Brigit's Flame, September, week #4
Title: The Apple of My Eye
Author: keppiehed
Warnings: none
Rating: G
Word Count: 2887
Prompt: “Insurance”
A/N: Written for week #4 at brigits_flame. This concludes my monthlong side challenge with the fantastic and talented 1onewon and firesign10, in which we start our stories with each other's last lines, although it was such great fun I'd love to continue it! Also, I have to give credit and thanks to my daughter Elinor, who came up with the plot for the story.
"Thanks for everything, Alice." Marista gave a final twirl before the mirror. “You're a better friend than I deserve for helping me like this. How do I look?”
Alice grinned. “Perfect. Chadim won't be able to resist you. That dress makes your waist look so tiny; I'm sure he'll propose tonight.”
“Do you really think so?” Marista's heart flittered in anticipation. “It's all I've ever wanted. He's all I've ever wanted.”
Alice nodded. “I'm sure of it. Everyone can see how he looks at you. He loves you.”
Marista frowned. “How can you be so sure?”
“Are you kidding? You only have to see his face.” Alice laughed.
Marista bit her lip. “No, really. How do you know?”
Alice peered into her friend's face. “You're really worried, aren't you? Oh, hon, just relax. You're making yourself nervous for no reason. If it doesn't happen tonight, it will soon. Anyone with eyes in their head can see that he's-”
“You don't think it will happen tonight?” Marista asked.
“I didn't say that. I only meant-”
“This is a disaster. Of course he's not going to ask me to marry him. I mean, why should he? Maybe he even has some other girl! I saw him talking to Silsa yesterday at market. He's probably decided he prefers blondes.” Marista paced back and forth, the hem on her dress fluttering with every step. “Should I dye my hair?”
Alice stomped her foot. “Marista! Stop it! This is so unlike you! What's the matter with you?”
Marista grabbed her shawl. “I really can't stay to talk. I have to meet Chadim by the bridge at nightfall. We'll talk tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Alice said, but her words were met with silence in an empty room. Marista was already gone.
*
Marista made haste down the path to the bridge. Her mind was swirling with indecision. What if Chadim is bored with me? What if he doesn't want me anymore? How do I know his love is true? Was it ever? She scrubbed the tears from her eyes as the thoughts rose like putrid bubbles to the surface of her unsettled mind. She didn't want to think these things, but now she couldn't seem to stop.
Come
Marista slowed her stride. Had she heard a voice?
Come this way.
Yes, just there. Someone had spoken. Marista turned her head, but no one was there.
Come to me, my little sparrow, and I shall ease you.
Marista stopped. She was short of the bridge, but there was a sign, just ahead on the right, next to a tiny foot trail she'd never noticed before. In the growing gloom of the just-setting sun, it was difficult to read. Marista approached, in order to see it better. She made out ancient runes, the likes of which she didn't recognize, surrounding a central word: Schedossanya
The word, at first unfamiliar, stirred something dark from the depths of her consciousness. Marista frowned as she tried to remember where she'd heard that name-was it a name?-before, and as she struggled to bring forth the long-buried recollection, a breeze stirred through the undergrowth, rattling the dead leaves in warning.
Follow the signs to me, my chickadee. I am waiting for you.
The path seemed to beckon her, and Marista couldn't remember anything more inviting. There was no appointment more important than this one. She took first one step and then another.
The bridge was forgotten. Chadim was forgotten.
The path was downhill and easy to follow. Her feet wanted to skip, then jog. Why deny them? Soon Marista found herself at a full run, and she blindly dashed through the undergrowth. As she ran, the brush became scarcer, the foliage thinner and spindlier. Though it was summer, the leaves had a burnished look, then they appeared to vanish altogether. Soon she was running headlong through trees that were branch-bare, on ground that held a dusting of frost. When Marista at last paused to regain her breath, she could see the puffs streaming forth from her mouth, and the chill in the air settled on her, heavy as a cloak. How could that be? Where was she that everything had turned to winter?
You are here. Come to me, my robin.
