The Tanglewood Witches Read online

  Alena could see it now, how the smoke never seemed to actually touch Orpheus. It curled away from his flesh. Genius, she thought. She’d love to ask him about that particular spell if they ever got out of this room.

  “How long have you known about me?” she asked.

  “Since the feast. When I kissed you, I knew you were magic. Couldn’t you sense it in me?”

  She searched his face. The kiss had sent tingles through her body, but it wasn’t as though she’d had anything to compare it to. Weren’t all kisses like that? She shook her head.

  Orpheus shrugged and started to cough. “Hades, it seems my spell is wearing off. And no closer to finding out what Cleopatra wants from us, other than to die.”

  No one could claim to know the mind of Cleopatra. Far above the commoners of Egypt, her will was a maze of secrets known only to her. Alena had always thought it would be lonely to be a pharaoh; perhaps that was why it wasn’t hard to believe the rumors that Cleopatra’s obsessive quest for power had made her a killer. Some said she’d murdered her own brother for the throne.

  Orpheus pressed his face into his hands, body stretched out on the floor. She had to make a difficult decision. Did she assume this trial must have one winner and allow the smoke to overcome him? Or did she help him and risk inviting the wrath of Cleopatra?

  In the end, there was no decision to make. It was bad enough to live with the knowledge that she could do nothing to help the other men who’d collapsed in the room. Refusing aid to Orpheus when he was the reason she’d thought to build the mask in the first place would be a black mark on her soul she could not abide.

  Alena took a deep breath and then moved her mask to cover Orpheus’s nose and mouth. His body eased beside her, his breathing evening out. He took three long breaths, then moved the mask back to her face. They survived together, sharing the mask, until the smoke was so thick she could no longer see the walls of the room, only his deep-blue eyes.

  And then the stone-on-stone rumble filled the room again. Not the door this time. Like a dream, one entire wall of their cell slid away. Cool air wafted around them. The smoke rose up and out in a billow of gray. Light cut through the foggy air. Orpheus had her by the shoulders and was helping her to her feet.

  She blinked rapidly. Through the dispelling haze, she could make out a vast hall ahead of them with brightly painted columns. Colorful tapestries draped the walls, and a long red rug led to a dais. She squinted to make out who or what was on that platform at the other end of the room, but her eyes still stung from the smoke, and their watering blurred her vision. Alena leaned into Orpheus, and together they hobbled along the aisle. Fire burned in a series of great gold bowls lighting their way. Alena blinked and blinked again.

  Dread filled her heart when she realized who it was on that platform, sitting on her golden throne. Not some soldier or priest or counselor as she’d expected but Cleopatra herself.

  Her hair was as black and shiny as the Nile at midnight, and her clothing was solid gold. Everything about her was fashioned to intimidate her subjects, from the robe made to resemble the feathers of Isis to the headdress of horns that framed a large red disk that reflected the light of the flickering torches in a way that seemed supernatural.

  Alena swallowed hard. This woman ruled Egypt. She truly might be a goddess for all Alena knew. She definitely held their lives in her hands. It was said she was beautiful, but Alena didn’t see beauty, only power. She radiated it like a deadly, burning sun.

  Orpheus tugged her shoulders as they arrived at the base of the dais, and she followed his lead, dropping to her knees beside him.

  An elderly man who stood beside the pharaoh announced, “All hail Cleopatra, the embodiment of Isis, sister to Horus and Ra, and queen of all Egypt.”

  Alena lowered her forehead to the floor and prayed to all the gods whose names she could remember that the worst was already behind her.

  Chapter Two

  “Rise,” Cleopatra commanded.

  Orpheus climbed to his feet and helped Alena to hers. She seemed rightfully flustered, and he steadied her with a firm hand on her shoulder. Everything about this situation made him uneasy. It was well known that Cleopatra had become unhinged in recent years. On a whim, she could have both of them beheaded and spend the rest of the afternoon kicking their skulls around her throne room for sport. Her power was ultimate.

