In the Open Cage

Chapter 7

Royle's cheek still stung. The girl was more irritating to deal with than he'd hoped. Considering her sheltered life, he hadn't expected for her to be so difficult to manage. Though, he supposed, he should have known by the way she snuck out of her home to spite her own father.

Torren was still struggling to hold in his laughter. "She's a wild one, that. Who ever thought it was a good idea to lock her up?" He sobered with a cough. "But, really, I can't believe she's a witch. Did her parents know?"

Royle relayed the events that took place at the Carpenter residence. He supposed he pitied the girl to an extent, though she seemed to have grown well enough for someone sheltered her whole life. His cheek tingled. His pity dissipated.

"Poor girl," Torren said, shaking his head. "To think her own parents lied to her. Well, now it makes sense why she sneaks out all the time, doesn't it?"

"How exactly did you meet her?" Royle had no idea how the lieutenant could stand her or what it was about her that he liked enough to look past her magic.

"How did I meet her? Now that's a story, isn't it?" Torren laughed. "Funny thing too. I'm sure it was her enchanting that got her into trouble in the first place. An old farmer's wife thought she was stealing when he gave her fruits for no charge. Accused her of trying to steal her husband when he defended her, too."

"I see..." Royle frowned. Her bewitching might pose to be a problem. If Tika's information was anything to go by, her spell would only get more erratic and effective as time went by. Something about magic growing with the witch. It was the reason they commonly measured power with time. Bewitching could take from a few hours to a few years of magic to cast, depending on the situation. More time meant a stronger spell, though it would also be more obvious once it wore off. Tika had explained more, but that was the extent that Royle could understand.

Torren stacked their plates and began to do the washing. Royle took the time to brew a cup of coffee using an old stove that still somehow worked. He settled back onto  his seat, absentmindedly rubbing his cheek. That slap had angered him more than it hurt him. He would need to get her straightened out in the carriage ride the next day.

"Coffee?" Torren took a seat, though he hadn't gotten a drink. "At this time of night?"

"There are still a few things I need to take care of." Old plans to go over, precautions to take, possible issues to fix. Though, tonight was a night he couldn't sleep, no matter how little business he had.

"That's a bad habit of yours." Torren clicked his tongue. "Anyway, I think I'll turn in for the night. You try to think of how not to provoke Misa, alright? She'll need all the help she can get, and that prickly personality of yours will only make her harder to deal with."

"Are you giving me orders, Lieutenant?"

Torren shot him a good-humoured grin. "I'm giving you advice, sir. Why do you think she doesn't think twice before going against her father? What I've found in my years of knowing her is that the more you try to control her, the more difficult she becomes to handle. Be aware of that. Goodnight!"

Royle was left in silence, pondering over what he had gotten himself into. For his plans to go seamlessly, he needed cooperation. Sighing, he took a sip of his coffee. The clock ticked loudly, though it was several hours off. He forced the thoughts of the Carpenter girl to the back of his mind. It wasn't difficult. Not when there were more important things to worry about.

Nisha. His grip tightened around the handle of the cup. One of the vilest, most dangerous witches in the country. He had gotten news that his informant had been caught siphoning information about the witches. It wasn't a surprise to find that he had gone missing. It was unfortunate, but Ramor had known what he was getting into.