To Kill a Kettle Witch (Novel of the Mist-Torn Witches) by Barb Hendee

walking toward the castle. It was a pleasant construction of light gray stone with two slender towers on the north side and two wider towers on the south end.
    Nothing Jaromir had seen so far gave him reason to be overly concerned about Prince Malcolm. The guards were disciplined, but no one appeared to be living in fear of making a mistake. This suggested they were treated fairly and that they respected authority here as opposed to fearing it. That was a good sign.
    Renald led Jaromir south to a large set of doors. There, the captain stopped, and a slightly worried expression crossed his face. “At this time of day, I’m not certain . . .” He trailed off. “Wait here.”
    It was unusual for an officer carrying a message to be told to wait outside, but Jaromir nodded.
    The captain was gone for some time, and when the doors opened again, an impressive-looking man emerged. He was tall and broad-shouldered with short silver hair, wearing a leather hauberk. He looked to be about fifty, but his features were even and his face showed few lines.
    The captain came out behind him.
    Prince Malcolm assessed Jaromir.
    “You’re one of Prince Anton’s men?” he asked immediately.
    “Yes, my lord.”
    “And what message does he send to me? My son is ill and my lady is distraught, so my time is limited.”
    “The message is to be conveyed in private.”
    Malcolm looked distracted and harried—and who wouldn’t be with his crops failing?—but his eyes narrowed in interest and he pointed to an alcove in the bottom of the nearest tower. “In there.”
    Jaromir followed him into the alcove, and as soon as they were alone, he reached down the front of his shirt. He had to make a quick decision regarding which letter to produce. One was a false note explaining that Anton would be visiting the area soon to meet with some merchants here, and that he hoped to stay here at the castle. He also requested the pending visit be kept a secret out of security concerns. This first letter made no mention of Malcolm’s current situation or of Céline and Amelie’s presence.
    The second letter was an admission that Anton knew of Malcolm’s plight, along with an announcement that he’d sent help. Jaromir was to pass over the first letter if he deemed Malcolm to be dangerous.
    In this moment, he had little to go on. This prince had brought about a man’s death during an interrogation, but many princes had done that. Now Malcolm seemed more concerned about his wife and son than anything else.
    Grasping the second letter, Jaromir held it out.
    Malcolm broke the seal, read the contents, and looked up in shock. “You brought two seers?”
    “One sees the future and one sees the past. They have helped my lord three times now to solve seeminglyunsolvable issues. When he heard of your plight, he sent them to you.”
    “How did he find out?” Malcolm asked in alarm. “I haven’t sent word to anyone yet. I would rather resolve this without it becoming common knowledge.”
    That was understandable, but in truth, Jaromir still had no idea how Helga had learned of the situation here.
    “No one in power knows except for my lord,” he assured him, “and as I mentioned, he has two seers in his service. He only wishes to offer you assistance.”
    Somewhat relieved by this news, Malcolm sighed. “It was one of those Móndyalítko down in the meadow. I’ve been providing them with water and firewood, but once their food runs out, someone will talk. While I appreciate Anton’s offer, I can resolve this.”
    “What if it wasn’t one of the Móndyalítko?” Jaromir asked.
    “Who else could it be?”
    “Anyone. Anyone with a grudge against you and the ability to either cast or hire someone to cast a curse. Do you have no enemies at all?”
    Malcolm stared at Jaromir as if this had never even occurred to him. Perhaps he was none too intelligent.
    “Today, the seers are reading anyone in the meadow who will volunteer,” Jaromir added, “and