A potion
February, Sweeden 1686
The snow covered streets of the small village are full of children running and playing with snow.
A small back cat crosses a man’s path. He’s tall, white, black hair and a thin mustache. He kiks the little cat with his foot sending it away.
The little cat runs scared in the woods nearby.
“Devilish disgusting things” the man murmur under his long dark brown scarf.
A younger woman next to him. A blue- greenish dress. Long blonde hair but not actually blonde, more like a honey jar. Her skin flawless and the beautiful brown eyes go perfectly with the white coat.
“Come on now Cousin, it’s just an animal..” She grabs closer into her cousins arm as he walks them on the path
“Oh dear Wilhelmina…that’s the issue with you. You see only good. These filthy things are no good.” He said as he spreads up checking his pocket clock. “And how is that a bad thing?” She asked , her eyes growing bigger and cheeks burning.
“It’s not a bad thing. It’s just a woman thing”
August, her cousin always had some… wierd opinions about what life is. He’s very strict and closed minded. Her parents always give him as an example and this has been more and more frequent since her beloved brother Erik, passed away.
Wilhelmina remains silent ,trapped in the misogynistic coment fidgeting with her white gloves.
She turns her head back at the woods watching the cat getting smaller and smaller, further and further.
***
The little black cat is now drinking her milk peacefully. A chocolate, soft hand is petting her.
A woman.. A beautiful woman. Her darker skin makes the snow outside the window stand out. The curly black hair frames her face perfectly.
“Here you go moonlight”
The woman’s name is Simon. And she is a witch.
Simon leaned back in her chair, watching the little black cat curl up in from of the fire.
The cottage was warm, the fire crackling in the corner, but the world outside felt colder than ever. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt truly safe.
Ever since her beloved mother was murder with cold blood by a cruel man, a cruel man that was no one else than her own father, Life has been nothing but pain and misery.
The cat mewed softly, drawing her out of her thoughts. Simon smiled faintly, running a hand over its sleek fur. Moonlight. She had named it after she found her, hurt and starving under the cottage on a full moon night.
“Stay with me as long as you can, little one,” she murmured, her voice low and soft, almost like a spell. “The world’s not kind to strays like us.”
Her gaze drifted toward the window, where snowflakes were falling gently against the glass. Beyond the woods, the village filled with life, but she dared not step too close. Even now, whispers traveled through those streets like the wind—whispers about her.
Simon’s hands tightened into fists as a wave of unease crept up her spine. She had worked so hard to keep herself hidden, to avoid their prying eyes. But every so often, someone came knocking at her door—seeking remedies, favors, or answers. And every time, she wondered if it would be the last.
The knock echoed again, louder this time, shaking the fragile door. She clenched her jaw, her breath coming faster.
“Don’t let them in,” she muttered to herself, her voice trembling. “Not today.”
But Simon knew she didn’t have much of a choice. If she ignored them, whoever was outside might grow suspicious. Or worse—angry. And angry people always talked. They whispered in taverns, in churches, on the edges of the market stalls. It only took one slip, one careless word, to bring the hunters to her door.
She stepped back from the window, her heartbeat drumming in her ears. The little black cat, Moonlight, made her way around Simon’s legs, meowing softly.
“They only want what I can give,” Simon whispered bitterly, stroking the cat’s soft fur. “They don’t care what happens to me after.”
The cat looked at her with big eyes almost as if she understood what she just said
And it was true. Every desperate face that came to her door begged for help, pleaded for miracles. But once they had what they needed, they vanished back into the safety of their ordinary lives. None of them stayed to help her. None of them cared that she was risking everything for them..
She remembered the baker’s wife who had begged for a cure for her dying son. Simon had worked through the night, pouring her strength into a potion that saved his life. And when the hunters had come sniffing around the village the next week, the baker’s wife hadn’t even looked at Simon as she hurried away from her
“Mama used to tell me that I’m the most precious thing out there. When I was a kid I liked this feeling …. But not anymore.”
Simon’s stomach twisted at the memory. These people didn’t see her as a person. She was a tool. A shadow. A secret to be used and forgotten.
And when the hunters will come for her —because they will and it’s not a matter of if , it’s a matter of when, everyone, everyone will turn their backs and let her burn.
Her hand shook as she reached for the latch. She pressed her palm against the rough wood of the door, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice tight.
