Archive of Our Own ^beta

John found his quarry at her usual table deep within the library’s stacks. She was hunched over a scroll, glaring at the parchment as if she could force the answers she sought from the page by the sheer force of her will alone. “No luck with the wizard I take it?”

The warrior woman glared up at him as she reached out and took another page from the stack of parchments beside her. “No it was great. I’m sailing home curse free right now.”

“Are you sure only being able to communicate in sarcasm isn’t your true curse?” She had a rare ability to turn almost any phrase in that direction. Truly, it had to have been bestowed upon her by the gods. Vengeful ones.

“I can think of a few curses to communicate to you.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad.” The wizard in question had a fine reputation. He had predicted the winner of the harvest games three times in a row. Homes he blessed, had never been struck by plague. He made a potion that prevented baldness (not that John had any need for such a thing), which Leon in the markets swore by. All told the man apparently knew his stuff.

“He shook a chicken foot at me.”

“That’s not…”

“While telling me to smile and think happy thoughts,” she continued in a near growl.

Oh. “So he’s dead then.” John hoped Leon had stocked up on baldness tonic.

“It was a near thing,” she grumbled, “But no. He was annoying, yet not worth having to clean my sword afterwards.” Some people just weren’t worth the effort killing them required. She was practical that way.

“I admire your restraint.”

She snorted as she picked up yet another scroll. There had to be someone else she could go to for help. Someone who actually knew what they were doing.

“I’ve been thinking,” John began. “I may know of someone…”

“John?” A new voice interrupted.

“Over here, Finch.”

“Why are you back here?” Finch, the librarian asked as he shuffled into view from between the stacks. “Oh, good afternoon,” he nodded to the warrior.

“Whatever,” she grunted as she continued to sort through the pile on the table. Perhaps, she should toss these and gather the maps. Go looking further north?

“Your latest attempt was unsuccessful I take it?”

“The wizard was found lacking,” John jumped in before the woman could turn her sharp tongue on his dear friend.

Another nod. “There does seem to be a great number of charlatans posing as mystical masters.”

More like all of them were fakes, at least in her experience. “I’m beginning to think no one actually knows how to perform this kind of magic anymore.” Which made her mood even worse.

“Like I was saying before,” John cleared his throat, “I think I know someone else you can ask.”

“Alright, who?” Why he thought she had all the time in the world to wait for him to spit it out was beyond her.

His eyes trailed over towards Finch. Suddenly, he looked uncomfortable. That was different. The guy was hard to ruffle in her, albeit limited, experience. There was something weird going on here. John squared his shoulders. “You could ask the witch under the mountain.”

“And who is that?” Besides someone making both Finch and John uncomfortable with just a mere mention.

“John,” The librarian interrupted. “There’s a reason I hadn’t suggested her to our guest.”

He knew that. But these seemed to be desperate times. “If she’s honestly tried everyone else,” he trailed off with a shrug.

“I have,” she interrupted. Every mystic, magician, enchantress, wizard, and warlock this side of the sea. And that was after consulting every so-called practitioner of the arcane arts in her homeland. No one had been able to help her thus far. If this witch was legitimate? “So tell me about her.”

Finch was the one to speak up this time. “Our relationship to that woman is rather…complicated.”

“Sounds fascinating,” she drawled, though her tone implied it was anything but. “Just tell me, is she really a witch?”

“A quite powerful one I’m afraid,” he relented. “But you wouldn’t want to seek her assistance I assure you.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” If this witch was a fake like all the others, she’d just go north. But better to have eliminated all possibilities before leaving the area.

“Truly, my good lady…”

She held up a hand to silence whatever warning he was about to give. She turned to John. “How do I find this witch?”

The mountain in question was two day’s ride from Finch’s precious library. The road between the city and the mountain was little traveled. Lined by dense forest to either side, the overhanging branches made it feel a bit like riding through an endless green cavern. The road had obviously been placed there by men at some point but traversing it now, damned if one could tell why. There was nothing but trees for leagues and then the barely used path crested a hill and there on the horizon loomed the mountain.

After going down the hill and winding through a less densely wooded area, the road abruptly ended near the base of the mountain. There was a ramshackle building just to the edge of a path that appeared to lead upwards. The warrior dismounted from her horse, and drew her sword. Upon examination, the building turned out to be a makeshift stable. The three stalls were empty, but filled with what appeared to be fresh hay. When she stepped back outside she noticed that her horse had already found a trough of water.

After the horse had his fill, she led it inside the building. She didn’t completely untack him, not knowing if a quick exit would be necessary. She did however reach into her saddlebags and pull out a small pack. She then proceeded to place some of her trail rations, a few extra knives, and a small lantern in the pack. She took a length of rope she had coiled around a hook on her saddle and looped it over her shoulder. After stopping to refill her water skin in the trough, she exited the stable and began her hike up the mountain.

The path was steep and the sun bore down hard upon her shoulders. Nevertheless, she made a steady ascent up the slope. Other than the stone path, there were no clear signs any other human had set foot here. She paused about midway up the rise to take a drink of water.

Had she not stopped she might have missed the entrance entirely.

She was standing on a small ledge. The path continued to her left on its meandering circle up the slope. To her right there was a small ledge leading to a fissure in the rock. It was rather unremarkable. She was about to continue on towards the summit when the wind shifted. She caught a curious aroma on the air. Musky, yet spicy? It was a bit like temple incense.

It was coming from the fissure.

“Well he did say under the mountain.”

The fissure was just wide enough for her to step through. But the area opened up into a much wider tunnel a few paces in. It appeared to lead down and back towards the base of the mountain. She stopped to take out and then light her lantern. “John’s getting slapped for this, next time I see him,” she grumbled, before proceeding to follow the path into the gloom.

For some time, there was nothing but darkness and the echo of her footsteps on stone. Then the tunnel made a sharp turn. When she was around the corner, she could see a faint light ahead of her. As she drew closer, she could make out an iron grate spanning the width of the tunnel. A deep purple drapery was pulled to one side of the grate. It must serve as a door of sorts and to keep out any wind.

She carefully removed her pack and set it and her lantern just to the side of the entrance. She drew her sword. She may be here seeking help, but she wasn’t stupid. More than one of these mystic types had tried to attack her when she had expressed her displeasure with their methods and lack of results. Seeing as this so called witch made both John and Finch nervous? Better to go in armed and ready from the beginning.

She pulled the curtain back with her free hand and stepped inside.

The cavern was at once larger than she thought but also far less cave-like than she had expected. Several rag rugs in various shades of purple covered the floor. There was a curtained off area to the right. A wall of cluttered shelves to the far left. The wood looked just this side of complete collapse under the piles of scrolls, clay pots and jars, bones, dried herbs, and other curiosities. A lounge, high backed chair, and a low table occupied the area immediately in front of the shelves.

A massive stone table dominated the center of the cavern. The table was easily as long as two men were tall; the worktop rested at what would be her waist. It rose up from the ground as if it’s familiar shape were a thing of nature not someone’s craft. Earthenware bowls, scraps of parchment, and various bits of debris littered its surface.

A few paces from the opposite edge of the table from the entrance to the cavern, a fire was burning in a gigantic hearth. The flames were the source of the light she had seen in the tunnel. The hearth was another clearly human innovation that appeared as if it had sprung from the mountain itself. It took up most of the far wall. A pot of something hung from an iron hook, and burbled away over the flames. The warrior couldn’t discern where the smoke from the fire went. Surely there wasn’t a chimney going all the way through a freaking mountainside?

She eased closer to the table.

“And what do we have here?” There was a figure standing now to her left. Mostly concealed in the shadows, dark robes blended in with the gloom. A woman judging by the voice.

She tightened her grip on her sword. “Are you the witch?”