The same voice, closer now, sounded from a cottage in the clearing. Marista blinked, unsure now that she was here. Why had she never seen this path before? She'd lived in the town and been exploring these woods all the years of her life. She'd never been here before this day.
The door to the cottage fell open in invitation.
Well, why not then? She'd come this far and no harm done. Marista walked towards the little house.
A strange smell emanated from the walls as she approached. It was sickly sweet, like nothing she could identify. Marista sniffed and stepped inside. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness.
“Welcome, duckling. You have come far to be here. Your desire to see me must be very strong. Very strong indeed.”
As Marista's vision cleared, she saw the shape of a woman in a shawl. An old woman, with long stringy hair. There were tiny bones braided into it. “Who are you? Where am I?”
“Ah, but you know the answer to those things already. You're a smarter one than that,” the woman said, laying a withered finger aside her nose and winking.
Marista frowned. “Schedossanya?”
“See? A bright little partridge you are!” The bones in her hair clinked as the woman laughed.
“But that was just what was on the sign. I don't understand,” Marista said.
“Don't you?” the woman asked. “Don't you? Don't you? Don't you?”
The caged birds in the cottage, which had previously escaped Marista's attention, caught the repetition of the phrase and began chanting along. “Don't you? Don't you? Don't you?”
The woman laughed again, baring blackened teeth.
The effect was eerie, and Marista's nerves frayed. She stepped backwards and knocked into a low table. A small book fell onto the floor.
“Have a care with my things, chicken!” the woman shrieked over the calling of the birds. “You are not in your own home, you know.”
Marista bent and with trembling fingers picked up the book to replace it. The pages fell open to reveal a woodcut print of a sorceress. She was stirring a cauldron and the heavens were tipping into it. She used the spoon to eat the moon from the sky. It was labeled simply-
“Schedossanya,” Marista breathed, understanding at last. Memories flooded back, stories that her mother had told her. The villagers used to scare each other with terrible tales of Schedossanya, but sometimes she could be tempted into benevolence, too. One could never tell. One never knew if she was on the side of the angels or the demons, but it was agreed all around that she had incredible power. A bargain made with Schedossanya was said to end in disaster, but it was a temptation too great to resist.
For most.
“You say my name as if you know me, little pelican. Have you remembered me now?” Schedossanya asked.
“No. I mean, I'm not sure,” Marista stammered.
Schedossanya stood, her lank hair brushing the floor. “Then begone with you. I don't suffer fools and halfwits. My time is precious. I seek to deal with those who see the like.”
Marista's heart leapt. “I do! I do know you, and I do think the like. I seek a bargain with you.”
The birds ceased their cawing, and there was no sound save for the cracking of the fire. “If it's a bargain you seek, then a bargain you'll gain, hummingbird. Name your terms.”
Marista didn't pause to think. Once she started talking, the words poured forth of their own accord. “It's my man, Chadim. I want to know his love is true.”
Schedossanya nodded. “It's a ring you're asking for? A marriage? You'd not be the first, pretty peahen.”
Marista shook her head. “No. I thought that was what I wanted, but if he loves me truly he'll ask me himself in time. I'll always doubt, though. And his love could dim. How can I ever know that I'm the only one? The best? So I want to know that his love is true. Pure. That I will always be the only one, that he'll look at no others before me. Can you do that?”
“I see. You want insurance. That complicates the matter a great deal.” Schedossanya shuffled to the cabinet on the far side of the room. “You don't know what you ask for. You're meddling in serious magic, far beyond your ken. You should take your ring like the rest and be happy. Trust in his love, starling.”
“I thought you could do anything,” Marista scoffed. “A ring is meaningless to me without knowing that love is true and always will be.”
Schedossanya stopped but didn't turn. “The price will be too dear. Do you agree to pay it regardless?”
“Then you can do it? Really?” Marista asked. “You can make him love me forever?”
“The price. You must agree,” Schedossanya said.
“Anything,” Marista promised.
Schedossanya opened the cabinet and withdrew a bright green flask. “Here you are, my quail. The Apple of My Eye potion.”
