“But you have betrayed her by coming to us. Go along with your mother’s plan. We promise you we will not let it go too far. Now go, see to your little girl. You have done well, Manea. You have given our family a great gift, and we will not let your mother destroy everything we have built here.”
“Bless you.” And she blew out the candle and closed the lid of the wooden box. The black candle smoke spiraled up, dancing before her, and she stood almost transfixed until something outside the nursery window caught her eye.
It was Jacob. Her beloved.
Manea’s heart raced when she saw him. What was he doing there?
“He’s here because I asked him.” Manea whipped around and saw her mother standing in the doorway.
“Mother!”
Her mother stood there, contemplating the room and searching Manea’s mind for the answers she was seeking. It felt like skeletal hands clawing at Manea’s brain. She could sense her mother digging around, trying to find her secrets.
“I smell candle wax and smoke. Were you speaking to our ancestors?”
“I wanted them to bless my daughter,” said Manea, trembling, eyeing her daughter, who was still asleep in her nest.
“Lies!” Manea had never heard her mother scream, but before she could react, she was struck by a massive blow that sent her flying acrossthe room and into the family altar, scattering the portraits and knocking the mourning box ontothe floor.
“Ancestors, please help me!”
She reached for the wooden box, but it flew from her grasp and shattered against a stone raven, waking the baby witch.
Manea gathered all her courage, stood up slowly, and made her way to the screaming baby.
“Don’t you touch her, Manea!”
Manea didn’t listen; she rushed to her daughter and took her in her arms. “Hush now, my little girl. Mother is here. She loves you.”
“Give the child to me!” Nestis’s face mutated in fury. Manea had never seen her like that. She looked like a wild beast, ugly and disfigured by her anger, but Manea stood her ground.
“Never! I won’t let you have her!”
Nestis narrowed her eyes and became very still. Something about it sent a chill through Manea.
“Bring him!” Nestis said calmly, and Manea knew she wasn’t speaking to her. Two skeletal minions brought Jacob into the nursery. He was battered, bruised, and bloody, unable to speak or walk on his own.
“Jacob, no!” The tall beautiful man stood before her, stupefied. “What have you done?” cried Manea.
“Give me your daughter, or I will kill him.”
“I will never give you my daughter!”
“Is that your choice, then? You’d rather see the father of your child die than give her over to me?”
“He’s not her father!” Manea lied, hoping to save him. “My daughter was born of magic, like all the daughters in the dead woods!”
Nestis laughed.
“Lies! I know everything, Manea! Are you foolish enough to think I don’t know your every thought? Your every move? I know your heart, my dear, because your heart is my heart! I created my daughter with magic, as you were bound to do. I am the creator of fates! I let your dalliance with this human go because I saw the coming of a great and powerful witch. It was I who put this human in your path. I arranged that he be our man to do our bidding in the living world. It was by my grace and foresight that you fell in love with him, and I am happy to let you keep him. But listen to me well: I will not let you stand in the way of furthering your daughter’s greatness, and furthering the greatness of our lands and our rule! So give me the child now or I will slit your lover’s throat while you watch.”
“He was not a dalliance! I love him!”
“Then save his life and give me the child!”
Manea took a deep breath and looked into Jacob’s eyes. He was disoriented and could hardly stand. She wasn’t sure he understood what was happening or where he was. He was spellbound by her mother’s magic. She loved him, she loved him so much, but she couldn’t give up her daughter. Not even for Jacob.
Oh my love, forgive me, she thought as she looked at him.