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“What am I supposed to do with dead flowers?”
“There are more at the cottage. I sent out my man to plant them for you many years ago while you slept.” Jacob was getting impatient.
“How do you know this cottage is really there? How do you know it wasn’t this man who told the King about my flowers!”
“I trust this man, Gothel. Now I need you to trust me. The cut flowers’ power should last long enough to get you to the cottage. And I hope you will have enough flowers growing at the cottage to revive your sisters.”
“But what about you? Won’t you come with me?”
“I have to stay here and defend our lands. We need to make them think we are fighting to keep the one flower we have here.”
“I can’t leave you alone, Jacob. How will I know what happens to you? How will I know you are okay?”
“I will write you once it is over. If you’ve not heard from me in a fortnight, then you know it didn’t go well for us.”
“Jacob, no! I won’t leave you.”
“Gothel! You have to go! You don’t have your mother’s powers. You cannot defend yourself against this army. I cannot allow you to stay here and be slaughtered. It is my duty to protect you! The wagons are laden with trunks filled with your mother’s books, your clothing, everything you will need, and as many chests of your gold as the wagons can carry. Now please, leave at once. I do not wish to bundle you up like a disobedient child, but I will if I have to.”
Gothel saw the desperation on his face. She saw she hadn’t a choice. She looked at her friend—for that was what he was—and smiled. She knew she would never see him again, and he was giving up his afterlife to save her, and her sisters.
“Okay, Jacob, help me to the carriage.” She picked up Pflanze and slowly walked through the courtyard while holding Jacob’s arm with her free hand to steady herself. She knew she would never see the dead woods again. And she knew her mother had been right: she had destroyed the dead woods. She was the witch from her mother’s vision. Not the odd sisters. She was the reason everything would turn to dust. This would never be happening if her mother were still alive. Then she remembered.
“Jacob! The blood! Is it in one of the crates?”
“Yes, my little witch. I hope one day you decide to take the blood and you come back to reclaim the dead woods.”
“I will, Jacob! I promise. And on the day I return, I will bring you back.”
“Please don’t, my lady. As much as I love you, I think I would at last like some peace. To rest.”
“Of course, Jacob. You deserve that,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.
“Thank you, my little witch. Now go. Don’t look back. I couldn’t bear to see you looking back at me while you go,” he said as he helped her and Pflanze into the carriage.
“I won’t, Jacob. But know that I will miss you terribly. And know that I love you.”
“I know, little one. I know.” He gave her one small good-bye kiss on the cheek and slammed his skeletal hand on the side of the wagon to let the driver know it was time to depart.
It wouldn’t be until many years later that she would wonder how the soldiers had been able to break through the protective enchantment of the forest. For now, Gothel’s heart raced along with the horses as they sped down the dirt road taking Gothel to her new home.
Leaving the world she knew behind.
“I thought they would be here before now,” said Ruby, squinting as she looked down the road, hoping to spy Gothel and Pflanze’s caravan making its way.
“We would have seen them if they were on the road, Ruby,” said Lucinda.
“Hope they’re okay! We haven’t heard anything since Jacob packed them off,” Martha said, fretting and fidgeting with the lace on her dress.
The odd sisters looked around their friend’s new home. It was a country house, really. Larger than a cottage, as Jacob had described it in his letter, but decidedly smaller than what Gothel was used to in the dead woods. The odd sisters thought Gothel could be happy there, though. There was a stone fence with a wooden gate at the road, and beyond were beautiful flowering cherry, almond, and magnolia trees, along with fragrant honeysuckle, jasmine, and lavender bushes. It was rather idyllic, the sort of house you read about in a romance story, with mossy stones, overgrown ivy, and trellises covered in roses. The sort of house a young woman and her sisters move to after their situations are reduced, but the reader is left confused, because it’s a charming, beautiful house that anyone would be happy to have—so it’s a wonder why the protagonists are moaning about the size of the si
tting room, or lamenting over the parlor being too small to fit a piano.
The house was a two-story affair. Downstairs were the double parlor, kitchen, dining room, and a sitting room Gothel could use as her library. Upstairs were the bedrooms, one for each sister and a small one for a maid, should Gothel decide to take one on. And if Gothel chose, the large attic with exposed beams could be used to practice magic. The sisters thought Jacob had done well to find Gothel such a lovely home, surrounded by life and beauty.
The odd sisters had magically perched their own house nearby, just inside the boundaries of Gothel’s new property in a lovely field of wildflowers, next to a creek with an arched bridge that took travelers to the closest town, where they could buy provisions and other sundries. On the other side of the field were rocky black cliffs overlooking the ocean. It really was a lovely spot.
“Perhaps they’ve stopped to rest in one of the neighboring towns?” said Ruby.