Marista accepted the phial. “What must I do? Drug him? I'm not sure-”
“No. It is for you, pigeon.” Schedossanya's gaze softened a moment, but she blinked and the pity was gone. “It is for you to drink, as you see fit. It … clarifies things. But that is of no import to me. I have delivered on my end of the bargain, and now for the matter of payment. You owe me the apple of your eye.”
Marista tore her gaze from the swirling depths of the potion. “What's that?”
“In exchange for this, you will give me the thing dearest to your heart,” Schedossanya said. “Drink the potion, then you must pay. Hold it in your hands and say the words: 'this is the apple of my eye', or I shall come and claim it for myself. And you should not like it if I do, I can promise you that, my wren.”
“But that is a steep price!” Marista exclaimed. “Besides, I can't even tell you what is dearest to me. Who knows what they love best in all the world?”
Schedossanya shrugged. “You agreed to the price. On your head be it. And more, if you don't hold to the bargain.” One eye glittered with leashed malice.
A tendril of unease curled its way from the pit of her belly, twining through her veins. Marista couldn't suppress a shiver. “Perhaps I spoke in haste. Chadim loves me, I'm sure. I need not make such a deal.”
“It is done.” Schedossanya's voice rang with finality. “See your way home now, little magpie, before you are lost forever. This hinterland has swallowed stronger souls than you.” The woman shook her hair at the cages surrounding them, but this time the birds remained silent.
With that threat, Marista had no choice but to close the door of the cottage and walk her way back through time until she arrived at summer, from whence she came.
What is dearest to me? she wondered. The pearl beads that Father brought back from the coast of Undosia , or maybe my small phial of scent that Chadim gave to me last solstice. No one in the village has either of those. I would hate to lose anything. Oh, I wonder if Grandmother's tea service counts. It isn't technically mine yet, but I know I shall have it one day, and I do cherish it so very much. I should hate to give it up …
Marista's thoughts churned with the cataloging of her possessions. She didn't have many, and any loss would be dear to her, but it was a small price to pay to be assured of Chadim's everlasting loyalty. She realized that despite the passage of time at Schedossanya's, through some odd trick the sun was still just setting, and she might have time to meet Chadim. Marista ran the rest of the way to the old covered bridge and uncorked the phial. Better to have done with this deal. She drank the potion as she waited for him to arrive.
Contrary to its name, the potion didn't taste of apples or anything else. It slid down her throat in a whisper of bubbles and smoke and was finished before the second swallow. Marista waited.
Nothing happened.
She wiggled her fingers and stamped her feet, but she felt the same. What trickery was this? Was Schedossanya a cheat and liar? She wouldn't hold to a bargain that-
“My dearest, you're here.”
Marista turned to see Chadim. He rounded the corner on the path, and it struck her that she'd never seen a face so welcome. He was always so earnest, so joyful to see her … she was overcome with longing for him, and she ran to him and threw her arms about him and buried her face in his neck.
“What's this?” he asked, his voice muffled by her hair. “Not that I protest, it's just unlike you to be so demonstrative. Are you well, my love?”
My love … The words stoppered in her throat and Marista realized how much he loved her, how much he had all along. How had she not seen it? And more, that she loved him. How could she not have felt it? How had she not known this feeling until just … this … very minute …
“The potion,” Marista said. “It was a love potion.”
“My darling?” Chadim pulled away. “What was that?”
Marista was too stunned to hear him. “Not for you; for me. I'm in love with you. I love you, Chadim.”
He smiled. “And I love you. In fact, there is an especial reason that I asked you here tonight. I hope that you can forgive me, but I had a bit of an underlying motive for seeing you.”
“Oh?” Marista's heart was thumping so hard it drowned out his words. I love you … I love you …
Chadim cleared his throat and fell to one knee. “I couldn't see one more sun rise without asking you to share it with me, as my bride. Will you consent to spend the rest of your days by my side? I love you so much. I want to be with you, and only you, always. I don't have much, but what I do have I want to share with you. You are the dearest thing in the whole world to me. Will you marry me?” He held forth a ring.
As Marista stared at the circlet of gold, she knew with instant clarity what was dearest to her heart. It wasn't pearls nor perfumes nor even an heirloom tea set. It was the man on his knees before her. “I can't,” she whispered.
