The Calamity of a Reborn Witch

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Chapter 11: A Gift of Consideration

Carina had as little success with sleep as Nicholas had warned. Upon returning to Bastiallano’s fortress castle, she bathed thoroughly, had her garments taken away and burned, and ate the small meal the cook had prepared for her before eventually wandering to bed.

It was impossible to sleep while her mind was clouded with fears and concerns about the plague, Kirsi, and even Ivy. The Duchess eventually gave up, pulled on a warm nightrobe lined with fur, and then went downstairs to her study. After sleeping for three days while training inside the Cortex, she decided to prepare a list of business and personal necessities that would need to be wrapped up before the Royal Hunt the following day.

First on her list was updating Cerberus about the arrival of the plague and its rather unexpected nature. This would be easily remedied by visiting the Holy Maiden Boutique in the morning. Carina could pass the news to Lady Ursula while also picking out a few new dresses for Ivy to wear on the hunt.

Then there was her missed appointment with Sir Bryson, her attorney. Carina decided to write a letter, which she had delivered by one of her knights, inviting her old friend to breakfast.

Last, and certainly not least, she needed to strategize with Colonel Isaac and his Captains on the best method of securing the royal family during the hunting event. There were plenty of supplies on hand, given the knights regularly patrolled the northern border while keeping an eye on Ventrayna and Zarus.

Daylight had just begun to peek over the lower ledge of the large glass window when Hana appeared carrying a tea tray with blueberry scones. “Kirsi, did you get any sleep?”

“After sleeping for three days, I found myself unable to relax at all,” Carina replied as she finished organizing a few business letters. “I sent an invitation and carriage over to Sir Bryson, inviting him to join us for breakfast.”

“I see. Then perhaps you should get dressed before he arrives.”

The Duchess glanced down at her robe and nightgown and laughed. “Yes, I will, but first, I’d like some of that tea. Anyway, Sir Bryson probably won’t be here for another hour or so, assuming that he’s able to come.”

“And why wouldn’t he be?” Hana replied as she took a seat in the chair by the window facing her. “You’re still his only client.”

“True, but it is very last minute,” Carina murmured before taking a sip of the warm green tea. She smiled as a hint of peach flavor washed over her tongue. “After breakfast, I want to take Ivy into the Capital to buy her a few dresses, accessories, etc., for the Royal Hunt.”

“Hmm,” Hana murmured as she brushed the lace curtain aside to study the peaceful blue morning sky. “It might be simpler to ask Sir Eckard to adjust some of my dresses to fit her. We are the same height, similar shape, and I have more than enough dresses.”

“That could work,” Carina quickly agreed and made a note on her list. “I can always get more dresses for Ivy after the Hunt. I still need to find her a horse and suitable saddle.”

“Does Ivy know how to ride?”

The Duchess paused, pen hovering over the paper. “I—think so? Ivy was a noble until around fourteen years old. I will have to ask her to be sure.” She slowly set the pen down and rose to join Hana by the window. “Did she—mentioned anything yesterday after I left?”

Hana quickly turned and took the Duchess’s hand with a sympathetic smile. “I believe Ivy was simply overwhelmed yesterday. It might do her some good to rest. Perhaps allowing her to recover here would be preferable to mingling with guests at such an important event?”

“Perhaps, but I don’t like the idea of leaving her here alone,” Carina protested with a weak smile. “But—I will ask her at breakfast. If she’s not feeling well, the sooner I find out the reason for it, the sooner I can help her get better.”

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Ivy was not surprised to wake up covered in sweat again. She blinked past the heavy sleep which clouded her vision and frowned at the bright peach curtains draped around her. ‘Did I—sleep through morning chores?’ A few more blinks and the fourposter bed, the room beyond the curtains, and the luxurious cotton sheets and the feathered quilt came into clear focus.

Ivy sat up slowly, wincing as the familiar pain flared awake and burned its way up and down her spine. She breathed through it, plucking at the damp nightgown that clung to her chest uncomfortably, and then remembered that she was no longer in Hawthorne Manor. Panic quickly set in.

Flinging the damp bedsheets and blanket aside, Ivy stumbled free from the bed, then rushed to grab the night robe draped over a chair by the vanity desk. She stopped by the full-length window and turned slowly to examine the back of her nightgown.

