A Witch's Word

THE CEREMONY

Procrastinating in the middle of the tent, Maggie circled her daughter, examining her as if she was a prized magical artifact about to be sold to a passing trader.

“Your hips are wide; we should highlight this.” Maggie assessed aloud to no-one in particular.

Edith watched her sister’s shoulders shoot up at the insensitive evaluation, but she knew not to argue. Tabitha had come back to the meadow just a little after Edith and Cadmus, in her hand was a collection of small stones. Reid had followed her at a distance, but whether that was an act of respect or a sign of fear, she was unsure. He was eager to reunite with his prince and left young Tabitha with her mother and sister, slightly bowing in farewell. Since they had been pushed into the tent to prepare, Tabitha had been grinding the stones she had collected into the mortar and hadn’t turned to look at them once.

“I have just the thing,” Maggie determined, but both her daughters knew that she was taking to the magic and not to either of them.

She grabbed Edith by the shoulders, and the chill of her mother’s magic ebbed over her skin. Usually, it would feel cold and bitter like the ice that clawed up the windows in winter, because that was her mother’s magical signature. Contrastingly, the magic today felt like the cool temperature of the lake she had swam in for all these years, the love she felt for her sister, the success she felt when her own magic had been executed accurately. It dawned on Edith that on the day she was to fly away, she had felt her mother’s magic given with love rather than instruction, and she wished she had experienced it sooner.

“What do you think, Tabitha?” Maggie asked her youngest daughter.

Looking down, Edith could see that her dress was black, in keeping with her wedding traditions, but it was corseted at the front and the holes that the silk ribbon threaded through were decorated with dragon scales not the clover design she had imagined for herself. The colour ribbon was mustard, reminiscent Cadmus’ eye colour which would have been romantic if she held any feeling other than loathing for the pampered prince. All of these details were secondary to the skirt that billowed from her waistline. The layers were sheer and piled on top of each other, but her mother’s magic made visions of their life together shift beneath the fabric. She saw a glimmer of the purple heather that swayed in the wind, and the ever-changing colours of the clouds. She saw all of her ideograms, merge together and then disappeared as she moved — too quick to understand unless you knew of them already. For the first time that she could ever remember, Edith was incredibly moved by her mother’s magic, and how well it had captured everything that was important to her while making subtle flatteries towards the family she would be married into. It was the only gift she had been given from her mother, but she recognised it for what it really was, a thank-you for the sacrifice she must make. An apology for an upbringing that had always been fractious and formal.

“It’s almost perfect, just missing one thing!” Tabitha declared, before bringing her contribution to the wedding dress.

Presenting her gift as if it were Sourcero’s version of the crown jewels (which wasn’t something that they possessed as a nation, but was something that Edith was looking forward to seeing in Novtexo) Edith leaned lower so that the most important person that she would have to leave behind, her beloved sister, could fasten the clasp behind her neck.

“It is a protection pendent. If danger is close by, the stones that have intuitive qualities will feel cold against your skin. It is made with the earth, but also my love. Let it be that no harm, in any form, ever comes to you, sister.” Tabitha, feeling her throat constricted with emotion, placed a kiss on her sister’s cheek.

“Very fitting. I can feel your magic from here, Tabitha, you have made it well.” Maggie praised her youngest daughter, but a hint of surprise in her tone wasn’t missed by anyone.

Upon the hill where her ancestor had been condemned, Edith stood facing Prince Cadmus, a stranger who she would have to promise her forever to. In the seats was the first warlock she had kissed behind the college’s Prime Tree, the same one she had danced around for her graduation five years later, his eyes were fixed forward. Her tutors from the college, mainly women, who held positions on her mother’s advisory council nodded in respect as she passed by. Mother Maggie sat next to Emperor Nokon. Both looked thrilled with the political performance playing out in front of them. In the second row, Edith could see Tabitha, but allowed herself only a moment to look at her. She was the only person there who had the power to shake her resolve. Elders who were supposed to deliver the wishes and the blessings were represented in stained-glass visages that were hung from the tree branches, a generation of missing guests who would have been here if not for the war Nokon had extended. In the prominent place was an image of her grandma Joyce. What would they think of their most skilled witch and heir marrying into the family that condemned them all to death? Marrying their enemy as she was forced to hide the range and depth of her magic. Instead of bringing attention to the tradition that couldn’t be met, her mother had devised that all the guests with qualified magical ability said the vows chorally. To Edith, it was a beautiful incantation of hope for the future, but to Cadmus it sounded dark and ill-wishing.

Cadmus, refused to look at his father. It had never crossed his mind that his father’s choices would force anyone but his son to be unhappy, but Edith had made it very clear that she too was displeased, but equally powerless to do anything about it. For a moment, he wished his soon-to-be wife was a stronger witch, so that she could chase this ridiculous thought out of their parent’s minds. The fact that only a basic show of magic had been displayed made him certain that Maggie had spoken truthfully when she told them her daughter was only slightly skilled in the arts. It would make sense, as Cadmus was aware that in Sourcero a deep shame centered around witches who were less than gifted in their ability-perhaps that was why Maggie had wanted to get rid of her. Reid leant forward with the symbolic manacles they would be forced to wear, and Cadmus placed the obligatory ring on her middle finger. The ruby shone like blood and anger. Cadmus couldn’t help but think it was fitting for the occasion. Although the Princess Witch had seemed confident that she could connect with Dex, Cadmus was very dubious.

