Midnight Soul (31 page)

My heart felt light and thus, as I was
learning happened, my mouth started moving.

“I don’t know what caused you to gift me such
loyalty, Josette, but what I want you to know is that it means much
to me.”

“My position means there were scars I could
assist you with your clothing to hide from others, but you couldn’t
hide them from me,” she shared readily.

“I don’t…” I shook my head. “How did that
gain loyalty?”

Josette studied me with curiosity, asking me,
“How would it not?”

“Many people have many scars for many
reasons.”

“And all of them I admire,” she returned.
“But you most of all for you lived your life and you did as you
pleased and whatever caused those scars did not beat you. My father
prized strength and taught my sister and me to do the same. He was
himself so strong he refused to believe he could not save his
family from icy waters. He didn’t stop believing, even dying
because of it. This makes me sad. But that sadness has never
cobbled me because I’m far more proud that he was that man and he
died displaying that strength. And I didn’t allow it to cobble me
for I knew if my father knew I had, he’d be disappointed in me.
So,” she shrugged, “that’s it, I guess.”

After this, it was I staring at her.

“Oh no,” she whispered. “Are you going to
become a simpering ninny? Because…you mustn’t, seeing as if you do,
I will.”

I sniffed and pulled my hand from hers,
declaring, “Certainly not.”

She grinned.

I curled my lips up at her and then stated,
“I’m hungry, Josette.”

“Of course,” she replied, jumping off the
bed.

“Josette?” I called, and she stopped her dash
to the door and turned to me. “Tell them to prepare a tray for you
as well. I wish to share breakfast with you this morning, and every
morning I take it in bed in future. When you bring mine up, ask one
of the other servants to bring up yours.”

Her eyes grew very large. “But…Franka,
I…they’ll…this will be quite shocking to the palace staff.”

“And I care about this because…?”

This did not grant me a grin but instead a
wide, bright smile.

“I’ll be back,” she declared.

“I’ll be here.”

The door closed behind her.

I looked to my lap.

“Finally,” I murmured. “It’s all sorted.”

I drew in a breath and lifted my head to let
it out.

And then it was me whose mouth spread into a
wide, bright smile.

Wired

Valentine

Valentine was sitting, her legs crossed, in
the darkened apartment, Circe’s cat in her lap, a long-haired
ginger with intelligent eyes (as all cats were considering they
were spirit creatures and had long since been smart enough to allow
themselves to be the familiars of witches).

She’d timed it precisely.

Enough time had passed where she remained
aggravated.

Not enough time had passed where she could
get exasperated.

She wasn’t angry any longer. This, she found,
her lovely companion had the power to curb by performing so
beautifully and being quite capable of giving as well as
receiving.

For this, Circe was lucky.

She was also lucky that Valentine heard the
lock click and the door open before Valentine had to wait any
longer.

“Really? You sit in the dark waiting for me?”
Circe asked.

This greeting was not a surprise. Valentine
knew better than to think she could sneak up on a witch.

“You’re blocking me.” Valentine found herself
in the annoying position of wasting energy to share something that
didn’t need to be said.

The door closed, a switch was flipped and
several of the lamps in the
relatively-attractive-but-sparsely-furnished room illuminated.

Really, Circe should use some of her
treasure, something Valentine had noted she hadn’t touched, simply
to decorate.

But the witch could actually purchase a home,
if she so desired, one that provided far superior accommodation
than…
this
.

Valentine did not declare these thoughts
aloud.

She watched Circe toss her purse into a chair
and then cross her arms, leveling her eyes on her sister-witch.

“You’re doing something that needs to be
blocked,” she finally replied.

“I’m simply looking after you,
chérie
,” Valentine lied.

“I’ve been in this world for some time,
Valentine, I hardly need looking after.”

Valentine lazily flipped out a hand as she
suggested, “Why don’t we look at it as a mother bear taking care of
her cub?”

