The Calamity of a Reborn Witch

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The distant sigh of wind through the swaying dark trees of Gilwren Forest barely disturbed the charcoal-green horizon as it slipped further into the dark abyss of the evening sky still yet to reveal its twilight stars. Wooden lanterns set out on piers lit up the gravel driveway and surrounding courtyard. The flickering candles danced behind the opulent glass panels as Colonel Isaac and four other Bastiallano knights escorted the Duchess and her friends towards the Manor for their first evening bath inside the Gilwren residence.

“I’m afraid you will have to wait outdoors, Colonel,” Carina commented as a butler stepped forward to block Isaac’s path. “Only women are allowed inside the Manor for the next two hours.”

“Your Grace.”

The Duchess smiled at the Colonel’s neutral tone, suspecting that it implied the man would happily disregard the Viscount’s rules at her request. “We shall return as quickly as possible. Be sure to have someone suitable waiting back at camp for any late-arriving messages.”

The Colonel bowed his head in acknowledgment and moved back down the steps. Carina smiled at the butler, who hastily opened the way forward. The servant and his immaculate mustache quivered as he snapped his finger, summoning a maid that led them up the staircase to the second floor. Once they reached the landing, a large room opened up before them, decorated with various comfortable chairs and sofas that were already bustling with noblewomen and their attendants.

The soiree of intoxicated giggles, whispers, and nervous laughter halted as the Duchess and her companions came into view.

“Please rest a moment here, your Grace,” the maid said timidly with a vague gesture to the already fully occupied seating area. “The next open bath shall be made available for you and your guests.”

“How many baths are there?” Carina asked curiously, trying to ignore the heavy silence that surrounded them.

“Four your, Grace. Two on either side.” The maid gestured to the privacy panels set about on either side of the room.

“We would prefer to stay together,” Carina replied quietly. An awkward giggle rose from her left. The Duchess turned to where Lady Priscilla sat on one end of a rose pattern sofa with none other than Sophya seated beside her.

“I will—try to get two rooms next to each other than, your Grace,” the maid whispered nervously as she curtsied and then made her escape.

“It would have been simpler if we bathed back at camp,” Hana whispered as she moved pointedly to block Carina’s view of Priscilla. “Perhaps we should send for a bathtub of our own.”

The Viscountess’s whispered words did not go undetected as one or two pairs of noblewomen close by hastily repeated it to those seated behind them. It wasn’t long before Hana’s innocent words became twisted by the rapid retelling.

“Does she actually wish to be bathed out in the open surrounded by all those men?”

“That is exactly the sort of vulgar behavior we can expect from a Ventrayian.”

‘It’s like watching kids playing the telephone game back at school.’ Carina resisted the urge to laugh and instead focused on finding a place to sit. The few scattered openings were too far from each other to consider, so she focused on looking for a single opening that would allow Ivy to rest away from the many unfriendly gazes.

“Your Grace!” Two noblewomen of marriageable age rose from their chairs and curtsied towards her. The blonde gestured toward their two seats beside one empty chair. “If you’d care to take these seats.”

“That is most kind of you,” Carina replied as she turned and walked towards them. “Forgive me, but I do not believe we’ve met before.”

The blonde noblewoman smiled and presented a curtsey. “I am Lady Alice Gladestone. My husband, Viscount Henley Gladestone, is a member of your Grace’s hunting party.”

“Ahh,” Carina blinked and quickly smiled to hide her surprise. Alice hardly looked older than twenty, yet Viscount Gladestone had more than one strand of silver hair to his name.

“And this is my sister-in-law, Lady Sarah Gladestone,” Alice continued with a gesture towards her companion, who presented a similar curtsey.

“I am married to the younger brother, Wyatt Gladestone, your Grace,” Sarah explained politely.

The Duchess returned the smile even as she recalled the image of Wyatt kneeling on the floor of Master Iker’s bedroom. ‘So this is his unfortunate wife.’

“Well, I am grateful for your generosity, Lady Alice, Lady Sarah,” Carina replied as Hana guided a weary Ivy towards the open seats. “These are my close friends, Lady Hana and Lady Ivy.”

The women exchanged hesitant, but friendly smiles before another intentionally loud burst of laughter pulled their gaze towards Lady Priscilla.

“Oh, do forgive me, your Grace,” Priscilla said with less than genuine enthusiasm. “I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, if a half-blood can become a Duchess overnight, why shouldn’t a slave become a lady?”

‘If I didn’t already know about Marquess Borghese looking into Ivy’s past, I might suspect that Sophya had something to do with it. Until recently, I was careful to keep away from Ivy for this exact reason—so then, why would a Marquess exert so much effort to investigate the past of a slave?’

“It would appear that Lady Priscilla was not as diligent in her studies as others,” Carina commented casually, although her gaze was anything but friendly. “Or else she would be aware that it is within my power to grant a noble title to those I deem worthy.”

