Chapter 53
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Chapter 53
The next morning, inside a carriage bound for London.
Dressed in a pink hat and gown, Jane was once again reminding Charlotte that she had done nothing whatsoever to the apple cider.
"I swear on the weather of my wedding day with Terrence—throughout the entire casting of the spell, I never once opened the bottle containing the apple cider. I simply sat beside it while the Sorceress performed the ritual."
Jane continued her chatter, fluttering the ornate fan that Charlotte had left behind during her absence. Though the autumn air was growing crisp and a fan was hardly necessary, for Jane it was less a practical tool and more an accessory that made her already radiant beauty shine all the brighter.
"A Sorceress sounds rather frightening, but when you actually meet one, she's just like us. The only difference is that at some point, she gained mysterious powers...."
But Charlotte was not truly listening to Jane's words. Her mind was so full of the hours she had spent with Leopold the previous night that it threatened to overflow.
"...I want to live, Charlotte."
"I will live, and I will ensure that my confession of love for you does not remain selfish, that you do not suffer."
It was a romantic confession she could never have imagined hearing from anyone. Moreover, even though Leopold, as a prince of the realm, seemed to have some attachment to discovering what had happened to him, he had never shown much attachment to life itself—until now, when his eyes burned with a will she had never seen before.
'After finding my true self like that, I....'
'Will truly become your lover.'
'And I will have you.'
As Charlotte recalled Leopold's words, a burning heat seemed to rise from deep within her.
'He said he would become my lover and have me—good heavens!'
He had a talent for speaking in such dark and brazen terms while gazing directly at her without so much as a flicker of his eyes. It was Charlotte whose face flushed at his words.
'When a noble prince speaks such words, it seems acceptable enough—but if I'd only heard them without seeing his face, I'd swear he was nothing but a wolf!'
Charlotte found herself recalling the sensation of clinging to Leopold's broad shoulders. With that memory came the feeling of his large hand brushing her cheek, and the strength in his grip as it settled on her lower back—sensations that had sent shivers through her entire body.
"Oh, this won't do. Jane, lend me your fan for a moment."
Charlotte, her face flushing deeper by the second, simply snatched Jane's fan from her hands.
"My goodness, Charlotte! But that's my fan..."
Jane, suddenly deprived of her cherished fan, could only squint her eyes and watch it flutter in Charlotte's grip. Ever since Charlotte had done her such a tremendous favor yesterday, Jane found herself in no position to protest.
Fortunately, it wasn't long before Charlotte and Jane brought the carriage to a halt before the cottage of the woman known as the Sorceress—or sometimes the Necromancer. Though she had supposedly relocated to London after gaining renown, her cottage sat modestly near the forest of a small village quite removed from the city itself.
"I believe you when you say you didn't put a sleeping draught in the apple wine you gave to Terrence. What I want to know today is whether the spell the Sorceress cast truly caused no harm to Leopold when he drank it."
Charlotte spoke in a voice that trembled slightly as she approached the cottage door. But the moment she reached to knock, Jane came rushing over, clutching the hem of her dress, and seized Charlotte's hand.
"Oh, Charlotte. Mrs. Smith dislikes knocking. It apparently startles the spirits around her."
"Mrs. Smith?"
Charlotte asked back with an expression of bewilderment. For a mysterious sorceress, the name was far too common and ordinary.
Jane seemed to have forgotten all about yesterday's harrowing brush with the Search Party, now giddy with the joy of meeting the Sorceress again. She released Charlotte's hand and winked, then gently pushed open the wooden door of Mrs. Smith's cottage with one hand.
Creeeeak—
Charlotte watched the wooden door swing open with its ominous sound, her expression troubled.
***
Mrs. Smith was a middle-aged woman with black hair and blue eyes. Moreover, she bore no resemblance whatsoever to the image Charlotte had conjured of a sorceress or necromancer draped in ornaments and trinkets.
In her simple blue dress adorned with a small swallow brooch and a neat brown shawl, she appeared the very picture of a typical middle-class lady one might encounter on the street.
"So this is the young lady at the heart of the spell—Miss Charlotte!"
Mrs. Smith, her expression warm and gentle, poured a mysteriously fragrant tea for both Charlotte and Jane.
Jane smiled softly, as though the tea were familiar to her, and spoke.
"That's right, Mrs. Smith. Would you please tell Charlotte today that the spells you cast never harm anyone? Especially that spell I've been putting off telling Charlotte about—that it poses absolutely no danger to either its target or to Charlotte herself."