“…to be your ally, and closest partner. To remain dutiful as your wife and a Princess of your realm.” Edith completed her vows, noticing that her almost husband hadn’t been listening to a word.

If he had paid attention, he would have noticed how their promises to each other sounded like a contract between nations, a treaty agreement that was unified by their pairing. It was formal, cold and so removed from real wedding vows that Edith might have laughed if it was happening to anyone but her. Reid passed the scroll of vows to Cadmus, and as expected, the crossings out of last-minute changes in his father’s handwriting were plain to see.

“I, Cadmus, will have you, Edith, as my wife for the prosperity of our nations and peoples. May our subjects never know hunger or fear after this union is fastened together for the duration of our lives. I vow to be your ally and closest partner. To remain dutiful as your husband and the Prince of Novtexo” The words made him blanch, but it was obligation that stilled his tongue.

“Goddess damn them all, for both of us!” he thought to himself.

He lifted his hand and had his palm facing towards her. She copied the motion, although it was clear that she was unsure what to do. Despite most of the service being completed in her traditions, this last step was part of his culture, and his father had insisted on its inclusion. Feeling a moment of sympathy for her, he moved his hand to the left slightly so that their rings were touching. From the bands, tiny teeth appeared and bit into their skin, mixing their blood together and forcing Edith to be accepted into the royal family’s succession, legitimising the succession of their future children. If she felt the pain as he did, she never let it show on her face. In many ways, she was losing more painful things today than her blood.

Clapping from the few guests broke through the newly wedded couple’s misery, and they turned to smile at their guests—etiquette well embedded. In the meadow below them were the more uproarious cheers of the common people, who were already sending magical wishes towards them. Maggie, kissed her daughter’s cheek in a gesture that was unfamiliar and awkward. Equally, Nokon slapped his son’s back, with the relief that he hadn’t embarrassed their nation by having to be dragged to his wedding. Despite the time pressure, Maggie swiped her arm across the scene, and the benches and tables rearranged themselves into a horseshoe shape with a table for two in the center for the new Prince and Princess of Novtexo. The wedding breakfast was simple but delicious; warm bread was coated with salted butter and an array of eggs cooked in all fashions and a plethora of fruits and green vegetables were placed across the banqueting tables. To Edith’s surprise, Cadmus poured the liquid from the jug into her glass first before filling his own. She noticed that he sniffed the mixture before taking a tentative sip.

“It’s mayjo juice. It is supposed to calm your nerves, but generally it is just a very refreshing flavour. Do you not have this at home?” Edith asked him.

“No, most of our food is imported, the land is too dry to nurture vegetation. I’m surprised I have never had this before. We always ask for the most delicious offerings for the palace,” he answered, still staring at his goblet.

“This is a sacred drink; it is only ever used for the most sacred of events. We should be honoured that my mother picked it for us, but then I guess it is more to please your father.”

Cadmus looked over at his king, who was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, having finished at least his first cup, meanwhile Maggie was refilling his goblet.

“Let’s hope he isn’t too relaxed; he has to ride his dragon home soon,” Cadmus joked, and then remembered that she too had to convince Dex to accept her as his wife.

Although the young Prince had been indifferent to his bride’s fate on the journey to her realm, having met her he wasn’t as unmoved as he had been. There would be a tragedy if Dex rejected her, because, for all her abrupt and headstrong ways, just like him, she was a young heir being forced into a life that she didn’t want. Reaching over, he grabbed a handful of spiky apples.

“Here, place these in your pocket. They are Dex’s favourite fruit. When you approach him for his acceptance, this might prevent him from being too harsh.”

“You are so sure he will not be happy with his rider’s bride?” Edith asked challengingly.

“Dex has never been happy with any of our suggestions, you will be the twelfth suggestion,” Cadmus answered honestly, and for the first time, he saw a crack in her exterior, allowing a little panic to shine through.

He immediately regretted his honesty.

Nokon, stood, a little unsteady after indulging in the local delights and raised his goblets to the newly wedded couple.

“May you have a long and happy life together that is unrivaled in affection and love for each other. It is time for the bride to meet the prince's counterpart. As stipulated in the agreed contract, and in accordance with our traditions, the bride must now meet the rider’s steed. No help can be offered from external sources, while we see if the dragon will accept the bride.” The king drank the last of the liquid and wiped his hand across his face, patting down the drops that had fallen on his doublet.

If Cadmus hadn’t been sitting so close to her, he might not have seen the tremble in her hand before she held on to her glass, and maintained her composure. If he had been further away from her, he might not have seen how stiff her legs were as she willed them to do something she didn’t want to do. Most definitely, if Cadmus hadn’t been sat so close to her, he wouldn’t have heard the deeper, shakier breath before she stood up, that revealed how scared she truly was. All these things softened his cruel previous judgements of her, because he was sure he didn’t want her to die today. Despite all these glimmers of her doubt, she too raised her glass to the King, toasting his sentiments and drank the last of the contents in her glass. Raising the heavy skirt of her dress which swirled with half-formed, unclear images, she stepped away from the center table, and headed for the forest where the sleeping dragon waited.