Cynthia shook her head, her chin quivering. ‘How?’
‘Old Mrs Campbell saw my wounds. I told her about the love spells, and that I was scared of Mother. That I wanted my aunt. She ran back to the village, told the people dark witches were in our midst. They went to Mother’s house first. By then, Aunt Rowan and Uncle Lachlan realised they couldn’t save her. Only Clio, Ellie and me, and only if they acted swiftly.’ Helena wiped the tears she had not meant to shed and sniffed. ‘I’m a waterwitch. I own the rain clouds, the rivers, and the seas. But I couldn’t call forth my witchwater to douse the flames.’
‘You were just a child.’
‘I was seven. Old enough to have done something. And I tried, but my powers weren’t enough to stop the fire.’ Helena’s throat was raw.
‘You cannot blame yourself, Helena.’
‘It is my fault! I should never have told Old Mrs Campbell. I should have kept searching until I found Aunt Rowan. I betrayed my own mother.’
‘She betrayed you. She was using you.’
Helena knew this was true, but blaming herself was easier than accepting her mother’s treachery. ‘I always thought my gift as a waterwitch was a curse from the goddess. A reminder of how I failed. I can douse any flame with no more than a flick of my fingers, and yet when my mother screamed inside the inferno that had once been our home, my water turned to mist. I was completely useless.’ Helena gasped for breath as the sobs stole her words.
‘Helena, you were just as much a victim of their hatred as your mother.’
Cynthia’s soft comfort only increased Helena’s shame.
‘I’m a curse.’
A scratch on Cynthia’s door, followed by an insistent whine, diverted their attention. Cynthia threw back the covers, padded to the door, and opened it to let in a desperate Hamlet. He yipped, brushed past her as his tail briefly curled around her ankles, then hopped onto the bed and bumped his head against Helena’s in a foxy version of a hug. Helena let her fingers dive into his soft fur.
Cynthia followed Hamlet and reclaimed her spot. The fox snuffled at the covers before circling and slumping down between them, his nose at Helena’s elbow, his tail at Cynthia’s feet.
‘Would Hamlet choose you as his familiar if you were so evil?’ Cynthia raised a dark brow. In the warming light, her skin looked like honey caught in dawn’s glory.
‘Perhaps he is trying to redeem me.’ Helena couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to pet her fox. His cold nose pressed against her wrist as she scratched between his ears.
‘So what do you propose? You told me I wasn’t to blame for Hubert’s crimes. And though I can’t shake the shame of it, I’m endeavouring to do something about it. What about you? Henceforth, should I call you Hexed Helena?’ Cynthia ran her hand through Helena’s hair, winding a crimson curl around her finger and tugging gently. ‘Don’t be silly. Your mother abused you. Most terribly. And the blacksmith she gave her heart to was not worthy of such a precious gift. But the only curse here is believing history must repeat itself.’
‘Don’t you see? That’s what I’m trying to avoid. It’s why we can’t be two souls, intertwined. I’ve seen you in the worst of times. The day your husband died. In Sinclair’s office. Even facing off against Lippert. You are light and hope and love, even in the darkest moments. I won’t tangle you together with the evil of what I’ve done. Of what I could become. When Lippert threatened you, I was a thought away from drowning him with my powers. I would kill anyone who tried to hurt you. That is not the way of a light witch. My mother’s blood runs through me. Love twisted her into something cold and cruel. I can’t risk becoming like that, Cynthia. I won’t.’
22
Cynthia’s world, moments ago a spinning, glittering dream, now disintegrated beneath a crashing wave of cold reality.
‘You believe if you let yourself fall in love with me, you would become something cruel and monstrous?’
Helena bit her lip. Her grey eyes flashed silver as the sunlight rose above the tree line and streamed through the window in blinding fury. ‘I know it.’
The fates were spiteful bitches. It wasn’t until this moment, when any chance of mutual affection was dashed, that Cynthia realised the truth.
I’ve fallen in love. With a woman who refuses to love me back. I’m such a fool!
Anger came. She would nurse her heartbreak later, when she was alone and free to wallow in self-pity. Right now, she would use the rage to fuel her escape from this soul-rendering moment. ‘Then I shall leave.’
Hamlet’s golden eyes widened.
Your souls are intertwined. You can’t just leave. Why are humans such stubborn creatures?
‘I can’t stay, Hamlet.’ Cynthia’s voice broke as she turned away from Helena and stood on shaky legs. Because she could be angry with Helena, but Hamlet was innocent in all of this. And leaving Helena meant she also had to leave the witch’s familiar. Something else she planned to hold against Helena when her mind was rational enough to think with any measure of logic. ‘I will miss you terribly, but she cannot live without you, and I will not stay where I’m not wanted.’
She wants you. She’s just frightened.
Helena said nothing. And her silence screamed a confirmation Cynthia could not ignore.
With stiff limbs, she hastily slipped on her corset and tied it as well as she could. She refused to ask Helena for help. Hamlet jumped from the bed and circled her, his fluffy orange tail trailing against her bare legs.
