Page 115 of Valour

“Read us the next recipe, Betty,” Arnold said, peering down.

Betty brought out the little cookbook with a flourish and cleared her throat. “Tonight, we have Mulligatawny Soup on the menu.” A unified groan of longing went up from the men and women. “Melt the butter over a medium heat. Add the onions, celery and carrot and cook until soft. Add flour and curry spices and stir frequently.”

“It’s torture,” whimpered Rufus, covering his ears.

Betty continued, “Add the chicken stock and bring to a boil. Simmer for thirty minutes. Add apple, rice, chicken, thyme, salt and pepper. Cook for a further twenty minutes. Stir in cream.”

“I think I’m going to orgasm,” Fliss moaned. Charlotte raised her eyebrows but couldn’t disagree with Fliss’s sentiments.

9th May 1916, Southern Ocean

It was the worst hurricane Hester had ever encountered. And with the black cliffs of South Georgia visible in the distance, their goal was almost in sight. Almost, but the wind was a solid wall, hurtling them towards the cliffs.

“Trying to land would be suicide,” Septimus said, voice almost drowned out in the gale. His hands gripped the tiller alongside hers. “Hester—could you stop the wind?”

Stop it…she could. If she used her magic. But using it would signal their end, too. Would draw Orcus to them. It was an impossible situation. Hester’s eyes slid to Winston, who lay alongside Peggy under the deck, Frank tending to them. Both were in such a bad way. It was imperative that they land as soon as possible, not only for Winston and Peggy’s sake, but the Tempest’s seams shook as the boat laboured heavily against the storm. Hester wasn’t sure how much more of a battering the vessel could take.

She shifted where she sat, braced against the tiller next to Septimus. There had to be another way. The winds would die eventually.

Bright light blinded her, and when she blinked, her mother sat at her other side.

Through clenched teeth, Hester said, “I don’t need you to tell me we’re in danger.”

“I am here. When the end comes.”

That was rich. “You’ve not been here for the rest of my life, why grace me with your presence at the end of it?”

“You are not a mother. You would not understand.” Her voice broke on the words.

“I understand well enough. You hid me away. Left me. And you still refuse to give me a good reason why.” Hester began to raise her voice. “And you told me to embrace my fears, but you did not. You did not face whatever you thought would harm me, if you hid me away.”

Hester was standing now, though she did not remember getting to her feet. Standing with a snarl on her face. Her mother flickered in and out of her view, pain in her widened eyes.

The wind shrieked a warning, high and piercing.

And Hester knew what she had to do.

She turned from her mother and reached for Septimus, gripping his hand.

His eyes locked with hers. So blue and so fierce.

“I love you,” she said. She’d never said it before. Not to Fliss, even. “You were right. I was afraid of us. And when I embraced that fear, I got you.” It was time to embrace her fears once and for all.

Septimus flashed her a smile. “I love you, little witch. All of you.”

Hester faced into the storm, the wind whipping her hair back.

She had kept her magic tightly coiled in her chest for the whole journey, but she would fear Orcus no longer. Wouldn’t let fear control her anymore. She could face whatever he threw at her.

Hester let her tether to Septimus anchor her as she unravelled the magic in her chest. She let it out, let it shine bright, let the power thunder through her. Septimus gave a disbelieving laugh, staring at her, her glow reflected in his eyes.

Septimus smiled. “There she is.”

Hester held out a hand to the storm, her power soothing it, quietening it.

The wind dropped, the waves dying, the clouds parting. Her mother vanished, and the sun shone down on them. Hester tilted her face to it, smiling.

Frank, Peggy and Winston watched her from under the deck, awe-struck.