The answer came quickly, a woman’s voice, high and trembling: “Please, I need your help!”
Simon’s heart sank. It was always the same. Always someone who needed her, someone who would leave her more vulnerable than before.
But she couldn’t turn them away. Not yet. Not until she was ready to disappear for good.
***
The carriage pulls in front of a beautiful big luxurious White House. At least 3 floors, a tall fountain with a statue of Goddess of Beauty- Aphrodite, Venus.
The white walls with golden accents glowing proudly in the dark evening.
Wilhelmina, is helped to get off by a servant while August is doing it himself. He adjusts his hat and together they enter their home.
In the living room, her best friend Felice Enchora. A very wealthy woman as well. Her anxious fidgeting of her light pink, velvet fan. Her gloves a matching the shade of her blushed cheeks. She was stunningly beutiful. Next to her, on the long couch, Henrick Enchora, her brother. A mid 30’s white man who was born and raised specifically to inherit the money once it was the right time.
Her father and mother never wanted her actually, once they saw her skin, her dark skin ,they knew it was a mistake. A white mother, a white father can never make a black baby.
Her father left after that, they didn’t divorce since it was a sin , and they painted Felice as “a happy accident” even though everyone knew she came from a act of dishonesty.
Wilhelmina’s eyes glowed at the sight of her best friend there but it wasn’t long before her parents were looking at her ordering with their looks to sit down.
“Well then I guess you know what’s happening here right Wilhelmina?” Her mother spoked, cold and harsh. “Get that hand away from your mouth” she added as she slapped her hand away as she caught her bitting her nails. The blonde girl shoves her hands underneath her dress.
Ludovig, Her father clears his throat to indicate , Kristina to stop what she’s doing, once she realizes, she put a smile and keeps the conversation going like nothing happened.
“So Wilhelmina..” her father started talking “We have thought a lot about what you said last time we discussed about this and-“
“About what?” Her voice slightly trembled as she looked at her mother for any clue of what the hell is going on
“Don’t interrupt a man when he’s speaking”
Henrick said, as if this was his business, well it wasn’t, or so she thought.
“And who are you? You don’t tell me what to do that’s not your -
“It will be.” He said not letting the woman finish or even process what’s happening.
“As I was saying, we thought about what you said last time when we talked about this… about you, finding a man and marrying him, you said you don’t wanna marry a complete stranger, so me your mother and Felice’s family we discussed and think you could and should marry Henrick.”
Her world collapsed. What? No no no she can’t marry him. She can’t Mary him he’s mean, he’s emotionally dumb but also he’s— he’s he’s a man.
Did Felice know about this? No she shouldn’t have she would have told her. She would have right?
With teary eyes she looked at her best friend begging for her attention, for her acknowledge of the situation, but she’s meet with an expression similar to hers. She didn’t know either.
“Mother please I can’t marry him.” She pleaded standing up, legs shaking as she’s mourning the future she knew it was just a dream.
Her mother doesn’t move a muscle. She’s giving her the cold shoulder, silent treatment.
“Mom!” Wilhelmina finds herself begging again “Mom please acknowledge me for the love of God.” The noble didn’t realize the tone in her voice not until she saw all the eyes on her.
“Daughter, how about you go and prepare some tea for us, you could learn for the future, when your husband will request it.”
The lady in pink looks at her mother with cold ice eyes “If my future husband requests tea he can make it himself, I’m gonna be his wife not his maid.”
The room went silent, the eyes that were once on Wille now on Felice.
Her mother grabs her arm, strong, hard and without saying anything she just squeezes, until the confident stare in Felices eyes slowly dies.
“Okay mother. I’m going.” She said defeated.
“Take my daughter with you. She seems like she needs some… time out.” The noble black hair woman ordered.
A gentle pink velvet hand cupped the white glove as the two women left the living room, their pink and greenish-blue gowns trailing gracefully on the floor.
***
The kitchen was big. So big, but somehow the air was too thin.
“What in God’s name was that? Did you know about this?” Wille's voice was sharp, demanding answers. Her eyes burned with anger, but beneath it, there was a tremor of fear that flickered through her gaze.
Felice stood silently, her gaze lowering as she shook her head slowly. She could feel the tension hanging in the air, heavy with the unspoken truths neither of them had the courage to voice. Her eyes, though, betrayed the sorrow that weighed on her heart.