“What?” Chadim asked, stunned.
“No, no, not you!” Marista said. “Yes to you, a thousand times yes! It's just … another matter. I must break a promise. I was thinking of something else. An inopportune moment, I admit, but please. I will be your wife! Nothing would make me happier!”
A crack of lightning lit the night sky. Marista cried out and Chadim jumped to shield her, but there was no concealing the woman who stepped forth from the flash. “A bargain broken is a debt twice collected upon. You should know that, little lark.”
“Who are you?” Chadim said. “What is this?”
The woman who walked towards them was nothing like the crone Marista had known. She was unbent and beautiful, with eyes that shone like the stars in the sky and skin as pure as the moon's glow. Her hips swayed, and her hair fell around her in waves. The only thing that remained the same were the delicate bones tied into the tresses. “This? This is your fate,” she said. “Sealed by the one dearest to your heart.”
“Marista?” Chadim asked, turning to face her.
“Please don't take him. You can have my necklace,” Marista offered. “And I have this ermine shawl-”
Schedossanya's laugh was rich and full. “I don't want your things. I want payment, nothing more. The apple of your eye. Now.” She snapped her fingers.
Chadim swiveled his head towards the witch. “My lady?”
“Yes,” Schedossanya purred. “Come here to me. Come here to me, my little sparrow. I shall ease you.”
Chadim stepped towards Schedossanya as if drawn by the tides themselves.
“No! You can't! I love him. Please, he's mine,” Marista sobbed.
“And now he's mine,” said Schedossanya. “Mine to play with forever, little dove. Oh, that reminds me ...” Schedossanya held up a birdcage. “Speaking of doves, that seems rather apt for you. And as I just had a vacancy this morning, I believe you'll suit rather nicely.”
Marista didn't have time to run. Her arms folded into wings and she was sucked into the cage. Before she had time to know what had happened, her scream was nothing more than the mournful call of a dove.
“Let us go home together,” Schedossanya said. “Home to the long unbroken winter.”
And so they did.
Author: keppiehed
Warnings: none
Rating: G
Word Count: 2887
Prompt: “Insurance”
A/N: Written for week #4 at brigits_flame. This concludes my monthlong side challenge with the fantastic and talented 1onewon and firesign10, in which we start our stories with each other's last lines, although it was such great fun I'd love to continue it! Also, I have to give credit and thanks to my daughter Elinor, who came up with the plot for the story.
"Thanks for everything, Alice." Marista gave a final twirl before the mirror. “You're a better friend than I deserve for helping me like this. How do I look?”
Alice grinned. “Perfect. Chadim won't be able to resist you. That dress makes your waist look so tiny; I'm sure he'll propose tonight.”
“Do you really think so?” Marista's heart flittered in anticipation. “It's all I've ever wanted. He's all I've ever wanted.”
Alice nodded. “I'm sure of it. Everyone can see how he looks at you. He loves you.”
Marista frowned. “How can you be so sure?”
“Are you kidding? You only have to see his face.” Alice laughed.
Marista bit her lip. “No, really. How do you know?”
Alice peered into her friend's face. “You're really worried, aren't you? Oh, hon, just relax. You're making yourself nervous for no reason. If it doesn't happen tonight, it will soon. Anyone with eyes in their head can see that he's-”
“You don't think it will happen tonight?” Marista asked.
“I didn't say that. I only meant-”
“This is a disaster. Of course he's not going to ask me to marry him. I mean, why should he? Maybe he even has some other girl! I saw him talking to Silsa yesterday at market. He's probably decided he prefers blondes.” Marista paced back and forth, the hem on her dress fluttering with every step. “Should I dye my hair?”
Alice stomped her foot. “Marista! Stop it! This is so unlike you! What's the matter with you?”
Marista grabbed her shawl. “I really can't stay to talk. I have to meet Chadim by the bridge at nightfall. We'll talk tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Alice said, but her words were met with silence in an empty room. Marista was already gone.
