Witch Bewitched (COMPLETE)

Chapter 30

A gentle rap on the door took Misa's attention from her sketchbook. She put on her officer's cap and grinned. Misa left her sketchbook on her bed and padded to the door, relishing in the cool wood under her bare feet.

"Who is it?" she asked, even though she knew exactly who it was.

"Are you really going to go through this again?" The exasperation in Royle's voice sent Misa into a fit of laughter. She unlocked the door and flung it open, letting him step inside.

It had been a few days since the morning they decided to address each other with their names. Misa had gotten enough strength to hold herself up during Rithian's lessons, and even though she dreaded tonight's lesson—which Rithian had said would involve using bewitchment on strangers—Misa had a strange anticipation to finally gain control of her spell. And, though the captain still had no idea about her nightly excursions, he had visited her at least once each day to give her a much-needed emotional boost.

"It pays to be careful," Misa said, returning to her bed. "Or so I've learned from someone."

"You're actually taking my advice? What a surprise." There was a playful undertone in his words. And was that sarcasm?

Misa snorted, playing along. "Only the ones that are convenient."

"Of course. What else did I expect?"

Giggling, Misa watched him take a seat on a chair while she twisted to her stomach on her bed. She noticed the book he clutched in his hand. They had taken up their respective hobbies in her room when they could take a break, which was usually an hour or two before dinner. Though Royle usually had formal-looking documents in his hands, this time he was holding a book embossed with gold lettering.

"What are you reading today?" Misa asked only because the design of the book indicated it had nothing to do with his purgehouse duties.

He held it up to show her. "Arthran's Plight."

"Ooh." Misa picked up her charcoal and turned to a fresh page. "Adventure, tragedy, romance? I never thought you'd pick up such a book."

"It's a classic, or so I've heard." His slight frown suggested he wasn't particularly excited to be reading it. "The commander was, er, kind enough to let me 'borrow' it."

Misa held in the urge to laugh. Being an errand boy had allowed her to catch a glimpse of Royle's more personal relationship with Vortham. The commander had intentionally taken his time in updating the policies they spoke of in meets, giving Royle nothing much else to read.

"You've read it before?" Royle asked.

Misa shook her head. Her legs swayed. "No. I just heard a lot about it from Elma, my maid. She always gushed about romance books and recommended I read some, but I never got around to them. I was always busy trying to figure out what I could paint other than the boring room I was trapped in for most of my life." She smiled at the thought of Elma, and a part of her missed the timid maid. "It's funny you're reading that. Arthran's Plight is one of her favourite novels."

"That explains a lot."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Royle waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing really. It's just that painting suits you a lot more than reading. How should I put this nicely?" He pretended to think really hard. "Children often prefer to make a mess as opposed to learning life lessons."

Misa grabbed her pillow and thrust it towards him. To her satisfaction, it smacked his face before slipping to his lap. "Very funny, Captain. I never knew literature was the higher form of art. Oh, how should I repay you for enlightening me with this fact?" She rolled her eyes. "Clearly you don't have an appreciation for sketching and painting."

"I never said that, Miss Carpenter." He stuffed her pillow to cushion his back. "You shouldn't put words in my mouth."

"And for your information," Misa sent him a pointed look, daring him to challenge her, "Elma used to read to me while I painted. A few books that she said I had to read, and since I never did, she took it upon herself to read them for me. The next book she was going to read was Arthran's Plight. So, no. I'm not as detached from literature as you think I am, thank you very much."

Her words hung in the air. The captain remained quiet, pondering. He hadn't yet opened the book and was instead watching her intently as if he was trying to solve a puzzle. Misa ignored him, tapping the paper in thought. She had no idea what she wanted to sketch next, and the thought of her old maid—and friend—dampened her mood. She was careful to avoid thinking about her parents, not wanting to open old wounds.