Wille, still standing, clenched her fists, her anger rippling through her. But as she looked at Felice—her closest friend, the one she’d shared so much with—the anger softened, replaced by something that felt far worse: guilt.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so angry and I’m so scared and— I don’t know how much longer I can take this. Pretending everything it’s fine when it’s not it’s not fine at all.”
Felice’s lips parted, as though she was about to say something, but her voice faltered. She took a slow breath, finally meeting Wille’s eyes with a knowing sadness.
“I know. I know but I can’t help you if you keep pushing me away, and I can’t help you in general. I’m not a doctor. I don’t know what is wrong with you but what I can do is be here.”
“I don’t wanna marry him. He’s— i don’t even know”
Wille stays put on the chair from the kitchen as Felice is preparing the boiling water for the tea. Her eyes following her every move trying to steady her heartbeat.
Felice moved around the kitchen with a quiet efficiency, pouring boiling water into the teapot. The soft clink of porcelain filled the silence as she arranged two delicate cups on the table. Her back remained to Wille as she spoke.
“You don’t have to know him to know you don’t want this,” Felice said, her tone measured, but there was an edge of frustration in her words. “You shouldn’t have to marry someone just because it suits your family’s plans.”
Wille’s gaze dropped to her hands, which were trembling slightly as they wrung the fabric of her gloves. “But that’s exactly why they want it. It’s not about me. It never is.” She hesitated, her voice breaking as she whispered, “What if I have no choice, Felice?”
Felice turned, a steaming pot of tea in hand, and placed it firmly on the table between them. Her expression was fierce, her honey-brown eyes locked onto Wille’s. “There’s always a choice. Even when it doesn’t feel like it.”
Wille let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You say that like you’ve never had to make one of these impossible choices. Like you’ve never felt like… this.” She pressed her hand against her chest, her breathing shallow and uneven. “Like the walls are closing in, and no matter what you do, there’s no air left. No escape.”
Felice’s expression softened, her brows furrowing with concern. “Wille…”
“I can’t even think straight, Felice. I wake up every morning with my chest so tight I can barely breathe. My hands shake all the time, my head spins—I’m losing hope.” Her voice cracked, and she clutched the cup in front of her as if it might steady her.
Felice reached across the table, her dark fingers brushing lightly over Wille’s trembling ones. “And that’s exactly why you need help. Real help, Wille. Not whatever your family thinks will fix you.”
Wille’s eyes darted up, filled with uncertainty. “What do you mean?”
Felice hesitated, glancing around the kitchen as if ensuring they were truly alone. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I mean someone who understands. Someone who can actually help you with… this.”
“This?” Wille gestured vaguely at herself, scoffing. “This isn’t something you just… fix, Felice.”
Felice leaned closer, lowering her voice further. “Not in the usual ways, no. But there’s someone—someone who doesn’t follow the usual ways. They call her the Purple Woman.”
Wille’s breath caught, her heartbeat quickening for an entirely new reason. “You can’t be serious,” she said, her voice trembling. “That’s—that’s witchcraft.”
Felice didn’t flinch. “And maybe that’s exactly what you need. Someone who isn’t bound by your family’s expectations or society’s rules. Someone who can actually help you feel… normal again.”
“Felice…” Wille’s voice was barely above a whisper, her fingers tightening around the cup. “What if it’s dangerous? What if… she’s dangerous?”
Felice sighed, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and fear. “Then we’ll figure it out. But Wille, you can’t keep doing this you are slowly digging your own grave.”
Wille knows her best friend is right.
“When can we see her?” She asked taking a sip from the tea.
“How about now? They won't notice we left all they want is to plan—“ Felice stops herself as she realizes what she’s saying.
“My wedding. You can say it it’s my future after all…but well I don’t wanna be here right now so let’s go.” She said as she’s standing up grabbing Felice’s hand.
Together they sneak away using the back door and make their way though the beautiful snow covered garden. Their long white fluffy coats leaving a tray behind them as well as their steps.
***
You know, if they catch us, they’ll say it’s unladylike to wander out like this,” Felice murmured, her voice tinged with humor.
“They’ll say it’s unladylike if I sneeze too loudly,” Wille shot back, a rare smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Let them talk.”
Felice chuckled softly, but it faded quickly as she glanced at Wille. “Are you sure you want to do this? To see her?”
