In the Open Cage

Chapter 8

Royle paced from the potted plant sitting next to a couch to the grand piano at the center of the room. His boots squeaked when he turned, pounding against the tiles before being muffled by the thick carpeting beneath the sitting area. He glanced at the massive clock next to the door, its golden pendulum swinging back and forth.

It was nearing noon. Any more waiting and he wouldn't be able to make it to the lunch meet he had with his men. When were they going to grant him permission to enter the throne room?

Royle resumed his impatient walk, churning the thoughts over in his head. He only had a vague idea of what he would say to the royal council, and he hoped it would solidify by the time he was allowed to grace their presence. Nisha was still a problem. There must be something they could do about her, to prevent her from ever doing any harmful magic again. His chest burned. That needed to be sorted too, but he would meet with the witches at a later time.

The door to the lounging room opened. Royle stopped in his tracks and perked up. Finally. He waited for the servant who would direct him to the throne room to enter.

Instead, the last person he ever wanted to see passed through the door. Three guards trailed behind her, lax, as if they weren't in charge of guarding the greatest threat to their country.

Royle paled. His chest tightened, his heart pounded so hard that it hurt. Why was she here? What business did she have with the royal council?

At the sight of him, Nisha smiled. It would have been pleasant if Royle didn't know what true monster lay underneath. It sickened him that she could act like she hadn't spent her life slaughtering entire populations.

"Captain," she said. "Fancy meeting you here."

Royle stiffened. He returned a curt nod of acknowledgement, fighting every fiber in his being to reach for his gun and put a bullet right between her eyes. That would surely ruin the treaty, and he still had that curse marking his chest. He would be of no help to Misa if he was dead.

The day of the treaty was fast approaching. If he could just hold out until then, he was sure everything would be fine. That was, if everything went according to plan. Nisha's meeting with the royal council didn't sit well with him. She had to be scheming something.

Royle remained in his position by the piano. He wasn't going to resume pacing when the witch was in the room. He wasn't going to let her see a drop of his trepidation.

Nisha took a seat at the couch next to the potted plant and hooked her right knee over her left leg. The guards spread out, one standing behind her, the other two moving towards the closest wall where they would have a good view of her.

Nisha rested her cheek against her palm, her elbow propped up against the arm of the chair. She played with the fronds of the plant with her free hand.

"Are you aware of the attention being given to the witches?" Nisha said. Her voice echoed in the room, drowning out the ticks of the clock. "It's quite a pain. Do you know how many have come to me to ask if I could bargain with them? Shameless, considering how many of our sisters they executed."

Royle leaned against the piano. He didn't reply. He wasn't sure what he would do or say if he gave her the attention she wanted, and with three witnesses in the room, he didn't want to risk losing control. Misa. He had to keep his thoughts on Misa.

"Favours in the witch market aren't the only thing being asked of us. Apparently, there are quite a few men interested in spending a night with a witch. Most of us witches have had such requests, but my dear Misa may have it the worst. Are you aware that she has captured the attention of a prince?"