The Harlot by Saskia Walker

that this was the first enchantment her mother had ever taught them, lest they ever got locked in anywhere. Jessie vaguely recalled havingclimbed into a cupboard on her hands and knees, with Maisie, her twin sister, following. They’d been hiding from Lennox, their brother, who was older by several years. Unable to find them, he had run off to their mother and reported them missing. Presumably it had set her thinking, and so the lessons in magic had begun for the girls. Lennox already knew a few spells, for he was older and their mother said he was more naturally gifted.
    All the good memories that Jessie had of her mother were associated with magic. She had drummed into them what she called the important enchantments—the ones they would need to protect themselves. Jessie knew how to gain her freedom, how to cause trouble or avert it, and how to harness a person’s attention to an object. The latter was useful when selling wares. Their mother had also taught Maisie and Jessie how to protect themselves from ill health and from becoming pregnant. She’d drummed those things into their young hearts and minds so ferociously that they instinctively knew she regretted giving her affections so easily to their father, a man who had abandoned her when he found out about her craft.
    There was so much more to learn and explore than what she knew; Jessie was aware of that. Yet the knowledge had only brought tragedy to her mother, and Jessie, too, found herself in danger because of the gift she had inherited. When tempted to try to expand her skill, she shied away.
    In the Highlands she would be safe to explore it, and would perhaps meet more of her kind. Above all, her aim was to be reunited with Maisie and Lennox, from whom she had been wrenched the very day their mother was put to death. Meanwhile, Jessie knew enough to protect herself when needs must.
    With a longing sigh, she concentrated her thoughts on thelock and summoned her freedom in the ancient tongue. “Thoir dhomh mo shaorsa.”
    The lock clicked and the door swung open.
    She rose to her feet and sidled into the quarters beyond. No one was about. She looked at the door on the landing, which the alewife and the servants had used earlier that day. It was all that stood between her and freedom. She could escape now and be on her way. But she didn’t want to.
    The mysterious Mister Ramsay had captured her attention that morning. It infuriated her that she was being held, but she could not resist the challenge of breaking his focus while he attempted to teach her about seduction. Curiosity about his enemy and the dispute between them also riddled her. As she glanced about, she spied his bed through the doorway beyond and she approached it. The bolster was bruised by his head and the bedcovers hung down where he had discarded them. She pictured him there, at rest. No, she was not ready to leave just yet.
    Glancing around the bedchamber, she noted that this room was much more comfortable than the one she had awoken in. There were heavy damask curtains at the window and around the bed. In the servant’s quarters, the curtains were thin and aged, and the cot had only a thin blanket.
    The trunk by his bed was locked. He obviously kept the key on his person. She knelt beside it and worked her magic. Lifting the lid, she quickly rifled through the clothing. Beneath it she found several rolls of papers tied with ribbons. Casting them aside, she moved on to what appeared to be more interesting contents beneath—heavier goods wrapped in worn fabric. There were two parcels, and she lifted one out. It contained coins, a hefty sum. She was tempted to purloin a few. After several long moments of temptation, she decidedit would not be worth the risk in case he had counted them. I know where they are, should he try to double-cross me.
    Pleased by that, she rearranged the parcel and lifted up the second. It, too, was heavy, although not as weighty as the coins.