"Would you..." Misa looked up when he trailed off. He avoided her gaze and tapped his fingers on the desk. Coughing, he said, "Would you like to listen to it?"

Misa's legs froze. "What?"

"Don't make me repeat myself." Royle flipped off his hat and lay it on the table before running his fingers through his loosened hair. "I was merely curious if you were planning to read it in the future. Perhaps we could hold a discussion about it if you do, from one form of art to another."

"Wait." Misa let a sly grin spread on her lips. She loved how he squirmed in discomfort, and the embarrassed look on his face was priceless. "You asked if I wanted to listen to it, not read it."

"You must have heard wrong." He opened the book with an air of annoyance. "Now leave me be. If you keep talking, I'll never start."

Misa stifled her laughter, but she was not going to lose her smile anytime soon. This was an opportunity that would never present itself again, and she was not going to let go of the chance to have the captain read to her. "Yes."

"What?"

Misa let her mischief slip. Her smile softened. "Yes, I would love to listen to it."

Something flickered in his eyes. He was about to say something but decided against it. Instead, he nodded and the words that came out of his mouth were beautiful prose from the book.

Misa let herself get sucked into his voice, the way each word slipped past his tongue. Her legs began to sway again, and the flowing descriptions filled her head with images she could never see in her world. Misa watched Royle read, the way his lips moved with each word, the delicate flick of his wrist to turn the page, his throat bobbing at each pause. He had his boots on her table, ankles crossed, leaning back on his chair until it teetered on its back legs. Her hand began to move over the sketchbook.

She started with a rough sketch, but as the story of Arthran and his quest to find true love progressed, her art began to take form. She had just started the shading—and Arthran was on the verge of falling off a cliff—when a tentative knock on Misa's door interrupted them. Royle dropped his legs from the table.

"Yes?" Misa called.

A servant cracked open the door and peeked inside. "Dinner, sir. The master is waiting for you both to join him."

"We'll be right out," Misa said. The servant nodded, keeping his eyes on the floor, and shut the door behind him as gently as possible. Misa turned to the captain, who was staring at her sketchbook. She didn't have to look down to know what he saw, but she could only hope that the angle didn't give away what she had been sketching. As naturally as she could, Misa flipped the sketchbook over while she stretched.

"That's an awfully suspenseful scene to stop on," Misa remarked, trying to get Royle's attention away from her art.

He smiled, clapping the book closed. "Unfortunately. Unless you're willing to continue after dinner?"

If only. Misa squashed a worm of guilt as she declined. "I'm a bit tired today. I'll have a bath and head straight to bed after dinner."

Lies. She smothered the voice, but the word echoed in her mind like a drumbeat.

"I see." He leaned forward with a raised brow. "You've been very tired these past few nights. Are you okay?"

Are you hiding something? Misa could discern from his question. She sensed the trap too late, realising she'd come up with the exact same excuse for the past few days. Something within her closed him off. She squared her shoulders. "I'm fine. I just enjoy my own time, when I can be Misa not Mikim."

He shook his head, his expression contorted into that of doubt, but he said nothing more about it. His demeanor shifted, from Royle to the captain, and he gestured to the door. "Let's have dinner, then. We can't have our host waiting for us."

"Of course." Misa led the way out. It'll be over once we leave, I promise. After all, what happens in Harthem stays in Harthem.

* * * *

The bar was brimming with potential targets. Misa kept her head down while Rithian sat back to enjoy her nuts. She had ordered some for the both of them, but Misa's stomach was too twisted to handle more food.

"The man in the brown vest," Rithian said in a low voice. She cracked a nut between her teeth. "Near the door."

Misa stretched, taking the chance to naturally sweep her eyes over the bar. She caught the man Rithian was talking about. A balding, middle-aged man sporting an impressive black moustache. He was holding his rotund belly in laughter and boasting the thick hair on his arms by rolled-up sleeves. Rithian had picked the kindest looking man in the bar, and Misa suspected more than just her magic would be tested this night.

