Page 16 of The Noldrin Witch

“But?”

Morgaine continued. “Do you think Lady Patrice or that liar of a fiancé would have risked their whole lives for the chance of improving them?”

Elise did not need to think long before shaking her head. It was impossible to imagine Lady Patrice or Edward confronting even obvious injustice, let alone traveling without the security of their titles and wealth.

“You are young. A maid?” Morgaine said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are only just beginning your cycle of life. The Maid is the first face, then comes the second, and if you are lucky, you are granted a third.”

Whether it was the ale and wine speaking or not, Elise could not say, but what she heard seemed important enough. A thought settled in her mind with unusual confidence.

“Would you take me under your ward?”

Morgaine coughed. “What?”

“I must earn my living somehow, and I can be of some use in making your days more agreeable.”

Morgaine grumbled, and after a moment of consideration, said, “Do you know more dishes like the one you made today?”

Elise nodded at once and began to recount the many skills she had gathered in recent months. The witch showed particular interest in her sewing and spinning, already measuring her for tailoring work.

“For now, bring me another jug of ale. Tomorrow, if you have not reconsidered, we may speak of it.”

Chapter 8

Elise had tried to find some comfort during the night, but her efforts had not been particularly rewarded. There had been a few surprises, none of them welcome. First, the magic fire Morgaine had lit for her, both for cooking and in the fireplace, went out the moment the witch left the common area. Elise was left in complete darkness, tucked into the corner where a mattress had been laid out for her. The thing was so hard she first thought it was stuffed with straw, though the more she shifted under the covers, the less certain she became.

Anyhow, even with the hard bed and the desire to keep an eye open during the night in case of trouble, Elise fell swiftly into a deep slumber. She did not know if the mattress possessed some kind of magic or if it was simply her exhaustion, but she rested soundly for what felt like a few hours. The night seemed to promise a measure of rest, until the loud snoring from Morgaine’s room set her expectations straight.

The wicked commotion had been loud enough to pass for a stable full of horses. The noise made Elise rise from her bed and place a curious ear on Morgaine’s chamber door. She caught a number of distinct sounds, from laughter to names, Volker included among what might have been prayers.

When Elise returned to her bed, the calls of owls added to the snoring did little to improve her rest.

Soon it was dawn, and a pale blue sky, interrupted only by a few dark clouds, illuminated the place with a persistence that made further sleep impossible. Elise could now admire in greater detail the finery of Morgaine’s dwelling. The house was a true display of beautiful woodwork and masonry wherever she glanced. One wall of the kitchen was made entirely of glass, set in wooden frames from floor to ceiling. It was a most magnificent sight, and despite the lack of peaceful sleep she had hoped for, Elise rose with the first rays of sunlight.

She took her clothes, which had been drying by the hearth during the night, and began to work. She was determined to show Morgaine all the advantages of having her in her service.

Elise crept around the house, dusting, sweeping, mopping, and cleaning everything she could without making much noise. Before Morgaine woke up, the house was spotless, and Elise was so proud she could barely wait for the witch to see.

The hard labor had helped Elise to distract her mind from the sorrow that still lingered in her heart. Retelling her story with Edward had made the events feel more present.

When Morgaine emerged from her chamber, however, she didn’t look surprised. The woman could barely lift an eyelid and stumbled into the kitchen looking for water. Once she had a cup of tea Elise had ready for her, she finally opened her eyes and jolted awake.

“What have you done to this place, darling?” she grumbled.

“You don’t like it?” Elise gasped.

“I don’t think I’ve seen this place as clean since the time my friend built it.”

“A refined architect, I presume,” Elise said.

“He’s one of the dwarves from the north. A grumpy fellow, but he knows his trade.”

Elise smiled, happy to gather bits of information about the magical world she so eagerly wished to learn. She didn’t ask more, content with whatever small pieces the witch chose to offer in conversation. It seemed to her that the less she inquired, the less likely she was to be invited to drink the memory-erasing potion.

Elise prepared another sizable meal for breakfast. She watched with some concern as Morgaine hurried through the eggs and bacon, swallowing them as if they might try to escape.