‘Unfortunately, I still require the slave papers that Percy holds to do so.’

Just as before, when Carina had challenged Priscilla as the Crown Princess’s attendant at the Holy Maiden Boutique, the daughter of Marquess Borghese appeared momentarily shocked but quickly recovered as she fanned her flushed cheeks. Before Priscilla could retaliate, a mouse-like gasp drew the Duchess’s attention back to where Ivy appeared to have doubled over in pain, her right hand squeezing the edge of the chair in a white, death-like grip.

“Ivy?” Carina murmured worriedly as Hana pushed Ivy’s hair away from the girl’s pale face. “What is it? Are you—”

A mumble of incoherent words tumbled out between Ivy’s twisted lips as she raised her trembling left hand and pointed behind the Duchess. Carina turned, bewildered, to find one of the attendants staring at them with an expression of disgust and hatred. The moment the woman felt the Duchess’s gaze, she stiffened and quickly crossed the room to hand Priscilla a plate of skinless grapes.

“Who is she, Ivy?” Hana whispered as she rubbed the girl’s shoulders reassuringly.

“M-my—mother!” Ivy spat the word out with seething resentment, then clenched her jaw shut as she reached over her shoulder towards the plague witch’s curse.

“Your slave appears to be unwell, your Grace,” Priscilla commented coldly as she examined the plate of fruit critically. “Perhaps you should remove her—before whatever disease she’s carrying spreads.”

The soft scraps of chairs against the carpet preceded the noblewomen seated around them, who awkwardly abandoned their seats to pace the room at a safer distance.

Carina ignored them all as she focused on the attendant who now stood behind the Marquess’s daughter. ‘So—that is the monster who sold her child into slavery.’

“You don’t deny it, your Grace?” Priscilla continued with a smirk. “Then again, it would be an easy matter to disprove any lie you came up with.”

The tension in the room broke beneath a wave of anxious whispers as the Duchess rose gracefully to her feet and strode towards the Marquess’s daughter. Carina’s ice-blue eyes picked up every shift in the attendant's expression, from fear to pain to something sinisterly similar to smug superiority. Priscilla’s smile faltered slightly before she popped another grape into her mouth and chewed.

“Your servant,” Carina said stiffly, her gaze still locked on the attendant, who remained where she stood with her eyes pointed at the floor.

“Miranda? What about her?” Priscilla asked somewhat clumsily around her food.

“I don’t like her. In fact, the very sight of her repulses me.”

Priscilla snorted in disbelief and hurriedly swallowed before replying. “I don’t see why that matters.”

“You will remove her from my sight, Lady Priscilla Borghese.” The Duchess’s cold stare transferred to the daughter of the Marquess, who stiffened instinctively beneath the threatening gaze. “And you will make sure that my ladies and I never see or hear from her again.”

Priscilla glanced back at her attendant and then turned squarely to face Carina with an amused smile. “And if I don’t?”

Before the Duchess could respond, Miranda suddenly clutched her throat and let out a strangled cough. Carina watched in numb disbelief as blood spilled past the attendant’s lips. The silent room erupted in screams of dismay as the attendant cast one last fearful look in the Duchess’s direction before she collapsed to the floor.

“Miranda!?” The plate of grapes clattered to the floor as Priscilla sprang to her feet and quickly rushed to the attendant’s side. Fearful whispers and accusatory stares focused on Carina from around the tense room as a few brave noblewomen stepped towards the Marquess’s daughter.

“Is—is she dead?”

Priscilla dropped the attendant’s hand with a sudden expression of horror, then rose to her feet as she directed a bloody hand towards the Duchess. “I knew it! You—you’re a witch!”

Amid the sudden screams and panicked footsteps that raced towards the nearby exit, Carina's cold stare finally cracked. Her laughter froze the noblewomen, many of whom had gathered into clusters for safety and strength. Priscilla and the two young noblewomen who supported her stared at the Duchess with fearful apprehension and confusion as Carina’s laughter faded away.

‘And here I was beginning to think Priscilla might be worth considering as an enemy.’

The Duchess pressed two fingers against her lips as a mocking giggle slid free, then turned her gaze two where a group of maids and the butler had emerged at the top of the stairs. “You there. Come. Assist me.”

The butler looked hesitant but hurriedly pushed four of the maids in Carina’s direction, silently imploring them to go, while he backed slowly down the stairs.

“Your Grace?” One of the maids asked timidly as they formed between the pillars facing her.

The Duchess smiled and signaled for them to follow her as she moved around the sofa towards Miranda’s unmoving body.

“What-what are you doing?” Priscilla demanded as she stepped bravely forward to block Carina’s path.