A dark mark was clearly visible between her shoulder blades beneath the thin, damp, and all but transparent fabric. It centered around her spine, reaching the nape of her neck and ending just above the dimples on her hips. Ivy turned away from the reflection, blinking slowly as she peeled the damp fabric from her shoulder and eased the gown down around her elbow and ribs. The dark red and blue veins that ran across her bruised skin were clearly visible in the mirror's unflattering reflection. The closer her eyes moved to the center of the mark, the darker the bruise became, a deep purple and green meld of bumpy rash and blistering and infected ulcers.

Ivy hurriedly pulled the nightgown and robe over the mark and then moved to the door to pull the bell-rope stiffly. A polite knock quickly followed. Ivy instinctively moved to open the door—before recalling Maura’s wishes for her to act as a noblewoman. She retreated back to the chair beside the vanity desk and called out, “Come in.”

The maid entered and offered a low courtesy that made Ivy blush with embarrassment. “Good morning, Lady Ivy. My name is May. I have been assigned to look after you. Do you need help with anything? Should I prepare a bath, or would you prefer to bathe later?”

“I took a bath last night,” Ivy protested, then quickly pressed a hand against her queasy stomach as she composed herself and replied with a bit more confidence. “Please bring me a large basin of water. I would like to freshen up before breakfast.”

“Very well, Lady Ivy. Duchess Kirsi has prepared a dress for you to wear this morning since your luggage was lost on the journey here. She is waiting for you downstairs with Viscountess Hana in the dining room.”

The corner of Ivy’s lips dropped at the mention of the Viscountess. She would have preferred to have some time alone with Maura to explain her behavior yesterday.

‘I’ll have to tell her eventually. I can only hide this on my own for so long. And the sooner I tell Maura about Jade, the sooner she can stop looking for her.’

She turned sideways in the chair and leaned awkwardly against the back as she twisted a lock of damp blonde hair between her fingers. It would be hard enough to explain to Maura that her friend Jade was some sort of witch monster. Revealing that kind of information, along with the curse that Jade had left Ivy to deal with, wasn’t something she was comfortable speaking about in front of a stranger.

‘I’ll see if I can’t speak to her alone after breakfast. I need some time to prepare myself and figure out how I’m going to tell her anyway.’

The maid returned with a large brass basin and a pitcher of warm water that she set on the bedside table. She left again and then promptly returned with a pretty olive-green dress and some folded undergarments that she laid it out on the bed. “Shall I help you wipe down and get dressed, my Lady?”

“No,” Ivy replied swiftly as she lifted the washing cloth left beside the basin. “I can manage. Thank you, May. You may go.”

The maid seemed surprised but curtsied and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. Ivy quickly moved over and listened with her ear pressed against the door. Once the maid’s footsteps had wandered far enough away, she locked the door and hurriedly stripped.

Ivy gathered up the sweaty, stained nightgown and stared at it for a long moment as new anxieties bubbled to the surface. ‘At Hawthorne, I could just wash out the pus and bloodstains myself before the rest of the household woke up, but here—’ She glanced towards the laundry basket waiting by the door as needles of pain and fear crawled up her spine. Her gaze moved around the room restlessly to rest on the single unlit fire brazier in the corner. ‘I could burn it and say it was an accident.’ Ivy quickly shook her head. ‘But how do I explain wanting to light a fire this early in the morning when it's not even cold.’ She pressed her lips together and moved back to the waiting basin, testing the water with her fingers before dropping the washcloth inside. ‘I’ll just have to make use of whatever water remains to clean the gown as best I can.’

After a quick wipe down, Ivy got dressed, a task that was both tedious and painful as every new layer of garments sent the burning blisters on her back screaming in protest. By the time Ivy was fully dressed, her face and neck were covered in a new layer of sweat. She dabbed it dry, brushed and pulled up her hair, and frowned at her reflection.

‘The neckline is too low. I wonder if I can ask Maura for a shawl.’ Ivy quickly pulled out the hairpins and settled for a loose single braid that would provide enough cover for the back of her neck. ‘That will have to do for now.’

Ivy sighed in weary defeat as she touched the healed, pierced holes in her ears. ‘I wonder if I’ll ever be able to wear jewelry again.’ She quickly shook her head, then picked up the soiled nightgown and began carefully washing the stains in the basin water. ‘I need to get this done quickly. The Duchess and Viscountess are waiting for me.’

The blood and other stains quickly turned the basin water and orangish color, at which point Ivy realized that while the worst of the blemish had faded, they were still clearly visible. ‘Forget it. I don’t have the soap I used before. I’ll hide it under the bed and deal with it later.’ She dropped the gown into the basin with a disappointed sigh, then flinched as something cold dripped down onto her shoulder.

