Chapter One
Sitting in a circle in our drafty tower, my fingers struggled to loop the yarn over the crochet hook, while my mother’s enchanted mirror scried the various kingdoms. Needlework was a horrid affair, and my adopted sisters and I dreaded the menial task. After my first few rows, my gaze strayed up to the mirror and the image shifting across the smooth surface. I began to daydream about living in the kingdoms beyond—anywhere except here, our forgotten town.
Mother taught us that all good sorceresses needed to know the basics of crochet and knitting because it created muscle memory. Learning a pattern and following it through repetition was not that much different than weaving a basic sleeping spell.
I glanced down at my work and frowned. What started off as a scarf, now resembled a gnarled cat toy. I had become distracted by my daydreaming and missed a few of the loops. At this rate, I’d never so much as make anyone, even our cat, Hack (who was notorious for coughing up fur balls) take a catnap. My younger sister, Maeve, was doing so much better, and I was envious of her more advanced crochet doll that she had finished—a hex doll from the looks of it. One that resembled a particular beautiful girl in our village. I blanked on the girl’s name. It was something silly and of no importance, but to Maeve, she was her worst enemy.
My eyes strayed to the empty chair to the right of Mother’s and couldn’t help but imagine my older sister, Rosalie, sitting there. Of all of us, she looked the most like our adoptive mother. She was the first to go into the seven kingdoms at Mother’s bidding. It was quite the scandal. On the day of the crown prince of Baist’s wedding to a young girl in his kingdom, Mother appeared and swapped out the brides and forced the prince to marry Rosalie, sight unseen. This caused quite a rift between the newly married couple. No one trusted a daughter of Eville, and despite her attempts to help them hunt down a murderous beast, Rosalie was accused of the murders and taken to Florin.
A smile came to my lips as I reminisce on the grand adventure—sneaking into the kingdom, donning the glamour of many of the palace staff, and being the one who had broken my sister out of prison. I may have almost blown her to bits in the process, but we didn’t need to tell anyone that my spells still needed work. Together we bested an evil sorcerer, Allemar, and now my sister was living incognito in the town of Celia, hiding until everything blew over and her prince could annul their marriage, leaving him free to remarry. Just thinking of my poor sister’s circumstances made me almost snap my hook.
“Meri, dear, bring me your blanket. I’d like to take a look at your pattern work,” Mother said from her red, high-back, upholstered chair. Her voice snapped me out of my adventurous daydream. Her chair was in the exact center of the room, directly across from the mirror. I could almost imagine our dreary tower as a noble court and my mother sitting on her throne. I watched as Meri winced when her name was called. She quickly smoothed her brown plaid skirt and brought over her circle blanket. Being very careful not to drop or lose the ball of yarn, she handed it to Mother and buried her hands into her skirt to hide her nervousness.
Like me, she wasn’t the best at weaving sleeping spells. Meri had soft red hair, and even now a stray curl was spilling forth; she quickly tried to tame it by pushing it behind her ear. What I wouldn’t give to have her shade of deep red? Being a daughter of Eville, it was easier to cause fear on sight if my hair was a darker shade, but instead, my golden tresses made me resemble a fair maiden or damsel in distress.
“Meri, what happened?” Mother chastised. “You need to tie off when you change colors; otherwise you leave a weakened chain, and we can’t have that, now can we? What good would our spells be if there’s a weak spot?” She pulled on the string, and the whole thing came unraveled. Her tongue clicked in displeasure. “Redo it.” It was a firm order.
Meri’s head dropped to her chest. “Yes, Mother.”
“It’s a good thing you excel at water spells,” Mother chastised, throwing out an underlying barb. “There may be some hope for you yet.” She turned her eyes to scan over the quiet girls in the room.
My fingers trembled, and I tried to shove my mess of knots between the cushions of the settee before she noticed my failure. No one wanted to disappoint her. Especially me. I was the family letdown.
Years ago, when I was only a few weeks old, I was abandoned on Mother Eville’s stoop under the light of the hunters’ moon—the brightest full moon during the month of Nochtember—with only a simple silver ring with a topaz stone. She took me in and raised me as her own.
The whole town knew of the cursed woman, and word spread of my mysterious but sudden arrival. They watched from a distance, and when I grew up into a healthy and laughing child, many of their misgivings vanished. I wasn’t the first or last of her brood to come mysteriously in the night. Over the years, more baby girls made their way into our family. Instead of leaving a box of kittens at the cat lady’s house, they left children, or she would leave and come back with a child. Mother Eville took them in and taught them the old ways, the ways of magic.
If it rained on the town, you can bet it was because of something brewing in the cauldron over the fire. Snow in summer—the daughters. Fog, thunder, or lighting—the daughters. Once I even made it rain frogs—on accident of course, but it made the townspeople leery of us. They didn’t trust us and avoided us at all cost. That wariness and hatred spread throughout the kingdoms like a plague.
“Eden!” she called my name in a firm tone, and I blinked at her with wide, innocent eyes. She had seen me. I was going to be in deep trouble. Probably be required to wash the dishes by hand for the next week instead of spelling them clean, which was probably better. I broke more than I washed.
She leaned forward in her chair, her focus not on me but on the mirror as an image moved across the glass. Mother had spelled the enchanted mirror to focus on the fates of the kingdom.
“Yes, Mother,” I answered her, but her finger came up and quickly silenced me.
“Wait!” She froze as a beautiful serene estate appeared. The kingdom’s flag, a gold sunburst on a field of blue, floated across the bottom of the mirror. I knew that palace, knew who lived there and was surprised. It was the royal family of Candor, and it seemed they were making a special announcement.
The king and queen of Candor stood upon the steps waving at the crowd, a fake smile plastered across their lips. Not one for social gatherings, appearances, or matters of the state, the prince was rarely seen—which made my mother’s attempts at spying on him rather useless. What good was a prince who remains out of the spotlight.
“What is it?” Aura asked, looking at the mirror with a renewed interest.
Mother smiled slyly, leaning back in her chair, her fingers steepled together. “It’s happening. Just like I knew it would. They couldn’t avoid the prophecy forever. Their son is now at the right age.”
The room went silent with nervous tension. I looked back at the mirror at the kingdom, and my stomach churned with apprehension.
Mother moved to the mirror, her hand waving as she tried to focus her spell, creating audio so we could listen in on the special announcement. But like any spell, magic was a fickle thing, and when scrying using reflections, the image and sound were easily distorted. The mirror flickered, and the sound faded. In a show of impatience, my mother smacked the side of the mirror three times until it came back into focus.