Coven: a dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 2) by Steffanie Holmes
Authors: Steffanie Holmes
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worried. Did I detect the faintest flicker of emotion? I didn’t care. I kept walking.
Brunhild waited for me beside the unlit fire pit. She handed me a bowl of cold soup and a slice of bread. “I just heard that we’re going to get rid of your curse. Isn’t that exciting?”
“I’m not really sure,” I settled down beside her, dipping my bread into the thin soup and stuffing it into my mouth. It was so soft and lovely. One thing I could say for Maerwynn, she made certain her coven ate well.
“How can you not be sure?” Brunhild’s eyes widened as she bit into her own bread. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love sex, but being forced to have it every seven days is just ghastly. What if you were ill, or you had the bleeding, or the only men around you were all beastly?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what’s involved in breaking a curse,” I said. “It must be very difficult, because if it weren’t, my family would have banished it years ago. With this ridiculous witch hunt going on, I don’t want anyone put in danger because of me.”
“You’re too sweet, Ada.” Brunhild slurped up the last of her soup. “If it were me I would be hunting down the descendants of the guy who placed the curse and giving them a piece of my mind.”
The descendants … For some reason, it had never occurred to me that the ancient witch who’d placed the curse on my ancestor Cedany had a family. But of course he did, and they would have inherited his dark magic and his lust for power. Were his descendants out there right now, oblivious to the chaos their ancestor had caused? Were they in hiding from Ulrich’s father, too? I glanced around the campfires with a new sense of apprehension. What if one of the ladies here was a descendant of the man who cursed my family?
“Did I say something bad, Ada?” Brunhild tapped my shoulder. “You look awfully serious.”
“Oh … no, don’t worry.” I shook my head. I needed to keep that thought to myself for a while. “I was just missing Ulrich, is all.”
After breakfast, I helped Brunhild to collect wild blackberries, the perfect activity to distract me from thoughts of Ulrich. The thorny bushes had completely overtaken one of the slopes of the valley, and they were a vital ingredient in many of the Haven’s dishes. Brunhild helped me wrap gauze strips around my hands to protect my skin from the thorns. When I was bandaged up, she showed me how to spot the choicest berries. “You look for the berries that appear plump and comely, much like your lovely figure.”
I could feel the heat in my cheeks. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Oh, Ada! For all your dungeon adventures, you are such a prude.” Brunhild turned back to the bush, and demonstrated how she twisted the ripe berries so they fell off in her hand. “Only the ripe berries will come off this easily. Some girls get mixed up because the berries turn black first, then take a few days to ripen. But if you pick them too early, they taste sour.” She wrinkled her pretty nose, perhaps remembering a particularly sour berry.
“Easy,” I said, twisting off two berries and dropping them into our basket. We picked our way along the patch of berries, gossiping about the other girls in the coven as the thorns pricked our skin. By midday we had filled two baskets, and our bond of friendship was sealed. Brunhild showed me how to prune the bushes using the sharp knife she’d brought along. “This helps improve the yield,” she said, as she pulled off a trailing tendril. “And if I plant this further along the ridge, another plant will grow. Then next season we will have even more blackberries to pick.”
I nodded, wondering if I would still be here next season to pick blackberries with Brunhild. The thought wasn’t wholly unappealing, although only if Ulrich were able to join us.
We gathered up the baskets and walked back along the edge of the stream. My good spirits died as soon as we stepped back into the
Brunhild waited for me beside the unlit fire pit. She handed me a bowl of cold soup and a slice of bread. “I just heard that we’re going to get rid of your curse. Isn’t that exciting?”
“I’m not really sure,” I settled down beside her, dipping my bread into the thin soup and stuffing it into my mouth. It was so soft and lovely. One thing I could say for Maerwynn, she made certain her coven ate well.
“How can you not be sure?” Brunhild’s eyes widened as she bit into her own bread. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love sex, but being forced to have it every seven days is just ghastly. What if you were ill, or you had the bleeding, or the only men around you were all beastly?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what’s involved in breaking a curse,” I said. “It must be very difficult, because if it weren’t, my family would have banished it years ago. With this ridiculous witch hunt going on, I don’t want anyone put in danger because of me.”
“You’re too sweet, Ada.” Brunhild slurped up the last of her soup. “If it were me I would be hunting down the descendants of the guy who placed the curse and giving them a piece of my mind.”
The descendants … For some reason, it had never occurred to me that the ancient witch who’d placed the curse on my ancestor Cedany had a family. But of course he did, and they would have inherited his dark magic and his lust for power. Were his descendants out there right now, oblivious to the chaos their ancestor had caused? Were they in hiding from Ulrich’s father, too? I glanced around the campfires with a new sense of apprehension. What if one of the ladies here was a descendant of the man who cursed my family?
“Did I say something bad, Ada?” Brunhild tapped my shoulder. “You look awfully serious.”
“Oh … no, don’t worry.” I shook my head. I needed to keep that thought to myself for a while. “I was just missing Ulrich, is all.”
After breakfast, I helped Brunhild to collect wild blackberries, the perfect activity to distract me from thoughts of Ulrich. The thorny bushes had completely overtaken one of the slopes of the valley, and they were a vital ingredient in many of the Haven’s dishes. Brunhild helped me wrap gauze strips around my hands to protect my skin from the thorns. When I was bandaged up, she showed me how to spot the choicest berries. “You look for the berries that appear plump and comely, much like your lovely figure.”
I could feel the heat in my cheeks. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Oh, Ada! For all your dungeon adventures, you are such a prude.” Brunhild turned back to the bush, and demonstrated how she twisted the ripe berries so they fell off in her hand. “Only the ripe berries will come off this easily. Some girls get mixed up because the berries turn black first, then take a few days to ripen. But if you pick them too early, they taste sour.” She wrinkled her pretty nose, perhaps remembering a particularly sour berry.
“Easy,” I said, twisting off two berries and dropping them into our basket. We picked our way along the patch of berries, gossiping about the other girls in the coven as the thorns pricked our skin. By midday we had filled two baskets, and our bond of friendship was sealed. Brunhild showed me how to prune the bushes using the sharp knife she’d brought along. “This helps improve the yield,” she said, as she pulled off a trailing tendril. “And if I plant this further along the ridge, another plant will grow. Then next season we will have even more blackberries to pick.”
I nodded, wondering if I would still be here next season to pick blackberries with Brunhild. The thought wasn’t wholly unappealing, although only if Ulrich were able to join us.
We gathered up the baskets and walked back along the edge of the stream. My good spirits died as soon as we stepped back into the
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