Wille stopped her steps, her grip on Felice’s hand loosening. Their eyes lock in a truthful honest heart to heart. “I want this. I want to get help and I wanna feel normal again.”
They keep walking, but their speed slows down as they get closer and closer to the unwelcoming dark woods.
“And She can make that happen” Felice replied gently trembling slightly from the cold. “But she’s not like anyone you’ve ever met before. She’s…”
“Dangerous?” Wille asked, a flicker of curiosity but also fear in her voice.
Felice hesitated. “Not dangerous, no. But she’s… bold. And boldness can make people be afraid.”
Wille straightened her shoulders, determination filling in her body. “I don’t care if she’s bold. I need this. I need something—anything—to feel like myself again.”
Felice studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Alright… let’s go then.”
They continued deeper into the woods, the air growing quieter and heavier with each step. The path became less defined, the snow undisturbed except for the occasional animal track.
“Does she live alone?” Wille asked, her voice quieter now, as if afraid of disturbing the serene stillness.
Felice nodded. “As far as I know. Some say she’s lived out here for years, ever since… well.”
“Since what?”
Felice hesitated, brushing snow off her skirt. “Since her mother was taken. But no one knows the full story.”
Wille frowned. “Taken?”
Felice didn’t answer right away.
Wille insists “Taken By who?”
“By the same kind of people who’d force you to marry a man like Hadrick.”
Wille fell silent, the weight of Felice’s words sinking in, but her curiosity growing even more.
“Was she also a witch? Her mother?”
Before Felice has the chance to answer , they reached a clear path. In its center stood a modest cottage, its roof dusted with snow and smoke curling lazily from the chimney. windows covered with curtains to protect the witch from the public eye.
“There it is,” Felice said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Wille stared at the cottage, her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting , but the sight of it, the small wooden cottage, sorrounded by trees, protected by them, by nature— she felt her chest warming up, a sense of safety sneaking in.
“So..how will this go?” The blonde asked her best friend as she felt her legs starting to shake, her instinct telling her to run and never come back but her heart, oh her heart was pushing her to live there, in the warm cottage that could give her the freedom she’d needed. So what if it’s not even half of the size of her bedroom, here she could feel safe. But maybe that’s just an illusion
Felice takes off her gloves, pushing her pink hood off and freeing her black curly bun, a few strands of hair glued to her forehead , freezed up there due to the cold.
“We go in, explain the situation and… see what she’ll do to help us…I’ve only came once and …. She helped but it was way more different.”
The tone in Felice’s voice makes Wille raise her eyebrows, her mind thinking of all the possibilities of what problem could’ve Felice faced.
She grabs her hand, cold , “What happened to you?” Her voice is serious, waiting for an explanation.
Felice takes a step back, placing her hand on her pearl necklace , bitting her lip.
“I had to stop something from happening….” She takes a deep breath before she hits her best friend with the news. “My parents wanted to put me with a man and…have a child…so I asked her to make me something that would stop that child from happening.”
Wille’s breath caught in her throat as she processed what Felice had just said. The world around her seemed to go still, the distant rustling of trees fading into silence.
She stared at Felice, the words barely registering in her mind. “You—what?”
Felice’s eyes were downcast, her fingers now tracing the edges of her necklace nervously. “I had no choice,” she murmured, more to herself than to Wille. “They were going to force me into it, ,have his children…but…he—- he didn’t want a black woman as his wife. He just wanted—- lust.” She let out a shaky breath. “So, I turned to her. To the witch. She—she gave me something to make sure that never came to pass.”
There are tears on her face from remembering the terror from back then, hands trembling on her necklace.
Wilhelmina remains stunned, as its starting to snow , delicate, thin snowflakes falling on her hair.
Wille could see the weight of it on Felice’s face—the shame, the fear. It made her heart ache. She reached out and placed a hand on her friend’s cold shoulder. “Felice, you could’ve come to me. You didn’t have to carry that alone.”
Felice shook her head, her curls bouncing lightly as she took a step back, wiping at the tear that was threatening to escape. “It wasn’t something I could share, not with you or anyone else. You know how it is… how they are. You’re lucky, Wille, you don’t have to live in fear of being sold off like that.” She chuckled softly, bitterly. “I had no choice, no options.”
There is a moment of silence, as Felice wipes her tears away. “But it’s fine it’s over now…”
“That doesn’t make it fine. It still haunts you, Felice….and— and you don’t have to hold this alone anymore okay. I’m here. I’ve got you just like you’ve got me.”
