Page 21 of The Noldrin Witch

Elise was just about to stretch a scroll tucked in a dusty corner when the feeling of a strong hand settled on the side of her thigh.

There was little time to react, for the knave who had decided to make her company gave a bold press. The touch was as gentle as someone might test a ripe peach for purchase.

She froze as the voice of a man murmured in her ear, “So soon? I knew you would be back—I just imagined you’d resist longer.”

Elise’s hands tensed as she turned, prepared to use the basket in her hand to reciprocate the gesture.

“By root and stone, let strength make its home.”

She felt an immense force surge through her as she channeled it into a good whack across the cur’s head.

As the basket smacked against the tall fellow’s head, the frayed thing was reduced to little more than scraps, and the man’s large frame was sent against the far wall of the apothecary. He fell to the floor along with a dozen broken vials and scattered herbs.

Elise gasped, amazed at the effect of Morgaine’s potion and slightly worried about having done regrettable damage to the stranger. To her relief, the man was still among the living.

“Aghhh,” the man groaned.

She was ready to leave the darkness of the place when the man grumbled something that made her halt.

“Morgaine, wait!”

Morgaine?

Elise stopped at the threshold of the old door. “Henrik?”

“Yes?” he said, still on the floor, stumbling to regain his feet.

What in the heavens?

Elise’s imagination ran ahead, considering the sort of relations Morgaine might have formed with the men of Metz. She was, at least, glad this was no lecher, but a man who had made an honest mistake. She felt a measure of relief in realizing she was in no real danger, but merely the victim of poor lighting.

Henrik stepped closer to have a better look at Elise, and as he did, his face betrayed his surprise. “I apologize…I thought you were someone else.”

“Morgaine sent me with an errand,” Elise said.

Henrik seemed suddenly amused.

“Did she mean to play a trick on me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You two look alike, enough to give a man pause. I thought it was her for a moment.”

“I’m new in the city. My name is Elise.” She extended her hand.

“Welcome to Metz,” he said as he grasped her hand firmly.

And what a welcome this had been. If Elise had anticipated half the candor of this reception, she would have stayed by the exit door instead of offering her less guarded side. In spite of the indignity, she could tell, even in the dimness of the room, that Henrik was a good-looking man, though it was hard to regard him with the softness she reserved for new acquaintances or to offer him her best manners. She decided, however, to overlook their first introduction and extend her sympathies, in light of the fact that she had already repaid the candor with equal intensity.

“It’s a tough time to be in Metz,” Henrik added as she gave him the list with the ingredients Morgaine had requested. “Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Elise hesitated, but in the end, she confessed. “Noldrin.”

“A nice town,” Henrik said, to Elise’s relief, though the kindness of the remark soon proved little more than a polite beginning to a tale that reflected a more accurate opinion of Elise’s hometown.

“My grandmother was from there,” Henrik continued. “I used to visit when I was a youngster, but even then, the people from Bromheim were not well regarded. When my grandmother died, my mother went to sell her house, but the king would not let the coin leave Falaine, so we ended up with nothing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Elise offered, with the faint sense that if she were to carry the offenses of all the people of Falaine, someone ought at least to name her their temporary regent.