Chevias had returned to his room unnoticed, and was now pacing around in the small amount of floor space. Why would the staff want Ellie to throw up? Did they mean for that to happen? One thing was for certain. It wasn’t a mistake. If it was, why was Ellie the only one with the emetic? If it had been spilled onto the food, wouldn’t all of their meals been contaminated? And the spice…the food wasn’t poorly seasoned out of incompetence. It was clearly an attempt to hide the smell of rapstine from him. It was all premeditated, but why?

Maybe they tried to poison her and used the wrong ingredient? He shook his head, “No, no no….” If Ellie had dropped dead from poison, he’d have ripped this house apart to find out who and why. Whoever did it didn’t want him to know. If that was the case, the emetics were probably to make her seem ill. They probably want to kill her and pass it off as a tragic accident.

‘An accident…shit.” The chandelier. That wasn’t an accident either. Chevias put his hand on the door knob, his head spinning. He stopped short.

The dining room. The crumbs, the cold seat, the smell of food…all the evidence suggested that it had hosted another group just before his. The lack of available rooms. The hair on his tail bristled.

There are other witches here. And Viscera doesn’t want me to know that.

He backed away from the door and moved to the balcony. He closed the door behind him and silently hopped up on the railing, climbing down and avoiding other windows. Every one of them could be a spying eye right now.

His mind was whirring as he slunk into the shadow of the forest and started making his way to the girls’ side of the house. He knew the way the showers were designed in this house, so Ellie was probably with Afina right now. If these…assassins were using such underhanded tactics, they probably wouldn’t try to kill Ellie when she’s around. If there was anyone trying to kill her. But there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that someone put emetic in her food on purpose. They probably want to make her seem sick so they can blame any harm that befalls her on feverish delirium, or something like that.

He rounded the girls’ side of the building and felt anxiety well up in his chest. I could be being paranoid. ‘Maybe it was all accidents.’ He looked up at the massive oak that loomed right in front of what he would soon be happy to find out where Afina and Ellie’s balconies. ‘But I’d rather not have to explain to her parents why their daughter died. So better safe than sorry.’

……………………………………………..

When Ellie bid Afina goodnight, she slipped into her room and took a running leap onto the fluffy bed. The moon light was blocked by the forest, but star light was dimly lighting the room. She pulled up the covers and snuggled down. As fluffy as the bed was and as nice as being clean was, she still wasn’t exactly comfortable. All of her injuries ached dimly and her stomach still felt…unstable. On top that, she was hungry. But there was no way she was going to risk eating again tonight. She still felt like her stomach could do a flip any moment and send her into another bout.

She still couldn’t understand why she’d done that. She’d always had a strong stomach, and she’d felt fine at first…it was the weird.

Ellie decided it wasn’t important. She’d feel better in the morning and by tomorrow’s end she’d finally be home. Home, safe, and ready to put all talk of witches, Yundashists and talking owls behind her.

She dozed off quickly, falling fast asleep while thinking about her own bed at home.

……………………………………………..

It wasn’t a few hours later that Ellie was roused from her sleep by a creaking sound, and then the soft brushing of footsteps on carpet. It took her a moment of consciousness before Ellie realized that someone had come into her room. She bolted upright, the light from a lit candle blinding her for a moment.

“Goodness, I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you dear.” It was the maid with the scarred face. Marie.

Ellie shielded her eyes and groggily replied, “What are you doing?”

“I was just placing your clean clothes here. The stain came right out.”

“Oh…that was fast. What time is it?”

“Almost three.”

“Why are you still up?”

“After I told Lady Era that you were ill she asked me to check up on you. She said Mr. Ias would be very upset if you managed to hurt yourself in the middle of the night looking for water. Do you want some water?”

“No…hey, why do you call them that? Era and Ias….”

“Oh, that? That’s an odd bit about witches…say, may I please take your temperature? Lady Era wants to know if she should get some medicine prepared for you.”

“Ah, okay. So what’s odd about them?”

“Please open your mouth.” Marie pulled a thin metal thing out of her apron pocket that looked like a flute of glass with numbers on it. Ellie could see that the numbers were Witch Speak.

