Page 14 of A Time of Witches

The small pile of salt and rosemary and jet emitted a subtle glow, the way light catches a reflective surface.

Together they closed their eyes, yielding to the earth, giving the whole of their focus to the charm.

Sybil’s pulse quickened and they spoke the final line, “We seek protection, for ourselves and for our loved ones.”

A cyclone whipped around their circle. An answer to their collective plea.

Sybil’s hair lashed against her face and her skirts billowed and flapped at her legs. Despite the chaos of the charm working, a sense of peace washed over her.

All at once, the world went quiet.

They opened their eyes to find the circle of protection gone, absorbed into the earth. Their words had been heeded.

A hushed moment fell over the women. No matter how many spells they performed, they were always awed with wonder and gratitude after.

They rose in silence, each collecting their baskets, Kat gathering her daughter into her arms. Then they bid farewell and departed amid a favorable wind.

As Sybil ducked back under the birch branches, she continued to focus on the protection spell. Not for herself, but for Jacinda.

The girl could not control her gifts, and power in a woman—especially one as extraordinary as Jacinda—was the swiftest path to ruin.

Sybil could take whatever persecution came her way, but she would sacrifice anything to protect Jacinda.

Even her own life.

The remainder of the day whirled by in a frenzy of preparation, of whispered charms and focused intentions to ensure a protective seal on the house. They wouldn’t be as powerful as the rite performed with her sisters and could be easily blown away by a strong gust, but still better than nothing.

The harvested herbs that morning were needed to replace the dried stock those charms required.

She climbed the stairs to the topmost floor of Brackenmere Manor, the area set aside for drying herbs. The capacious room remained dark enough to protect the herbs from having their powers leeched away in the sun. Meanwhile, slats beneath the eaves could be opened to allow wind to circulate, preventing mold and rot.

A breeze sifted through, setting the carefully bundled herbs swinging on their strings.

The shush of dried leaves whispered against one another overhead as she gathered what she required into a basket made of twisted weeping birch branches from the clearing.

Laurel leaves to safeguard against evil influences.

Angelica to ward off what was undesirable.

Nettle to create a boundary to keep unwanted intruders at bay.

Rosemary for protection.

As she lifted the bundles of rosemary, the sharp scent washed over her, dredging up memories from seven years ago of the great plague. She’d been able to push away those thoughts earlier in the clearing, when her focus had been on Jacinda’s safety. Now they assaulted her.

The recollections of the pest houses, the floors littered with the weak and dying so thickly that she had to pick her way over them with care. Bodies burning with fever, blackened with sores, the air thick with their wet coughing and the odor of impending death.

Sybil’s thoughts flinched away from such memories. Her wits were needed for the tasks ahead.

Once the herbs were gathered, Sybil carried them down to her bedchamber and secreted them in her coffer. Later that night, while the household slept, she would sneak into the hidden room within the library.

When Sybil first wed Henry and came to Brackenmere Manor, the library had been her refuge—a place of knowledge, illumination, empowerment. All things women were never supposed to want. All things that terrified men. At least all men, except Henry.

He indulged her curiosity, introducing her to Plutarch’s Lives where Rome’s women taught her courage, then later Heroides, which laid bare the hearts of mythic heroines and the wrongs wrought upon them.

His first anniversary gift, The Book of the City of Ladies was one she especially cherished. In those pages, she found validation and appreciation for a woman’s strength, where a woman’s virtues were built prioritizing kindness, intellect, and courage.

In later years, the library offered a place of sanctum as well.