It was as if the entire room had gone suddenly dark and cold. Ivy sucked in her breath slowly as a disturbingly familiar stench crawled over her shoulders and up her nose.

In the murky reflection of the basin, she watched a pool of black water bubble up along the ceiling roof. Three long dripping tentacles slithered from its depths. One curled around the nearest bedpost, the other knocked over the chair by the vanity desk, while the third draped itself over Ivy’s shoulder and slowly slithered up around her neck.

“It’s not real. It’s not real,” Ivy whispered as she shivered beneath the weight. Jade’s deep, gurgling laugh echoed from within the pool. Ivy wrapped her fingers around the waterlogged nightgown and then turned to hurl it at her tormentor as she screamed, “Leave me alone!”

The soggy nightgown fell short of the empty white ceiling and dropped onto the floor beside the toppled chair with a loud wet smack. Ivy gasped as she rubbed her shoulder and neck, still feeling the pressure of the tentacle that was no longer there. “Why? Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Her gaze caught on the mirror. A pale, terrified girl with jade-green eyes stared back at her. The same green eyes as the monster who lurked somewhere out of view, patiently waiting, ready to drag Ivy back into hell.

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“What? Percy was here last night?” Carina, now fully dressed, looked up from her finished teacup with an expression of concern to where Colonel Isaac stood at attention beside the dining room table.

The half-witch blinked his ice-blue eyes in surprise at her reaction. “The Earl arrived carrying a handwritten message with your signature and seal,” Isaac replied hesitantly. “The message clearly stipulated that he be allowed to interrogate Physician Tobias in order to seal his memories.”

Carina drew in a slow breath, then shook her head and set down the empty cup. ‘He must have been here following Kirsi’s orders. How worrisome.’

“Is something wrong, Kirsi?” Hana looked across the table at her worriedly. Normally, the two would sit in the middle of the table together, but since they were expecting a guest and Ivy would join them, they had opted to sit on opposite sides.

“What did the Earl say when he left?” Carina pressed, keeping her attention focused on the Colonel.

“That you could let the physician go whenever you wished,” Isaac replied promptly. “He seemed confident that Tobias would no longer recall your battle with the witch hunters.”

“Witch Hunters!” Hana’s gaze snapped between them. “What exactly happened last night, Kirsi?”

Carina sighed and pushed the empty cup and saucer to the edge of the table. “My rise in status along with my new name drew the attention of the Pope and his Witch Hunters. So, the Pope sent two witch hunters to “test” me in order to determine my true identity.”

“Only two?” Hana sounded both relieved and surprised.

“Yes. Although I doubt that he’ll make the mistake of underestimating me again in the future,” Carina replied, opting to keep the details of Demon Eye’s Tarlay and Kirsi’s decision to let one of the Witch Hunter’s go free to herself. “I suppose I should have anticipated this.”

“You handled them well, your Grace,” Isaac replied with a note of approval. “The Church can’t oppose you openly as Duchess of Bastiallano, and if greater numbers of witch hunters arrive in Lafeara, they won’t escape our notice for long.”

“Perhaps,” Carina murmured and waved her hand to signal the butler who waited by the door. Three maids entered. One carried away Carina’s cup while the other two began setting the table for breakfast. “Is Ivy still not awake yet?”

“Oh, no, she’s awake,” Hana replied quickly. “The maid said that Lady Ivy wished to wash and dress herself so she might be down a bit later.”

“Ah, well, Sir Bryson has yet to arrive. Tell the cook he may begin serving breakfast once all of our guests are seated at the table.”

“Very well, your Grace,” the butler responded and then slid out the door towards the kitchen.

“Ivy will probably need time to adapt to the idea of having a maid,” Carina murmured thoughtfully as she tapped the spoon beside the white plate trimmed with mother of pearl powder.

A knock on the door pulled the Duchess’s attention to the door as a footman entered and announced, “Sir Bryson has arrived and requests an audience, your Grace.”

“Send him in,” Carina replied as she rose from her chair to greet her old friend properly.

Sir Bryson stepped through the door and stopped with a warm smile of surprise to take in the new Duchess. “You’ve no idea how ridiculously stunned and proud I was when I heard the news, your Grace!”

“Thank you, Sir Bryson.” Carina smiled as she gestured to the empty chair on her left. “I hope you don’t mind discussing business over breakfast. I have a very tight schedule to keep this morning.”

“Certainly, as long as your comfortable discussing Frost's business here,” Bryson returned with a glance in Hana’s direction.

