Pleas rang out next.
“Help me.”
“Please, ma’am. Please.”
“Spare a drop of water.”
Though her heart squeezed, she kept her gaze straight ahead. There, at the end of the corridor, loomed a wall of bars and a witch who looked exactly as Philipp had described her every time he’d recounted the tale of their war.
Even with matted blond hair and dirt-smeared skin, even with a tattered rag that hung on her too-slender frame, the witch with ice-blue eyes possessed an undeniable beauty and grace.
For some reason, Philipp and his guards hadn’t removed her only piece of jewelry before locking her away. A metal ring with a rose etched in the center.
“Well, well, well,” the witch said. “Could it be the high-and-mighty Queen Charlotte in her expensive nightgown? Bards sing tales of your great beauty. The dark-haired enchantress soon to give birth. Well, who has just given birth, it appears. Are you here to honor your husband’s prisoners with your exalted presence? To introduce us to the new princess, perhaps?”
Charlotte stopped a few feet away and exhaled. Mist wafted in her face. “I am Queen Charlotte, yes. What’s your name?”
The witch blinked, as if surprised and a little miffed by her ignorance. “Most know me as Melvina, but I prefer Leonora.”
Why would she wish to be called Leonora, a name associated with one of the oldest and most notorious cautionary tales in all of Enchantia? “What crime did you commit against my husband?” Not having grown up in Fleur, Charlotte wasn’t very familiar with the local legends and histories. At least she sensed no hint of evil from the witch.
“You mean your husband needs a reason to incarcerate innocent people?” Leonora replied airily.
No. No, he didn’t. This witch could be a good person who’d met a bad end.
Or a bad person with a just end.
Did Charlotte’s plan have risks? Yes. Many. Would those risks deter her? No. “If you grant my daughter a magical ability, I will give you what you—”
“Let me guess,” Leonora interjected with a wry tone. “You’ll set me free.”
She patted her daughter’s back and explained, “According to the healers, Ashleigh’s heart is malformed, her body fragile. To survive, she needs an infusion of power from a witch.”
“Don’t we all?” Gaze unwavering, Leonora canted her head and peered at Charlotte. “This world is cruel. Perhaps she’s better off not surviving, hmm?”
Rearing back, Charlotte snapped, “Everyone deserves a chance.”
“Are you sure? There’s a breadcrumb trail of heartache and misery, and it leads to what my life used to be. Betrayal. War. Pain. Greed. This is the future you want for a sickly child?”
“You mention nothing of love, joy, merriment, and pleasure.”
Leonora pursed cracked lips. “Oh, but I did imply those things. They are what led to the others, after all. And yet, you’ve convinced me. I will help you. After you free me, of course. These bars are magically enhanced to stop me from using my powers.”
Charlotte rocked from one bare foot to another. Is she manipulating me as I manipulated Philipp? Maybe. Probably. Again, did it really matter? How many hours—minutes—until Ashleigh’s heart forever stopped?
Must proceed. No other choice. “I will do it. I will set you free first,” Charlotte said, raising her chin. No reason to demand a vow. The witch either would or wouldn’t keep her word, and a vow wouldn’t change her mind one way or the other.
Leonora stiffened, as if she dare not hope. “You’ll need the key to the cell. Your husband carries it, and he never parts with it.”
Yes, she’d seen his key. His prize. “I do not need his. I have my own.” Always best to have your own of everything. No need to tell her what else the key could do; the witch might try to steal it. Objects enriched with magic were more valuable than gold.
Charlotte stepped forward once. Twice. Again. She frowned. Why drag her feet now? She’d fought for this. Needed it.
“Hurry.” Leonora crooked her index finger. “Before I change my mind.”
Oh, yes. She manipulates me. Even still, Charlotte removed the key that hung from a chain around her neck and inserted the metal tip into the lock. Hinges creaked as the door swung open, the witch free, just like that.
Leonora rolled back her shoulder, lifted her chin, and sauntered through the doorway as if she hadn’t a care, a grin blooming.
Every heartbeat reminiscent of an ax splitting wood, the queen removed the fur from Ashleigh’s face. Oh, no, no, no. Her baby was bluer than before and struggling to breathe.
Leonora glanced at Ashleigh and stumbled back with a gasp, her air of casual disregard gone. “She...she’s her.” Those icy blues widened, as round as saucers.
“If you mean Princess Ashleigh, then yes. Please. You must save her.”
“Yes, yes. I must heal her as soon as possible.” Trembling, she cupped the baby’s pristine cheeks with dirty hands tipped by ragged nails.
Charlotte halted a protest. This had to be done.
The witch mumbled under her breath, and a strange wind kicked up, whirls of dirt gusting through the dungeon. Magic sparked, here, there, crackling like little lightning strikes and—
Charlotte moaned, a thousand daggers seeming to prick her skin. That magic...it was pure evil. The kind of evil she’d encountered only once before, as a little girl. The royal oracle had stopped what she was doing, her eyes turning milky white as she announced that a phantom—an invisible dragon—would pass through the palace that day, searching for those whom she might consume.
The oracle wasn’t wrong.
Later that day, an evil just like this one had hovered near Charlotte for hours, only to disappear in a blink, as if bored.
What have I done?
“You cannot stop this,” Leonora intoned. “Not without killing the child.”
“You’re not a witch.” Charlotte’s voice had gone hoarse, nothing but a croak. “You’re...you... You’re a phantom.” Others believed phantoms were nothing but a myth parents used to scare their children into behaving, but Charlotte had known better. She’d studied phantoms, learning everything she could.
They were spirits born in flame and ash, able to possess anyone they desired, stealing their life.
Now, to meet a phantom named Leonora, the star of a cautionary tale that featured a witch who’d led an army of dragons against an avian king and burned an entire kingdom to the ground...
“You are correct. I am a phantom, born when dragons burned a village and everyone in it and oh, it’s so wonderful to share my story with another. I never get to brag. Because my form is intangible, I’m able to jump from body to body, seizing full control, living the other person’s life as long as I wish.” Leonora’s grin returned, slow and wicked. “Your husband went to war with the witch named Melvina, who spurned his advances. When I took over her life, I didn’t know your husband had laid a trap for her that same day. I drank her sweet wine and fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke, I was here, the guards singing lies about some great battle Philipp had won against me. Believe me when I say I will make him pay for his crimes. I’d thought to overtake you—to start—but the child... Her fate is mine, and mine is hers.”