  Alena had saved his life. She must feel something for him despite what had happened between them. Though this was not how he’d thought things would proceed. He should be saving her if he was ever going to make up for what he’d done to her. It was rotten luck that he’d needed rescuing. His spell should have been sufficient. But all magic was unpredictable, especially here in the palace where it was said the gods were closest to the realm of man.

  “Two. Only two worthy sorcerers in all my lands,” Cleopatra snapped. Her blood-colored nails dug into the arms of her throne as she scowled at the pile of bodies still in the stone room at the other end of the enormous hall. “So be it. You will be my champions.”

  Orpheus fisted his hands to keep from saying something he might regret. Years ago, he’d heard that Cleopatra had rolled herself inside a carpet and had it delivered to Julius Caesar in order to orchestrate a meeting with the emperor. A cunning move. That relationship had resulted in a son, a son whose father had been murdered. Now the queen was married to Mark Antony, although he was away fighting her battles. People around Cleopatra tended to die. Her merciless rule was characterized by a great many more horrors than a few dead priests.

  It was all made worse by his desire to protect Alena. She was a powerful healer, but she had the gentlest soul he’d ever come across. He’d spent months chastising himself over the lie of omission. Those aristocratic women had treated her cruelly with their nasty gossip and outright rejection of her. Alena had been the source of the most exciting kiss he’d ever experienced, and he was painfully aware that, underneath her tattered cloak, she had the heart of an angel. Several other interesting things probably existed beneath that cloak as well. Things he should very much like to explore in the future if he survived this day.

  He took a fortifying breath and tried to think about what his father would do in this situation. The man could usually talk his way out of anything.

  “How can I be of service to you, my queen?” he said lightly. He bowed low, his stomach churning at the thought of carrying out any appalling request the ruler might make.

  Cleopatra drummed her fingers on the arm of her throne. “You are Orpheus, the barber?”

  “Yes.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Alena’s head turn, and her perusal burned against his cheek.

  “And you…” Cleopatra turned her full attention on Alena. “They call you a hedge witch, the Healer of the Nile.”

  Alena’s throat bobbed. “An exaggeration. I have an affinity for plants and herbs and their many uses.”

  “I have been told by a reliable source that you brought a man’s goat back from the dead.”

  “I only kept it from dying.”

  “Are you saying my source is a liar?”

  Orpheus cringed. He could see Alena growing flustered. Didn’t she realize that downplaying her gifts would only hurt her situation? They’d survived Cleopatra’s test. The pharaoh would not believe her denial of power now.

  “Perhaps the man only thought the goat was dead,” he offered.

  Alena blinked rapidly. “That’s right. Your source isn’t lying; he simply wasn’t near enough to see what I saw. The goat was still alive. I gave it a tonic, and it revived. That is all.”

  Cleopatra lifted her chin. “A barber and a simple healer.” She stared down her nose at them from her throne. “Still, you survived my test when my most powerful priests did not. There may be hope for you yet.”

  “I was fortunate to have my bag of pharmacopoeia with me.” Alena tapped the large satchel at her hip.

  “And you shall have it when you take up my quest.”


  Orpheus’s face turned cold, as if all the blood had drained from it, and his heart fluttered. So this wasn’t over. “What is this quest you speak of, my queen?”

  “Octavian’s legions even now are invading Egypt. Our armies are outmatched.” Cleopatra paused for a long while, then spoke in a low voice as if she did not want the gods to hear. “What you do not know is that Mark Antony is gravely injured.”

  Alena gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “Calm yourself, hedge witch. I shall set things right if you and the barber succeed. I need you to retrieve something for me, a book of magic with equal ability to heal as well as destroy. A golden grimoire, promised to me by the gods.”

  Orpheus exchanged glances with Alena, who looked as confused as he felt. He cleared his throat. “Where do we find this grimoire?”

  “Follow me.” Cleopatra rose from her throne, her golden robes clinking with her movement. Snapping her fingers, she called a large, heavily armed guard to her side. “Make sure they behave, Ledmur.”