"When?" Misa asked, pretending to be interested in the music and dancing on the stage.

"When he leaves," Rithian replied. "I want you to bring his money pouch to me."

"You want me to steal?" Misa grinned at a young man who glanced over at her table, acting like she was enjoying her night when she all but wanted to go back to her bedroom.

"Quit that." Rithian slapped Misa's hand. "You're going to bewitch him."

Misa glared at the witch. "I haven't started my spell yet."

"Silly girl. Bewitchment isn't always done with magic." Rithian's grin was ruthless, like she was a predator waiting to pounce.

Fortunately, the balding man's movement prevented further conversation. Misa took a nut and popped it into her mouth even though the knots in her stomach made it difficult for her to swallow. "He's leaving."

Rithian nodded. "Wait a few seconds before you go after him. Remember, I want his money pouch."

Misa held in her temper. She watched the man push through the doors, and when they stopped swinging, she stood.

"Leaving already?" Rithian said, making sure her voice carried over to a few other tables.

Misa nodded. "I think I'll turn in for the night. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Suit yourself."

Brushing her skirt back, Misa weaved through the bar and made it outside. The darkness blinded her for a second, but when her eyes adjusted, she caught a glimpse of her target heading towards an intersection. She chased after him, thinking of a story that would convince him to converse with her. The moon shone from above, and Misa felt strangely guilty under its astral gaze.

When she was close enough to hear him muttering to himself, Misa found the perfect excuse. She let her skirt brush the streets and stamped her toe on it. Making sure to cry out loud enough for the man to hear, Misa stumbled forward and fell.

"Ow." She groaned from genuine pain. Maybe falling wasn't the best idea. She'd have to check her stinging knees later.

Her fall, however, had the desired effect. The man stopped in his tracks and was offering his help before Misa could even blink.

"Are you all right, Miss?" he asked, holding out his hand for her to take.

Misa seized the opportunity to trigger her spell. She smiled and took his hand. Magic began to course through her, reaching out for him.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm fine. Just got a little clumsy. Silly me."

She could feel her magic altering her appearance. There was nothing sensual about it. No. It was familial. Misa sensed through her spell that this man would have panicked if she tried to seduce him. The way to opening him up was to be familiar, like a sister or a close friend. More specifically, someone he could look out for and protect.

Her smile was soft and gentle, her body took on a vulnerable posture to show that she trusted him. Her shoulders relaxed, her chin raised to expose her neck, and she tucked her arms behind her.

"Well, if you're not hurt, that's fine." His eyes twinkled.

"I'm sorry for concerning you, Mister...?" Misa tilted her head in question.

He chortled, a deep rumble from his chest. He had taken the bait. "Gillard. But you can call me Gill. And don't worry about it. It's only the right thing to do to help someone in need."

Misa giggled through the guilt. "Gill. I like that."

Gillard joined her laughter. He shook his head. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Miss. I must head home now. My missus won't be too happy if I stay out too late."

"Wait," Misa grabbed his arm when he began turning around. She worked her magic to give her the most pitiful appearance she could manage. "I...I'm sorry to ask this of you, but..." Her eyes glistened. "I was robbed not too long ago. I would be eternally grateful if you could spare me a few loncs. Only a few."

She knew any sober person would see right through her lie, but this man was bewitched, and her spell was efficiently convincing him to believe her.

His expression softened into that of pity. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Of course, I can help you. How much do you need? I'm afraid I don't have much on me at the moment."

He drew out his money pouch. A thought struck Misa then. Rithian had never said the pouch had to contain anything. She smiled. "Actually, would it be all right if I took your pouch."

"My pouch?"

Misa took the small bag from his hand; he didn't resist. Instead, he gazed at her in confusion, yet with a gentleness that meant he trusted her. At least, Misa wouldn't have stealing his money in her conscience. She poured out his loncs and dropped them in his hands.

"It's all I need," Misa said. "Thank you."

