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Chapter 62: The Doe
Lola EversonThank you so much for following along. Drop a comment or gem if you enjoyed!
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A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 63: Tea for Three
The clock strikes four and the slave my mother purchased still has not returned from market. It’s tea time and I know she is itching to leave the capital before the sun sets. “Captain, when will your man return with my servant? I’m beginning to grow concerned that my merchandise is being damaged.” My mother snapped as we made our way to tea. “I’m certain that is not the case, your grace. I will go myself, to hurry the process along.” He grabs his coat and begins to charge towards the front door when a knock booms from the door. The butler opens the door and immediately bows deeply. “Your highness! P-Please do come in!” The butler stumbles over his words in nervous energy. My mother and I abruptly stop at the last landing of the stairwell in front of the grand entry way the Prince is standing in. We both curtsy in unison, by muscle memory. “Your Highness, to what do we owe such an honor? I was not expecting that you would join us for tea.” My mother says graciously. “I meant
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 64: Carriage Ride
There are three of us jammed into the carriage. I share my seat with the new servant, the Luna across from us with the largest seat to herself. A book balanced in her hand she casually reads slowly turning the pages. Her focus is entirely on the book, her intense staring only randomly interrupted by a small giggle or gasp. From time to time she shifts in her seat as she reads. The book some tawdry romance passed between housewives, discussed in whispers and giggles at tea. The new servant and I sit awkwardly, straining our abdominal muscles to maintain a small space between us. This space is guarded fiercely as the carriage tumbles down the road. We find our synchronization as we lean and shift with the carriage careful to maintain our space. A dance of quiet movements in unison. Neither of us dare to speak, to do so would be against protocol. The new servant is unsure of the order of things in our house, so erroring on the side of caution is always the wise pathway. Silence is alwa
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 65: Halwayat House
The inn is tucked under a canopy of trees that grow on the outer edge of the Black Woods. I imagine this is the house young Hansel and Gretel stumbled upon. A grand estate, it is reminiscent of a gingerbread house, fitted with an aggressively sharp triangular roof with decorative fascia with fanciful swoops and swirls like royal icing, small windows you can see out of but never escape from with fanciful filigrees, opaque windows that look like poured sugar. Plus it’s quite possible a cannibalistic old witch hag lives inside it. The thought of it makes me giggle to myself. The house itself, once inside, is far too boring to be described in a fairytale. It feels like a flophouse, one inhabited by passing travelers, and not a good one either. It smells of old beer and cheap cigars, I don't imagine the rooms will be much better. An old woman approaches us, just as round as she is short, dressed in a plain brown frock and white apron. “Good Evening, Madame. Welcome to Halwayat House.
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 66: Clear as Mud
“I prefer order to destruction, but that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of it. I’m tired of not knowing things.” I say in a menacing whisper as I plait the Luna’s hair to prepare her for bed. Her and I are alone, but I take no chances or someone overhearing us. “The truth reveals itself in its own time, as it should.” She replies cryptically. “You cannot compel a flower to bloom. It reveals itself when the time is right.” I yank her hair a little tighter than necessary in my frustration. “Mind yourself.” She warns, staring intensely at me in the reflection of the vanity mirror. “I know nothing of what is to come. I don’t even understand what I am and what I’m capable of. How can I navigate this world safely if I am ignorant to how to protect myself?” I ask exasperated by this entire situation. In a perfect world, I would not have to rely on my mother for anything. This is not a perfect world. “Truth be told, I’m not quite sure what you are capable of either.” She says softly. “You
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 67: A Test
“I felt strange when I first saw your servant. She gives off an energy.” I confide in my mother. She smirks. “What does it feel like?” “Like ghosts dancing upon my skin.” I say quietly. “She is a witch. She hails from our tribe, though from a lesser line.” She says. “So will my skin always tingle when I’m near a witch?” I ask, confused. My mother laughs heartily. “No!” She finally manages to say between giggles. “Well, maybe. Every witch senses things differently. It’s hard to say what you can or cannot sense without time and observation. Our powers are things we grow into. Some are more powerful than others in sensing energies and intentions.” “Hm. So how do I interpret these feelings and signs?” I ask. “Your guardian will help guide you. Only she knows how you access the source.” She explains. “So why did you buy a witch at market?” I ask, changing the subject. “She needs entrance to the Moon Ceremony. She is also vying to achieve our tribe’s purpose. I think she me
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 68: An Experiment
Seducing a man in front of my mother, in my mother’s room, a man employed by my mother— has never been on my list of things to do. I have been taught that being modest, quiet, and chaste is the only way to honor your mate. Be a clean canvas, untouched by any other paintbrush, so he can make you exactly as he wishes. I suppose I still live the spirit of modesty and chastity if I only violate the boundaries in my thoughts. I feel as though I am deserving of such a concession as men do not have to follow the same principles of chastity. My mother wraps her evening robe around her nightgown. It’s a heavy forest green velvet with fur lining at the cuffs and collar all along the front edge of the robe. The sleeve a long bell shape, dramatic and moody, my mother’s figure is dwarfed by its proportions. Even after marriage the emphasis on modesty persists, perhaps even more so. Her hair perfectly plaited, her skin glows even without makeup, she is captivating. She pulls a small satchel from
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 69: A Pact
“Theia. You can call me Theia. I will not tolerate being called ‘dog’.” Theia says with a serious tone. She stands with an authoritative and rigid stance. Not overtly aggressive, but certainly ready to defend. “Hello, Theia.” The guardian drawls slowly. The tone is bordering on mocking, but not outwardly disrespectful. “It is important for us to guard our true names fiercely. In order to do this, Theia; you will have to allow me to bestow a true name upon you. We are linked together and cannot pull each other apart, to do so would be our demise.” The guardian says solemnly. Theia scoffs. “What do you mean?” I ask, hoping for clarity. Everything is foreign to me in this world. I expected to have a wolf, but everything else is a mystery. “When witches are made, the Goddess pulls a thread from the witches of the past, in order to weave a new witch into the tapestry. A small thread of life is borrowed from our energy, the thread breathes life into the new witch, and the two spi
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 70: The Promise
The moon looms large in the sky. I have seen it for the last few days, a little fuller each day, sometimes even visible before nightfall. It hangs like a pocket watch, steadily keeping the pace, the arms of time racing towards midnight, the rhythmic tics of a bomb about to explode. The full moon is only a few days away. Seems like all the stars collide then. My powers set to more clearly manifest, a naming ceremony, a potential mate, Theia and I fully realizing our bond— destiny and lines of power converging, all colliding with one another at the same point in time. My witch, my wolf, and myself all coming together, a triad of energies intertwined, forever woven into the tapestry of life, together. I shift my focus from the sky to the woods. The window in my mothers suite is fit for viewing but not escaping. The woods are thick and dark. It’s hard to see anything with true clarity after twenty paces past the tree line. The woods seem to swallow everything, even the light. Why do th
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