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

suppose you think you’re making yourself stand out, cutting your hair like that,” she said. “But most men won’t like it. They like long hair.”
    Amelie couldn’t help being startled by the young woman’s manner.
    “I never gave it much thought at all,” Amelie answered. “Why don’t you sit down so we can finish this?”
    Lilah’s petulance only grew. “I don’t
need
to be read. My father is the leader of the line of Renéive, and we are above such things as this petty curse. I won’t forgive him for forcing me to submit to this like some common Klempá.”
    Amelie hadn’t noticed any bigotry among thesepeople themselves, but Lilah appeared to view herself as far above some of the other families.
    “Do you want to leave?” Amelie asked. At this point, she’d rather the girl did walk out.
    With a roll of her eyes and a huffing sound, Lilah sat in the chair across the table and assessed Amelie again. “You do think you’re awfully pretty, don’t you? Well, I wouldn’t try stealing any of the men here or you’ll find your high-blown status won’t save you. There are other women as pretty as you, and they fight for what’s theirs.”
    Oh, for goodness’ sake. Lilah might be a startling beauty, but she was proving to be one of the most unpleasant people Amelie had met in some time.
    “Give me your hand,” Amelie said, reaching out.
    Grasping Lilah’s fingers, Amelie closed her eyes and focused on the spark of Lilah’s spirit and then upon the source of the curse. She’d become more adept at focusing her powers of late. If Lilah had anything to do with the devastation of the crops, the mists would show those images.
    The first jolt hit her almost instantly, and Amelie braced herself.
    When the second jolt hit, she experienced a familiar sensation, as if her body was being swept along a tunnel of mist. For a moment she forgot everything but speeding backward through the mists all around her as they swirled in tones of grays and whites.
    Her ability worked slightly differently from Céline’s in several ways. While Céline could only see someone else’s future as an observer, if Amelie wished, she could bond with her target and see the past through his orher eyes. In these cases, the people Amelie read could be just as conscious as she was of the scenes being replayed, and afterward they were aware of exactly what she’d seen. The people Céline read never had any idea what she was seeing. The two sisters had discussed these differences, and Céline guessed they might be because the past was set in stone, and the future could still be changed—that she was just seeing one possible line unless something was done to alter it.
    This time, Amelie did not bond with Lilah. She wished to be only an observer. When the reading was over, Lilah would have no idea what images from the past Amelie might have seen.
    The mists vanished.
    Amelie found herself standing in a lush orchard of trees laden with apple blossoms. The sun shone overhead. But she had no time to notice much of her surroundings because of the shocking sight directly in front of her . . . along with the sounds.
    A tall, naked man was pumping away on a slender, dark-haired girl beneath himself: Lilah. The man’s pale backside moved up and down rapidly as he breathed loudly in wild abandon.
    Lilah alternately moaned and gasped and cried, “Oh, my lord, faster!”
    Amelie looked away, beyond embarrassed even though she wasn’t truly here and neither of them would be aware of her presence.
    Their mutual sounds grew even louder, and then the man gave a great cry. After a moment, Amelie dared to glance back to see him lying beside Lilah whilestroking her face. He was a large man with broad shoulders and silver hair.
    “My love,” he whispered.
    “My prince,” she murmured. “Malcolm.”
    Inside the vision, Amelie froze. Lilah was cavorting with Prince Malcolm?
    “I would make you my own,” he said into her ear. Then he reached for his