms Anne, I will slaughter him myself,” she hissed. Grimm’s eyes abruptly landed on her face. After a beat of silence, he murmured, “We are in agreement, then.”
Kindness is a strength all its own. Peace and tranquillity should never be misinterpreted as meek or feeble.
“Your delightful servants have informed my mother that I’m rarely here when they come in at dawn, and when I am, I’m on the chaise or asleep at the desk.” Agatha smiled in the dark, remembering the time Eleanor startled him half to the grave and he’d jumped up from the desk with parchment stuck to his face. She felt him turn his attention toward her, as if he’d known she’d smiled.
It occurred to Agatha then that Anne was proud of who she was, and if their time together had told her anything, Anne was not nearly as sunshine daft as she led others to believe.
Her tenacity was infuriating but curse him if it didn’t make her so alluring. Grimm winked at her
“Grimm.” The look in his eyes when she said his name made her palms sweat.
“I’m sorry,” she huffed a laugh. “That’s dreadfully sad.” “It’s you, Agatha.” His eyes held such intensity she had to look away again. “Dreadfully sad?” She tried to smile. “No. That moment—it’s you, in essence. Unafraid to encounter the dark. To sit there with those who are overlooked. And willing to be moved enough to fight for them.”
If I must be the villain, the black knight, so be it. I’ll see my people freed, no matter the cost.
“Grimm,” Agatha’s voice broke into his reverie. He was never going to get used to the jolt that went through him every time she said his name. “Yes, wife?” He felt her smile next to him and he turned his head to look at her. He’d sell his soul for that smile. He was suddenly very sure of that.
“My greatest pride and greatest failure are unwelcome bed fellows, I’m afraid.” “As is often the case. The moon has darkness in her midst, and she is more majestic for it, is she not?”
Goddess, she drove him blissfully mad with that sharp tongue.
“A woman may not have need of a man, but if he does not take care of her anyway, he is no man at all.”
Her heart cracked at the very same moment it healed.
Agatha brushed her lips against his, and, just for fun, vanished right from his arms.
“Goddess’ teeth, Sorscha, you look like a bordello harlot.” “Thank you,” she preened.
Grimm cleared his throat. “It’s lovely to meet you, Sorscha. My wife has missed you terribly.” “His wife?” Sorscha whined, looking sidelong at Agatha. “He’s too much, Aggie. I want one.”
“Gaius, keep her safe.” Gaius’ brows rose at Grimm’s relenting before he nodded. “Of course.” Agatha glowered at them both. “This is all very chivalrous, but I’m not asking permission from either of you, and I don’t need protection. I’m a goddess damned witch and I can wield my own sword.”
Her playful smile made his heart ache even more. She was herself in her cottage. He’d seen glimpses as if looking behind a curtain, but nothing like this. He’d fallen for her through those glimpses. The ones that appeared when she was angry, or teasing him, or defying his mother with some macabre fashion choice. She turned to him with a goblet of mulled wine and he thought he’d burst. No—what he thought he’d felt for her did not hold a candle to this. He was irrevocably, desperately in love with her.
I need you to know why I no longer have nightmares.” She placed her palm on his cheek and another tear slid down the side of her face. It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to do something, anything, to take away her sadness. “You chased them away, Grimm. After a hundred years of nightmares, you chased them away.”
It’s as if we’re...” “Entangled,” he said at the same instant she said, “Intertwined.”
