The Witch's Knight Out

The Witch My feet tap gently against the cobbled floors, loose dirt sticking to the soles. I choose not to think of the feeling and how quickly I might find a washroom to clean up. The dark stone walls narrow the further you look, darkness pressing from the stone into the silent hallways. Now I know I really should not be here; however, the darkness and despair were just far too inviting to resist. A chill runs up my tatty black skirt and caresses my calves, my black sweater sits snug against my body. Holes litter the fabric. Mischief cares nothing for the cold. In this old building, mischief can thrive. And me? I thrive on mischief. Taking out my wand, I spin it lightly, a shiver of excitement already racing through me. A ghost prank here, a couple of adorable bats over there … oh the options are endless. Who knew a random night flight would reveal such a perfect playground. I spin my wand a final time, preparing a spell in my mind. “What are you doing?” A deep voice calls out. I freeze, my wand vanishes into the pocket of my skirt and I slowly spin around. A knight with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, stands scowling at me a few paces away. He carries his helmet under one arm, navy blue uniform blending into the darkness except for the royal crest blazing in the center of his chest. I breathe through my racing heart and give him my brightest smile. “I could not sleep, a walk sounded lovely.” He remains still, looking me up and down before his eyes narrow at my feet. “Where are your shoes?” Shoot. He’s observant. “I like to connect with the earth on my walks. It helps me feel grounded.” I smile at him again and receive zero acknowledgment. He slowly steps closer, focusing on my old skirt now. “Why are you dressed like this, Little Witch?” He does not know. Surely not. Right? My wand was away in time. I clear my throat to speak and try not to panic, but he beats me to it. “You look like a witch.” I sigh inwardly. I’ll take that as a compliment. I think. “These clothes are merely comfortable.” He focuses on the line of buttons running up the front of my skirt and the shredded ends brushing my calves. He raises an eyebrow. “It is a style, simply decorative. The buttons hold no practical value. They are perfectly comfortable for a stroll.” He narrows his eyes but accepts it. Not many men question the integrity of women’s clothing. Turning on his heel, he walks towards the double doors leading into the main part of the building. I could have much more fun in an actual castle than I ever could out here. I need him to let me in. The Knight The woman next to me is infuriating. She has the smile of a naughty child and her story about a midnight stroll is just entirely unbelievable. And yet here she walks. Next to me. Barefoot. She thinks I didn’t notice the way she wiggled her toes and cringed at the feeling of the cold, dirty floor. No ordinary person walks around without shoes in the middle of the night. Then there’s her outfit. All black, older than my grandfather and probably out of fashion by a century. She looks like a witch. And the witch will not stop talking. I stop my brisk march, and she skids to a halt. She looks up at me with big green eyes and a confused wrinkle between her brows. She opens her mouth to speak. Again. I hold out a hand to interrupt her. “If you do not shut up, I will put on this helmet and ignore you completely. Why are you following me?” Her lips curl into a sheepish smile. “Can’t a lady desire company on her nightly walks?” I shoot her a look. One that says we both know she is a liar. She sighs, “Fine, I don’t know how to get into the castle. I was invited here for a ball and I have only arrived now.” I stare at her dumbfounded. “You didn’t see the two knights guarding the gates?” She shakes her head. “How did you get past the moat?” She shrugs and, at that moment, I decide that I do not want to know. With an exasperated grunt, I usher her forward. She is unlike any noble person I have ever encountered, and she clearly is not from here. Besides, what harm could such a tiny woman do? A lot. The answer is a lot. But I didn’t know that yet.