Ch 4: The Celebration

The castle had been bustling all afternoon. People from the village came and went, as the entire staff ran busily about.

The beginning of the celebrations in honor of the Prince’s return was to be a party of great splendor, held in the largest garden of the palace, with performers and music, food and drink, and all of the castle and village were invited.

Astasha had spent the afternoon preparing herself, returning to her small clearing to properly pull as much energy as she could handle, centering her focus and grounding her mind. After bathing, she changed into a long red gown with gold embroidery, leaving her back and arms exposed, her sash tied around her hips. As a witch, she never went anywhere without it, as it carried a number of magical items she never knew when she might need. The pouches that held them dangled and bounced as she gracefully made her way out into the garden.

The area was packed with people from all walks of life: villagers, royals, soldiers. Tables were scattered across the grass adorned with foods and drinks of lavish proportions. As much as Astasha longed to grab a glass of mulled wine, she knew she needed her senses clear.

Her eyes roamed across the crowd, landing on the pinnacle of the festivities. Raised up on a makeshift stand so as to look out over the gathering, were two thrones. In the largest sat the King, chatting with one of his military advisors, and next to him, in a silver tunic and light armor, was Prince Calder. He was smiling and laughing with whom she guessed was the Captain of his Royal Guard. That smile… Would she ever not be in awe of it? It had won her heart, after all, and the thought of it had comforted her on many lonely nights.

She found herself watching him, a faint smile on her own lips, and a small flutter in her soul. He was just as handsome as she remembered. She could still recall his smell, the taste of his lips, the feel of him against her.

His eyes moved, suddenly finding her amongst the throng, causing her heart to skip a beat, but she forced herself to lock away her memories of him, and focus on the task at hand.

She bowed her head ever so slightly to him before turning and making her way toward a group of dancers performing on the lawn. From the corner of her eye, she watched the Prince excuse himself from his conversation and rise, making his way toward her.

She could sense him approaching, feel his energy as he moved through the crowd, nodding and greeting people as he went. And then, he was beside her.

"Sorceress Astasha."

"Your highness."

They didn't look at each other, pretending to watch the dancers as they moved to exotic music.

"Congratulations on your successful return." She said.

"And to you on your position. I never doubted it would be yours once Fiera stepped down."

She could feel the electricity between them. Though their words were formal, both hid something much more intimate.

She had been eighteen and he twenty when they met. Sent into the village by his father to assess the needs of the people for the coming winter, he spotted her in the market. She was selling herbs and had captivated him with her flowing red hair and eyes like fire.

It took him purchasing her entire stock to convince her to accompany him for the remainder of the day, and by nightfall, they were absolutely infatuated with one another. He was funny and kind, she, witty and strong. And when he was forced to return to the palace, he left her with a kiss on her hand, and a promise to return to see her again, which he did.

They knew it would never be more than a fleeting romance, but he would come to meet her as often as he could, and they would steal away to be with one another.

The power that would be held by an heir of both royal and magical blood, was deemed more than any ruler should have, and therefore, it was forbidden for royalty to be with a witch. And so, for a year, they hid in the shadows together, laughing and kissing and learning all there was to know about one another, Astasha shielding their experiences as best she could with the magic she was just learning to use. But on the eve of his twenty-first birthday, reality came crashing down upon them.

The day a prince turned twenty-one was the day he was to depart on his quest for the throne. Astasha would never forget that night, how she had wept and he had kissed her tears away, how they had spent their last time together in intimate embrace of one another, entangled in each other's bodies. Still new to her powers, the experience was beyond anything she could have described; every moment, each sigh, and touch, and quiver, she felt on a level that seemed impossible. They were in love, making love, before they were forced to say goodbye.

The emptiness she had felt when he was gone had almost consumed her. But she forced herself to be strong, to put up that little barrier around her heart that she was, now, all too familiar with. She focused on her powers, on learning all that she could about them, practicing magic by night, selling herbs by day, but at the end of each one, she found herself with an ache in her soul… without even realizing it, she had been waiting for a familiar smile and those bright blue eyes to emerge from the crowd. But they never did.

A year later, the King came to her village in search of a new fire witch, and Astasha's mother had pushed her into the running. She tried to refuse, knowing that if she was accepted, it would mean someday she would be a part of Calder's Magical Advisory, and the thought of being around him without being able to be with him tore her apart. But when the King personally came to her small cottage to name her as his choice, Astasha had no option but to accept.

For years she had forced herself to try to forget about her love for the Prince, to harden her heart and resign herself to the position she would hold until the magic left her. But there was nothing she could have done, no spell she could have performed (although she had tried to find one) that would have stopped her from feeling everything she had tried to forget, the moment she saw him again.

And now he stood next to her, so close that she had but to reach out her hand and touch him. No matter how much energy she gave to the bubble around her heart, being this near to him was slowly breaking it apart. But she had a job to do. She needed to be able to read him, and not just his energy and emotions, but his essence, where maybe, just maybe, she could figure out what it had been she had felt during the ritual.

A servant passed by with a tray of mulled wine and she stopped him to take two. As much as she hated manipulating the man she loved, she needed his guard down. It would make it so much easier to work her way in. She smelled it to make sure there were no poisons present (something she had been rigorously trained in), before turning to face Calder.

He had been watching her, his lips slightly parted, a look on his face that showed he too was battling something inside.

"To your victory." Astasha said, holding out a cup to him.

As he reached out to take it, their hands touched, and once again, it was like a rush of electricity in her veins. Their eyes locked on each other as he took the glass and they both drank. A small sip wouldn't be enough to dull her senses or muddy her powers, but it might just ease her nerves. Calder's eyes drifted to her mouth as she lowered the chalice from it, and heat rose in her cheeks. All it took was a simple glance from this man and she was weak in the knees. What she would give for him to kiss her…

The moment was broken, however, by an older gentleman, one of the financial advisors, if she was to remember correctly. "Your highness, many congratulations on your successful return!" he said, bowing to the Prince.

Astasha took the opportunity to slip away, but glanced over her shoulder to catch his eye as she wove through the crowd, heading toward the edge of the garden, into the forest… the perfect place to be alone.