“What’s that?”

“A thermometer. A convenient little tool witches use. Though Lady Era told me they have some in Wehsan to, so I guess witches didn’t invent it. It goes under your tongue…there you go. Now just hold it there for a few minutes.”

Ellie decided that thermometers were annoying. They were cold and very uncomfortable. “Oh vat’s odd?”

“Please don’t talk while it’s working. Anyways, witches have odd naming conventions. They also have given and surnames, just like the rest of us, but they like to run it all together into one word. So with Lady Era, her surname is Era and her given name is Visc. And the formal way of addressing each other or introducing themselves is by full name.”

‘So I’ve been calling Chevias by his full name this whole time?’ Ellie managed to voice this question without displacing the thermometer.

“Don’t talk. But yes, you have. Don’t feel bad though. From what I understand, most witches prefer to be addressed by their full name. It seems like they’ll only ask non-witches to address them by just first name if their full name is difficult to pronounce. Here, it should be done now.”

Ellie gratefully took out the thermometer and handed it back, “Do they have middle names like us to?”

Marie squinted at the Witch Speak in the candle light, “No, I don’t think they do…well, you’re not running a fever. That’s good.”

“Hey, can you read Witch Speak?”

“I mostly just recognize a few words and numbers. It’s from working here for so long.”

“…Ms. Marie-”

“Oh, my name’s not Marie.”

“What?! But Viscera said-”

“My name is Margo. Lady Era is…forgetful…sometimes.” Margo seemed uncomfortable.

“She’s…I mean, I don’t mean to offend, but she’s kind of…mean….” Ellie quickly shook her head, “I mean, she doesn’t seem to like humans that much, and she said some rude things about Afina.”

“I know what you mean dear.” She sighed, the noise rattling through her ruined face, “I know exactly what you mean.” She gently rubbed at the scar on her face.

“Did…did Viscera do that?”

“What? Heavens no! This…this was done to me a long, long time ago….”

Margo stood up and carried the candle over to the balcony door, sliding it open and stepping out. Ellie started at her silhouette behind the curtain before slipping out of bed and following her.

The night air was just as warm as it had been for the last few weeks, and cicadas and crickets were calling out wildly. Ellie tried to see if she could spot any in the tree that loomed in front of her balcony, but couldn’t see anything in the heavy shadows, not even with Margo’s candle nearby. The wind was quiet and soft.

Ellie looked up at Margo, who was looking up at the half-moon with a troubled look on her face.

“Umm-”

“Listen, Miss Ellie. Lady Era isn’t a bad person. Neither is Mr. Ias. I know that,” she gestured to Afina’s room, “Yundashist would tell you otherwise, but they’re not. Witches aren’t bad. They’ve done some…terrible things, but it’s not like they’re the only ones.” She had a distant look on her face and stroked her scar again, carefully tracing over the cleave in her nose. “Oh no, humans can do so much worse….”

“…So…how did….” Ellie felt like it was probably rude to ask that, but she found the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them.

Margo shook her head, “It’s not important. Anytime before I was here is unimportant.” She took a deep breath and it audibly wheezed through her nose, “…It was Lady Era’s mother that gave me the job, Pritscera. And she’s so elegant, and graceful, and kind…” another stroke at her scar, “so kind. She knew I’d never make it in human society, so she insisted I work for her. I was useless at first, but she was so patient with me….”

She turned to Ellie, “Lady Era isn’t as…eloquent as her mother, but none of us mind. She complains about us, but could fire all of us and turn us out onto the streets. She could hire servants that suit her tastes better, but she doesn’t. She lets us stay because she knows we have nowhere else to go.” She looked off into the forest again, “…It’s pity, but pity is more than any human ever gave me.”

Ellie could only nod along, “Ah, so you really like witches then?”

“Well, better than humans anyway. As cold or cruel as they can be, I’ve never seen witches lash out for no reason whatsoever,” another rub at her scar, “…Unlike humans. They always have a reason. They always have a good reason.” She was staring at the moon, gripping the railing so tight that her knuckles were white.