The woman didn’t answer. Instead she made her way to the hearth. As she drew closer to the fire more of her features were revealed. She was tall. A mane of brown hair flowed down to about her mid-back. It was braided back from each of the woman’s temples, revealing a finely featured face. The woman’s lips turned up in an expectant smirk. There was a mischievous glint to her dark eyes.

“I can tell you’re not from around these parts, but typically one introduces one’s self when entering a lady’s home.” She pursed her lips, “Prior to actually, but since you’re already here.”

Now she knew better than to give a witch her actual name. To name a thing was to have power over it. But the witch looked like she wasn’t going to accept a non-answer. And she did need the woman on her side if she was going to get this stupid curse broken. She decided to go with the name she had been using to stay under anyone’s notice during her travels, figuring it would be safe enough, “Name’s Shaw.”

“Well, hello there, Shaw. You can call me Root.”

“Root,” she repeated.

“Uh huh.” Shaw noted that Root kept the stone table between them. She was cautious, which was smart. “So what brings you barging into my home?”

Might as well get right to it. “I’m cursed.”

“And?”

What was it with this woman? Was she new? “And I’m cursed. You’re a witch. Undo it.”

“I can’t just undo it.”

“So you’re not a witch?”

“Oh no I am.” She began sorting the herbs scattered across the table. “Best you’ll probably ever meet.”

“Then what’s the problem?” One of them was confused about the matter at hand, and Shaw was reasonably certain it wasn’t her. “I can pay you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Root licked her lips, “I’m certain you can.” The way her eyes trailed across her body was almost like a physical touch.

Shaw was just going to ignore those implications. She had been known to take women as well as men to her bed from time to time. The witch wasn’t hard to look at. Had Shaw met her at an inn, she might have countered the clear offer in her tone. But this was a cave and as attractive as Root was, she was still a witch. “With gold.”

“That works too.”

“Then again, what’s the problem?” Seemed simple to her. She paid the witch, the witch broke the curse. Or at least attempted to. She still questioned whether or not there were any practitioners of genuine magic left in the world. Still if this woman was everything John and Harold claimed her to be, she should be more than powerful enough to get the job done. A nice easy job, simple, clean.

However, it seemed like this Root woman had never even heard of simple. “What you’re asking, it isn’t exactly how these things work.”

She was the first in Shaw’s experience to say so. She sheathed her sword. Root, while annoying, didn’t seem hostile. “Then how exactly are they supposed to work?”

“For starters, I’m not the one who cursed you.” She tilted her head to the side, “At least I don’t think so.” She raked her teeth across her lower lip and then shook her head. “No, definitely not me. I’d remember you.”

“It wasn’t you,” Shaw grumbled. “Happened when I was a baby. My father killed the one that did it already.”

“Oh dear.”

“What now?”

“Well, if your curse didn’t end with the death of the one who set it into motion…” She trailed off.

“You’re saying I’m stuck like this?” Shaw finished for her. If true, that was worse than this woman simply being yet another incompetent, time wasting, fraud.

Root tilted her head in thought. “Like what exactly? You haven’t told me what this supposed curse of yours is.”

Yeah, probably should have started with that. Oh well. This seemed like another waste of time anyway. Only one way to find out for sure though. Shaw shrugged, “I’m not right.”

“Pardon?”

“There’s something wrong with me,” Shaw explained further. “I’m not normal.”

“How so?”

She wasn’t going to say it. This trip was turning out to be fairly pointless, and she was not in the mood for the pitying look everyone gave her when she said it. “Look, can’t you just read my aura or something?”

That earned her a raised brow. “Has that worked any of the other times you’ve asked?”

“How did you?”

“Witch, remember?” She leaned across her table to look Shaw in the eyes, “You’re cute, and I’m bored, so I would actually like to help you. But to do that I need to know what I’m dealing with here.”

Ugh fine. “My heart is frozen.”

“What?”

Shaw groaned. “My heart is frozen.”

“I have a bad ear, stop mumbling.”

“My heart is frozen!”

“You needn’t shout so.”

“You know what?” Shaw bristled, “I think I’m done here.” She was well past tired of this shit. No wonder Finch had been so reluctant to recommend this woman. She turned to leave.

“Wait!”

Shaw kept walking. Waste her time playing games…

“Shaw, please stop.”

And for some reason Shaw did. She slowly turned to face the witch again.

Root walked around the table. When there were only a handful of paces between them, she spoke up, “My apologies. It was not my intention to make light of your situation.”

Could have fooled her.

“Though to be honest, a frozen heart doesn’t seem so bad. Hearts are terribly bothersome, squishy things. The feelings they inspire tend to be messy. Often they bring more harm than good.” The ghost of a memory passed through her gaze. “I’d say you’re blessed.”

“You’d be the only one.”

“Well, not many are as brilliant as me.” Root folded her arms over her chest. “You seem quite capable. You must be, to find me all the way out here. The path to my home doesn’t reveal itself to just anyone. Why even worry about this so called curse of yours?”

That was the point wasn’t it? “Apparently, the fortune of my entire kingdom is tied to the curse. If I cannot care for my people, blah, blah, ashes and blood, blah.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I suppose that does qualify as a curse.”

“So I’m told,” Shaw sighed. She almost wished for the guy with the chicken foot. At least his madness made a sort of sense. And there was chicken. “Just so we’re clear here, you’re saying there’s nothing you can do about it?”

“Actually, I never said anything of the sort,” Root smiled, “I can think of one or two spells we can try.” She rubbed her hands together, “I’ll just need you to fetch me a few things first.”

The first item on the list was educational.

Upon returning to Root’s cave Shaw held up a bloody sack, careful to make sure it was still tightly closed. “You could have told me about the turning to stone thing.” She set it down on the witch’s work table.

“I told you she was a gorgon.” Root poked at the bag with the handle of a wooden spoon. Something slowly undulated inside. “I thought the stony gaze would be implied.”

“Not from here remember?”

“Your people don’t have monsters?”

“Of course we do. Just not one’s this into sculpture.” It was a damn good thing she realized the terrified visages surrounding the creature’s lair were far too intricate in detail to be the work of a normal artist. Frankly, they had sort of creeped her out. It made Shaw extra cautious when entering the crumbling temple and when handling the remains afterwards. Though it was damn good luck she had been facing the opposite direction and by reflex had swung her sword in a backwards arc, when she heard something slithering around behind her.                                         

“My apologies then.”

Shaw shrugged. Not like an apology would change anything now. At least she’d killed the damn thing and avoided becoming part of the scenery. Time for more important concerns. “So how does this thing help me?”

“Well,” Root clicked her tongue against her teeth, “Now that I don’t have to worry about being interrupted…”

“Wait, what?”

“Nailing the head to my gate will solve my security issues like that.” She snapped her fingers to emphasize her point. “Do you know how hard it is to properly maintain the perfect temperature for my cauldron when warriors are traipsing in and out of my garden day and night asking for prophesies?”

Garden? What garden? There was nothing out there but rocks and dirt. “You’re supposed to be helping me, not the other way around.”

“This is me helping you, to help me, to help you.”

Shaw waited a moment for the laugh. Root just kept on smiling like she had explained everything perfectly. She was serious. It was now abundantly clear somebody had spent far too long inhaling the fumes from her cauldron.

“You don’t even have a gate,” Shaw grumbled. Woman lived in the side of a mountain in the middle of nowhere. Her front door was a freaking sheet.

“But now I have a reason to build one.”

“I’m not doing it.” Root was a witch; she could figure it out. Besides Shaw was terrible at carpentry. Way easier to smash a table than to build one. Easier still to smash a full grown man through a table. Good times.

“Of course not,” Root chuckled. “Don’t be silly.”

“So what’s next?”

“Dinner.”

“What?” Sure she was hungry, but there was no way she was eating any part of that thing either.

