“Don’t sound so miserable. You’re hardly a child.”
“So Iamgoing to be the ordinary bride to an evil king,” Risa determined, rather put out. It was an obvious possibility—she happened to be rather gorgeous, and she assumed evil kings were partial to spouses they could exhibit as trophies. Oh, to be so beautiful was its own kind of curse. Just her luck to be cursed with bad luck and good looks.
Her life was really hard.
“I wouldn’t wish that on any king, evil or otherwise,” Brunhilda grumbled in response.
Risa paused, exhausted from all her misfortune and the small pack she carried on her back, which was stuffed with clothes, a bookshe’d plucked from her father’s library, and a silk purse full of reales snatched from the family safe. Rubbing a sore shoulder, she stared woefully into the Bosque and the dizzying sway of leaves that made it seem like the trees were alive, waiting to devour her.
Curses. This was really happening.
Before Risa’s thoughts could properly spiral, Brunhilda wrung her grizzled hands and shook her walking stick with such ferocity that for a moment Risa feared the witch would topple over. Unfortunately for her—and surely due to her bad luck—Brunhilda remained upright.
“Are you having an existential crisis?” Brunhilda asked.
“Yes. Am I being fed to a giant who uses humans as toothpicks?”
The hag stared, unblinking. “Don’t be so dramatic. Giants are delicate, peaceful creatures. And vegetarians.” Brunhilda shook her head, wild hair electric. “The misinformation that exists about us magical creatures is ridiculous.”
Who cared about the delicate nature of giants when she was going to be handed off to someone? Sacrificed. Experimented on. Boiled alive. Eaten alive. Torn limb from limbwhilealive.
Risa gave a dramatic huff and briefly considered turning tail. But something kept her rooted. Magic, probably, like the spell Brunhilda had used to steal the breath from her chest. Or the small inkling of hope she had that Brunhilda would break her curse if she stuck it out.
So, with a deep breath, she stepped farther from home than ever before.
The Bosque enveloped her. While the world she left behind was worn and gray, here the woods greeted her withcolor. Rich green moss; warm, deep brown soil; fallen yellow leaves litteringthe ground. Wherever she turned, a new shade emerged, bright and splendid despite the sunlight that struggled to filter through the tree canopy.
Brunhilda didn’t wait for her to adjust to this new world so unlike her own. The witch seemed undeterred by the change of terrain or lack of path and stormed several feet ahead, mumbling about contractual obligations and adolescents with bad attitudes.
Risa stumbled after the witch, surprised by the struggle to catch up. “Will you tell me about this agreement?”
Her parents hadn’t explained much. As in most of their interactions, only the bare minimum had been said.
“No.”
“Come on,” she whined. “Shouldn’t I, the subject of the agreement, be aware of the terms? Will I have to fetch your foxglove tea and poison your enemy witches? Surely you have the document stored at the bottom of your leaky cauldron for me to look at. I’ll have my lawyers contact your lawyers. Go over some of the points together.”
One of Brunhilda’s eyes twitched.
Risa wasn’t skilled at many things. She was, however, quite skilled at being annoying. She went on, “Oh no, does the contract detail how you must give up your magical powers before your death—which should have been centuries ago, obviously—to me, your unlikely and unwilling replacement?”
Brunhilda scoffed, thoroughly annoyed. “Witches are born, notmade.”
“Ah, so I am to make a goblin king fall irrevocably in love with me—”
“Enough!” Brunhilda waved her cane. “Teenagers aresotalkative.Yap, yap, yap. If you must know, I was passing through your awful little backward town on the day you were born. All I wanted was a sandwich. Instead, I found your mother in labor, and I can’t ignore those in need because I clearly like to make things more difficult for myself. So I stepped in to be of assistance.”
“And then youdemandedpayment for your service?”
Brunhilda stopped suddenly, forcing Risa to trip over her own feet to avoid collision.
“No. Your parentsoffered.”
That was different. Her parents had never mentioned that bit. They always insisted they had no choice. No way around the agreement they’d made with the strange visiting witch who had stumbled into town.
“You could have said no.”
Brunhilda started down an invisible path only she seemed to see. “Not allowed. Against the Witch Accords. They determine what is acceptable recompense when dealing with humans.”
