catch their Witch of Dover,” she seethed in a mock falsetto, “they’ll need to find a new caricaturist.”
With a huff of contempt, she tossed the paper away, and Lilac’s gaze followed it until it rested on the floor. A rough illustration of a severe woman with long hair and sharp eyebrows framing a round face stared back at her below thickly scrawled letters spelling out, Witch of Dover, Wanted Dead or Alive.
When Lilac looked back up, the witch was staring at her. The back of her neck prickled with heat, as the witch had been glaring her way from the poster, and in real life. Frozen, Lilac momentarily forgot what she was going to say. The witch’s eyes turned up at the corners, a swimming concoction of ochre and midnight so swirling that Lilac couldn’t tell where one color began and the other ended. Her eyelids were rimmed in soft gray, and gold specks of glitter ran halfway down her rosy cheeks, tapering off like the tails of tears.
Kestrel and Sable had made Ophelia sound like a haggish wench with an addiction problem. Though she very well could’ve been, the woman before her was far from any kind of hag. She couldn’t have been past her early-thirties at the most.
“Good evening. I—I’m Lilac.”
“I know who you are. I’ve been expecting you. Took long enough.” She procured a white mug from the cabinet behind her, then bent to pull a basket from beneath the desk and onto her lap.
“Why are you fidgeting?” Ophelia snapped over the basket lid, sniffing at a palmful of dried red herbs before dropping them into the mug.
Lilac stopped tapping her heel against the floor. “Nothing at all, I’m just… It’s only that I don’t have much time.”
“You’re right.” Wood scraped against wood as she scooted the chair back. “I do hope you’re not traveling on foot,” she said, standing and crossing the room to retrieve the kettle that had been hanging in the fireplace. “Or you’ll never make it back for your ceremony. And before you inquire, no I don’t do that portaling shit. I don’t know why mortals think our magic works that way.”
“I’ve got a horse, thanks,” she replied, purposefully leaving out Garin’s involvement. Anyway, I don’t mean to be rude at all, but I don’t think I’ll have time for any tea. Is the process—”
“This is the process. It’s already begun.” The dry herbs fizzled on contact with the scalding water. Then came a waft of fuchsia-colored steam, immediately followed by a loud bang and puff of red smoke.
Lilac realized she’d been watching the whole ordeal with her jaw slack. She closed her mouth and gulped. “You know why I’m here, then?”
“Please. What more could the princess want? What more, but to be freed?” She laughed darkly, and Lilac found the sound strangely pleasant. “And it was I who’s been expecting you. People pass through my cabin all the time with their ridiculous requests. Except now, of course… You’re a special case. Otherwise, I’m closed for business until you’re found,” she said, scathingly quoting in the air.
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ve refused to entertain any mortal in their frantic state of despair while your parents’ army infests the streets outside. Usually I wouldn’t care but it’s been bad for business, not to mention distracting, and therefore, unwelcome.” She pursed her lips, leaning back in her chair. “They’re searching for you. In case you didn’t know.”
“I’m aware.” Lilac’s cheeks reddened at Ophelia’s accusatory tone. “People come to you, though?”
Ophelia rolled her eyes and nodded slowly as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Her slender hands fanned over the piping mug, causing the cloud of thinning pink steam to disperse. “From time to time, you mortals need a little magic to nudge the humdrum of life in the direction of your favor. An offer of goods or funds in exchange for a spell or blessing. Most times, their issues are simple. Flourishing garden crops that won’t grow. Curing a cow who won’t produce milk. Making someone’s wife’s hair grow overnight. Men—their wishes are far more frivolous,” she added dryly. She pivoted to extract a burgundy decanter and crystal cup from the bottommost shelf of her cupboard.
Lilac observed in half awe, half annoyance as Ophelia worked meticulously, setting the glass down to fill it with a clear, bright green liquid. She bent to scrutinize the amount, then produced a small, silver spoon, upon which she placed two dazzling blue cubes. The last of her ingredients,