Root pointed towards a chair she had placed by the hearth. “Why don’t you put up your feet and rest a while? The stew will be ready shortly. You like rabbit, right? There’s more than enough for the both of us.”

“Rabbit?”

She nodded. “Can’t break a curse on an empty stomach.”

Item number two was surprising.

“You can’t go the market like a normal person?”

Root gleefully swiped the burlap bag from Shaw’s hand. She quickly untied the laces holding the sack closed, and reached in to remove her prize: an apple with skin of pure gold. The strange fruit seemed to shimmer in the light from the hearth. “You know very well you can’t go to just any market stall to acquire these beauties.”

She did indeed know that. The gigantic snake guarding the apple tree had perfectly illustrated that point. Another, tiny detail Root had forgotten to mention to Shaw before she had set out to procure the four golden apples she required for her spell.

“Did you place one on the altar at the temple like I told you?”

“Yes.” Shaw could follow directions. She wasn’t a moron. “I think someone saw me leaving though.” One of the priests apparently had trouble sleeping. She hadn’t been expecting anyone to be in the temple complex that time of night and as such hadn’t been overly concerned with stealth.

“Not to worry. You were bestowing a boon upon the temple. Secrecy wasn’t a requirement.” Root picked up a paring knife. “And the remainder should do quite nicely for what I have in mind.” She began to delicately slice one of the apples into sections.

“You’re not going to eat that are you?”

“Why not?”

“Apples aren’t actually supposed to be that color you know.”

“True.” Root held a glittering slice of the fruit out to her. “You try it first.”

Golden apples were surprisingly tasty.

The third item was part of a concerning pattern.

“So when you told me to bring you this thing’s head,” Shaw began as she tossed yet another bag on Root’s work table. The witch had to hurriedly shove the herbs she had been chopping out of the way.

“You’re back sooner than I thought.”

“Is that because you thought I’d have a tougher time given the creature you sent me after had two additional heads you failed to mention?”

“Did I not mention them?” Root tapped her lower lip with her pointer finger. “I could have sworn…”

“Nope.”

“Are you cold, Sweetie?” Shaw had failed to take off her cloak. There had been snow that morning. Root had already hung an additional fabric boundary across the entrance to her home. Perhaps it wasn’t enough. “I can stoke the fire…”

“I’m fine.”

“Undoubtedly,” Root purred. “Exceptionally.”

Shaw rolled her eyes, “Do you ever stop?”

“I don’t make a habit of it, no.”

“Or of giving out all pertinent details, apparently.”

“Sweetie,” Root sighed. “I can’t recall everything I may or may not have told you…”

“Not everything,” Shaw interrupted. “Not even half of everything made it past your lips.”

“Think much about my lips?” Root purred.

No, no she did not.

“We’ll get back to that in a moment.”

No, no they would not.

“But I did tell you it was a chimera.”

“No,” Shaw interjected. “You told me to kill the beast blocking the pass and bring you it’s head. The beast. Not the chimera. Not the middle head of its three freaking heads. Not the first head on the left…”

“I wouldn’t want that one,” Root interrupted. “It had a lazy eye.”

“Seriously?”

Root emphatically nodded, “You were there. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

Maybe it had been a little droopy. “Not the point.”

“All I’m saying is it is blatantly obvious on first glance…” Root trailed off.

“The thing was a whole lot of ugly.” Shaw could understand why other travelers had run screaming into the night when the chimera had leapt down from the cliffs overhead and into the middle of the road. Those were three faces no mother could even love. “Which you didn’t exactly mention either.”

“Chimera.” As if that would have explained it, if Root had said anything of the sort. Which she had not. And why was it always heads? “We have to up your mystical knowledge. I have a few scrolls that would be most helpful around here somewhere. You’d get into far less trouble if you knew these things.”

Ah no. This was not her fault. “You also left out the bit about it breathing fire.” Shaw lowered her hood to reveal a new, drastically shorter hairstyle.

“Oh dear.” Root looked as if she’d been struck. She wrung her hands. “I’m sure I have something around here somewhere to get it to grow back.” She began picking up various bottles from the table and reading their labels.

“I don’t care about my hair.” In fact, Shaw had often wondered how much easier her life would be if she could just shave it all off. Now she was halfway there. This could be a trial run. “I care about you leaving out important details; details that I need for the mission.”

Root stopped her fidgeting and beamed at her, “You care about me?”

Shaw groaned and smacked her head against the table.

An amendment to the list brought them to item number four.

Another day another seemingly random quest completed. Shaw set the battle axe she had been sent to collect down on the stone table with a clank. “You didn’t tell me the guy keeping this thing and his goons had captured an entire village.”

Root was focused on something brewing in her largest cauldron. The one that could conceal an entire hog. “Oh, did I leave that out?” She idly asked as she continued to stir the bright orange concoction inside with what looked like an oar.

“Ah yeah, yeah you did.” You didn’t tell me was becoming a rather common phrase in Shaw’s lexicon. Perhaps Root could tattoo it on her ass, since it seemed to distract her so much.

“Well, obviously it wasn’t an issue.”

Obviously? Shaw rolled her eyes. “We have got to work on your communication skills.”

She briefly paused her stirring. “Why do you assume I’m the problem?”

Hadn’t they already had this conversation? At length? “Have you met you?”

Root laughed, “You are such a jester.” She began stirring her brew in the opposite direction. “Good looks. Handy with a sword. A fine sense of humor. I have no idea why someone hasn’t snapped you up already.”

“Maybe the whole cursed thing?” She drawled.

“That’s just stupid,” Root huffed. “It only adds to your charms. Of which there are many. I could list them all night.”

Shaw wasn’t going to go there. Root’s flirting had only increased over the time they had been working together. Once she got started, it could take ages to get her to shut up again. A change in topic was in order. “So the axe.”

“What about it?”

“What does it do?”

“It’s an axe, Sweetie. You chop things with it.” Root swung her left hand through the air to illustrate her point.

Clearly. “Yeah, but what else does it do?”

“I suppose you could block any number of strikes with it.” Root’s nose scrunched as she thought. “Perhaps bludgeon someone about the head with the side…” She clapped her free hand against the side of her own head to demonstrate.

“Wait- I thought this thing was magical?”

Root looked up from her cauldron. “Whatever gave you that impression?”

“The fact that you sent me to fetch it?” That was the point of all these little jaunts after all. “Wouldn’t it have to be for it to be of any use in breaking my curse?”

“Oh I just overheard you saying that your sword wasn’t holding its edge as long as it used to the other day.”

Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose. “Let me get this straight. You sent me to kill a warlord and steal his axe because my sword is getting old?”

“Yes.”

“Did you consider that I like my sword just fine?”

Root finally turned away from her work to fully face Shaw. “Except for the fact that you complain about it; a lot.”

Perhaps she did. But that was only because she was accustomed to blades of a slightly different design and a much higher quality. The sword she was currently using was one she’d picked up off of a bandit. It was meant more for stabbing than the slashing attacks she had first been trained upon. But a sword was ultimately a sword. Shaw had adapted. She had to. She’d traded her good one to one of the idiot wizards she’d sought out for help prior to meeting Root. That was a shit deal in hindsight.

But still. “Have you heard of blacksmiths? Armories?”

“Both.”

“Why not send me to one of those if you were so worried about my blade?”

“Where would be the fun in that?” Root ran her hand over the axe handle. “I assure you this axe was made by the finest craftsmen.”

It was true that the axe was of remarkable quality. Shaw knew it from the moment she saw it. Once she had it in her hand, she had a great appreciation for the weapon’s weight and balance. Maybe a tiny part of her had considered if Root would let her keep it after she used it for whatever magic it possessed. Not that she was going to admit that now.

“Also Ronnie owed me money.”

By item five, the warrior was starting to embrace the oddity that was her life now.