“Allow me to introduce you,” Carina said quickly and then gestured between them. “Lady Hana, this is Baron Bryson, my attorney and dear friend. Sir Bryson, this is the Viscountess of Summerset and Oplen, Lady Hana. Recently one of the Crown Princess’s ladies in waiting.”

“Ah, I see. Delighted to meet you, Viscountess,” Bryson replied with a courteous bow. “I’m afraid I’ve yet to hear of a province by the name of Oplen.”

“That is because it is a very small province is located in Ventrayna,” Hana replied with a kind smile. “In any case, I was only a Baroness, and the title was an honorary one to allow me to serve her Highness, Crown Princess Eleanora.”

“Well, you are now a Viscountess of Lafeara with lands, title, and powerful friends.” Bryson glanced at the Duchess with a bemused smile. “And a loyal one at that.”

“Yes, I am very grateful to Lady Kirsi for her kindness and generosity.”

“Please, Sir Bryson, take a seat,” Carina urged as she returned to her chair. “How have you been keeping busy these days?”

“You mean when I’m not keeping track of the latest gossip that seems to follow you everywhere?” Bryson replied jokingly. “Well, to be honest, since I’ve saved up a fair bit of money as your attorney, I decided to take a page from Frost’s book and invest in a new but popular salon called Blooms of Paradise. The chef, who is also part-owner of the salon, has a truly remarkable talent with pastries and cake. I’m afraid I’ve gained a bit of weight trying out several of his newest deserts.”

Carina’s smile faltered for a moment as she listened. ‘What a shame. It would have likely blossomed into a successful business, but once the Plague hits the Capital—’

“Ahh, but it is Frost’s business you wish to hear about,” Bryson continued with a rueful smile as he lifted a briefcase onto his lap and opened it.

“Before we get to that—” Carina held up a hand and turned to Isaac, who carried over a rolled stack of paper wrapped in a silver ribbon. “I’ve prepared this for you.”

Bryson turned to accept the documents and studied the silver wax seal curiously. “Ah, yes. The emblem of Bastiallano. A crown of swords above a howling wolf.” He grimaced. “I’m not sure how I feel about the idea of you leading an army into battle, Lady Kirsi.”

Carina smiled and nodded eagerly to the document. “Open it.”

The lawyer arched a brow curiously, then broke the seal, unfurled the documents, and stared at the silver chain that quickly fell out onto the briefcase in his lap. “Wait—this-this is—” He held up the chain of office with an expression of confusion, then opened the regal document embellished with Bastiallano’s seal and the Duchess signature. “You-you made me Viscount of Winter Rest? But—that is—a full day—no at least two days ride from the Capital.”

“It’s a day and a half by carriage,” Carina corrected as she pulled the chain from his hand and stood to place it around his neck. “Less than a day if you have a fast enough horse. Anyway, there are a few small towns, villages, and orchards. The residents are mostly cotton farmers and shepherds. You will have to oversee the trade of cotton, produce, and wool to ensure the residents receive a fair price for their crops and labor. Do your best to uphold the estate’s quota in taxes and report any losses, complications, or broken laws to the Duchy each month.”

“But—I’m your attorney!” Bryson sputtered as he touched the silver medallion on the chain and then looked up at her in confusion. “Now, you want me to be some sort of landlord looking after farmers and shepherds?”

Carina shrugged and returned to her seat. “If you want, you can hire someone suitable to help you manage it. The Viscount’s Manor is more than adequate in size. You could start a family there and still have room for your sister and her boys.”

“But—” Bryson looked over the documents in his hands, his ennoblement title, the clearly marked property map, and a blueprint of the estate he would live in personally. “How am I to work for you and—Frost—if I’m stuck out in the country with a bunch of sheep, your Grace?”

The Duchess reached out to grasp his left hand firmly. Although she couldn’t see the scars beneath the cotton gloves he still wore, she knew they were there and what they represented. “Take the promotion, Sir Bryson. Move all critical documents from your office in the Capital to your new estate. Take your sisters and her boys to the country as quickly and as quietly as possible.” She raised her ice-blue eyes to his worried brown gaze. “I say this with your best interest and safety at heart.”

Bryson clenched his jaw and nodded slowly. “Somethings happened, hasn’t it? Something to do with all those hospitals and herbs Frost has been preparing.”

“Your family will be safer in the countryside. If there is anyone else you’d like to bring, feel free to do so but keep the reason to yourself.”

Bryson shook his head and placed his other hand over hers. “Your Grace, you know you can trust me to keep a secret. Please don’t carry everything by yourself.”