*
Marista made haste down the path to the bridge. Her mind was swirling with indecision. What if Chadim is bored with me? What if he doesn't want me anymore? How do I know his love is true? Was it ever? She scrubbed the tears from her eyes as the thoughts rose like putrid bubbles to the surface of her unsettled mind. She didn't want to think these things, but now she couldn't seem to stop.
Come
Marista slowed her stride. Had she heard a voice?
Come this way.
Yes, just there. Someone had spoken. Marista turned her head, but no one was there.
Come to me, my little sparrow, and I shall ease you.
Marista stopped. She was short of the bridge, but there was a sign, just ahead on the right, next to a tiny foot trail she'd never noticed before. In the growing gloom of the just-setting sun, it was difficult to read. Marista approached, in order to see it better. She made out ancient runes, the likes of which she didn't recognize, surrounding a central word: Schedossanya
The word, at first unfamiliar, stirred something dark from the depths of her consciousness. Marista frowned as she tried to remember where she'd heard that name-was it a name?-before, and as she struggled to bring forth the long-buried recollection, a breeze stirred through the undergrowth, rattling the dead leaves in warning.
Follow the signs to me, my chickadee. I am waiting for you.
The path seemed to beckon her, and Marista couldn't remember anything more inviting. There was no appointment more important than this one. She took first one step and then another.
The bridge was forgotten. Chadim was forgotten.
The path was downhill and easy to follow. Her feet wanted to skip, then jog. Why deny them? Soon Marista found herself at a full run, and she blindly dashed through the undergrowth. As she ran, the brush became scarcer, the foliage thinner and spindlier. Though it was summer, the leaves had a burnished look, then they appeared to vanish altogether. Soon she was running headlong through trees that were branch-bare, on ground that held a dusting of frost. When Marista at last paused to regain her breath, she could see the puffs streaming forth from her mouth, and the chill in the air settled on her, heavy as a cloak. How could that be? Where was she that everything had turned to winter?
You are here. Come to me, my robin.
The same voice, closer now, sounded from a cottage in the clearing. Marista blinked, unsure now that she was here. Why had she never seen this path before? She'd lived in the town and been exploring these woods all the years of her life. She'd never been here before this day.
The door to the cottage fell open in invitation.
Well, why not then? She'd come this far and no harm done. Marista walked towards the little house.
A strange smell emanated from the walls as she approached. It was sickly sweet, like nothing she could identify. Marista sniffed and stepped inside. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness.
“Welcome, duckling. You have come far to be here. Your desire to see me must be very strong. Very strong indeed.”
As Marista's vision cleared, she saw the shape of a woman in a shawl. An old woman, with long stringy hair. There were tiny bones braided into it. “Who are you? Where am I?”
“Ah, but you know the answer to those things already. You're a smarter one than that,” the woman said, laying a withered finger aside her nose and winking.
Marista frowned. “Schedossanya?”
“See? A bright little partridge you are!” The bones in her hair clinked as the woman laughed.
“But that was just what was on the sign. I don't understand,” Marista said.
“Don't you?” the woman asked. “Don't you? Don't you? Don't you?”
The caged birds in the cottage, which had previously escaped Marista's attention, caught the repetition of the phrase and began chanting along. “Don't you? Don't you? Don't you?”
The woman laughed again, baring blackened teeth.
The effect was eerie, and Marista's nerves frayed. She stepped backwards and knocked into a low table. A small book fell onto the floor.
“Have a care with my things, chicken!” the woman shrieked over the calling of the birds. “You are not in your own home, you know.”
Marista bent and with trembling fingers picked up the book to replace it. The pages fell open to reveal a woodcut print of a sorceress. She was stirring a cauldron and the heavens were tipping into it. She used the spoon to eat the moon from the sky. It was labeled simply-
“Schedossanya,” Marista breathed, understanding at last. Memories flooded back, stories that her mother had told her. The villagers used to scare each other with terrible tales of Schedossanya, but sometimes she could be tempted into benevolence, too. One could never tell. One never knew if she was on the side of the angels or the demons, but it was agreed all around that she had incredible power. A bargain made with Schedossanya was said to end in disaster, but it was a temptation too great to resist.
