Page 17 of The Snow Witch

Alice flicked a gaze at the bowl and her already pale face turned whiter. She had dark circles under her eyes and did not look well at all.

‘Is that for me?’ Alice whispered. She sat down on a rock, hugging her knees to her chest, staring at the bowl. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy braid, and her dark blue eyes were swimming with storm clouds.

‘It is.’ There was no point in lying. ‘He told me. Why did you not tell me yourself?’

Alice dropped her head to her knees. ‘I was ashamed,’ she said, her voice muffled. ‘And I was scared.’ She looked up at Meg, tears glistening in her eyes. ‘He made it as if it was my fault.’

‘You have no reason to be ashamed! He is the one who did this. Did he force himself upon you?’

Alice nodded miserably. ‘I would never have given myself to him willingly, Meggie. Please believe me. I do not want – this.’ Alice gestured to her stomach. ‘I cannot have a child—’ She checked herself. Alice knew about Meggie and Emory and the fact that Meg was with child, of course she did. ‘I’m sorry. It’s different for me. If I loved him, then I would embrace it.’

‘I know.’ Meg reached out and touched her cheek. Her skin was clammy and Meg frowned. ‘Are you well, Alice?’ Meggie sat back on her heels. ‘Apart from the… situation.’

Alice shrugged, but didn’t answer. She looked out over the countryside and the remains of the fort. ‘I have the sickness with it. Constantly.’

Meggie nodded, shredding some dried flower heads and herbs into tiny trumpets, ready to throw some into the Well, and some into the tincture. ‘If that is the case, I don’t think you should take the full strength of this medicine. The mugwort can be very powerful.’

Meggie worked a moment or two longer, adding more water from the Well, and decanted the mixture into a small bottle.

Alice’s gaze followed her motions. ‘Mugwort, say you? That is mugwort?’ She nodded at the concoction.

‘Amongst other things, yes.’ Meggie’s voice was guarded. She didn’t want to share her secrets with Alice, much as she loved her. Too little knowledge was dangerous and there was no telling what Alice would try to do in her current mindset.

Alice laughed, but there was a bitter note to the sound. ‘Aye. Alongside something magical, no doubt. May I take it with me now?’ She grabbed the bottle and stared at it as if it was a bar of gold.

‘Aye. But please – only take a little to start with. And let me bless it first. Coventina will help you through this.’ Meggie bowed her head and closed her eyes, praying to the goddess to help her friend. It was a dreadful, conflicting thing that she had to do: take the life of an unborn child or redress the balance of her dearest friend’s life. The choice, however, was not hers to make. ‘It’s much weaker now,’ Meggie said eventually, when she opened her eyes, ‘thanks to Coventina’s sacred water, but you are also weaker. So the medicine has to be taken over several days.’ Meg was a little concerned. She could tell by the slightly manic gleam in her friend’s eyes as she stared at the bottle that she wanted things to happen quickly. And quickly was not how this should work, not judging by how ill her friend looked…

No. Meg wasn’t satisfied. ‘Alice. Please. Now I think on it, give me that back. I shall come by over the next few days for you, and we will do it safely. I shall give you a small draught every two days and⁠—’

‘I care naught for safety!’ Alice, swiped angrily at her tears with her forearm. ‘I just want it over with. I love you, Meggie; I would never blame you for anything that happened. If it was painful and terrible, I would accept it all. It just has to happen. It is the simple truth. But I promise, I will be careful.’

‘Alice…’

But it was pointless. Alice gripped the bottle and stood. She clenched her fists. ‘I’m sorry to do this to you. I hope you understand.’ And then she turned and ran away.

Meggie struggled to her feet, meaning to chase her, but the weight of the babe was heavy today; he had shifted position and sat awkwardly within her, and she could not run to catch her. ‘Alice!’ she called as she saw Alice’s figure fleeing over the hillside. ‘Please – wait!’

But Alice did not slow down and soon, she was a speck in the distance.

Meg felt more anger rise, directed at Milburn. Her fingers tightened around her dagger. He should be made to pay for this and damn the consequences.

Meg took a deep breath and tried to fight those thoughts. She should not wish such ill on people. Instead, she forced herself to hope and pray that Alice would pay heed to her warnings – the consequences if she didn’t did not bear thinking about. She looked at Coventina’s Well to centre herself again.

Then she noticed something that made her skin crawl with concern: flower heads lay scattered across the ground, and an icy breeze blew up, lifting them up to dance away across the valley. The clouds lowered and the snow began to fall more heavily, flakes settling and melting into the Sacred Well.

And there were a lot less mugwort cuttings than there had been when Alice had arrived.

Meg fervently hoped that the wind had taken them, and not Alice.

11

THEN

Winter 1650

Newcastle upon Tyne

‘John Kinkaid. Are you willing to assist us further afield?’ The row of magistrates sat on a long wooden bench, staring at the man in front of them. John Kincaid was a tall, imposing man. He favoured black clothing and stood like an immense bird of prey before the city dignitaries. He tapped his wooden staff on the floor thoughtfully, then raised it up and weighed it between his hands.