Felice blinked, a soft, grateful smile slowly forming on her lips. She looked at her best friend, the bond between them strengthening with each word. “Thank you, Wille.” she whispered.
Wille shared a warm, fleeting hug with Felice, a small gesture of comfort and courage before they quickly broke apart. The air between them seemed to thrum with unspoken words, but neither dared to say them.
Wille turned back to the small wooden door, its surface worn and weathered by time. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked three times. The sound was soft but deliberate, cutting through the stillness of the woods.
For a moment, there was no response, only the faint rustling of the trees around them. Wille shifted on her feet, her nerves beginning to twist into knots. She glanced at Felice, whose face betrayed a mixture of encouragement and unease.
“Do you think she’s—” Wille began, but the words died on her lips as the faint sound of footsteps echoed from within. Her heart began to pound, a steady drumbeat of anticipation and fear.
The door creaked open, just a sliver, revealing a slice of darkness within. A pair of piercing brown eyes appeared, narrowed in suspicion as they surveyed Wille and then Felice in the background.
“What is it?” The voice was low and firm, tinged with wariness.
Wille swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of what to say. She felt the weight of Simon’s gaze pressing against her. “I…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need your help.”
The woman behind the door stepped into view, her expression unreadable as she studied Wille with quiet intensity. Her dark curls framed her face, and her presence seemed to fill the space around her. Her neck covered by a black high collar shrug, she did not have a corset on and her dress was above her ankles.
Simon’s eyes flicked briefly to Felice before returning to Wille. “Who told you to come here?” she asked, her tone sharp but not unkind.
Felice stepped forward cautiously, her voice gentle. “I did. She’s my friend. She…she needs you.”
Simon’s gaze lingered on Felice for a moment, then returned to Wille. There was a pause, long enough for Wille to feel her nerves fraying. Finally, Simon stepped aside, opening the door just wide enough.
“Fine, but only she comes in you wait outside” she said firmly yet gentle as she locked eyes with the woman in pink. She brushes a curl behind her ear before closing the door as Wille steps inside.
Wille finds herself in a small cottage, a table in the middle, a small disorganized kitchen and somewhere behind the table there is a door leading to a different room.
On the table there are different kinds of ingredients or bottles that have names written on them. One specifically draws her attention: “herbs for women trouble”, she leans her hand in but before she can do anything there is a voice calling out, in a harsh unsteady panicked tone. ”Don’t touch anything.”
Wille looks at the witch, studying her worry expression as she nods her head apologizing.
“It’s fine just please don’t mess up anything. Sit down I’ll be back in a minute” she said as she leaves the room.
The noble woman takes this time as an opportunity to look around, she looks at the fire flickering and right in front of it she spots a familiar presence. A black cat, just like the one from earlier today, the one August hurt.
“Hey kitty kitty, come here” the cat hears her call and steps closer, her steps cautious smelling the woman from afar.
The bedroom door cracks open and the witch speaks “she’s a little shy at first, you need to win her trust.”
Wille turns her head, her gaze settling on the sleek black cat perched by the fire. Its green eyes glinted like emeralds in the dim light. Slowly, she looked back at the witch, who now had a faint, almost tender smile on her lips.
“What’s her name?” Wille asked softly, her voice carrying a rare warmth.
“Moonlight,” Simon replied, her smile deepening as she reached out to scratch behind the cat’s ears.
The little cat let out a soft purr, its trust in Simon undeniable. Wille watched the interaction, something stirring in her chest—an unexpected mix of curiosity and admiration.
“It suits her,” Wille murmured, leaning back slightly, but her eyes never left Simon’s face. For a moment, the world outside the cottage seemed to vanish, leaving only the warmth of the fire, the quiet companionship of the witch and her cat, and the faintest possibility of something new taking root.
“You think?” Simon asked moving closer to Wille now almost in her face.
“Yea it’s nice…I like it” The noble picks up the little kitty settling it in her lap.
Simon stands up and walks towards the table. She opens the glass cabinet above and pulls out three bottles. Blue, Yellow and Pink.
She opens the bottles, measuring and pouring exact amounts in the crystal bowl.
She stops. Something it’s not right…these ingredients: lavender, honey, rosemary…. These ingredients will make a calming potion. But not a calming potion for Wille.
