Treacherous Witch

10. Hold Fast and Keep the Faith

"The Royal Palace of Jairah was particularly notable as a trove of magical treasure. Such trinkets lose their power outside of Maskamere, which was how the generals determined that destroying the silvertrees was the first essential step to successful conquest."
Clement Pyridge's History of Our Glorious Empire, Vol. II

The spell didn't work.

She was angry and bewildered. Her magic had never failed since those early days when she first came to Jairah. Maybe she hadn't worked on the dress for long enough. She'd rushed it in her haste to escape. Or maybe the alteration wasn't big enough—a single rose on a finished garment, maybe that wasn't enough for the spell to take. She didn't know and that infuriated her.

She tried again, tasking Priska to bring her more thread. She spent hours embroidering a pattern of roses around the hem of the skirt, willing the magic to flow through her fingertips and into the cloth. Even while she laboured, she didn't think it was working. She'd lost confidence.

It didn't help that she had no time to concentrate either—she could only snatch a few minutes here or there, in between the demands of court. There was breakfast, luncheon, dinner, and all the pampering and preparation before it. There were the social gatherings: picnics, horse riding, croquet, music, a tour of the gallery. Lady Melody seemed determined to fill every minute of her social calendar.

She drew the line at attending a chapel service, prompting Lord Thorne to spend an entire morning harassing her.

"Your soul, Lady Valerie! Has Lord Avon not spoken to you of the purification of the Divine?"

"Not a word," she said. "Perhaps you'd like to ask him?"

The gallery at least was interesting. They were shown around by the palace archivist, a Maskamery woman who had lived here for over forty years. She was a fount of knowledge about the Maskamery royal family and their history, as well as all the paintings and artists in the gallery. Valerie ignored the coos of the courtiers admiring the unique beauty of Maskamery art. Instead, she spoke to the archivist herself.

"Was there a painting here?"

In the largest gallery, the main hall, paintings hung from every wall. They had stopped at every one of them. But at the top of the marble staircase, the wall overlooking the hall was empty.

"Well-spotted," said the archivist. "Yes, here once hung the frame of the late Queen Shikra. The painting depicted her sitting in her favourite drawing room wearing the baubles of state and with her cat sleeping on her lap. It was removed at the order of Lord Turnbull, Lord Avon's predecessor."

"Oh, I remember," said Melody. "He ordered every image of the queen to be taken down and destroyed. He was quite paranoid about it. Jaxon, you attended him at the time, do you recall?"

The courtier nodded. "He was having bad dreams. He was convinced that the paintings were watching him. He believed the queen had cursed him from beyond the grave."

A few people sniggered, the courtiers hiding their smiles behind their fans.

"I wouldn't assume he was wrong," said Mona, surprising her. "I've seen Maskamery sorcery at work. A goblet, cursed to poison all traitors. Killed a man in under a minute."

"How do you know the drink wasn't poisoned?" Amilia asked.

"Because we all drank from the same goblet. The only one who died was the man suspected of being a spy."

"Well, I'm sure it was for the best that Lord Turnbull returned to Drakon, curse or no curse," said Melody. "He was in a dreadful state by the end."

"Shall we move on?" the archivist asked, and they did, but Valerie tucked that bit of information away for later.