“Please, no offense, my sister, but we both
know you are no mother. And you bear no responsibility for me. I
brought myself to this world and it was my decision to stay. You
had nothing to do with any of that.”

At Circe’s mention of Valentine and “mother”
in the same sentence, strangely, disturbingly, and lastly,
pleasantly, visions of little girls with lovely blue eyes and thick
blonde hair danced in Valentine’s head.

Her trifle, who somehow she’d allowed to turn
into her companion, had lovely blue eyes and thick blond hair.

He’d once been simply a body.

Now he was…

Not.

Merde
.

“And we both know with my magic restored,
especially having that and being in this world where it isn’t often
wielded, I need no one taking care of me,” Circe continued.

“Is there something you don’t wish me to
see?” Valentine asked, forcing her mind from her thoughts back to
their conversation.

“I simply don’t wish the intrusion, and I
have that right, as you know.”

She did.

Bother.

“Though, I might be moved to stop blocking
you if I knew why you were suddenly watching me,” Circe went on
with her own lie.

No witch, or non-witch for that matter, liked
someone interfering in their lives.

Certainly not observing them.

It would not do to tell her she was watching
in order to start meddling, doing this to magically maneuver a
meeting with the future love Circe was destined to have, her aim to
see them married, creating children, doing such enjoyably and
living happily ever after.

Circe was fiercely independent, something of
which Valentine approved, though the reasons life had given her to
make her bent on protecting this trait at all costs was something
Valentine despised.

A history where she had nothing like it. No
independence. Not even free will.

Nearly her entire life she’d lived imprisoned
and enslaved by a despotic ruler who took advantage of a beautiful
young witch and her powers in every way he could.

Goddess, she hoped this world’s Dax Lahn
could handle such a challenge.

Valentine’s mind wandered to the fact that,
interestingly, his first name was Dax in this world, Lahn his last,
proof the Dax in the other world would hold his kingly title as
prophesied until he passed it to his son on his death.

This meant the Circe and Dax of this world
would likely name their son the same.

Lovely.

“Valentine?” Circe called and Valentine
focused on her again, feeling her frame slightly tighten.

She’d just gone sentimental.

Hoping.

Caring.

Worrying.

And now being sentimental.

She shivered in revulsion.

Another shiver of revulsion followed at the
very thought that she’d have to give up magical meddling and do
something a mundane human would need to do in this situation when
magic was not an option.

Fix the two of them up.

How revolting.

“It would seem you’re holding an entire
conversation to which I’m not privy since you’re having it silently
with yourself,” Circe observed.

At this, Valentine stood, dropping the cat
gracefully to her feet as she did.

“Franka has decided to come to our world to
start her life anew,” she declared, and went on further, sharing
about Franka’s growing connection with Noc and the friendships she
was making in the other world.

Circe looked astonished and moved to her
couch, seating herself on the arm, her cat slinking elegantly to
her momma, jumping on the seat and rubbing against Circe’s
thigh.

“This surprises me,” Circe stated.

“I see that. I have, of course, shared with
you all that has occurred and the knowledge she’s our sister. Thus
this decision pleases me. She’s also decided to accept my training.
Unlike
you
,” Valentine stressed, “it seems she has no qualms
with using her magic for enjoyable purposes once she learns to
wield it.”

“I’ve had my magic manipulated nearly all my
life, Valentine,” Circe reminded her. “I like it to be my own, to
use it when I will, how I will.”

“That’s understandable,” Valentine murmured,
annoyed to have to concede that point.

“I’m pleased she’s made this decision too,”
Circe said. “This is an odd realm, but it’s a good one to make a
new start. Very easy to get lost in the sheer numbers of people,
and because of this you can focus on the person you wish to
be.”

“There are nearly the same numbers in both
worlds,” Valentine reminded her. “With scant variation.”

“I’ve assessed that my old world has nearly
twice the land mass as this one, which allows much more space for
people to spread out,” Circe returned.

