Evita watched the old clock as it ticked, clicking the silver spoon twice on the rim of her ceramic cup. The bergamot tea she had prepared for the occasion (an interrogation) suited her mood perfectly: dark, very dark, but still rich in flavor (the flavor being her rage, fury and general pizzazz). The stranger had not been served any. In fact, to add to the already very much present awkwardness, the witch had made her sit on the ricketiest, smallest, most mischievous chair in the room. She watched in hidden delight as the stranger tried to make herself fit on the small thing, with little success and with rising frustration. Small annoyances were also a form of torture, she thought, as she took a sip of her tea as loudly and as slowly as possible, holding eye contact for an extremely long amount of time. She wondered, eyeing the assortment of pastries she had set on the table, if she should also try eating one with her mouth open and with a lot of chewing.

  But the woman seemed to be already suffering. Evita settled the cup on the matching ceramic plate with practiced, elegant movements.

  “So,” she started, resting both hands on the table, while keeping her posture intentionally relaxed. “As of right now, I believe you to be a common thief who chose the wrong victim.” Her fingers twitched and she watched, pleased, as the stranger followed her movements with careful precision. She was scared. “I’m sure you know I could make you disappear. Nobody would notice and I,” she smiled serenely, then. “Would have a perfect, little tribute for my woods. Convince me not to do that.”

  The woman’s jaw twitched and she averted her eyes. Evita waited a second before continuing, “Do you need some help with talking? I could remove a tooth or two. See, I would start from the back and then, slowly, make my way to the front. What do you think? I’m sure you would look so fetching with a set of dentures… that is, if you can afford it. I don’t think thieving pays much. Especially if I’m the kind of target you go after.”

  The stranger paled and stiffened imperceptibly, but she still made no move to speak. What, removing molars didn’t scare people anymore? She ought to tell her tutors to update their textbooks, she thought.

  “Alright. Let it be known I would have shown mercy.” She said, before charming her hands to light up. Blue flames licked at her skin without burning herself or the table; some of the other furniture recoiled in terror and Evita felt sorry for them, but it had to be done. It was mostly a light show and nobody would get hurt, but the thief didn’t need to know that. She just needed to be scared.

  “Fine!” she blurted out; eyes locked onto the witch’s hands. “I’ll speak! Just… don’t hurt me. They don’t pay me enough for this.”

  The fire went out. “Good. I’m happy you chose to cooperate. Blood is awfully hard to get out of carpets, even with magic.” She sighed, “Why were you in my house? Who are ‘they’?”

  The woman gripped the crimson-stoned necklace at her throat (why had she just noticed it?) and spoke: “I saw you at the lighthouse this morning. You opened it.”

  Evita was not a violent person, and she rarely used her magic to do ill, training be damned. She was a healer, a nurturer, somebody who went into the woods to speak with the flowers and the birds, for god’s sake. But in that moment, she found herself evaluating the pros and cons of killing someone who could blackmail you.

  The pros were simple: no more blackmail. The cons, depending on perspective, were also simple: you kill someone, but you have to live with that for the rest of your life. Now, could she live with gripping self-hatred and probably nightmares for the rest of her days? What a good fucking question.

  Keeping her features still and calm, she responded, “I think you’re mistaken.”

  “Tall, white-haired vampire holding a short woman in front of the aforementioned building following a green explosion? I don’t think I’m mistaken. You just brought the end of days.”

  Evita waved her off and laughed nervously, suddenly all too aware of the broken amulet in her pocket. “Psh. That’s a bit dramatic.”

  “Dramatic?” the woman tightened her grip on the pendant, “Five centuries that lighthouse has been closed. Now you swoop in, little sheltered wood witch, and boom! You open it. I’d like to know why.”

  “Why would you like to know, thief? You seemed to be a lot more interested in where I kept my undergarments.”

  The woman’s cheeks dusted pink, which was both disgustingly charming and severely out of place on her scarred face. “I’m not a thief, I’m a mercenary. And I’m working for the Queen.”

  Evita burst out laughing, “The Queen hiring the likes of you? That’s so good.” She wiped off a tear, still cackling. “Tell me more! Are you secretly a princess? Is this the kind of story we’re in? Princess in disguise wants a job because she feels useless? God, am I supposed to be a plot device of some sort?”

  “Look at this, witch.” The woman said, dangling the necklace in front of her face, which Evita thought to be extremely rude. Although she had to admit that it did get the point across. “What kind of stone is this?”

  Still trying to get her laughter in check, she said “Why would I- Oh.”

  A garnet. The stone was a garnet. It was the royal symbol. The thief, no, mercenary was telling the truth.

  Evita paled. Was the Queen after her?! That would be extremely bad. The monarch wasn’t known for her cruelty, but she certainly wasn’t known for her benevolence, either. It was really a hit or miss with her and the witch didn’t particularly like those odds.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  She cleared her throat, “Good. Yes, that’s a garnet. Well, I guess not every thief is also a liar, huh?” the stranger raised one eyebrow and said nothing, so she continued, “…Is the Queen keeping an eye on me specifically or…?”

  She needed to know because she had several exit plans prepared. If she had to flee the Continent, then so be it. She could make her fortune elsewhere. Cities and villages would always need resident witches, after all, even if she would miss this particular town and its woods very much if she had to leave.

  “No, just on the lighthouse. The Court Witch told her that the enchantment seemed to be unstable, which the Queen had been suspecting for a long time. So, she sent me here. I’m forgettable, you see. I do good espionage work.”

