Behind Boleyn

XXII - Power In The Blood

In preparation for their return to Greenwich Castle, Millie decided to top up her supply of the moon's essence. She had a feeling she would be using it quite a bit in her ministrations at court. She patiently waited for the moon to be at its fullest and then she took flight under her gray cloak into the forest, Circe at her heel. Her feet floated over the land, so familiar under her touch. There was nowhere she felt so at peace as at Hever Castle.

The clearing she reached in the middle of the woods was the same space she had used for almost thirty years. Even the grass knew her presence, bending easily as she walked the path of the pentagram, preparing to fill herself to the brim with magic. She vibrated with anticipation as she dropped her robe and the cool air hit her body and filled her lungs. A deep breath brought her body upright, powerful and strong under the moon's bright beams. The tingle of magic started to fill her even before she danced around the green blades.

And then she heard a sound that filled her with dread so deep her body caved in upon itself. The slightest whisper of a gasp. Circe growled beside her.

No! It cannot be! The words, hastily thought, hissed through her soul, ripping her face away from the moon to the smallest of sounds for such enormous ramifications.

She narrowed her eyes as they searched for motion, a telltale sign of the person she would have no choice but to kill. Millie cursed under her breath. She didn't have time for all of the complexities involved in disposing body tonight. Her eyes stole a brief glance at the moon registering her disappointment at missing this opportunity to refill herself.

"Millie?" The breath moving past these lips barely parted the air, yet she heard it. A question, though the answer was clear under the moon's light.

Finally, Millie's eyes rested on her Anne, whose body was poised with shocked stillness. Millie smiled. She stood proud, bringing her body fully erect as she stared her charge down. Slowly, Anne's body shrunk under the power before her. Millie was sure that Anne was remembering all the little things that had seemed odd. Now they made sense.

"You have power, Anne," Millie whispered.

Anne's eyes narrowed.

"Don't wilt before me, child. You have power that could far outweigh my own with the right tutelage."

Anne's expression turned to one full of questions.

Perfect.

Millie opened her hand towards the cloak at her feet. It rose to meet her reach and she pulled it over her nakedness. She walked over to look closer into the wondering eyes of the young woman who had become a friend, of sorts, over the years. Circe maintained a lead as they closed the distance, ever wary for her master.

"Your finger was the sign I was looking for all along. The moment you were born, I poured every ounce of strength I could into you. You have grown into someone strong enough, smart enough, to be my protege. I am so glad the moment has come. It is time for us, you and I, to work together to bring down the most evil force in our world."

"What do you mean?"

"Let me tell you, Anne, though it pains to speak of it. But you should know the depths of my heartbreak. Many, many years ago, I was a mother. A sweet child with hair like yours." Millie paused and picked Circe up, stroking her fur as she allowed herself to remember. "Eyes like yours. Witt, charm, laughter." Millie's eyes grew soft. "She was admired by all. Loved. Cherished." A sniff here. "As she grew and matured, men began to vie for her attention, but she wanted more than one love. She loved all of her people and she wanted to serve them all. She had grown into a powerful witch and was a natural leader to our people. Witches were revered. Powerful, loving, healers of the people, among so many other gifts.