“Now the harpies were fun,” Shaw announced as she slapped a particularly bulging sack onto the table. “Kinda hot too.” In a weird bird lady way.

“Sorry I missed the party,” Root drawled.

“If you’re going to pout, you can do your own hunting next time.”

“There’s no need to be rude.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “There’s another bag of feathers at the mouth of the tunnel.” Several travelers on the road had marveled at her large, fluffy cargo. If Shaw cared about other’s opinions their gawping stares might have convinced her that she’d overdone things a bit. Though maybe they had a point. When she had arrived, she hadn’t been sure she’d fit carrying both bags of feathers at the same time. They were that large.

“Well, aren’t you an overachiever?” Root grinned.

She shrugged, “I figured while I was there.” Shaw gestured to the racks of ingredients lining the walls on the left side of the cavern. “Not everyone is as good as me. The next sucker that stumbles in here might fall into the bog before a harpy could even squawk.”

“It’s true, good help is hard to find.” Root licked her lips, “And you’re especially good.”

“Technically, you’re supposed to be working for me.”

Root waved her off, “Details.” She opened the bag and began digging around inside. Seemed like she was looking for something specific.

In the bag full of feathers.

She’d probably regret asking but, “One feather is as good as any right?”

“There is a method to be followed here.”

Oh? Well, whatever worked Shaw supposed. Still this was Root. “You want to let me in on it then?”

“All in good time.” Root dumped a small pile of feathers onto the table top. Red, pink, blue, black, pale grey, and vibrant yellow. There had been a lot of harpies. Root gathered one feather of each color and then ordered them by height into a makeshift fan. She smiled up at Shaw once she was finished. “Now strip.”

“What?”

“Lose the leggings, Sameen.”

“How do you know that name?” She’d never told anyone that name. She should not know that name.

Root tapped her chest with her free hand. “Witch. As I keep having to remind you. I have ways of discovering all your secrets.”

“Creepy.”

“I don’t see you getting undressed.”

“Because I don’t see why I need to,” Shaw retorted. “And don’t think I’m letting the name thing go.”

“The cleansing ritual,” Root breezily replied. She held up the feathers. “I have to rub you down with these. Direct contact with the skin is best.”

Yeah right. “You’re not rubbing anything. No way.” She made a grabbing motion with her left hand. “Hand them over. I can do it myself.”

But Root didn’t relent. In fact, she pulled the feathers closer to her own body and well beyond Shaw’s reach. “Do you know the proper incantation?”

“No.” But she wasn’t the witch in this story. Yet that didn’t mean Root had to get her way. “I rub and you talk?”

“As delightful as that sounds, the spell doesn’t work like that.”

“Says you.”

“Know any other witches? Real ones, not those simpletons with the chicken parts.” At her lack of reply, Root motioned towards her belt. “Exactly. Now stop being obstinate. Take it all off.”

Shaw glared at her. Not going to do it. No way.

Root simply smiled as she waited.

“Ugh fine,” Shaw groaned after half a candle mark. She reached for her belt. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Hush. You never know, you might enjoy it.”

“I doubt that.”

Unfortunately for Shaw, they’d both enjoyed it. Too much. Five times in fact. No wait six. She was pretty sure that time they were half asleep counted. She couldn’t help it. Root was hot, for a witch. And it had been a while. Fetching all these random supplies took up a lot of her time. And apparently Shaw had a thing for feathers. Who knew?

Item six brought a new understanding.

Shaw had set out before dawn in search of the next item on the list, the morning after their “cleansing ritual.”

Once successful, with a bag full of faintly glowing mushrooms slung over her shoulder, Shaw didn’t have a task to focus on. As such, her thoughts kept straying to Root. How would she be welcomed upon her return? Which was an odd thought for Shaw because she typically didn’t give a damn about such things. Maybe that whole feather thing had actually worked? Why would she be thinking so hard about this otherwise?

Hopefully, Root wouldn’t make it weird. Shaw let out a groan the moment she thought it. This was Root. Of course she was going to make things weird. The sound of a twig snapping caused her to glance over her shoulder. Not to mention the new addition she’d picked up on her trip to the swamp adding to this whole mess.

She trudged on, making it back to the mountain just after nightfall. Fortunately, the moon was bright enough to light her way. Her new shadow stalked her path step for step. She thought for a moment the fissure leading into the mountain would put him off, but after a brief hesitation he eased through the crag and stayed with Shaw down the tunnel.

When Shaw made the final turn the path ahead was dim. That was odd. This time of night Root typically had a fire going no matter the season. It seemed the hearth was cold tonight. Near as she could tell, the only light in the cavern came from a few candles Root kept scattered throughout the space.

Shaw glanced down at her guest. “Just be cool.” She took a deep breath and then pulled back the curtain. For the first time since she’d begun working with the witch, she wasn’t immediately greeted by the overly welcoming woman. “Root?”

“You’re back,” her voice floated out from the right side of the cavern. Must have gone to bed early. Which again odd. Root tended to work through the night. Something about the moon’s energies.  She could hear some shuffling. “I, uh, thought you might not be returning.”

Shaw ignored the note of relief in Root’s tone. She decided to take her own advice. Play things cool. “I had to go get your stupid mushrooms, remember?”

“Yes, of course.” Root stepped out from behind the curtain to her sleeping quarters. Her eyes widened slightly when she caught sight of Shaw. “I see you picked every mushroom in the swamp judging by the size of that bag.”

“You never told me how many to get,” Shaw grumbled. “As usual.”

“My mistake,” Root chuckled, finally seeming to relax. She tilted her head in confusion as she noticed what else Shaw had brought back with her. “And who do we have here?”

“He was stuck in a bog.” Shaw explained, as she looked down at the large wolf that had stalked her footsteps since leaving the swamp. Sitting on his haunches, he came up to about Shaw’s chest. His brown and black fur still had a few patches of dried muck on it. “Wouldn’t stop following me after I pulled him out of the mud.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” Root chuckled.

“But he’s friendly. So don’t like, do anything to him.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Root glided forward and knelt down at the wolf’s side. She held out her hand, which he promptly licked. “Aren’t you handsome?” The wolf grunted as she began to scratch between his ears. “Is that right?” Root looked up at Shaw with a fond grin, “Bear says you saved his life. He’s honor bound to repay that debt now.”

“Did he?” The witch spoke wolf, sure, that made complete sense. Sure. Fine.

“Of course.”

Shaw looked at the wolf who had now rolled onto his back for belly scratches. “Bear?”

Root nodded. “He says it’s a family name.”

“Right.” Honestly, that was probably the least weird thing Root could say at this point. “So you’re fine with a wolf hanging around?”

“I’ve never sent you away have I?” Root teased.

“Never given me a reason not to come back at least.” Shaw didn’t know why she said it. But she knew it was true when she did. Even knowing things might be weird after their little “cleansing ritual” Shaw hadn’t even considered not returning.

Root seemed to startle at that admission.  “O-oh?”

“Until you break this stupid curse,” Shaw jumped to explain. Even if it was true, she wouldn’t want Root to get the wrong idea or anything. “Still cursed; you’re stuck with me.”

“You must be hungry after walking such a long way.” Root stood up. “Let’s go see if we can find you a bone to gnaw on.” Root smirked at Shaw, “And something for our new friend, Bear.”

Item seven was greeted with more unexpected guests.

The next time Shaw returned hom…uhh…back to the cave, John was standing with two horses next to the garden gate. A blanket had been tossed over Root’s little security measure. Shaw could hear the faint sound of hissing as she and Bear approached. “What are you doing here?”

“Someone said she was going to see the witch under the mountain and then disappeared for months.”

“I don’t need a nursemaid.” She set the bag she had been carrying over her shoulder down. No sense holding the damn thing if John was feeling chatty.

“Obviously,” he rumbled. “But your friends were worried about you.”