  The witch would have never described the woman as forgettable. She would have described her as the opposite of that, what with her curly hair and dimples and leather armor and healthy, olive skin. She looked comically out of place in the dark and humid Cliff’s Drop. They really didn’t get a lot of sun.

  “Right. I could kill you and make sure she never finds out about my involvement. How about that?”

  “Good idea, if you’re okay with the garnet sending the Court Witch a magical signal recording the last place I’ve been in once it stops registering my life force. I hear she is vicious.”

  God, Verbena would never let her get off easy and the woman was right, she was vicious. Her sister used to hide frogs in her bed to prank her. Poisonous frogs. She couldn’t believe that her beloved sister would still be making her life miserable, despite living miles away. The witch was sure that the garnet pendant had been Verbena’s idea since she had always possessed a weakness for enchanted jewelry.

  Troubling familiar relations aside, the truth was that she was desperately, miserably and utterly stuck. She couldn’t see an escape route. Would a bribe work? She could offer the mercenary an enchantment for her armor, perhaps? She eyed the worn leather and decided that maybe she should just offer her a brand-new enchanted armor instead. With a sneaky loyalty charm laced into the seams that would force her to take this information to the grave.

  “Then are you going to tell her?” she asked before she decided to make her offer. She couldn’t really afford to put a dent in her savings.

  The stranger clicked her tongue, tucking the pendant back inside her shirt. “I don’t think I will.”

  “…Why?”

  “I get paid hourly.”

  That made sense.

  “Well, then I guess… goodbye? I was in the middle of something regarding the lighthouse in the first place, and I don’t appreciate interruptions.”

  “I want in. I’ve always dreamed of being part of history.” the woman said. “Before you refuse, I’m fully ready to give up a few days of additional pay and turn you in. Just so you know.”

  “You want in?! Look, this is a magical issue and I,” she gestured at herself, “Can do magic! You can’t! You’d be a dead weight.”

  “You look weak.” She looked at Evita’s frame pointedly, making her bristle in response, “And I can fight. It’s an easy equation. Not every enemy comes at you with magic, some of them do it with swords.”

  “I can look after myself.” She said, irritated.

  “You don’t really have much of a choice.” The woman countered, her posture relaxing. She thought she had won. “Either you put up with me, or the Queen finds out about the lighthouse, the unpaid taxes and what was that about your vampire friend doing the royal family’s portraits and you aiding him? That’s right.” She nodded, not letting Evita speak. “Your friend’s real chatty, he really didn’t let me get a word in.”

  The witch drummed her fingers on the table, wondering if she had the stomach to decapitate Killian in the event she couldn’t fashion a satisfactory stake. “You did your research.”

  The woman smiled, “I did. So, where are we going?”

  “Slow down, I don’t even know your name! How do I know you won’t betray me and tell people about the fact that I,” she looked around, lowering her voice to a whisper. Even the walls had ears, and sometimes that was literal. “Opened the lighthouse.”

  “You can call me Rin, and you don’t. I guess you’re going to have to take my word for it.”

  “Fine, thief.” She bit out, defeated. “Why were you going through my things?”

  Rin shrugged, “I needed to find some dirt on you. Some advice: I would personally hide the counterfeit magical oven permit better.”

  Evita blinked, wondering how the tables had turned so quickly. She thought herself to be the one interrogating Rin, not the other way around. Even the traitorous chair seemed to have decided to accommodate the mercenary’s big frame, letting her sit comfortably, completely at home in the witch’s space. Legs relaxed and slightly spread apart, arm crossed and head cocked to the side, she was the personification of the notorious cat who got the cream.

  “Alright, you’re in. But,” she continued, watching as the other woman smirked at her. So infuriating. “Let’s set some ground rules. I make all the decisions, no violence unless I say so and I want a percentage of whatever you’re earning from working for the Queen.”

  Rin rolled her eyes, “Yes to the first two, no to the last one. I’m the one blackmailing you, you don’t have anything on me.”

  “Oh, but I do. You’re helping me and I don’t think the Queen gave you that order. Which means that if I go down, I’m dragging you with me.” Evita smiled, “I want 50%.”

  “15%.” Haggled the other, mouth tightening in a firm line. She looked like she had tasted something incredibly sour. Maybe it was defeat. It did taste very bad. “You’re not getting more.”

  “25% and I’ll throw in an enchantment for your armor.”

  “I don’t trust witches. 20%.”

  “I want 25% or I’ll turn you into a living statue. The garnet necklace will still detect your life force, but you’ll be stuck until I decide to free you. It starts getting boring after an hour, imagine what a year of that would do to you.”

  The mercenary smiled at her, her eyes twinkling with barely contained mirth and Evita felt the urge to start fidgeting, but she was able to hold herself back. She felt a nagging feeling on the back of her head telling her that she was being messed with. “Impressive.” said Rin. “25% it is. Let’s shake on it.”

  The taller woman stood up and leaned over the table that separated them, holding her hand out. Evita gulped and took it, noticing how calloused her hands were while silently praying for her own palms not to sweat. She shook it once and then let her go. The silence between them was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. Even a determined pencil would do it, really.

  The witch cleared her throat, “We’re going into the woods to look for my aunt’s hut. I have been… told I could find something there. It’s worth a try.”

  Rin shrugged, “Lead the way.”

  She wondered if she could lead Rin’s personal way towards her untimely death without incriminating herself. The woods were a dangerous place, after all, especially for a person they weren’t familiar with.. Evita smiled to herself.

  She could still fix it all.