Carina smiled at him fondly, squeezed his hand gently, and then pulled away. “I am not alone in this. Now, will you accept the promotion and the new responsibility that comes with it?”

Bryson pulled his gaze away from her and let out a weak laugh before leaving his chair to drop down and kneel at her feet. “As long as you continue to trust and have faith in me, your Grace, I will follow your lead. I humbly accept this generous gift and pledge that I shall do my best to govern Winter Rest in your name.”

“I accept your oath, please rise, Viscount Bryson,” Carina responded with a satisfied smile as she held out a hand to him.

Bryson kissed the back of it and rose to his feet with a somewhat sheepish grin. “My sister is not going to believe this.”

“Congratulations, Viscount,” Hana called out as she raised her teacup towards him.

“Thank you, Viscountess.” Bryson cleared his throat and quickly picked up his briefcase. “Well then, while I’m still your attorney, let us move on to the crucial business matters at hand.”

“Please,” Carina replied with a nod. “Anything urgent I should be aware of before I leave tomorrow?”

“Ah, there was one unexpected issue,” Bryson answered as he thumbed through the folders in his case. “Pertaining to Frost’s trade agreement with Strugna. I’m afraid we’ve hit a bit of a political quagmire there.”

“How so?” Carina accepted the official document he handed her, which bore Strugna’s royal seal, a seahorse with a crown embraced by towering waves.

“It seems that our original agreement with Strugna was pushed through at the behest of their Crown Prince. The Queen has since rejected any agreement between us and banned our ships from entering their kingdom’s ports.”

Carina’s brows shot up as she scanned the document that went into more legal detail on the events Bryson had already summarized. “So, even though we had an agreement with a member of the royal family, the next in line to the throne, in fact, the Queen and her counselors have rejected this—based on their argument that the Crown Prince is not yet able to lead nor allowed to make such decisions? Isn’t he well over twenty?”

“Prince Llyr Alagonia is twenty-five, well over the legal age to inherit his father’s throne.”

“So, Queen Serenia has somehow managed to prevent him from becoming King. She might have seen his deal with us as a political move to garner more foreign support.” Carina sighed as she dropped the document onto her plate and rubbed her temples. “There was a great deal of medical herbs that I was hoping to resupply our hospitals with that only grow in Strugna. This will be a problem oncea we burn through what little stock we have on hand.”

“Given what you told me about the—sickness,” Hana commented as she leaned over her empty plate. “Those herbs are not as important as you originally thought.”

“Yes. Perhaps, but losing access to all of Strugna’s medicinal herbs—”

“Of course,” Hana replied sympathetically. “Well, perhaps things will change. Strugna’s Queen and Crown Prince can’t remain deadlocked forever.”

“Does the Queen have someone else in mind for Strugna’s throne?” Carina asked curiously as she refocused on Bryson.

“Yes. Her biological son, Prince Edmar. But he is rumored to be a sickly child, far younger than his brother, the Crown Prince, and has nowhere near the political support that Llyr has retained despite his stepmother’s political manipulations.”

“I see.” The Duchess rubbed her temples again then shook her head with a sigh. “Let’s table our plans for trade with Strugna for now. If there is a political shift in the future, we can readdress the matter then.”

‘I’ve had my fill of royals already, thanks to Nicholas and especially Eleanora.’

“Very well. Then there is only one other matter I wanted to update you on before you left,” Bryson replied as he stowed the official Strugna letter and pulled out a new folder. “My investigator finished his report on Josiah’s blood debt. It turns out your stepfather was every bit the roach we knew him to be. A judge authenticated the Blood Debt only last week.”

Carina quickly straightened in her chair as she took in this information. “Then—Sophya is in trouble?”

“Well—she was—” Bryson replied as he opened the folder. “But that was before someone anonymously paid off all her debt.”

“What?” Carina accepted the document he handed her and glanced at the line circled in red, which read ‘payment received by a nobleman who wished to remain anonymous.’ “Was it Asher Winslet?”

“My investigator doesn’t believe that to be the case. Apparently, Viscount Rykard Gilwren paid the Judge a visit shortly after the debt was authenticated.”

“My, how generous of him,” Carina replied with a faint smile. “Well, whether he did it to save Sophya’s reputation or his own, it's one less thing for me to worry about.”

“Would you have—let your sister become a slave?” Bryson asked uncertainly. He quickly pressed his lips together and closed the file as Carina handed back the document. “Never mind, it's not my place to interfere with your family matters.”

Carina shook her head and shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know.”