“I don’t recall having any of those.” Bear yipped at that declaration. “Human ones anyway.”

“What do you call Root?”

Shaw’s eyes narrowed, “What has she told you?”

“Haven’t spoken to her.” He knelt down and held his hand out for Bear to sniff. He was surprisingly unbothered by the wolf’s presence. “Finch suggested I wait out here. Root and I don’t exactly get along.” After a beat Bear shoved his head into John’s hand for scratches.

“But you’re so annoyingly friendly,” Shaw drawled.

“What can I say?” He shrugged, “Root seems to be immune to my charms.” Bear definitely didn’t have that problem as he nearly knocked John over trying to get into a better position for a belly rub.

“She does have a bad ear. That whole whisper thing you do is probably even more annoying to her.”

John’s brows drew together in confusion. “What whisper thing?”

“If you don’t know, you really don’t have any friends.”

“This fellow seems to like me well enough.”

“He’s a whore for belly rubs.”

Bear growled.

“Don’t start with me,” she grumbled. “How else do you explain those traders on the road?” It had taken her forever to pull Bear away the next morning after those guys had insisted she and Bear share their camp for the evening. She wouldn’t have stayed, but they had cracked open a cask of mead and she had been a bit parched. “Don’t think I don’t know where you slept.”

Bear whimpered.

“That’s what I thought.”

John smirked at her, “So you’ve been keeping busy.”

“I’ve got a curse to break. Can’t just sit my ass around a library all day like some people.”

John nodded to the still hissing garden gate. “That your work?”

“No, I think Root hired a guy to build the fence.” She’d gone off to collect those surprisingly tasty apples and by the time she returned, the gate and fencing were just there. Fortunately, Root had left a message for her at the stables to take the long way round so as not to become garden art. Shaw still wasn’t sure how Root had known she’d return that particular day. Every time she returned after that, there would be a cover over the gate. Root was both useful and creepy in that regard.

“I meant the gorgon.”

“You know what those are?”

“Who doesn’t?”

Shaw apparently. Well, before she actually beheaded that one. “Yes, I killed it.”

“Nice.”

She smirked. It had been nice work. Probably couldn’t have gone better if she had known what a gorgon was before she set out to kill one. Shaw was just that good.

“What are the odds that Finch comes back before I have to set up camp?”

Shaw glanced up at the sky. Sun wasn’t quite at its apex. But gods knew Root loved to talk. And Finch could go for hours if he found a topic particularly interesting. She’d spent enough time in his library to know that. Between the two of them, she was surprised the top of the mountain hadn’t blown off already from all the hot air.

“Want me to see if I can rush him along?” There was a small waystation halfway between the mountain and town but they’d be riding after dark to make it there tonight already. If Finch dallied too much longer it might encourage them to stick around until the next morning.

“Not that it wasn’t nice to see that you’re not dead…”

“But not looking forward to sleeping on the road?”

“Or the side of this mountain.”

“You’re getting soft.”

“Can’t fault a man for preferring a bed,” he shrugged. “Where have you been sleeping lately by the way?”

Shaw pointedly ignored that question and nodded to Bear. The wolf didn’t seem inclined to move from his position next to John’s feet at the moment. “You good with him?”

John nodded, “I’ll appreciate the company. Finch really has been up there a long time.”

That could potentially be horrible, depending on what Root was up to for the day. Best to break up that particular meeting of the minds and do it quickly. “I’ll haul his ass down here.”

“Maybe just let him see that you’re alive and well, and he’ll decide it’s time to leave on his own?”

“I mean if you want me to do it the boring way.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Root.”

She rolled her eyes. Wasn’t going to argue that. She picked up the latest bag of items she had been sent to gather and began walking up the path.

“Shaw?”

She stopped and glanced over her shoulder.

“Try not to be gone so long without a word next time. Whether you like it or not, you are my friend.”

“See, annoyingly friendly,” she snorted and then kept walking up the path.

The trek from the gate to the entrance of the tunnel was a brief one. Though given the gradient of the path, Shaw was a bit surprised Finch successfully had made the climb. The man was made of sterner stuff than she thought. Soon she was making her way through the crag in the mountainside and down the tunnel.

Halfway there, Shaw could already see light. Root must have fired up all of the candles and the hearth for her guest. Soon Shaw could hear voices. “Are you certain this is the best course of action?” Finch asked. Gods what was Root up to that had him using that tone of voice?

“All I request is you put a word in the proper ears.” Root’s voice drifted down the tunnel. “You owe me, Harry. Or have you forgotten?”

“I assure you, I have not.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

Shaw adjusted the bag held over her shoulder. The shifting of its contents drowned out the first portion of Finch’s reply. “…not one for undue attention.”

“Considerate as always,” Root chuckled. “This isn’t undue. Trust me.”

Shaw pulled back the curtain that served as Root’s door. Her arrival went unnoticed. The witch and her guest were both standing facing the hearth, backs to where Shaw now stood.

It was odd seeing someone else there with Root. She may complain about warriors constantly interrupting her brewing, but Shaw had never seen another living being, besides Bear of course, in the witch’s cavernous home before. And Finch was standing awfully close to Root. She cleared her throat.

“Hey, Sweetie,” Root drawled as she turned to smile at her. “Good trip?”

“Same as always,” She replied. “Finch,” she nodded to the librarian.

He dipped his head in greeting. “I’m glad to see you are well, Shaw.”

“I’ve been taking care of myself long before I stumbled into your library.”

“Indeed.”

“Harry was just leaving.”

“I suppose the reason for my journey has now been satisfied.” He laid his hand on Root’s shoulder. “Be careful.”

“What’s the fun in that?” She laughed.

“Life cannot always be about fun.”

“Says you.”

“Indeed,” he lowly chuckled. “Please take care of yourself.” He glanced pointedly at Shaw, “Both of you.”

“A pleasure as always, Harry.”

He shook his head as he brushed aside the curtain barring the exit. “How many times must I remind you that my name is Harold?”

“At least one more,” she chuckled.

“Until then, I suppose.”

Shaw nodded to the retreating librarian’s back. “Was there ever anything between…”

“Sameen!” Root sputtered, “That’s disgusting. I’m old enough to be his great-grandmother.”

“True,” She nodded. Finch oozed fatherly type. That was too much of an age gap for her tastes. She whipped her head around, “Wait. He’s…You’re… You’re how old?”

“Witch,” Root sing-songed. “I don’t know why I have to keep reminding you.”

“You’re serious?”

Root nodded. “Did you bring me my bones?” Shaw pointed to the sack she had let by the curtain. “Oh someone has been overachieving again.”

“Someone left out that there were seven, not four, skeletons.”

“Oh, they must have multiplied somehow.”

“You think?”

“Oh well,” Root shrugged. “More for me.” She started towards the bag.

“One of these days…” Shaw muttered under her breath. She made a choking motion with her right hand. After a moment she scowled. That wouldn’t exactly be a punishment for Root now would it? She groaned, whether it was from frustration or the memory of the last time she’d had her hand at the witch’s throat, a decidedly non-punitive experience… She groaned again.

Root didn’t pay her any mind. She was far too focused on her latest prize. “You brought the skulls!”

Shaw snapped out of her brief amatory haze. “You said bring the bones, I brought you all the bones.” Damned if she was going to have to march all the way back to that crypt just because Root didn’t specify which ones she needed.

Root retied the bag and stood up. She slung the entire thing over her shoulder as if it weighed nothing. Which was quite a feat as Root was a little, um, scrawny in Shaw’s opinion. “You’re honestly too good to me, Sweetie.” She began walking towards the work table, “I simply must think of a thorough reward for such dedication.”

She stopped when she was standing next to Shaw and leaned in close, “I’m open to suggestion. You should probably jot down whatever made your eyes go all hazy just now.”

