The witch cackled. “I’s shuddering. Now get out like you done been told.”
Mattis took a step toward Mellie, but at a noise from the witch thought better of it. Throwing his hands in the air, he left.
“We gots to talk, girl. Come on back to the house.”
Taking a deep breath, Mellie silently followed her step-mother, almost grateful for her placement. If the witch wanted any money from her job, Mellie’d need to be in one piece come morning. As they passed the laundry snapping in the hot wind Mellie wished it was dry enough to gather in. She’d rather do chores than stand face on with the witch.
The witch must’ve read Mellie’s mind. “Get on inside,” she said. “The chores’ll wait.”
Giving up dragging her feet, Mellie followed her into the dim house.
The witch jostled bottles around her potion shelf, muttering to herself. Finally satisfied, she tossed one to Mellie. “Down that.”
Mellie glared at the thumb-high tube. “What’ll it do to me?”
“No mind for that, just drink.” The woman didn’t even spare her a glance.
With a shrug, Mellie poured the orange liquid on her tongue. She gagged. It tasted like a mix of noxnob oil and manure.
“Swallow,” she was ordered.
There was no way around it. If she fought, there’d only be something worse to follow. It took a lot of swallowing, but Mellie finally got it all down.
“So what’ll happen now?” she asked. “My hair all falls out like Mattis’s did, or do I sprout tentacles on my face or sommat?”
The witch laughed. “Eat this,” she said, handing Mellie a chunk of brown that looked like a rock. “Cuts the flavor.”
Mellie gnawed on the bitter lump, waiting for the effects of the potion to assault her.
“How’s yer elbow?” the witch asked. “Got banged right good on that boy’s face.”
Unsure what to say, Mellie shrugged.
“I ain’t poisoned you, girl. I’s trying to show a kindness,” she huffed. “Potion’ll put you right soon ’nough. Not just yer elbow, mind, but any bits’re ailing.”
“Why?” Mellie asked. The witch never showed a kind twig in her spine.
Hurt flashed in her eyes. “You hates me.”
“You ain’t never gave me a reason not to.”
“Fair ’nough,” the witch said. “You were a difficult girl when yer da and I pledged, yer mam not six months cold in the ground. He on’y took me fer you, girl, but I never could speak at you. Only made it harder that you called me the witch, like I weren’t good ’nough for me name.”
Mellie’s jaw went slack. “You wanted me to use yer name?”
The witch snorted. “O’course I did.”
Guilt squirmed her belly. “You never said.”
“It’s past now, girl. Naught’ll come from wishing things changed.” The witch tried to smile. “May be that you won’t hear it, Mellie, but I’s always loved you in my way. Sending you inter service ain’t sommat I’d of chose, but yer da couldn’t be bothered to ask my thoughts.”
If the witch could make the effort to use her name, Mellie’d have to try, too. “Khora,” she started. The name felt odd in her mouth. “Don’t make no sense, Khora. If’n you loved me, why’d you treat me like you did? Always sending me for spell makings or telling me to do sommat t’would keep me out the house?”
“You ain’t figured out ’bout the spells? I hoped to share it with you. Teach you witchcraft,” she added when it looked like Mellie didn’t understand.
“You wanted me to be a witch?” She couldn’t’ve been more stunned if the witch laid claim to a throne.
Khora nodded. “You’d have been good. You gots the gift, Mellie, but without training it’s unfocused. Near useless. Don’t have near that much power meself. That’s not why, though. If you liked witchcraft, we’d have had sommat in common. Sommat to talk on. We could’ve been friends.”
Mellie didn’t know what to say. The idea of being friends with the witch — Khora — was more than she was ready to take in.
“You was never curious about it. Might’ve been yer dislike fer me, I guess.” Khora waited for Mellie to say something.
Finally, Mellie found her voice. “I don’t dislike you. I don’t knows you well enough to know if I do like you. We ain’t never spent much time together.”
Khora looked pained, but moved on. “You was holding yer own with that boy. The Lord Knight’s son, weren’t it?”
“Erm.” Mellie squirmed under Khora’s knowing gaze.
“Yer da won’t hear it from me,” Khora said. She pushed herself to her feet and brushed off her skirt. She grabbed a dagger off the rough table and started slicing a pile of herbs into perfect shreds. “Those attentions ain’t meant to reach a da’s ear. He’d go storming off to threaten the blasted Lord Knight.”
Mellie’s stomach dropped.
“I would’ve kept out of yer business, but you was asking him to leave and he weren’t going.” She waited for Mellie to nod. “You meet boys out there much?”
Mellie’s face darkened as embarrassment pooled the blood under her skin. She tried to find sommat to say, but couldn’t get any words out.
Khora stabbed her dagger in the air, pointing it at Mellie. “Just the Lord Knight’s boy, or others, too?”
“Just one other,” Mellie mumbled. “Tayne.”
The words felt strange in her mouth, but if Tayne was trying to buy her contract, it’d be best if someone knew she’d spent time with him.
“Tayne.” Khora raised her eyes in thought. “He’s right high in society, too, ain’t he? Higher even than the first.”
“Lord Vandergraff’s son. He’s good to me,” Mellie said, begging Khora to understand. “He don’t want to see me go. He—he wants to pledge to me.”
Khora sighed. She dropped the dagger and moved to place an awkward hand on Mellie’s shoulder. She pulled Mellie down to sit on the bench. “His mam wouldn’t stand fer it, girl.”
Mellie sank into herself. She knew it well. “His da knew and said it was a’right.”
“That’s what the boy told you, leastwise,” she corrected. “Boys of rank don’t mean what they say. Likely he was using you.”
Mellie’d had the same thoughts, but hearing them from someone else panged. “He’s not like t’others,” she defended him. “He’s kind. He wants ter look after me.”
Khora tipped her head to the side, like she was seeing something new. “You love him, then?”
Mellie shrugged. “Don’t know much ’bout love.”
Khora scowled, her twisted face fearsome. Getting up, she went to rummage through a cupboard. Soon she backed out, a streak of dirt marring her cheek. “Take this. It’s a protection charm.”
Mellie took the thing. It was a round disk, like a coin, only this had strange designs burned into polished wood. “What’s it to protect from?”
“Unwanted touches,” Khora said. “Anyone touches you—fer any reason—without yer blessing, they’ll regret it.”
“What’ll it do to them?” Mellie asked with a grotesque fascination.
“It’ll wither their brains. Or anything else they’re thinking with,” she added. “Once saw a cook smack someone fer stealing a taste of potato. Next morning the cook’s arms and tongue were withered useless. Should come in handy going off to lord’s castle. Always soldiers at castles, and they gots roving hands. Should work right good on anyone ain’t got magic.”
Mellie stared at the disk, unsure if she wanted it. Its power was beyond her knowing, but for the first time, Khora was making an effort. That, more than anything else, made Mellie decide to keep it. “Thanks,” she offered.
Khora shrugged, uncomfortable. “Keep it against yer skin fer it to work.”