To Kill a Kettle Witch (Novel of the Mist-Torn Witches) Read Free Page B

and he still ached over the loss of Lizzie, he left the shop with his thoughts dwelling on Helga’s request.
    Midmorning had arrived.
    The village that spread out all around Castle Sèone was almost like a bustling town. Two walls with heavily guarded gates surrounded the village. Jaromir believed in strong security measures.
    He continued moving onward and upward through the people and the shops and the dwellings until he reached a small bridge. This led across a gap to a huge wooden doorway at the front of the castle. A pulley system on the other side would allow the bridge to be raised, cutting off access to the castle if necessary.
    He crossed the bridge and entered the walled courtyard of the castle. A number of his men, all in chain armor and tan tabards, milled about the courtyard. They came to attention and nodded at the sight of him.
    “Sir.”
    He nodded back and kept walking, trying to formulate what he would say to Prince Anton.
    He didn’t want to fail. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Amelie and Céline sitting on the edge of the bed near Lizzie. Throughout his life, he’d only known a few people he considered true friends, those who would stand by him in both the light and the dark hours. Anton was one.
    So were Amelie and Céline.
    He’d wanted to be more than friends with Amelie from almost the moment he met her, but she was prickly and held him at arm’s length. He knew if he tried, he could charm his way past her reservations, but after that, he wasn’t sure how much he could give of himself, and she deserved a great deal. Much of the time, he felt so married to his job there was room for little else. The problem was that he loved his job.
    After striding through the courtyard, he entered the castle, walked to the west tower, and made his way up to Prince Anton’s private apartments.
    Jaromir rarely came up here, but Anton tended to use the midmorning hours for correspondence or to work on financial accounts. In most areas, he was a “hands on” type of leader as opposed to a delegator.
    Reaching the door, Jaromir knocked. “My lord?”
    “Come in.”
    Entering his prince’s private apartments, Jaromir glanced around.
    The decor was somewhat austere. There were tapestries on the walls and a large hearth. The furnishings consisted of a messy writing desk, a few heavy wooden chairs, and rows of bookshelves along the walls. It looked more like the chambers of a scholar than a prince.
    A closed door that stood on the same wall as the hearth led to the sleeping chambers.
    Anton himself sat at the desk with a pen poised in one hand. He was dressed in black pants and a dark blue tunic.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked. Then comprehension seemed to dawn, and he stood. “Is it Lizzie?”
    Jaromir nearly flinched. The question caught him off guard. “She’s gone, my lord, in the night. We buried her in the herb garden of the shop.”
    “I do understand your loss. I’ve known dogs I liked better than most people.”
    Jaromir didn’t doubt that.
    “Thank you, my lord,” he said. “But that isn’t why I came. Forgive the intrusion. I . . .” He trailed off, wanting to make certain he worded this correctly. “Céline and Amelie have made a request.”
    Anton raised one eyebrow, sat back down, and motioned to a chair. “A request?”
    Sitting down and bracing himself, Jaromir launched into retelling Helga’s story as best he could. He left out nothing involving the situation she had described.
    Anton listened politely and then seemed puzzled at the end. “What does this have to do with a request from Céline and Amelie?”
    “They wish to go there, my lord, and use their abilities to find whoever has done this and free the Móndyalítko being held in the meadow. I’d need to accompany them, along with a few men, of course.”
    For a moment, Anton’s expression went blank, as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “Go there? To Castle Yegor in the southeast province?” His voice dropped