"Why—" He stuttered. "Well, I...You're welcome. Take care, then."

Misa nodded, giving him a heartfelt smile. "I will."

She watched him turn the corner before heading off to the fountain, where she had promised to meet Rithian. She found the witch waving her fingers through the water, humming that haunting tune Misa heard every time they met.

"That took a lot longer than it should have," Rithian said, pulling her hand from the fountain. "Tell me."

"A sister." Misa recollected the events that had transpired. "He would have panicked if I tried to be a lover. Probably would have run away."

Rithian nodded in approval. "Do you have what I've asked for?"

Misa swallowed, preparing herself for Rithian's wrath. She built up an argument that would leave the witch no choice but to accept that she had succeeded.

"Yes." Misa stepped closer and dropped the piece of cloth on the ground.

When Rithian realised it was empty, her glare turned murderous. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You asked for his money pouch." Misa forced herself to stay rooted to the spot. The pulse of Rithian's anger made her want to scurry into a dark hole to hide. "I got it for you."

Rithian snarled. "Stupid girl. When I told you to get his money bag, I meant for you to take it from him as it was—filled with loncs. Why else do you think I asked you to steal?"

"You were testing me," Misa countered. "I did what you asked. You should have specified." It wasn't like she would have stolen loncs from Gillard, anyway. Her conscience wouldn't have allowed that.

Rithian stood, towering over Misa, and drew her hand back. Misa waited, refusing to break eye contact, for the impact on her cheek. It came down hard. So hard that Misa couldn't brace herself from falling to the ground. She spat blood.

"You think you're so smart?" Rithian fumed. "You think finding holes in my teachings proves anything to me? You don't deserve anything. Tika was a fool to think someone like you could be trusted with her magic."

Misa wiped her mouth, wincing when the corner of her lip stung. Her fingernails dug into her palms. "I don't care. I've done what you asked. I've done nothing wrong." She stood, blood roaring in her ears. "We have one more night. Tomorrow, you have to teach me how to take control of it."

Rithian sneered. "I don't owe you anything."

"Then I'll find someone else."

The witch's power pressed down on Misa. Her anger was palpable, pulsing through her magic and piercing into Misa's core. Rithian's blazing glare pinned Misa on the spot. Then, the witch drew out a long breath, abating the fury just enough to compose herself.

"Don't you worry," she said, a threat underlining every word. "I'll teach you everything about witches. Tomorrow, I'll teach you how to control your spell, but when you come back, I'll make sure you know what makes a good witch."

Misa stopped herself from telling Rithian that she wouldn't be coming back, afraid that if she did, the witch would not teach her the one thing she desperately needed.

"Be here an hour before midnight," Rithian said.

Misa nodded, and it was only when the witch disappeared into the darkness that she realised how shaky her legs were. The moon glinted off the fountain water, watching her break down. Her cheek throbbed against the wind, but she didn't care anymore. Her magic would speed up the healing, but combined with the strenuous use of it in recent days, it would take at least a day. Gathering herself together, Misa turned her back towards Rithian's direction. She stalked towards the abandoned shed, somehow finding strength in each step, and changed back into her pyjamas.

Throwing a cloak over her shoulders, Misa headed back towards the manor. The guards would have changed their shifts by now. A sweet tang hit her as she approached the gates, wafting from the garden where several bushes of hevangel roses—yet another feature boasting the commander's wealth—sprinkled the air with perfume.

The guards only stopped her to identify her. Misa slipped through the garden, relishing in the fresh, hevangel scent before finding her open window and slipping inside.

She closed it, cutting off the breeze, and let out a breath. One more night of secretly sneaking out, and it would all be over. She drew the drapes, throwing her room into a slight dimness. An orange glow from her table caught her peripheral vision.

"Where have you been?"

Misa screamed. She stamped her mouth with a hand to cut it off. Sitting on the chair with an angry glare was the captain.