Valentine knew this to be true.

She didn’t concede that point.

She stated, “She’s awaiting her
sister-in-law’s safe delivery of a new child. I cannot assess when
this will be, but calling up the woman and the little she’s
showing, my assumption would be that this will happen in five to
six months’ time.”

“I will welcome her and assist her in any way
whenever she arrives, my sister.”

“That’s good to hear,” Valentine replied.

“This is not why you’re watching me.”

Valentine tilted her head. “Do you think for
even a second I do it for malicious reasons?”

Circe grinned. “I think
you
think
you’re quite wicked when you have a soul of emerald but a heart of
pure gold.” When Valentine opened her mouth to object to that
ridiculousness, Circe lifted a hand, kept grinning and continued
speaking. “Don’t deny it. Actions speak louder than words, my green
witch, and with all of yours, you could talk, as they say in this
world, until you’re blue in the face, or green,” her grin got
bigger, “and I wouldn’t believe you.”

Valentine lifted her hands, declaring, “I
feel this visit is at an end.”

Before she could conjure her magic, Circe
spoke on.

Gently.

“I’m happy, my sister, please know that with
whatever your golden heart is speaking to you to do.”

Valentine halted her spell that would spirit
her back to the other world and regarded the witch closely.

Then she stated, “You will be happier.”

And at that juncture, before Circe could open
her mouth to speak, Valentine finished casting her spell and
disappeared.

* * * * *

When the hour had struck midnight in Lunwyn,
Valentine appeared at the appointed place seeing a sleigh close by,
four horses hitched to it, blankets covering the steeds’ coats to
protect them in the cold, her two compatriots already there and
waiting.

As she’d asked, Lavinia had brought their
charge.

The witches had decided to perform Franka’s
ceremony close to an adela tree. It was just a sapling, but its
power could still be felt and its place in this world for anyone
with magic was sacred.

Franka stood beside the adela sapling wearing
a glorious cloak of Prussian-blue fine wool lined with ermine, her
hands encased in blue kid gloves, no cap on her head to cover her
glorious hair that had a healthy sheen, even in the moonlight.

And there was no anxiety in her eyes. Her
shoulders were straight, her chin up.

Valentine sensed no fear from her.

She also sensed no excitement.

This would change.

“Are you ready, my sister-witch?” Valentine
asked, moving through the snow toward her, her own green cloak
lined with red fox keeping her warm.

“Of course,” Franka replied.

Valentine stopped close and cast her gaze to
Lavinia, who was moving to them. She waited for her fellow witch to
arrive and catch her eyes.

When she did, Valentine nodded to her.

Lavinia returned this gesture.

They both looked to Franka.

“Take my hand in one of yours, Lavinia’s in
the other,” she ordered.

Without hesitation, Franka did as told.

Valentine felt her power through her touch
and realized, even if she’d already sensed it was substantial,
she’d been in error at just how substantial it was.

This power Franka Drakkar held had not simply
fed on itself and grown over the years with no use.

She, too, like Valentine (as well as Lavinia)
was a legacy. And from what Valentine could feel, it was not one or
two generations in Franka’s line who had practiced the craft, but
centuries of them.

This was superb news. So much so, it made
Valentine smile and look to Lavinia, who she knew felt it too, not
only because it would be impossible to miss, but also from the
answering smile on the witch’s face.

“Would you care to share what you find so
pleasing?” Franka drawled.

Both of them turned back to her. “Your power
is already substantial.”

“And you can tell that how?” Franka
asked.

“Do you not feel it?” Lavinia queried softly,
and Valentine knew she squeezed her hand when Franka looked down at
their two hands clasped together. “You must feel it,” Lavinia
prompted.

The tip of Franka’s tongue came out and
touched her lower lip briefly before she turned her gaze to Lavinia
and answered, “I feel it. From you,” her gaze went to Valentine,
“and much more from you.”