Page 10 of A Witch’s Guide to Love and Poison

10

T he cause of Mei’s sickness remained a mystery, which frustrated Bisma to no end. She wrote about it to her new friend, an act she was growing increasingly fond of.

She loved her sisters more than anything in the world, but they could be a handful. Writing to her friend was something that was all her own, and she’d always had an inclination for secrets, something that had gotten her into plenty of trouble in the past. But this was different, she told herself. This was safe, comfortable.

More days passed in an uneventful blur. Bisma sent Luna and Azalea to town to do errands, for there was simply too much to be done at home. Bisma had not finished her new poison orders yet, so she spent most of her time in the garden (when she wasn’t doing chores or being in charge, of course).

However, this morning she came to the garden early, before any of the girls were awake, hoping to finish off the last of the orders and go to town to deliver them, all before lunch.

She walked across the stepping stones in her garden, looking for certain ingredients. She spotted the old mehndi plant, which was withering away. She looked down at her hands, which had been bare for a few days now.

With a quick bit of magic, she renewed the mehndi plant, then plucked the leaves to make powder later, after which she would mix it into a paste with sugar, essential oil, and water.

After she finished with the last of the poisons, she went up to the treehouse to check on the girls who had awoken. She went to give Deeba a cuddle, feeding her some kaju barfi, which Bisma had made the day before by grinding and kneading cashew nuts into a dough.

She popped a piece into her own mouth, accompanying it with the milky tea Luna had just made, before heading out.

Once she’d finished dropping off the orders, she was glad she did not have errands to run, for the town was exceptionally busy, even busier than it had been a few days ago.

She was glad, too, that she’d come alone today. Anxiety prickled through her.

Everyone seemed to be there, waiting for something. The square was full of people of all ages and backgrounds—rich and poor alike—and Bisma realized that today was when Xander’s uncle, that famous architect from Whitebridge, was arriving. There was a stage at the front of the square in front of the mayor’s office, and it was decorated with banners and ribbons.

Drat. She should have come yesterday and avoided this entire affair, but she hadn’t finished in time.

Frederick Chapman was probably the most famous architect in all Fairendelle, for he had designed, at the king’s special request, the renovations of the castle in the capital city of Castletown. Beyond that, he was known for his plans to improve the old cities of Crownley, the province which held Castletown, Whitebridge, and Old Town.

Old Town was one of the only remaining towns in the capital province that had not yet been redesigned, which was why Old Town remained, well, old . Despite attempts, the main reason Old Town could not expand was because of the Enchanted Forest.

It could not be tamed, so that land remained untouched, whereas with other villages, they’d had cut into the surrounding forests for their expansion plans.

Bisma felt smug about that, at least. No one could hurt the Enchanted Forest. No matter how many people had tried over the years, the Forest could not be felled.

Perhaps Frederick’s plans were to expand west, but there Crownley lands bled into the province of Huntington, and inter-province politics usually stopped such expansions from taking place. Perhaps they had come to an agreement or found a loophole?

She wondered what, exactly, Frederick was planning, and it was this curiosity that made her linger on the edge of the square, watching. A man, who could only be Frederick himself, left the hotel front and was met by the mayor, Lady Charlotte.

He bowed toward her, then kissed her hand. Lady Charlotte was an older woman with her long hair in twists and dark skin. She wore a long gown, and beside her stood Xander’s mother, Eleanora, who was also dressed in a long gown with gorgeous beading, her hair pulled up into a beautifully braided crown. She looked even more regal than when Bisma had seen her last, in Xander’s greenhouse.

The wealthy did not mind wearing dresses so long that the hems tracked six inches deep with mud; such mess meant nothing to them. On the contrary, Bisma and her sisters always wore dresses that fell six inches above their ankles to avoid getting them dirty. Of course, they had to do all the washing themselves, and did not have new dresses to wear every day.

As Eleanora moved to stand with Frederick, Bisma mentally slapped herself for not making the connection sooner. They were brother and sister! Xander had mentioned Fredrick was his uncle, but she hadn’t realized how close the relation was.

Now that he was standing beside his sister, the resemblance was obvious. Eleanora and Frederick both had the same copper hair as Xander and the same delicate bone structure and elegance.

Frederick was in his late thirties and was quite handsome, which led to the irritating realization that if Xander aged like his uncle, he would never stop being beautiful.