For most.
“You say my name as if you know me, little pelican. Have you remembered me now?” Schedossanya asked.
“No. I mean, I'm not sure,” Marista stammered.
Schedossanya stood, her lank hair brushing the floor. “Then begone with you. I don't suffer fools and halfwits. My time is precious. I seek to deal with those who see the like.”
Marista's heart leapt. “I do! I do know you, and I do think the like. I seek a bargain with you.”
The birds ceased their cawing, and there was no sound save for the cracking of the fire. “If it's a bargain you seek, then a bargain you'll gain, hummingbird. Name your terms.”
Marista didn't pause to think. Once she started talking, the words poured forth of their own accord. “It's my man, Chadim. I want to know his love is true.”
Schedossanya nodded. “It's a ring you're asking for? A marriage? You'd not be the first, pretty peahen.”
Marista shook her head. “No. I thought that was what I wanted, but if he loves me truly he'll ask me himself in time. I'll always doubt, though. And his love could dim. How can I ever know that I'm the only one? The best? So I want to know that his love is true. Pure. That I will always be the only one, that he'll look at no others before me. Can you do that?”
“I see. You want insurance. That complicates the matter a great deal.” Schedossanya shuffled to the cabinet on the far side of the room. “You don't know what you ask for. You're meddling in serious magic, far beyond your ken. You should take your ring like the rest and be happy. Trust in his love, starling.”
“I thought you could do anything,” Marista scoffed. “A ring is meaningless to me without knowing that love is true and always will be.”
Schedossanya stopped but didn't turn. “The price will be too dear. Do you agree to pay it regardless?”
“Then you can do it? Really?” Marista asked. “You can make him love me forever?”
“The price. You must agree,” Schedossanya said.
“Anything,” Marista promised.
Schedossanya opened the cabinet and withdrew a bright green flask. “Here you are, my quail. The Apple of My Eye potion.”
Marista accepted the phial. “What must I do? Drug him? I'm not sure-”
“No. It is for you, pigeon.” Schedossanya's gaze softened a moment, but she blinked and the pity was gone. “It is for you to drink, as you see fit. It … clarifies things. But that is of no import to me. I have delivered on my end of the bargain, and now for the matter of payment. You owe me the apple of your eye.”
Marista tore her gaze from the swirling depths of the potion. “What's that?”
“In exchange for this, you will give me the thing dearest to your heart,” Schedossanya said. “Drink the potion, then you must pay. Hold it in your hands and say the words: 'this is the apple of my eye', or I shall come and claim it for myself. And you should not like it if I do, I can promise you that, my wren.”
“But that is a steep price!” Marista exclaimed. “Besides, I can't even tell you what is dearest to me. Who knows what they love best in all the world?”
Schedossanya shrugged. “You agreed to the price. On your head be it. And more, if you don't hold to the bargain.” One eye glittered with leashed malice.
A tendril of unease curled its way from the pit of her belly, twining through her veins. Marista couldn't suppress a shiver. “Perhaps I spoke in haste. Chadim loves me, I'm sure. I need not make such a deal.”
“It is done.” Schedossanya's voice rang with finality. “See your way home now, little magpie, before you are lost forever. This hinterland has swallowed stronger souls than you.” The woman shook her hair at the cages surrounding them, but this time the birds remained silent.
With that threat, Marista had no choice but to close the door of the cottage and walk her way back through time until she arrived at summer, from whence she came.
What is dearest to me? she wondered. The pearl beads that Father brought back from the coast of Undosia , or maybe my small phial of scent that Chadim gave to me last solstice. No one in the village has either of those. I would hate to lose anything. Oh, I wonder if Grandmother's tea service counts. It isn't technically mine yet, but I know I shall have it one day, and I do cherish it so very much. I should hate to give it up …
Marista's thoughts churned with the cataloging of her possessions. She didn't have many, and any loss would be dear to her, but it was a small price to pay to be assured of Chadim's everlasting loyalty. She realized that despite the passage of time at Schedossanya's, through some odd trick the sun was still just setting, and she might have time to meet Chadim. Marista ran the rest of the way to the old covered bridge and uncorked the phial. Better to have done with this deal. She drank the potion as she waited for him to arrive.
