Freshly cooked bread has never smelt so good. The fragrance sends my ravenous stomach into overdrive, the growl of which is so loud, I fear it may draw attention to me. With full access to the castle, I don’t have to sneak around, but at least this way I can hone my powers whilst also having a bit of fun.
Tilting my head up, I allow the luxurious smell to engulf my nose once more before scurrying across the cold stone floor. My nails catch against the surface as I cover ground quickly. The pads on my feet tingle with an icy sting as if I walk in snow, but the sensation helps keep me grounded, focused. Above me, steam rises from the table; I’ve found the bread. My stomach gives another grumble, this time causing my muscles to gripe. When the cook leaves to gather some ingredients, I seize my opportunity. I rush at the legs of the table and use my nails to cling to the wood as I ascend to the tabletop. My eyes widen at the sight of the crisp, warm bread in front of me. The warmth it emits brings me comfort as if I sit in front of a fire. I waste no time tearing into it, not even caring when the heat stings my mouth. I wildly devour the side of the loaf, oblivious to my surroundings.
“Fucking rats!”
The voice of the agitated chef startles my attention, and as I look up at the giant’s frame, it is already too late. In his right hand he grasps a rolling pin which he brings down on me with incredible force.
In an instant, my connection to the rodent is severed and I find myself sitting in front of my intricately carved vanity table. In the reflection, my emerald-green, bloodshot eyes stare back at me, and sweat beads on my forehead from the strain of using my magic. Possession is a method I have been honing for a while now. Like other spells, the more I practice, the stronger I become, and the longer I can maintain the connection.
I allow myself a few moments to reacclimatise to my own body, quickly taking a sip of water to quell the familiar urge to vomit. I take out my journal from the drawer to my right and add my new findings to my notes.
“Connection severed when possessed body’s life is ended,” I speak as I write the words, coughing to clear my throat in the process. I had become reckless, engrossed in the moment as I let my acquired rat senses distract me. I am grateful that the chef’s actions merely severed our connection; up until now, I had never experienced something like that.
After I finish my notes and lock my journal away, I return my gaze to the mirror and search over the woman that sits before me. The glint of my necklace catches the candlelight. I bring my hand to hold the charm that sits at the nape of my neck, closing my eyes.
My temporary moment of solace is interrupted by a brisk, sudden knock at the door. It jolts my eyes open and my nostrils flare with frustration.
“What is it?” I ask curtly.
“It’s a letter,” a nervous voice calls back.
“I am not dressed. Leave it by the door and I will read it when I am ready.” The unwelcome distraction sours my mood.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” the voice stammers, “it’s just, the letter has the king’s seal on it.”
Now that does capture my attention. I push my chair back quickly, the legs squeaking against the stone floor.
“Come in,” I call out.
The door creaks as it is heaved open by one of the guards, and a young man approaches me with the letter in his hand. Trembling, the man passes it to me as quickly as possible. King Athos Almerion’s seal is fixed to one side of the envelope: three swords pointing down with a third pointing upwards through the middle.
“That is all.” I cast my eyes to the guard who shuffles his tunic straight before exiting, closing the door behind him. He leaves me to my own comfort once more. Just as I like it.
I remove the letter from its envelope and pore over the king’s words:
Morgana,
I have received a report regarding the condition of Eltera following the witch trials. It causes me great concern to learn that after three years, Lord Wistler is unable to bring order about the people to ensure taxes are collected in a timely manner. With my forces stretched thin, we need all available resources if we are to finally end this war and claim these lands as our own. The spellcasters you trained have proven most helpful, but as you warned, their continued magic use takes a toll on their bodies, rendering them useless. For this reason, I request that you continue your experiments around magic and continue to train those that are able to wield magic so that they can aid us.”
I do have one further request of you. If you can fulfil it, it will certainly put you in my favour when I return. As Codrin currently stands as ward over Askela, I need you to go to Eltera. I need you to find out why Lord Wistler is unable to get control of his people and ensure that coin and weapons are being provided for our forces. Their forge is renowned for producing the strongest armour in Levanthria and it is imperative that we regain use of it. Head to Eltera, take back control, and help me end this war against the Zarubians. Because Eltera is the nearest city to the southern ports, I fear that foreign forces such as the Barbaraqs may seek to take advantage of my absence. Eltera cannot fall. Levanthria’s fate may depend upon it.
I will make this more than worth your while when I return. After all, a king needs a queen.
Kindest regards,
King Athos Almerion
My chest pulses as I finish reading the letter. Did I read right? Is King Athos offering to make me his queen if I am successful? I would need to postpone my experiments if I were to make for Eltera.
“Guards,” I call out, and the door creaks open once more. “Have a carriage prepared for me. It would appear that the king has a request of me in Eltera.”
“Right away, Lady Morgana,” the nervous guard responds, a quake in his voice. “Your maids have arrived with your breakfast.”
When my maids enter, one opens the doors to my wardrobe and starts to prepare my clothes for the day.
The younger one slides me a tray laden with fruit and bread. “Morning, Lady Morgana,” she says.
My eyes widen and my nostrils flare when I see the bread that has been presented to me. It is the fresh bread that I have already sampled whilst in possession of the rat.
“Guards!” I shriek. “Have the cook brought to me at once.” I will not have it that he knowingly served me food tainted by rats – an insolence I will make him pay for before I leave.