It needs to be conected to her. Binded to her.
“I’m gonna need a pice of your hair.” The witch said nonchalantly, as she grabs the pair of scissors.
Wille looks at her shocked and she clenched to her hair, her eyes looking around,probably for a way to get out.
“You know…” the witch taps her fingers on the table, placing the scissors down in front of her as she gets closer. “You have no obligation to do this.”
Without thinking Wille grabs the scissors and cuts a small piece of her blonde long hair and hands it to Simon.
The witch takes it with a smile. A smile that makes Willes stomach turn.
“Why are you smiling like you’re an idiot…? It’s not a love potion It's for stress and fear relief”
Wille clears her throat trying to play it cool repeating to herself: ~She’s a witch. She’s not your friend. ~
Simon adds the hair in the bowl to which Wille looks confused at. There were no sparkles no glitter...nothing
“What you were expecting it to poof and boom magic?” She asked throwing her hands in the air mockingly. “Magic isn’t simple princess it takes effort”
Princess.
Oh god.
“You know... you’re... uhh...nicely looking...”
Simon’s stirring slowed for just a second before she let out a short, dry laugh. “That’s the worst compliment I’ve ever heard.”
Wille stiffened. “I didn’t— It wasn’t—”
“Oh, don’t worry, princess.” Simon tossed a handful of dried herbs into the pot, eyes fixed on her work. “I don’t expect you to have much experience complimenting witches.”
There was something in her tone—light, but distant. Like she was already brushing off the conversation. Dismissing Wille entirely.
Wille frowned, shifting on her feet. She had no idea why that bothered her.
“Forget I said anything.”
“I Already have.” Simon’s smirk was there, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She turned back to the potion before she got the chance
Simon, clearly enjoying herself, went back to grinding whatever was in her mortar. Then, without a word, she plucked a needle from the table and grabbed Wille’s hand.
Wille flinched. “What are you—”
Simon pricked the tip of Wille’s finger with a swift, practiced motion. A tiny bead of blood welled up instantly.
“There.” Simon smirked, letting go of Wille’s hand before she could yank it back. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Wille cradled her hand, glaring. “You could have asked.”
“And you would have made a whole fuss about it,” Simon said, completely unbothered. She wiped the needle on her skirt and flicked the drop of blood into the bowl. It vanished into the mix like it had never been there.
Wille exhaled through her nose. “You’re awful.”
Simon grinned, turning back to her potion. “And yet, here you are.”
With careful hands, she lifted the bowl and placed it on the iron stove above the fire. The flames licked at the bottom, heat curling into the air as the mixture began to simmer.
Simon leaned against the table, arms crossed as she watched it. “Now we wait.”
Wille shifted on her feet, feeling the weight of the moment settle over her. “For how long?”
“What, afraid I’ll hex you while you’re not looking?”
“I don’t think you need magic to be insufferable.”
Simon let out a low chuckle, eyes glinting in the firelight. “You catch on quick, princess.”
“You know I’m not actually a princess right?”
The witch smiles turning around and leaving the small living room just for a while “then stop acting like it.”
***
Simon hands Wille a small blue vial. The shape of it’s kinda funny round at the bottom and thin at the top. The sunsets light from outside catching into the beautiful deep blue of the vial.
As Wille reached for the bottle, Simon’s hand gently covered hers, stopping her for a moment. “One drop in tea before bed and as soon as you wake up.”
Wille nods.
“I’m serious Wille. First thing you do when you’re up and last thing you do before bed. Do not take more I’m serious.
The witches flingers remain on Wille’s for a little longer than supposed to. She stops as soon as she realizes.”If you get sick, wait a few minutes— if it doesn’t go away add three and only three lemon to the mixure it should help.” Her voice urgent and panicked.
“Calm down, witch. I’ll be fine,” Wille said, pulling her hand away and stepping back.
Simon’s gaze hardened, her tone sharp. “Don’t insult me like that. If anything happens to you, I’m the one who’s responsible.”
Wille stoops as she was getting her coat back on and looks down guilty. She bites her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
She arranges her hair in the small broken mirror near the door tossing it and combing her hair thorough it.
“Thank you again for—helping me.” But before the noble gets to leave the other woman stops her “If anything goes wrong you come straight to me.”
Wille nods.
“Okay go now.”
And she does. The witches words playing in her head like a symphony “You come straight to me”