Damn witch had eyes in the back of her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Root just laughed. Completely unconvinced by that little deflection.

“If you’re too old for Finch, why do you keep flirting with me?”

Root licked her bottom lip. “I simply cannot resist your feminine allure.” She swatted Shaw on the ass. “And you and I both know I’ve done far more than flirt.”

By item eight it was all becoming routine.

Another month, another bloody sack was unceremoniously dumped onto Root’s favorite work table. “I hate tentacles.”

“But did Bear enjoy his trip to the seaside?” The wolf yipped at the sound of his name and then growled. “Sand does tend to get into unfortunate places,” Root hummed in agreement.

Shaw flopped down into what had become her regular seat by the hearth. “Don’t let him fool you. I had to drag him out of the surf more than once.” Drying him off had been a pain in the ass.

“You can’t blame a fellow for being excited on his first trip to the ocean, Sameen.”

Yes, she could, when said fellow smelled like a hull full of dead fish after one too many dips in said ocean. And that was before they had killed the previous owner of those tentacles Root had requested. Shaw was never going to forget that stench. Which reminded her, “You might want to open the bag outside.”

“Noted.” Bear ambled over to the hearth and flopped down to warm himself in front of the fire. “My both of you are a little sluggish tonight aren’t you?”

“It was a long trip,” Shaw grunted as she struggled to pull off her left boot. The leather must have shrunk from all the salt water. Damn it. She knew she should have worn her other pair. She’d have to stop at a cobbler the next time she was in a city.  

“I know,” Root sighed, oblivious to Shaw’s boot-related annoyance. “I missed you both terribly.”

“Stop it.”

“What?” She shrugged, “I did.”

“Must you tell me about it?” It was bad enough Shaw couldn’t stop herself from falling into Root’s bed, table, chair, more than once on the floor, etc. these days, but Root did not have to go all gooey about it. She thought they had an understanding about her goo intolerance.

“I suppose not.”

“Go with that thought.”

“Someone is also grumpy,” Root chuckled. “Perhaps someone missed me too?”

Gods, she was ridiculous. “No, someone,” she stressed, “is tired and hungry.”

“Would it help you to know that there is an entire boar roasting in the fire pit outside?”

Shaw’s stomach growled at the word boar. So yes, yes it would. “Where did you get a boar? And when did we get a fire pit?”

“Witch,” Root hummed.

“Right.” Ask a stupid question. “Any ideas on when it will be ready then?” She wasn’t about to look a gift roast boar in the mouth. Root was a far better cook than one would believe just by looking at her.

“Should be ready by the time you make your way back outside.”

Shaw stood up. “Works for me.”

“After dinner maybe I can work for you too?”

Shaw rolled her eyes. That one was bad even by Root’s standards. Though she wasn’t opposed to the idea in general. It really had been a long trip.

“Oh wait.” Shaw knelt down and began to dig through the small pack still strapped to Bear’s back. Root had designed it for him because he had apparently complained about Shaw being forced to do all the heavy lifting and his desire to share in the work. Shaw didn’t know if she believed all that, but the extra pouches did come in handy sometimes. Having found her prize, she stood back up with a clenched fist.

“I thought we’d moved past the threatening to wallop me phase of our arrangement?” Root chuckled, “Outside of the bedchamber of course.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “There were a bunch of fishermen on the beach. They kept shoving crap at me while I was trying to leave.” The smoked fish they had forced her to take along had been tasty, but she could have done without all the extra chatter. “I’ve seen you using rocks and stuff with your spells and thought these might be useful someday.” Shaw opened her fist to reveal several pearls.

“You brought these back for me?”

Why did she have that weird look on her face? “I bring you crap all the time, Root.”

“For spells.”

Didn’t Shaw just say she had brought the pearls because she’d seen Root using similar items in her work. “Did you hit your head or something while I was gone?”

Item nine came with a new direction.

“That was a big lion.”

Root didn’t appear concerned in the least by that pronouncement. “Too much for you, Sweetie?”

“Please,” Shaw scoffed. “Just saying you undersold it.” Of course Shaw probably should have been thankful Root had told her it was a huge lion to begin with. For once she hadn’t left anything out.

“I suppose I’m not much of a storyteller. It’s true.”

Shaw held up a now familiar bag. “The claws.”

“Excellent.”

“What are you going to do with those?” She had thought maybe turning them into a blade of some kind, but then how would that be useful in regards to Shaw’s curse? And she wasn’t about to let Root rub her with those. She didn’t have a claw fetish. Feathers were one thing…

“In some tribes the claws are ground into a fine powder,” Root bit her lip as she let that little fact linger.

The pause was all for dramatic effect Shaw was certain. She knew she was going to be annoyed by the answer, but she asked anyway. “And then what?”

Root’s smile was wide. “It’s used as an aphrodisiac.”

“But what are you going to do with them?” Shaw drawled.

That earned her a peal of delighted laughter. “We don’t have much need for that sort of thing do we, Sameen?”

Shaw simply glared at her as answer to that question.

“Well, even if we don’t require them, the claws will fetch many a gold coin in the markets. I can’t spend all my time conjuring up all our supplies.” She bent down and tucked the bag under the table. Root frowned as she stood back up. “Where’s Bear?”

“Guarding the wagon. Figured I’d bring you this stuff and carry in the gear before going back for the pelt.” Carrying it all in at one time would have been annoyingly cumbersome.

“Let’s go collect him then.”

Wait, like outside? Root going outside? Shaw hadn’t thought that possible. She’d never seen the woman even take more than three steps down the tunnel, let alone venture out into the daylight. Shaw had often entertained the thought that Root was afraid of the sun. Just to clarify she decided to ask. “Let’s, as in me and you, outside?”

Root nodded, “I could do with a bit of fresh air.”

That was a first. Though Shaw supposed Root had to leave the cave from time to time. Just because she had never personally witnessed it, didn’t mean Root was going to crumble to ash once the light hit her or anything.

“Come along, Sameen.” She took her arm and began walking up the tunnel. “You act as if you’re afraid to be seen with me.”

“By who?” Shaw scoffed. “There’s no one out there but Bear.” Though they had probably traumatized the unfortunate wolf given how many times he’d been awoken from a dead slumber by Root getting a little too vocal in her appreciation of Shaw’s skills. Poor creature knew everything already.

“Did Bear have a nice trip to the countryside?”

“We live in the middle of nowhere, everywhere is countryside.”

Root wisely didn’t comment on Shaw’s use of “we.” Instead she decided a bit of teasing was in order. “Why leave him as a guard then?”

“Uh, bears.”

“Bears?”

“Yes, actual bears,” she grumbled. “I think you’re underestimating just how big that thing was again. All that meat would make a tempting target.”

“For bears?” Even though Bear was the only “bear” spotted in the area in years.

“And anything else that eats meat.”

“Whatever you say, Sameen.”

“Someone has already tried to steal it.”

“Honestly?”

Shaw nodded. “There was a big dumb looking guy that came along while I was skinning the thing. Tried to rob me. Said I had stolen his labor.”

“What?”

“Right?” Shaw shook her head. “I told him if he wanted to see some labor, he could go fuck himself. But he wasn’t taking my kill.”

“I take it that didn’t go over well.”

“Bastard took a swing at me. Had to put him down, hard.” Shaw scowled. “He seemed surprised the first time I hit him. What did he expect, I was just going to let him rob me?”

 “People are so rude these days. You know when I was younger…”

“They were just getting the hang of that whole wheel thing?”

“Cute.” Root blinked against the sunlight as they stepped through the crag in the side of the mountain.

Shaw smirked, “We can wait until after dark.”

“I’m fine.” Root started down the trail. She stumbled on some loose gravel after five steps.

“Stubborn,” Shaw grumbled as she went to quickly follow. Damn witch would probably go over the side just to prove a point if she didn’t keep her on the path.

