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

medicinal supplies, but she came over to inspect the clothing. “Helga, it’s not that I disagree with you. I know we won’t be trusted if we’re viewed as outsiders, but won’t that become immediately apparent when we ride into camp with the lieutenant and a small contingent of Sèone soldiers?”
    “Yup, you would,” Helga agreed. “That’s why the lieutenant and I came up with something else. He rode out of town early this morning, and he should be back anytime.”
    “Back from where?” Amelie asked.
    “You’ll see,” Helga answered. “Now come on andget dressed, girls. I’ll need to help with the sashes and jewelry.”
    “Jewelry?” Amelie repeated.
    But by now, she knew it was useless to argue with Helga. No matter how much Amelie had protested in the past, Helga always somehow got her laced into what gown was necessary for the ruse they had to play.
    Sighing, Amelie pulled off her canvas jacket. “Lock the front door,” she said to Céline.
    In a surprisingly short amount of time, Helga had transformed both the sisters.
    Céline was dressed in a bright red skirt, a white blouse, and an orange paisley sash tied around her waist. Her ears were pierced, so she wore silver hoops in her ears and a line of loose, dangling bracelets down both wrists.
    Amelie wore a bright blue skirt, a white blouse—that was indeed too low-cut—and a yellow sash. As her ears weren’t pierced, Helga had to be satisfied by adorning her with a few silver bracelets.
    Then Amelie secured her dagger into a sheath inside her right boot.
    Though she’d never admit it, this attire was much more comfortable than the silk gowns she’d been laced into on their last venture. At least she could move and breathe.
    Oliver, Céline’s cat, sat on the counter and watched all of this with interest.
    “I have several spare blouses for you both,” Helga said.
    “What about you?” Amelie challenged. “Don’t you need to look a little more . . . Móndyalítko?”
    “I am Móndyalítko,” Helga answered. “Don’t need to worry about looking more like one.”
    Amelie was about to press this further when Céline said, “I will need to run down to the blacksmith’s and ask Erin to take care of Oliver while we’re gone. I hate to leave him for so long, though.”
    When the sisters traveled, Céline’s friend Erin came to the shop once a day to put out bowls of milk and water for Oliver. He hunted mice and took care of himself for the most part, but Céline feared he might feel abandoned if no one cared for him.
    “Bring him along,” Helga said.
    “Bring him? How can I possibly do—?”
    A sound like rolling wheels could be heard from outside.
    “There’s the lieutenant,” Helga said, starting for the door.
    Amelie glanced at Céline, who shook her head in puzzlement as the sisters followed Helga.
    Upon leaving the shop, Amelie needed a moment to absorb the scene before her.
    Two wagons—that looked like small houses—waited out front, each one drawn by a pair of stout horses. The larger wagon in front was painted white with yellow shutters and a red roof. The smaller one in the back was painted blue with tan shutters and a tan roof.
    Jaromir was on the front bench of the larger wagon, driving the horses. He set the brake and jumped down.
    Amelie took in the sight of him. Gone were his armor, tabard, and sword. He was now dressed in loosebrown pants, a black shirt with an open front, and a canvas vest. She guessed he had knives and daggers hidden up his sleeves and in his boots.
    He looked so different, almost rakish, and he flashed her a grin.
    “Look at you,” he teased, running his eyes from her feet to her shoulders. “This journey might be more enjoyable than I thought.”
    Oh no
, she thought, wondering how Helga would react if she dashed back inside the shop for her pants and jacket.
    *   *   *
    Céline had barely taken in the sight of the first wagon when she turned her gaze to the second one, and up to