A Witch's Curse

Chapter 9

          Rosalin's eyes went wide. "Lyssa, give that to me," Rosalin said quietly. 

          "No, explain Rosalin. Or I'll explain what I think is going on here," Lyssa threatened. Rosalin looked away. "I can't believe you lied, and you two knew," she said moving her gaze to Vera and Sorrane. Cassara gasped now seeing who the picture portrayed. 

           "Queen Avril," Bren whispered. 

           "It was not our secret to tell," Vera said straightening. 

           "Wait, you are Queen Avril's descendant," Oreyan said finally putting the pieces together. Rosalin stared blankly ahead not uttering a word. Lyssa snapped her fingers at her. 

           "Are you going to tell them or am I?" She slowly lifted her eyes and looked at her friends. Cassara's eyes were covered by her hands, Oreyan murmured to her sister, Sorrane had a grim look on her face, Bren and Aera just stared at them. But Vera's eyes were filled with anger and sorrow, her burning gaze set on Lyssa. Rosalin took a deep breath, stood up, and looked at Lyssa. 

          "I'm leaving." She walked out of the hall. 

           She went to her room. She noticed the things in her bag disorganized. Clenching her jaw she picked it up and closed it. Grabbing her broom she walked back out of her room, more like a speed walk actually. Vera ran up beside her. 

           "Rosalin, don't go. Lyssa is just upset you didn't tell her," she said her voice near begging. As she reached the door she went to open it but Vera grabbed her elbow. "Please," she whispered. Rosalin shook off her grip and slipped out the door. 

            As she finally passed over the border she heard the howls of the male wolves warning Vera she had left. The way she was flying she would reach the Mirror Lake in two days— maybe three. She had been stupid to think she could get away with her curse for long. It wouldn't be long before the word would get out who she was now. West. That was the way she would go. Somewhere no one would find her. She couldn't be a queen. No one would listen to her anyway, no one would acknowledge her as queen. She hated that she always had to run away. But it was for the good of her people—no not her people. She shouldn't be allowed to call them such. No more lives would be lost at least because of her. 

          It should have been her that day. Not Keila. Keila would have done something. Not run away. Lyssa was right, she was a coward. And now she was paying for it. This was her curse. Not a burden. A curse. 

       After a few hours of flying through the harsh cold, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She whipped her head around. There was no one there. She was flying above the clouds. How could anyone get up so high? She looked beneath her. No one. There was a voice. As clear as it had ever been before. Rosalin, what's wrong?  Her sister. You are here for a reason. You are meant to be here. Not me. Rosalin's body shook from the tears that came from hearing her sister's voice. The non-existent hand touched her shoulder again.  I am here with you always. I have never left you. I love you Rosalin. And then the hand on her shoulder and Keila's beautiful voice were gone. She was left alone to cry. The realization hit her. Keila had said she was on this path for a reason. What reason? 

           There was a crack. Pausing her thinking on what Keila had said, Rosalin looked around for any thunder, there was none. It sounded again. Then she realized what it was. The broom. It snapped in two and she went tumbling from the sky. She screamed as she fell towards the ground. Looking down she saw she was nearing the Cedar Forest's treetops. She felt a strong wind pushing on her making her slow some. Not enough. She used her own magic too to slow her fall. Who's magic was helping her? Maybe Vera if she was followed. But though slowed down it didn't hurt any less when branches hit and snapped beneath her. One branch hit her in the head and she didn't remember hitting the ground. 

         She sat up slowly squinting her eyes at her throbbing headache. Slowly and painfully she looked around for Vera or someone in her coven. No one was there. But she had a blanket over her torn clothes and a fire was burning a couple of feet away from her. Just in case she quietly stood up and looked around. 

           Tall pine trees, brush all around, and forest debris coving the forest floor. She heard crunching leaves coming this way. Grunting in pain she hauled herself onto a tall tree branch and waited. 

            A man no older than twenty-five stopped before the small camp. He looked around sighed. As he turned his back to her she formed a knife of ice in her palm. Not making any noise she climbed down from the tree's cover. 

           Though as she began to reach him her foot snapped on a twig. She tried muffling the sound but he heard it anyway. He whirled to her. Lifting the knife she backed away some noticing that they were within two feet of each other. She tensed as he lifted his hand. His movements were slow as though she was a doe that would bolt at the first sign of danger. 

           In his hand appeared a snowflake of ice. Then it melted into his palm and he used the water to twirl between his fingers. Rosalin's mouth was open agape slightly. Only witches had magic. And there has never been a witch's son. They only had daughters. What was he then? She backed away more. "What are you?" The words were a rasp in her throat. 

          "Shouldn't you be asking who I am?" he said with cocky arrogance. She studied him. Golden-brown skin, dark blue-green eyes, short black hair. He was fairly tall. He was only a few inches above her from what she could tell. She was slightly taller than an average woman, only by two inches though. 

          "That's not what I asked. What. Are. You," she said with clear impatience. When he didn't answer she decided that it was time to leave. She smiled at him. "You get too distracted." He looked down at that moment seeing the vines that had wrapped around his legs quietly at her order. She turned and ran. Her smile grew as she heard him curse at her.  She willed the vines to keep growing up his legs locking him in place. A tremor shook the earth. It was so violent she lost her footing and went sprawling. She shouldn't have messed with him. Scrambling back up she started running. Though she hated to do it, she recalled some trick of magic Vera had taught her. A tracking spell. Along with a small message. So if things went bad they could find her if they wanted to. Muttering under her breath the message she wanted to pass along she finished and a small ball of light went from her palms shooting across the sky. And while she had been distracted by her magic, she hadn't noticed the arm that shot out from next to the tree on her right and grab her. She only had been able to see the man from the camp's face before he sent magic over her that left her unconscious.