They managed to get down the mountain without further incident. Bear was most happy to see Root. He nearly bowled her over in his enthusiasm to cover her in slobber, which was a little weird. Less so, when Root pulled a cloth bundle from inside her robes and unwound the fabric to reveal a rabbit haunch. Bear quickly snapped up his treat while Shaw circled to the back of the wagon.

She snagged the one of the leather bags that she had filled with lion meat and slung it over her shoulder. There were two similar bags and the pelt remaining. She could carry one of the other bags this trip. Maybe Root and Bear could carry/drag the third between them.

“My he was a big boy,” Root hummed as she suddenly appeared at Shaw’s elbow.

“Yeah, there would have been more meat but I traded the rest of it with some of the men in the village to smoke all this.” She glared at Root, “You don’t keep enough food stores.”

“You do know I can conjure food whenever I’m hungry?”

“Until you forget, and then you get weak, and dizzy, and then you can’t conjure shit.” It had happened more than once since Shaw had known the infuriating woman.

“Why would I conjure shit?” Root grinned. At Shaw’s deepening scowl she was quick to add, “I appreciate you thinking of me, Sweetie.”

“You still haven’t broken this stupid curse. I sort of have to keep you around.”

“Nevertheless,” Root grinned, “I thank you.”

“Thank me by carrying that other bag.”

“Or I could just,” Root snapped her fingers and suddenly all three bags vanished.

Shaw blinked. “I’ve been carrying your junk up and down this mountain for months when you could do that this entire time?”

Root ignored her and climbed into the back of the wagon. The only thing left was the lion skin. Root looked deep in thought as she ran her hands across the rather large pelt. “Something tells me we need to go visit your mother.”

“Again, we?”

“I don’t get out of the cave much.”

“You don’t say.”

Root ignored her, “Seeing where this curse business all started might inspire me.”

“Might?”

“Worth a try isn’t it?”

“I guess.” She probably should check in on her mother. She’d been gone a long time even before she fell in with Root. And if John had gone all stupid about not hearing from her after a couple of months… “It’s a long trip.”

That prospect didn’t seem to deter Root. “It’ll be fun.”

In the end, the answer had been there all along.

The journey had indeed been a long one. Despite the time it took to reach Shaw’s homeland from Root’s mountain, their spirits had been high for the journey. Root was surprisingly easy to travel with. Shaw wished they could have brought Bear along but it wouldn’t have been right to force him into the cramped confines of the ship they had to take for the bulk of the trip. Root assured her that he would have a splendid time with John and Finch.

They arrived in the capitol just after sunset. Shaw had managed to acquire a pair of horses after they’d departed their ship along the coast. The trip overland had taken a few days. She adjusted the clasp on her shoulder. The lion’s pelt had made an impressive cloak. Though it was well in to the spring in her homeland, the early evening air still held a chill.

“We have to ride through the lower city to the north, and then on to the palace gates.”

The people in the lower city especially blamed Shaw for the state of their affairs. Had there been no curse, perhaps their stars could have shone brighter. They expressed their displeasure quite loudly, and physically on more than one occasion, when Shaw showed her face this side of the palace gates. She’d intentionally timed their arrival in the city for after dark for that very reason.

She considered unstrapping the axe from her back. She’d purposefully buckled her cloak over it, as such a weapon tended to draw attention. She shifted her gaze to the shop and home-lined road before them. Attention was the last thing they needed.

“Nervous about seeing your mother, Sweetie?”

“No,” Shaw snorted.

“You’re a little fidgety.”

“Just stay close.” Shaw could more than handle herself and Root, well, Root was a witch after all. But some people had been quick to toss blame, and chamber pots, Shaw’s way the last time she’d traveled through the city. Curses apparently inspired that sort of behavior in people. The last thing she needed was to get arrested for beating the shit out of some idiot for taking a shot at Root.

Her mother would probably be pissed enough as it was, seeing as she had been gone so long and still hadn’t found a way to break this stupid curse.

Shaw drew the hood of her cloak over her head. “Let’s just go.”

Root must have picked up on her mood because the ride was silent. The streets were thankfully empty. The shops closed. Market stalls dark. Most people had gone inside to enjoy their evening meals long ago.

A man suddenly stumbled out into the road ahead of them. Shaw drew back on the reins. Her horse reared up on it hind legs. The man let out a cry and fell backwards onto his ass. Served the careless idiot right. After a tense moment, she was able to calm her horse.

There was a heavy aroma of alcohol in the air. That explained it. Shaw glared at the drunken fool. The man gaped up at her. In all the drama, Shaw realized that her hood had fallen back, revealing her face. The drunk quickly scrambled to his feet. After another glace at a glowering Shaw, he darted back the way he came and into what she now knew was a tavern.

Great.

She turned to Root. “We need to move.” Even as she said it, she could hear raised voices from the tavern the man had entered.

“Sameen,” Root tentatively began

She shook her head. “Now.” She snapped her reins. Her horse snorted in annoyance but began to walk. She felt, more than saw Root’s mount do the same.

She didn’t look back as the sound of many feet pounded against the road behind them. Murmuring voices filled the air. A few men ran past them and into homes further up their path. She was about to kick her horse into a run when Root called out, “Wait.”

Shaw turned her head to look at her companion. Root pointed at something ahead of them.

The people had come out of their homes to line the street in front of them. Shaw eased her horse slightly ahead of Root’s mount. There was a shout. Her hand tightened on the hilt of the dagger strapped to her hip. “Just wait,” Root cautioned. Another shout and then another. Then the clapping began. “They’re cheering,” Root laughed. “This is a welcome home.”

Someone began throwing flowers. The shouts became chants of her name. “Sameen! Sameen! The Princess is home.”

“Princess?” Root chuckled.

Shaw rolled her eyes. Like she hadn’t known. Woman had known her real name without so much as a syllable crossing Shaw’s lips. There was no way she didn’t know about this. “Not another word.”

“Should I have been curtsying this entire time?”

“I say not one and she spits out eight,” Shaw grumbled under her breath. She glanced around at the joyous faces surrounding them. “This is weird.”

“How so?”

“I don’t typically get this sort of reaction here.” Anywhere really.

“I have no idea why not,” Root shrugged. “You’re extraordinary.”

“Stop it.”

“One of these days you’ll believe me.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Since when is that relevant?”

Excellent question. Shaw opted not to answer. Instead she did her able best not to run down any of the people crowding the street ahead of them.

The cheering masses slowed their pace exponentially. And that whole idea about not drawing any attention to her arrival? That had completely flown the coop. As such when they finally reached the palace gates, there was an envoy waiting for them.

“Princess,” A gangly man with an impressively full beard greeted them. Several guards waited a few paces behind him.

“Vizier,” Shaw greeted him with a slight dip of her head. She dismounted and moved to assist Root.

“Your return has caused quite a stir.” He motioned to two of the waiting guards to take the horses away. “Your things will be taken to your quarters.” He glanced at Root, “Your companion’s…”

“With mine, we’ll sort it out afterwards.”

“Of course.” He bowed his head. “It shall be done exactly as you say.” He motioned towards a set of open doors across the courtyard. “If it would please you, to follow me, it would not do to dally here further.” He turned and started walking towards the door without waiting for an answer.

“By all means,” Shaw grumbled as she rolled her eyes at Root.

They were led into the palace and through a veritable warren of passageways. Eventually they entered a hall with highly arched ceilings. Even the walls themselves were exquisite, covered in vivid blue and yellow tiles positioned in intricate patterns, and in some places fully carved reliefs of battle scenes. The guards lining their route bowed their heads as Shaw passed. Their guide stopped in front of a massive set of gilded doors. “The Empress awaits beyond.”

Shaw gestured for him to open the doors.

