To Kill a Kettle Witch (Novel of the Mist-Torn Witches) Read Online Free PDF Page A

“And how can you say it doesn’t concern you? Do you not hope to be grand prince of this entire nation? Wasn’t your mother from the house of Yegor?”
    He sucked in a harsh breath, and she worried she’d gone too far. Anton’s mother had died when he was only eight years old, but her family was from Yegor.
    “You may not be one of my soldiers,” he said angrily, “but I gave you my protection and I gave you a livelihood when you had nothing.”
    She flinched as if he’d slapped her. Was that what he thought? That she served him out of some sense of necessary gratitude?
    “So because you gave us your protection and the apothecary’s shop, our abilities are now to be used
only
in your service? What will you do if we decide to go to Yegor anyway? Will you take the shop from us? Will you order your guards at the gates to detain us? Have we become prisoners here?”
    “You asked me for my leave, and I said no!” His voice rose. “There is no need for any of these dramatics. Have I made any threats? Have I threatened to take the shop away or to lock you inside the village? Don’t paint me as some blackheart in all this!”
    She whirled, taking quick steps toward the door. “Then we’ll leave in the morning, even if we have to borrow the horses and travel alone. I trust you won’t begrudge loaning three women a few horses!”
    Grabbing the door handle, she’d just begun to pull when his hand passed by her head and pushed the doorclosed. He stood behind her, holding the door shut, and she turned around to face his chin.
    “Céline,” he whispered.
    Her anger faded, and she wished she understood him better. “Please, Anton. Amelie and I can do something no one else can, and these are our mother’s people. Let us go to help them.” Leaning forward, she rested her forehead on his chest. “Please.”
    “And if I don’t give Jaromir leave to guard you, you’ll go by yourselves? You would do that?”
    With her head still pressed against his chest, she nodded. “Yes.”
    He sighed in what sounded likeresignation.

Chapter Three
    The following morning, just before midday, Amelie and Céline were in the shop, making preparations to leave.
    Amelie was still somewhat uncertain of the events of the previous day. Apparently, Anton had initially refused to give Jaromir leave, and then somehow Céline had changed his mind in the evening. After that, Jaromir and Helga had begun to plan together, and now the sisters were told to wait for further word.
    Amelie couldn’t help feeling somewhat in the dark.
    “I thought we’d leave before now,” she said.
    “So did I,” Céline answered. “I wish I knew what Jaromir and Helga have been up to.”
    As if by way of answer, a loud knock sounded on the door, followed by Helga shouting, “Hurry up! My arms are full!”
    Amelie ran to the front door of the shop and opened it. Helga stood on the other side, carrying a pile of clothing—skirts, blouses, and brightly covered scarves.
    “What is all that?” Amelie asked in sudden suspicion.
    Every time the sisters had been asked to leave Sèone to use their abilities in Anton’s service, Amelie had been forced to play some ridiculous “part” and to dress accordingly. First, she’d had to play a lady of Anton’s court and later, she’d had to pretend to be the daughter of a wealthy merchant. In both cases, she’d been forced to wear a variety of silk gowns.
    Now what did Helga have in mind?
    “You’ll be rolling into that meadow as Mist-Torn seers from the line of Fawe,” Helga announced, stomping in with her usual energy. “You have to look the parts or you won’t be trusted. The Móndyalítko only trust their own.”
    Rolling in? What did that mean?
    Worse, Amelie eyed the garments in Helga’s arms. The white peasant blouses looked rather low-cut. “I’m not wearing one of those.”
    “Yes, you are,” Helga responded. “Now get those pants off . . . and that dusty jacket.”
    Céline had been packing