“Keep her out of my way,” Carina said curtly as she stepped around the noblewoman. The maids looked even more hesitant as they moved timidly between the Marquess’s daughter and the Duchess. “I need two of you to hold her down,” the Duchess continued as she knelt beside Priscilla’s attendant.

“Stop! What are you doing! Don’t let that witch near her!”

“The louder you protest, the more guilty you will look after I’ve finished, Lady Priscilla,” Carina snapped coldly, her tone securing the maids' loyalty as they wavered uncertainly between the two nobles.

Showing an inkling of common sense, Priscilla retreated and then preceded to sob tearfully as if overcome with sudden concern for Miranda.

‘It’s almost too comical to believe.’ The Duchess sighed and gestured impatiently towards two maids who knelt and applied their weight to the attendant’s shoulders and knees as instructed. “If this woman were dead or truly unconscious, she will lack the strength to keep her mouth shut.”

It was a struggle not to laugh as Miranda’s jaw went suddenly slack, allowing the Duchess to pry her mouth open easily. The smell of blood and herbs greeted her, as did the object half-obscured beneath the woman’s tongue.

“As you will all observe,” Carina said calmly as she raised her right hand with fingers splayed. “I am holding nothing. And now—” The Duchess reached inside the attendant’s mouth and nudged her tongue to one side before pulling the prickly leaf free, “—you will see what caused this woman to spit up blood.”

Miranda’s eyes blinked suddenly open with a look of shock as the Duchess stood and displayed the non-lethal herb to the noblewomen, who now crept closer curiously.

“This is called viper’s tongue, more commonly known as spine-needle plant,” Carina explained as she placed the discovery upon her open palm. “The ridges of the leaf have tiny spikes that can pierce the skin quite easily. Unfortunately, this characteristic also makes these leaves difficult to swallow when one is trying to hide evidence.”

“Splendid! How reassuring,” Lady Alice called out calmly as she sat on the armrest of the couch beside Sophya, who had yet to move from her spot. “But one mystery remains. Why would Lady Priscilla’s attendant eat such a herb and pretend to faint to frame the Duchess?”

The nervous tremor of voices turned suddenly cold and distant as only half the room turned their reproachful gaze towards the Marquess’s daughter.

‘It seems the rest will support Priscilla no matter what, simply because they fear her father.’

After the maids removed their grip, Miranda rolled over, gagged, and promptly vomited blood containing a few more of the spiky leaves.

“Or perhaps Lady Priscilla could enlighten us as to why her servant’s odd behavior led her to immediately implicate Lady Kirsi as a witch?” Lady Sarah added with a flare of her fan as she circled the couch to stand beside the Duchess.

“You!” Priscilla spat out with a startled but angry glare at the younger Viscount’s wife. She caught herself and quickly redirected her gaze to the attendant. “Well, Miranda? Explain yourself!”

‘And of course, she’d throw Miranda to the wolves when their foolish plot failed.’

The attendant wobbled unsteadily as she clawed her way to her knees and then babbled out another mouthful of blood.

Carina’s scowl darkened as the woman clutched her throat helplessly while tears poured down her cheeks. ‘So, a monster like you is capable of tears?’

“What is all this racket?”

The roomful of noblewomen turned and hastily curtsied as Eleanora appeared at the top of the stairs, flanked by her attendants and Major Garrett. The Duchess remained where she stood as the Crown Princess approached and noted Eleanora’s flushed cheeks and enlarged pupils warily.

“Is that blood?” Eleanora murmured in almost a leer as she peered at the kneeling Miranda. “What sort of cruel games are you ladies playing now?”

“Your—Highness,” Lady Alice spoke up hesitantly. “This—servant—attempted to slander and frame Lady Kirsi as a witch.”

Eleanora’s amber eyes widened then danced in amusement as they turned towards the Duchess. “A witch? Did she really?”

“This woman consumed several leaves of viper’s tongue, your Highness,” Carina explained neutrally. “Her mistress, Lady Priscilla Borghese, then accused me of being responsible and claimed that I was a witch.”

“Forgive me, your Grace,” Priscilla interjected hastily. “But that is not at all what happened. It was Miranda who called the Duchess a witch! Is that not so, Lady Julie?”

“Yes? Yes! That is what happened, your Highness!”

Carina scoffed in disbelief as several other noblewomen behind the Marquess’s daughter hastily added their verbal support, while an even larger group of noble ladies stared on with disapproving gazes but assenting silence.

“Your Highness, I also heard those words from Lady Priscilla herself!” Lady Sarah hastily protested. “And I was not the only one.” She turned towards those ladies who had yet to speak but found only empty stares and avoidant looks.

‘This is how power corrupts the truth—when even those who witness the lie dare not speak out.’

“Perhaps we should ask the Lady Priscilla’s servant?” Eleanora suggested as she approached the kneeling attendant. “Well. Speak woman. Why did you try to frame the Duchess?”