Ellie frowned, “Hey, are you okay?”

She let out a shaky breath and seemed to steel herself, “…That’s just how witches are. They would never do something…awful without a good reason. I know she has to have a reason.”

“What?”

Margo finally looked at Ellie, her face pale and gaunt but her eyes stone cold, “I’m sorry.”

Margo leaned down before Ellie could react and grabbed her by the ankles. Ellie gasped and tried to kick and jump away, but it was too late. She felt herself tilt and pitch forward as her feet were lifted off the ground. She felt the banister of the balcony as it dug into her already sore stomach, and then she felt…wind. And saw the ground rushing up at her.

It was different than the time with the chandelier. That time Ellie had sort of blacked out. She remembered only very vaguely what happened before she was sprawled on the ground fifteen feet away. This time, she was acutely aware of what happened. She was a little kid. Falling. From the fourth floor. She was going to die. Or, at best, be VERY badly hurt.

All at once, she felt the sheer panic well up, but this time it prompted her to act. Not that she could do much while plummeting to her death. All she could do was let out the scream that welled up in her belly. It was a short peel, but it was the loudest, shrillest, most piercing scream she’d ever voiced. She could hear birds scattering from the trees.

She hadn’t fallen far, she just about to reach the second floor, when her scream was cut short by a terrible pain in her leg. It was like it had almost been yanked clear off her body and the pain made Ellie see stars. Another, shorter scream worked its way into her throat as she felt something pulling on that same leg, sending another shockwave of white hot agony through her.

Ellie’s mind nearly short-circuited trying to process what was happening. Instead of falling down now, she was being pulled up. In just a moment, she was right-side up and being sat on a tree branch. She could feel the same kind of daze from earlier starting to settle over her mind.

“Ellie! Hey, Ellie, look! Look here!”

She felt hands grab her face and force her to look one way. It was pitch dark in the branches of the big tree, but she could barely make out a ghostly white face staring at her. She started screaming again.

“Ellie, it’s ME! Calm down!” She felt the hand softly smack her face and she blinked wildly, trying to make sense of what just happened. Marie-no. Margo. Balcony. Falling, then pain. Pain. She was alive.

Ellie gulped as she tried to move her leg. It hurt. A lot. She was still alive. Margo. The balcony. Margo had thrown her off the balcony. Ellie felt the panic reach a new height. She hadn’t just almost died. She had almost been murdered.

“Ellie, look at me! Are you okay?!”

Chevias. The white face was Chevias. Chevias saved her. Again.

“C…C-Chevias?”

“Okay, good. Look, I need you stay RIGHT HERE. Right here, don’t make a sound. Okay? Can you do that for me?” He climbed around the dense branches and picked Ellie up, moving her right next to the trunk of the tree. Then he moved her still shaky arms to wrap around the trunk, “Just stay right here. Do you understand?”

Ellie managed to nod. She wouldn’t have moved from that spot if he had ordered her to.

“Ok, I’ll…I’ll be right back.” He disappeared. Ellie could only sit in that exact position, shuddering as the wind rustled the leaves around her. She could hear Afina making a ruckus, yelling at Chevias. She heard him shush Afina once, so sharply and with what Ellie could only suppose was a serious enough expression to get the elf to shut up.

She didn’t hear anything else for a minute. Then Chevias was back, climbing up branches as easily as stairs. He pressed something against her chest and held them there until she was functional enough to realize he wanted her to take them. Her bag. Her clothes were wrapped in a bundle and tucked inside. She hugged it against her.

“Ellie, listen. Hang onto me and we’ll go to Afina’s room, okay? Can you do that?”

She felt tears falling down her face before the sobs could bubble up. She curled in on herself and started crying.

She heard him grumble and felt herself being picked up. He started trying to get her into one arm and Ellie felt herself slipping. She yelped through her tears and flung her arms around his neck.

“There you go. Hang on tight, ok?”

Ellie hadn’t been fond of heights to begin with, and this incident had done nothing to help with that. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face into his shoulder as she felt him moving through branches. “D…D-don’t drop me,” she whimpered.

“I’m not gonna drop you.”