  The guard followed behind them menacingly as the pharaoh led them deeper into the palace, the stone passageways narrowing with their progress. Orpheus glanced back when Alena grabbed his hand and squeezed. He could guess what she was thinking. It was highly unusual to be alone like this with the queen, even with an armed guard. And for her to share the news of Mark Antony’s fatal injuries meant she did not fear they would ever have the chance to speak that secret to anyone else anytime soon.

  “My palace has many hidden passageways,” she said, the torchlight reflecting in her dark eyes.

  She unlocked an ordinary door and led them into an even narrower corridor, barely wider than Orpheus’s shoulders. Alena kept hold of his hand as she followed behind him.

  “I’ve explored every one. Doors upon doors. But this one, this door revealed itself only days ago, the day I prayed for a way to avenge Mark Antony.”

  The passage opened into a dark, cavernous room with rough-hewn walls where torches flickered and shadows danced. Orpheus glanced at Alena, who’d moved closer to his side. Her lips parted as she took in the massive golden carvings before them. Orpheus was just as dumbstruck. The ancient symbols meant nothing to him, but at the center of the closed doors was the unmistakable shape of a gold peacock.

  “The gods have heard my prayers. The peacock, you see, is a symbol of the all-knowing Eye of Horus. He sees and he has sent me this.” She pointed to a series of inscriptions in the stone, which Orpheus couldn’t read. It wasn’t Greek or Egyptian. “This writing is in an ancient language only one of my high priests could translate. It says the grimoire is protected by a series of challenges meant to keep the unworthy from possessing it. It tells of the book’s power to heal and destroy our enemies.” Cleopatra’s fingers trailed over the symbols. “Unfortunately, none of my champions have been able to retrieve it.”

  “Is the door charmed?” Alena asked.

  Cleopatra laughed. “No. It will open for you. Entering is not the problem. Coming out alive is.”

  Orpheus swallowed and felt Alena shiver. “Others have attempted this quest?”

  Cleopatra’s kohl-rimmed eyes met his. “None have succeeded.”

  “How do you expect us to survive if the door has only ever led to death?” Alena protested in a trembling voice.

  The queen tilted her head. “You survived my trial, hedge witch. Use your powers. This challenge should be easy for you and the barber. Simply follow the path to its end.”

  “And if we refuse?” Orpheus scowled.

  “There is no way out of this room without the grimoire.” Her blood-red lips formed an exaggerated pout.

  The guard drew his sword. Orpheus could try magic, but he was sure there would be more guards. They were outnumbered here.

  He glanced again toward Alena, whose expression bordered on panic. “I don’t suppose we have an option.”

  Cleopatra gave him a patronizing look. “No.”

  “The golden door or certain death,” Alena murmured.

  “Every day without the weapon is a day we risk defeat against Octavian’s legions. Take heart, barber. The gods brought us this door. If your hearts are pure, surely the gods will come to your aid.”

  “My heart hasn’t been pure since before the pyramids, my queen,” he said sarcastically.

  Cleopatra raised her chin. “Then you’d better hope hers is, for both your sakes. Now, I tire of your insolence.” She gestured toward the door.

  Orpheus focused on Alena. She was trembling. How he hated this, hated Cleopatra with every fiber of his being.

  He offered Alena his hand. “How hard can it be? All we have to do is survive.”

  Chapter Three

  Survive. Alena shook her head. Who knew what they were walking into? Anything gifted by the gods would also be protected by them, and all deities could be downright cruel in their games. Still, there was no choice. That was clear.

  Against her better judgment, Alena slipped her hand into Orpheus’s again and allowed him to guide her to the golden doors. Part of her hated relying on him for comfort, but a larger part was too terrified to deny herself the human contact. If she was going to die, she’d like to be holding on to someone when it happened. Even if that person was an unnerving but woefully attractive charlatan.

  Did Cleopatra know what was on the other side? What had her previous champions described? Had Alena been braver, she might have asked. But at the moment, her tongue had turned to leather in her mouth, and she was clutching her basket to her stomach as hard as she was clutching Orpheus’s fingers—as if her life depended on it. As if either could protect her from a test of the gods.

  Together, they pushed against the doors.