Once more, Miranda repeated her seemingly helpless babble of bloody words as more tears streamed down her face. The Crown Princess narrowed her eyes in apparent disgust and then turned to her ladies-in-waiting.

“If you will permit me, your Highness,” Lady Meredith murmured and then approached the kneeling attendant. Carina watched as the lady-in-waiting took Miranda’s hand gently before motioning to the servant to open her mouth. “I fear this woman is unable to speak. Perhaps due to poison?”

“Viper’s tongue is prickly, nut not poisonous,” Carina corrected with a sigh of impatience. “Perhaps the servant has simply deemed it wise to remain silent rather than further implicate herself or her mistress.”

Resentment flashed across Miranda’s face while Lady Meredith stood, wiped her fingers with a handkerchief, and then returned to the Crown Princess’s side. “Your Highness, I believe it would be best to seek professional help in ascertaining the injury to the servant’s throat.”

“Why would we do that?” Eleanora raised her brows with a bemused expression and then shrugged. “Very well, I believe Viscount Gilwren has more than one physician attending the hunt.” She glanced over at one of the nearby maids. “You there, inform your Master what has happened here and tell him that I require the use of one of his physicians.”

“Yes, your Highness.” The maid and one of her companions hastily fled in the direction of the stairs.

“As for the rest of you, it will be curfew in about an hour, so perhaps you should return to bathing.”

The noblewomen glanced at each other, but no one moved in the direction of the baths.

“And what of this woman’s transgression?” Lady Alice demanded, looking far from satisfied. “It is clear enough she ate those herbs intent on sullying the Duchess’s reputation.”

“Perhaps she was instructed to do so,” Hana interjected reasonably from her seat beside the still trembling Ivy.

Eleanora stiffened in surprise, then turned to gaze at the Viscountess for a long moment before looking reluctantly away. “All the more reason for a physician to tend to her wounds so that she may speak. I shall take this servant as my prisoner. She will be confined and kept safe until she can explain herself.”

“But! Your Highness!” Priscilla protested.

“As to who said what, Lady Kirsi and Lady Priscilla can gather witness statements if they wish to contest that point.”

“Your Grace?” Alice whispered worriedly as she turned to face the Duchess.

Carina smiled and bowed her head towards the noblewoman in silent gratitude before turning to Eleanora. “As long as the servant receives a suitable punishment for her crime, I am willing to let go of the other matter.” Although it was difficult to hear clearly, Carina thought she heard a murmur of approval from both sides of the open room.

Priscilla herself looked faintly surprised but immediately shifted her expression to one of wounded concern. “But how will I be able to show my face while such an injustice hangs over me?” The Marquess’s daughter quickly turned her chartreuse-green eyes in the direction of Alice and Sarah. “Perhaps if those who accused me without proof were to retract their words?”

Judging by the resentful but worried looks on the noblewomen’s faces, Priscilla was forcing them into an uncomfortable situation.

“Are you saying you would rather I raise the subject of your disrespect towards the Duchess with his Majesty?” Eleanora asked coldly as she folded her arms with an almost taunting expression.

“What? N-no!”

“Then perhaps you should follow Lady Kirsi’s example and—drop it.”

‘Is Eleanora—trying to help me?’ Carina blinked in silent confusion while Priscilla sucked in an angry breath, then appeared to rethink her stance.

“I—understand. I will drop this matter at your Highness’s request.”

“Good,” Eleanora replied with a note of satisfaction. “Then I will take the prisoner with me and hand her over to the Viscount for safekeeping while she is being looked after.”

Priscilla looked ready to argue once more, but a subtle shake of Meredith’s head made her hesitate and fall silent. The Duchess narrowed her eyes at the exchange. Unfortunately, Meredith was standing behind the Crown Princess, so Eleanora appeared to have missed it.

“Well then,” Eleanora murmured as she rubbed her temple with a faint grimace. “The matter is settled for now. Any remaining concerns will be addressed tomorrow morning.”

“Your Highness,” Carina called out quickly as the Crown Princess turned to leave. “What of the evidence?” She held out the bloody leaf in her hand and gestured to the others mixed in with Miranda’s blood on the floor.

“You may give them to Lady Hana for safekeeping,” Eleanora replied with a somewhat stiff smile. “I trust the Viscountess to ensure that the evidence remains intact and unaltered until she can pass them on to his Majesty.”

Judging by the look of surprise that passed between Meredith and Evelynn, even they were caught off guard by Eleanora’s rather favorable act of diplomacy.

“Thank you, your Highness,” Carina replied and then bowed her head politely as the Crown Princess, her ladies, and Miranda departed towards the stairs, where Major Garrett waited with his back respectfully turned.

Only later, as the maids ushered the Duchess and her friends towards their waiting baths, did Carina notice that Sophya had disappeared.