“Did he say what for?” Artemisia pushed her chair away from the table and stood up.

“He said there was someone here to see you?” The servant ducked his head nervously, perhaps feeling intimidated by the gaze of two confident young women.

“Oh!”

She remembered that the duke had told her the day before that the witch would be visiting the next day.

“Sorry Emile, but can we end this here today?” Artemisia made an apologetic gesture.

“Very well,” Emile said. “What’s got you so excited?”

“Ah, um, nothing!” Artemisia tried to smooth her grin, following the servant out of the room.

I can’t help it! I read fantasy for escapism – of course the concept of magic excites me! I want to see how it works!

The walk to her father’s study seemed excruciatingly long, and not for the first time Artemisia questioned the size of the manor. There were so many unnecessary rooms.

I wonder what trope the author went with for witches in this world? Will she be a hunched over crone, or a beautiful and alluring sorceress? I should probably be fine if it’s the former, but I need to be careful with the latter. Those characters are almost never good news.

Unfortunately for Artemisia’s active imagination, the witch followed neither of those tropes. The woman she was greeted with when she entered Hesperus’ study was a perfectly ordinary looking middle-aged woman. Her clothes indicated that she was moderately well off, but a little below the level of nobility. The only thing that was particularly interesting about her was the large jewel pendant she wore around her neck. The woman curtsied to Artemisia.

“A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

“Charmed,” Artemisia responded, nodding her head with all the airs of a noble lady she could summon.

“Artemisia, this is Mrs Bowes, and she is a most accomplished witch. She has assisted me in some matters before, and I have every confidence in her ability.” Hesperus was sat at his desk. Two chairs had been arranged in front of it, facing each other.

Artemisia glanced at Hesperus, raising her hand to chew absent-mindedly on her thumbnail. Is he here to watch? What if she picks up that my soul is different from my body, or however it gets worded? Would she say anything? How would she word it? I’m sure it wouldn’t mean anything good…

“Your Grace, sir?” said Mrs Bowes all of a sudden. “This could be an uncomfortable experience for a young woman who has had little to no experience of witchcraft before. If you would be so kind, could we do it in a more intimate environment?”

Hesperus raised his eyebrows as if the idea had never occurred to him, before glancing at Artemisia. “Arte, would that agree with you?”

Artemisia breathed a silent sigh of relief.

If it’s just her, I should be able to convince her not to say anything if she notices something odd. It wouldn’t be my preferred action, but surely I could bribe her, right?

“Yes, father, it would.”

But wait, she worded that like a doctor talking to a patient. She’s not going to do anything too invasive… is she?

The two of them were moved to a small parlour, the type where a lady might receive a close friend. Hesperus agreed to have only the two of them in the room, but said he would be waiting on the other side of the door.

Once the duke had left the room, Artemisia turned nervous eyes upon Mrs Bowes. “What are you going to do, exactly?”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Mrs Bowes smiled encouragingly. She was less deferential than the servants around the estate usually were; it seemed likely she was used to nobles, or confident enough in her position as a witch to not fawn over them. “I saw you were nervous and thought it might help to get your father out of the room. It’s quite intimidating in his study, is it not?”

“Yes, it is.” Artemisia sat down on one of the sofas, and motioned at the other one. A teaset had been produced seemingly out of nowhere, but as Artemisia reached for the teapot, Mrs Bowes blanched.

“My lady! Please, let me pour the tea! Don’t lower yourself for my sake!”

“What?” Artemisia frowned. “But as the host, should I not serve you?”

“Perhaps when amongst the nobility, but it is most unusual for a woman of your status to pour the tea for someone of a lower class, such as myself.”

“I understand. But please, let me do this for you. You are here to see me, after all.”

“Very well, my lady.” Mrs Bowes sat down on the opposite sofa, and sipped politely at the tea Artemisia poured for her.

“So,” Artemisia began, sitting back down. “By your readiness to correct me, I assume you are aware of my memory loss.”

Act smooth. Don’t let her think anything is amiss.

“Yes, I am. The duke explained your accident and resulting situation to me as much as he was able. However, is there anything you yourself remember?”

“Nothing.” Artemisia drank her tea to put off answering any further.

“And have you noticed anything unusual about yourself since the accident? Any sudden headaches, body pains, or strange marks on your body?”

“No, I don’t think so… can those be a sign of a curse?” Artemisia asked.

“Some curses do manifest side effects like that, yes. However, if you have been cursed, the memory loss indicates that this is a curse of the mind, not the body.”

“A curse of the mind?” Artemisia leaned forward. “What is the difference between the two? Are there any other types of curses? I’m curious to learn more.”

Mrs Bowes blinked a few times, apparently taken aback by Artemisia’s enthusiasm. “Ahem, these are the two types of curses used to affect a living being. There are other types of curses, ones that might refer to a location or an object, for example, but I doubt they apply here.” When she saw Artemisia’s eager expression, she seemed pleased, and her explanation picked up steam. “Curses of the body affect the physical you, such as weakening your limbs, or making you waste away, or in the worst cases, killing the unfortunate soul outright. Curses of the mind are a little more subtle, and affect the mental you. Amnesia is a rare but not unheard of result.”

Wooowww, this is fascinating!

“How do you intend to test if I am cursed?”

I wonder… would me entering this body count as a curse? Yikes.

“Don’t worry, my lady,” Mrs Bowes said reassuringly. “It is a very simple procedure. All I need to do is use my conduit,” she touched her pendant, “and hold your hand. I will send a small pulse of magic through your body, and the echo that returns to me will let me see if there is any magic lingering in your body.”

So… a magic ultrasound, basically?

“It will only take a minute or so,” continued Mrs Bowes. She extended her hand. “You might feel a tingling sensation, but that will be it.”

Artemisia reached out, and then hesitated, her hand hovering above Mrs Bowes’. I have no idea what’s going to happen here. This could completely expose me. I have no idea how I came to be in Artemisia’s body, after all. It could have been magic? In fact, it likely was magic!

But… the transmigrated protagonists are never figured out this early in the storyline. Or if they are, it’s something that can be easily brushed over. Therefore, by that logic, I should be a-okay!

“Lady Artemisia? Are you alright? Are you nervous still?”

“Oh, um, yes! I’m perfectly fine!” Artemisia said, and held Mrs Bowes’ hand before she had the chance to worry any longer.

I thought I had gotten past my anxiety holding me back… wait, where did that thought come from?