How annoying.

Bisma should have realized sooner that Frederick Chapman was the Uncle Fred Xander often spoke of, the same uncle he had stayed with in Whitebridge while he was completing his studies.

As if she’d summoned him, Xander appeared, standing beside his uncle, mother, and the mayor. His father must have been out on business, otherwise this picture-perfect family would have been complete.

Xander was wearing a fine topcoat above a waistcoat, both pieces of clothing a dark teal that Bisma imagined the deep ocean to be. The effect was quite regal, and she found herself staring.

Bisma did not even notice Lady Charlotte addressing the crowd to introduce Frederick, until everyone was clapping. She averted her gaze from Xander to his uncle, watching as Frederick stood up behind the podium.

‘Good afternoon, dearest citizens of Old Town!’ Frederick said, his voice just as charming as his nephew’s. He gave the crowd a dazzling smile as they cheered. ‘I am honored to be here, in this great town of my youth. As many of you know, my family has run the Chapman Apothecary since the very inception of Old Town; you may know my big sister, Eleanora.’ He turned to toss a wink at her. ‘Because of this, Old Town has a special place in my heart. No matter where I travel, I always come back to this little village,’ he continued. ‘Old Town has undeniable charm—where do you think I get it from?’ The crowd chuckled along with him. ‘I firmly believe this town, with its wonderful spirit, is an untapped gold mine.

‘Now, you must be thinking, “Frederick, what are you going on about?” Well, let me tell you! As of now, because Old Town is well … old , most business passing through this area goes straight to Stoneville. However, if Old Town expanded and renewed, it could become as metropolitan—and successful—as Whitebridge, or dare I say, even Castletown! And that is exactly why I am here: I wish to see Old Town—and its people—prosper, and the king himself has commissioned me for this cause!’

Frederick finished his speech with a grand flourish. Immediately, the crowd erupted with applause and cheers. Beside Frederick, Xander clapped fervently, looking up to his uncle with stars in his eyes. He clearly idolized the man.

Bisma rolled her eyes. It was a grand speech, to be sure, but it lacked any actual specific plans. It didn’t matter to her anyway; she did not care much for Old Town. The Enchanted Forest was her home, and it would always be safe and perfectly enough for her and her family.

As the crowd continued to cheer, Bisma turned to leave, though not without one final glance in Xander’s direction. He was absorbed with his uncle, standing up there on the stage, and for once, he did not approach her.

Good , she told herself. She would not be bothered by him, which was excellent, though she couldn’t help the strange twinge of disappointment she felt as a result.

Bisma made her way home. On the way, she saw a rose bush and plucked as many flowers as her basket could hold; she would put them in bowls of water around the house for the sweet smell.

As she continued her journey, she tossed some nuts and berries from her basket to the crows as she walked along, skipping over branches and waving to the rabbits.

When she arrived home, Bisma hugged and kissed all her sisters hello, then retired to her room to freshen up. The moment she entered her room, her gaze strayed to her bed, and a thrill shot through her.

A letter!

She had responded the other day to tell her new friend about her day, to describe what she had been busy with, and she was excited now to hear about his life. She had learned that the writer was a boy, a bit older than her, but there was still so much to learn about him.

Bisma was just about to unfold the paper when she heard a cry from downstairs.

‘BAJI!’ Azalea yelled.

Alarm cut through Bisma; she threw the letter down on her bed and hurried down the stairs.

When she arrived, she saw it wasn’t anything serious. Bisma released a long breath.

‘They’re being so ANNOYING,’ Azalea said, pointing at Nori and Deeba, who sat on the floor by her feet. It looked like Azalea was trying to do some embroidery on a dress.

‘Stop bothering your sister,’ Bisma scolded.

‘We didn’t even do anything!’ Nori cried, outraged by the accusation, while Deeba giggled.

‘Did so!’ Azalea snapped. ‘Now go away! Or I’ll undo that hole I mended in your stuffed rabbit!’

Nori never slept without that rabbit, so this threat was enough to scare the wits from her.

‘Baji!’ Nori wailed, tears already filling her eyes at the prospect.

‘Okay, okay, let’s all stay calm,’ Bisma said, coming toward them. ‘Nori, I think you’re hungry, let’s have a little snack. Does Deeba want a little snack?’ She reached for both their hands and helped them to their feet.