Contrary to its name, the potion didn't taste of apples or anything else. It slid down her throat in a whisper of bubbles and smoke and was finished before the second swallow. Marista waited.
Nothing happened.
She wiggled her fingers and stamped her feet, but she felt the same. What trickery was this? Was Schedossanya a cheat and liar? She wouldn't hold to a bargain that-
“My dearest, you're here.”
Marista turned to see Chadim. He rounded the corner on the path, and it struck her that she'd never seen a face so welcome. He was always so earnest, so joyful to see her … she was overcome with longing for him, and she ran to him and threw her arms about him and buried her face in his neck.
“What's this?” he asked, his voice muffled by her hair. “Not that I protest, it's just unlike you to be so demonstrative. Are you well, my love?”
My love … The words stoppered in her throat and Marista realized how much he loved her, how much he had all along. How had she not seen it? And more, that she loved him. How could she not have felt it? How had she not known this feeling until just … this … very minute …
“The potion,” Marista said. “It was a love potion.”
“My darling?” Chadim pulled away. “What was that?”
Marista was too stunned to hear him. “Not for you; for me. I'm in love with you. I love you, Chadim.”
He smiled. “And I love you. In fact, there is an especial reason that I asked you here tonight. I hope that you can forgive me, but I had a bit of an underlying motive for seeing you.”
“Oh?” Marista's heart was thumping so hard it drowned out his words. I love you … I love you …
Chadim cleared his throat and fell to one knee. “I couldn't see one more sun rise without asking you to share it with me, as my bride. Will you consent to spend the rest of your days by my side? I love you so much. I want to be with you, and only you, always. I don't have much, but what I do have I want to share with you. You are the dearest thing in the whole world to me. Will you marry me?” He held forth a ring.
As Marista stared at the circlet of gold, she knew with instant clarity what was dearest to her heart. It wasn't pearls nor perfumes nor even an heirloom tea set. It was the man on his knees before her. “I can't,” she whispered.
“What?” Chadim asked, stunned.
“No, no, not you!” Marista said. “Yes to you, a thousand times yes! It's just … another matter. I must break a promise. I was thinking of something else. An inopportune moment, I admit, but please. I will be your wife! Nothing would make me happier!”
A crack of lightning lit the night sky. Marista cried out and Chadim jumped to shield her, but there was no concealing the woman who stepped forth from the flash. “A bargain broken is a debt twice collected upon. You should know that, little lark.”
“Who are you?” Chadim said. “What is this?”
The woman who walked towards them was nothing like the crone Marista had known. She was unbent and beautiful, with eyes that shone like the stars in the sky and skin as pure as the moon's glow. Her hips swayed, and her hair fell around her in waves. The only thing that remained the same were the delicate bones tied into the tresses. “This? This is your fate,” she said. “Sealed by the one dearest to your heart.”
“Marista?” Chadim asked, turning to face her.
“Please don't take him. You can have my necklace,” Marista offered. “And I have this ermine shawl-”
Schedossanya's laugh was rich and full. “I don't want your things. I want payment, nothing more. The apple of your eye. Now.” She snapped her fingers.
Chadim swiveled his head towards the witch. “My lady?”
“Yes,” Schedossanya purred. “Come here to me. Come here to me, my little sparrow. I shall ease you.”
Chadim stepped towards Schedossanya as if drawn by the tides themselves.
“No! You can't! I love him. Please, he's mine,” Marista sobbed.
“And now he's mine,” said Schedossanya. “Mine to play with forever, little dove. Oh, that reminds me ...” Schedossanya held up a birdcage. “Speaking of doves, that seems rather apt for you. And as I just had a vacancy this morning, I believe you'll suit rather nicely.”
Marista didn't have time to run. Her arms folded into wings and she was sucked into the cage. Before she had time to know what had happened, her scream was nothing more than the mournful call of a dove.
“Let us go home together,” Schedossanya said. “Home to the long unbroken winter.”
And so they did.