Mrs. Smith smiled at Jane's chatter. Upon closer inspection, I noticed white strands of hair—about three finger-widths in length—neatly arranged among Mrs. Smith's dark locks. They resembled the tail feathers of a magpie.
"Of course, Miss Jane. While many spells carry side effects, the spell I intended to cast upon you and Terrence is a beautiful one—it binds the souls of lovers who already cherish one another. Naturally, for those who are not lovers, it merely produces a charming love potion effect, causing their souls to be briefly drawn to one another at first glance."
Mrs. Smith settled into the seat across from me and spoke in measured tones.
"Therefore, for you and Terrence Devois, who already know each other well, it would have been entirely harmless. Would you not agree?"
Upon hearing Mrs. Smith's words, Jane turned to me with wide eyes as if to say, "Did you hear that?" In that moment, Mrs. Smith paused from pouring tea into my cup and spoke.
"Of course, there is precisely one case where it becomes problematic...."
Mrs. Smith gazed at me, then opened her mouth with a contemplative expression.
"But since that case is nearly impossible, there would be no need to mention it."
"What is this one case that becomes problematic?"
I pressed Mrs. Smith, who had returned her attention to pouring tea. She responded with a good-natured laugh.
"Why, it would be when the spell interferes with a departing soul. One must always be cautious of such blind spots when dealing with spells concerning the soul."
Yet beneath the laughter in Mrs. Smith's voice, I felt an ominous chill settle in my chest. I withdrew my lips from the teacup and asked.
"A departing soul...? What do you mean by that?"
Mrs. Smith's expression grew puzzled as she watched me pause mid-sip.
"Ah, it is a most exceptional case—when the soul of a living person and a soul departed from its body both fall under the spell. A soul freed from its flesh has its own path to follow, but if that soul remains bound to someone still living because of this spell, would that not pose a problem?"
Clang—
The moment Mrs. Smith finished speaking, the teacup in my hand slipped and fell. My face was engulfed by a shock so profound it felt as though my heart had stopped.
Jane rose from her seat in alarm. The scalding tea that had splashed up from the cup spilled across my white dress.
"Oh my, Charlotte! What on earth has happened!"
Despite Jane's commotion, I remained rigid and motionless. Mrs. Smith hastily began clearing away the broken cup.
"But Miss Charlotte, there is no need for concern. Terrence, who drank the apple wine, is quite a healthy and youthful soldier, is he not?"
"Ah, well, that is...."
This time, it was not the frozen Charlotte who answered Mrs. Smith's words, but Jane.
"The apple wine meant for Terrence fell into the wrong hands. As it happens, the person who drank it is now in a perilous situation."
Jane ceased wiping Charlotte's skirts with her handkerchief and continued speaking, observing the expressions of both women.
"Since many people believe that person to be dead, Charlotte must have been startled, fearing she might be bound to the spirit of a deceased person...."
"Enough, enough. Jane!"
Charlotte rose abruptly from her seat with a sharp cry. Jane, startled by Charlotte's sudden outburst, stood trembling like a frightened rabbit, her hands clasped before her chest, her eyes blinking rapidly.
Charlotte wrapped her arms around herself, her body quivering like an aspen leaf, and fixed her gaze upon Mrs. Smith.
"Mrs. Smith, please answer me clearly. You said the problem occurs when a living person's spirit becomes bound to a spirit that has departed from its body. That spirit which has left its flesh—does it truly mean only a deceased person?"
Charlotte's voice trembled even more than her body. Witnessing this, Mrs. Smith's complexion began to pale noticeably. Jane looked back and forth between Charlotte and Mrs. Smith, bewildered.
Charlotte stepped closer toward the silent Mrs. Smith. Her brown eyes appeared sharp and sorrowful, as though they might redden at any moment.
"And the problem that arises then—could it be that I might see that spirit...."
Mrs. Smith carefully placed the broken teacup back upon the table. She gazed at its fractured form for a moment, then whispered to Jane in a composed voice.
"Miss Jane, there are flowers dried in the backyard of my cottage for your wedding. Would you care to view them for a moment? It seems Charlotte and I have matters to discuss alone."
"...Y-yes, Mrs. Smith."
Jane rose quickly from her seat, casting furtive glances at Charlotte's grave and sorrowful expression, which she had never witnessed before. As Jane disappeared through the back door of the cottage, a look of tender concern for Charlotte finally appeared upon Mrs. Smith's face.
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Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org
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