  White light flooded over them, and without taking a single step, Alena found she was standing inside a forest. Bleached white branches littered the ground, covered in dirt and leaves. She whirled and found the door closed behind her, its ornate gold panels surrounded by nothing but air as if they’d sprouted directly from the soil.

  “That’s a bad sign,” Orpheus said.

  “What?”

  He pointed at the forest floor.

  “The fallen branches?”

  He laughed through his nose and arched a brow at her. “Those are bones, Alena, and I’m guessing that whatever picked them clean is close by.”

  The back of her neck prickled. Everything here was strange. The sky gave off a metallic glint. She could find no sun or moon, but a bright ambient light with no point of origination lit their way. The air was heavy and close. She scanned their surroundings: trees… bones… fallen leaves.

  “There’s a path,” she whispered, pointing to a dirt rut that led deeper into the forest. “Perhaps if we are quiet, we can sneak past whatever it is and move beyond its territory.”

  He swallowed and nodded.

  What other choice was there than to keep moving forward? With one eye on the strangely silver sky, she led the way, still holding Orpheus’s hand. Her palms were sweaty now, and she was tempted to release him and wipe them on her cloak, but the idea of letting go of the comfort of his touch kept her clinging on.

  They’d traveled deep enough into the woods that Alena was beginning to believe they might actually avoid whatever monster lived there when the thump of heavy wings beating the air reached her ears. A beast the likes of which Alena had only read about landed on the path in front of them, daggerlike claws dimpling the dirt. The dreadful creature had the body of a lion, a wingspan twice as long as she was tall, and the head of an extremely ugly man. She gasped and collided with Orpheus’s side. He swept her behind him.

  “A sphinx,” he whispered to her. “Let me handle this.”

  The sphinx’s bulbous nose wrinkled, and it bared its yellow teeth. “Ah, young lovers. Sweet meat.”

  “Oh, we’re not lovers,” Alena reflexively said, popping her head out from behind Orpheus.

  Orpheus narrowed his eyes at her. “Truly? Is that important to share right
now?”

  She lowered her eyes, her cheeks burning.

  “Your bones grind just as well.” The sphinx flashed a grotesque grin.

  “Allow us to pass,” Orpheus boomed. “By order of Cleopatra.”

  The sphinx snorted, and a bit of snot rained onto the ground near its claws. “I care not what the human queen commands. You will solve my riddle, or you will not pass.”

  Alena nudged Orpheus’s side. Her mother used to give her riddles to keep her occupied when she was young. “Riddles? I’m gifted at riddles. Always loved them as a child. I can do this.”

  “Quiet,” he hissed. “Trust me.”

  Alena straightened and stepped out from behind Orpheus. No way was she going to let this… this… louse charmer get them killed. She could do this. She knew she could.

  “That’s it?” she said loudly. “All I have to do is solve your riddle? Give it to me then.”

  Orpheus tugged on her elbow. “What are you doing? You never ask a sphinx for its riddle!”

  “Why not? I told you I’m very good at riddles. There hasn’t been one yet I couldn’t solve.” Alena faced the creature head-on and readied her mind.

  The sphinx cleared its beastly throat and began to speak. “My death is never mourned, my work, taken for granted. My legacy is vast. For hundreds of years I’ve toiled beneath the sun, yet I have never done anything at all. I am a provider and a thief. I grow, I change, but I am always in the same place. What am I?”

  Orpheus groaned. “That’s impossible.”

  “No!” Alena slapped her hand over his mouth, but it was too late.

  “Your answer is incorrect.” The sphinx growled and lunged for them.

  Alena braced herself to be torn apart, releasing her hold on Orpheus and crossing her arms to shield her face. But the attack never came. Instead, an enchanting and sweet melody met Alena’s ears. She’d never before heard a more engaging tune. She could almost feel the music brushing past her like a living thing. Lowering her arms, she saw that Orpheus was singing. Before she understood what was happening, he’d grabbed her waist, swept her in a wide arc around the sphinx, and was ushering her along the path. The beast howled wildly but didn’t seem capable of pursuing them.