There was a slight murmur as they stepped into the throne room. While the full court was not present given the time of night, there were still several advisors and guards attending The Empress. Apparently, they had opinions on the wayward heir’s return. Shaw held her head high as she strode across the wide chamber. Root mimicked her posture as she followed three steps behind her.

The Empress sat on a carved marble throne. A large fire burned brightly in a brazier behind her. Shaw knelt at the bottom of a set of stairs leading up to the throne. Root quickly mirrored her move. Though unlike Shaw, she took the opportunity to discretely study the woman seated above.

Shaw’s mother was like a glimpse into the future. Same dark hair. Same stature. Same dark eyes, though The Empress’ eyes sparkled with a warmth never seen in their counterpart’s. There were a few fine lines around those eyes coupled with a bit of silver running through her hair. Those were the only sign of the woman’s age. If one didn’t know they might guess the pair were sisters rather than mother and child.

The Empress waved her hand. “Leave us.” Once the room was clear of advisors and guards, she rose from her throne. “My darling girl.”

“Maman,” Shaw groaned as she stood.

“And I so worried your travels might have changed you,” she teased, as she pulled a reluctant Shaw into a full body hug. Her brightly colored robes made an even sharper contrast against Shaw’s far darker clothing. Just when the embrace was hovering on the cusp of being awkward, she released Shaw and reached up to cup her face between her hands. “I have missed you.”

Shaw nodded. She figured her mother would have.

“You are well?”

“Same as ever,” Shaw shrugged. Still cursed went unsaid.

She waited for a look of disappointment to flood her mother’s gaze, but it never came. Instead her eyes strayed to something, or rather someone just over Shaw’s shoulder. The Empress released Shaw and took half a step back. “And your guest?”

Oh right. “Maman, this is Root.”

She bowed deeply at the waist as was customary. “An honor your highness.”

“Welcome. Any friend of Sameen’s.” She paused, her brows drawn together in consternation. “To be frank, I don’t believe Sameen has ever had a friend. Not one I knew about, let alone actually met.”

“Maman!”

She ignored that outburst. “As such, you are most welcome in my home, Root.”

“Thank you, Highness.”

“We needn’t stand on formality when it is just the three of us,” The Empress sighed. “You may leave off the highnesses and your majesties.”

“I’m doubly honored.”

“Root,” Shaw groaned. “She already said you didn’t have to do all of that. Just be normal.” She scowled, “Not your normal. Normal. Normal.”

“That could prove to be difficult.”

“Try.”

“Anything for you, Princess.”

“Root, I swear…” Her threat was cut off by the sound of her mother’s laughter.

The Empress walked over to Root and took her hands in hers. “Are you responsible for my daughter’s return?”

“Sameen charts her own course.” Shaw snorted at that. “But I may have given her a tiny nudge in this direction.”

“Then I owe you a great debt.”

“No need,” Root shook her head. “I would do almost anything for Sameen.”

“I believe you would.” The Empress nodded as if having come to a decision. “But we must still celebrate. Tomorrow there shall be a feast.”

“Maman,” Shaw groaned again. “There really is no need for all that.”

“Nonsense. You’ve been gone ages.”

“And I have nothing to show for it.” There it was out. She had failed. Now they could deal with it.

Her mother tilted her head. She drew her brows together in confusion. “Do you truly not know?”

“Know what?”

“What you have done.”

Why did her mother sound like Root all of a sudden? She cut her eyes over towards the smiling witch. Was her weirdness catching? Shaw turned back to her mother. “You’re going to have to explain better than that. I’m lost here.”

“They tell stories of you now,” her mother smiled. “How you’ve begun a great quest to rid the world of evil.”

“Seriously?”

Her mother nodded. “It seems like every week the bards are spinning a new tale of your exploits.” She almost sounded proud of that fact. “The Grand Vizier greatly enjoyed the latest one about your saving the son of the thunder god from a giant lion.”

“What?”

“Oh I’m sure the part about the thunder god is an exaggeration but,” she reached out and brushed her fingers against Shaw’s cloak, “I can see the lion was indeed real.”

Shaw turned to glare at Root. “The cloak was her idea.”

“A fine one indeed. You wear the spoils of victory well.” Yep, that was definitely pride in her voice. “I don’t know why you’ve been doing these things, but everyone knows you’re the one doing them.”

“How?” It wasn’t like she was going around telling everyone her name. Other than the lion’s pelt, she wasn’t exactly waving monster bits around either. She rolled her shoulders trying to release some tension. Oh. Alright the axe was a bit conspicuous. But she hadn’t been doing any of that stuff for attention.

Root bumped her with her hip. “You do make an impression, Sweetie.”

“And how many women of your description have been roaming the countryside slaying monsters and freeing villages?”

Okay Shaw would give her mother that. Probably not many.

“Anyone who has met you would know you from the description witnesses have given of this great hero,” her mother continued. “Tributes have been coming from kingdom after kingdom. Gold, silks, seed, cattle; I don’t believe your children’s children shall be able to exhaust it all.”

“Seriously?”

Her mother nodded. “Come, I will show you.”

Hours later Shaw and Root stumbled through the doorway to her chambers. Well, Root stumbled. She’d had a bit too much celebratory wine with her mother. So much so she flopped down on Shaw’s bed without reservation. “I like your mother.”

“What the hell was that?”

“Praise?”

Shaw scowled. “Not what you just said.” She wasn’t a simpleton. “Everything she did. All that stuff she showed us.”

“To the victor go the spoils, Sweetie.”

“But why?” Shaw grumbled. “All that stuff about me. People are telling stories?”

“Seems so.”

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“Oh I’m not.”

“Care to explain that?”

Root sighed as she slowly sat up. “There’s never been anything wrong with you.”

“What?”

“While I do find your heart extraordinary, I assure you there is nothing cursed about it.”

“But I’m not normal.”

“According to who?”

Shaw held her arms out wide, “Everyone?”

“Sameen,” Root sighed. “You react to things exactly the way you are meant to. Your way.”

“What about all that stuff about my heart?” Everyone had told her it was frozen. Everyone. Her mother. Her father before he died. The Vizier. The Vizier before this Vizier. The people in the lower city. Everyone. They couldn’t all be wrong.

“I don’t think it’s frozen. Because I don’t think you lack care for your people. If you did, you wouldn’t have left your home and sought out so many sages to try to fix a nonexistent problem. Your actions reflect the level of your regard.”

“If there was nothing wrong with me, then what was with the all those tasks you had me do?”

“What hero doesn’t perform great works to give the bards a song or two to sing?” At Shaw’s deepening scowl she elaborated, “Your reputation solely needed a boost. Those little errands allowed the people to see you as the beautiful spirit you’ve always been.”

“But the curse, it was real.” Her mother would never lie to her about such a thing. “It had to have been.”

“I don’t rightly know, Sweetie. Maybe your kingdom was cursed at some point. Maybe your father fixed it by killing the man responsible after all. Or maybe your mother should simply invest in better advisors.” Root shrugged. “All I know is that any misfortunes that befell your people were never your fault. It doesn’t matter if you’re not overly prone to smiling or tears. You are perfect exactly as you are. Now everyone knows it. And due to your good works, your subjects also have you to thank for their newfound prosperity.”

“So you tricked me.”

“Define tricked.” She chuckled. “You asked for help and I gave it. Maybe not what you wanted when we first met, but what you needed in the end.”

Shaw was quiet for quite some time after that. Root let her be, opting to change into her nightclothes and wash up a bit. After about a candle mark, Shaw seemed to come to a decision. “So what now?”

“I imagine all those cows and silks your mother mentioned have earned you the right to choose how wish you spend your time,” Root replied. “Whatever you want.”

Shaw nodded. “Since you seem to be the expert, have any thoughts on what I need?”

Root grinned, "I can think of a few things."