‘I’m not hungry,’ Nori said, crossing her arms and pouting.

‘Hmm, are you sure?’ Bisma asked. She crouched down so she was at eye level with the five-year-old, then pressed her ear to Nori’s stomach. ‘You are! Your tummy just told me so.’

A smile cracked through Nori’s pout. ‘No it didn’t!’

‘Oh yes it did.’ Bisma felt around Nori’s stomach, tickling her in the process. ‘Look, I can feel it, too! Your tummy is empty.’ She stretched her free hand to Deeba, tickling her as well. ‘And so is yours!’

Both girls laughed, and Bisma pulled them close. ‘Now, will you help me make chai? You can have some honey milk and nankhatai.’

‘Make me some, too!’ Luna called from the couch, where she was lying down, fighting with a spool of yarn.

‘Fine, but watch Deebs,’ Bisma said, depositing the two-year-old onto the floor in front of her.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Luna said. She grabbed some painted wooden blocks and tossed them to Deeba, who quickly busied herself with playing.

‘Azalea?’ Bisma asked, pulling out a wooden stool for Nori to stand on by the stove. She set a pot with water on the stovetop, careful to mind Mei’s work. Mei was in the kitchen as well, making a hot and sour soup for dinner.

‘Yeah, duh,’ Azalea replied. Only the older girls were allowed caffeine, and like most twelve-year-olds, Azalea took every opportunity to be one of the older ones.

After the water boiled, Bisma asked Nori to add in the loose tea, telling her to only put in a spoonful. Nori, of course, added a spoonful that could easily be counted as two, but Bisma had accounted for such an error; two spoonfuls was really the amount she needed.

As that brewed she added sugar and cardamom, then when it was ready, Bisma poured in the milk herself, adding milk to another small pot with honey, to warm for the younger girls.

When their drinks were ready, Bisma poured the chai and milk into teacups as Nori brought out the tin of nankhatai, giving each of her sisters a buttery shortbread cookie.

Bisma distributed the teacups, and when she gave Luna hers, Bisma’s eyes caught on Luna’s work. She seemed to be knitting a pair of colorful striped mittens and looked to be getting tangled in the yarn.

‘Who are those for?’ Bisma asked. They looked far too big for any of the girls.

Luna hid her nose in her teacup. ‘No one,’ she mumbled.

Bisma returned to the kitchen, exchanging an amused look with Mei who’d overheard.

They sat wrapped in their sweaters and shawls, feet clad in fuzzy socks, sipping their warm drinks, as candles glowed around them, their home filled with the smell of ginger and soy sauce. Luna hummed to herself, and Deeba happily babbled along.

‘Baji, did I tell you?’ Luna said. ‘Last time Azalea and I were in town, Haru made this wonderful pumpkin dessert with the first pumpkins of the season. He knows I just adore pumpkin sweets, as I’ve mentioned it to him on more than one occasion.’

‘Hmm.’ Bisma had already heard this story about eight times in the past two days.

‘But he also likes them,’ Luna continued, ‘so do you think he made them because he likes them or because he knows that I like them … ?’ She trailed off, clearing her throat.

‘Oh, thank god she stopped,’ Azalea muttered.

Bisma wasn’t really paying attention; her gaze was trained on the little ones, eyes jumping from Mei in the kitchen, to Nori at the table, and Deeba on the floor.

Bisma took another sip of her chai—then nearly choked on it as Luna shrieked.

‘What is it?’ Bisma asked, shooting to her feet. She turned to the living area, where Luna had dropped her knitting and was clutching her left arm with her right. Her hand was red as if burning.

‘Lulu?’ Deeba asked from the floor, alarmed.

Luna cried out, falling to her knees. Her face was contorted with pain.

‘What happened?’ Bisma cried, falling to her side. It didn’t make sense. And then she saw the skin of Luna’s hand and wrist, the veins turning dark blue.

Just as they had with Mei.

Luna had been poisoned.

All the girls had gathered round, but upon seeing her dark blue veins, Mei started back, face petrified. Her dark eyes were wide with fear.

There was no time to waste.

‘Forrie!’ Bisma cried out. She tugged on her shoes, and Azalea helped Luna into hers. A vine snaked into the treehouse, wrapping around both Bisma and Luna, taking them down to the ground.

‘Azalea, you’re in charge!’ Bisma called, supporting Luna.

Then they ran.