Page 85 of Bewitched

“All right, Elric. Now that we’ve established my wife’s talent with food, tell us the message from the gods,” grumbled Darium.

“Well, let’s see.” The elf tapped his chin, pretending to be thinking. “What was it again?”

“Mayhap I’ll help you remember.” Zann knocked the elf’s feet off the table with a swipe of his arm. The elf zipped around the room, and ended up standing atop the chair, wagging his finger in Zann’s face. He was still so short, even atop the chair, that he couldn’t reach Zann.

“Don’t do that. It’s not nice,” snapped Elric. “Just for that, I might decide to keep the information to myself after all. If I do, Rhys might never see Medea again.”

“What?” asked Rhys, not liking the sound of this. He had thought the elf was just jesting about this message from the gods, but now he got a bad feeling that something was severely wrong. He handed the baby to his mother, and reached out and grabbed the elf by the scruff of the neck of his tunic, holding him high above his head. “If there is information you’ve been keeping from us that might put Medea in danger, I swear, I’ll kill you myself.”

“Now, now, such talk like that is never going to get me to give you the message,” said the elf, barely able to speak.

“Put him down, Rhys,” said Darium. “And Elric don’t even think of stalling any longer or you’ll never get a pazzleberry pie from my wife again.”

“All right, all right. Put me down, you big oaf, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Rhys reluctantly put the elf down. He was already dreading what he was about to hear. Somehow, he knew it was going to be bad news, and that it somehow involved Medea.

* * *

Medea walked out into the courtyard to find the King with his advisor, Raudfer, and his men all standing in a circle. There was no doubt in her mind that this was all for the wedding. The man was going to be very upset when she told him she was marrying Rhys instead, but she didn’t care.

“My bride,” the King said holding out his hand. His leg was wrapped with boards, and she figured it must be broken from their fall into the moat. He leaned on a wooden crutch and had scratches and bruises all over his body. Still, he was here, standing and talking, and that surprised her. After seeing the deep, bloody wounds made from hitting against the dragon, she didn’t expect him to be able to even get out of bed at all. “My advisor, Raudfer, is going to conduct the wedding ceremony. Come,” he told her, still holding out his hand.

“King Osric,” said Medea, walking over to him and shaking her head. “I won’t marry you, and there is nothing you can do or say to make me change my mind.” Her handmaid, Henriette followed right behind her, not saying a word.

“What did you say?” screamed the King.

“I won’t marry you,” she repeated. “It wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”

“Nay, you cannot back out of our deal. You will marry me, witch. We have plans to rule Mura together, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Nay, I haven’t forgotten. I made that deal when I was under the influence of dark magic and not thinking clearly. However, I’m not under the influence right now, and as far as I’m concerned, I want nothing to do with you, ever again.”

“Well, I don’t agree with this at all. A deal is a deal,” snapped the King. “You must hold up your end of the bargain.”

“I assure you, King Osric, that I have no such plans to marry you now, or ever. Neither will I ever change my mind. That is all I have to say,” she answered. She probably would have been better off if she’d stopped right there, but instead, she kept on talking. “Besides, I heard the way you spoke yesterday. You kept using the word I, not we when we were atop the dragon. That tells me that you want to rule Mura by yourself, but just want me by your side because you know I have powerful magic. You want me to scare off your enemies, and also to do your dirty work for you. Well, I won’t do it. I won’t help you to hurt or kill others, and I certainly will not be a part of you seizing all of Mura as your own. I’m not marrying you, and that is all there is to it.”

“Yes, you are marrying me.” The King grabbed her hard by the arm and pulled her toward him. This made Medea angry. She felt the darkness inside of her growing again, and she felt helpless to stop it from taking control. Out of habit, she waved her free arm, meaning to send the rude man flying across the courtyard. However, to her utter surprise and to her dismay, nothing happened.

“What’s the matter, witch? Doesn’t your dark magic work on me anymore?” asked Osric with a low chuckle.

“I don’t understand,” she answered. “Of course it works. Why wouldn’t it?” She looked at her hand and flicked it again, but still nothing happened.

“You’re not so brash anymore without your powers, are you?” continued the King.

“That’s nonsense. I have powers,” she spat, becoming even angrier.

Kill the fool. Do it now. Don’t let him talk to you this way. Her mother’s voice was back in her head, urging her to do something dark again. This time Medea didn’t fight it.

“I’m one of the most powerful witches ever,” said Medea. She tried again to use her magic, but nothing happened. Then she tried to transport, but she couldn’t get out of King Osric’s grip.

“She’s really lost her powers,” gasped one of the guards.

“I can’t believe it,” mumbled someone else. “She’s just like the rest of us now.”

“Nay!” cried Medea, trying over and over again, waving her arm up, and then down and up again. It was no use. She couldn’t even do the simplest thing using any magic at all. Dark magic or light magic, it didn’t seem to work. It was all gone, and she was human like everyone else now. All of a sudden, she started to panic. Without her magic, she was defenseless. She didn’t carry a weapon and had never needed to learn to fight, so she didn’t even know how.

“I don’t care if you have no powers,” growled the King. “You are still going to marry me, because I say so.”