a business transaction

Cassiopeia groaned as she sifted up on her downy bed, rubbing her eyes and brushing the incessant locks of hair from her face. Tempting as it was for her to retreat back under her covers with no mama or maid to chide her for her imprudence, she hoisted herself up and headed to the kitchen. “That’s right.” She remembered. She was on her own now.

Scorching pain greeted her as water splashed onto the floor and screeches from the kettle ceased to subside. Quickly Cassiopeia ran her hands under the cool faucet, tears stinging her cheeks. Staring at the floor, steam escaping off of the tile, Cassiopeia groaned. Her cup of tea would be delayed even further.

Eyeing the stove dubiously, Cassiopeia put off any thoughts of frying the eggs that resided in the cellar. Overfilling the kettle and causing it to boil over this morning was bothersome enough. Besides, she wasn’t sure if she had any butter remaining to grease the pan. She learned the importance of greasing a pan before attempting to cook anything on it since the last time she tried to cook eggs, it was impossible to scrape them off and salvage the remains. Also, she forgot to salt them.

After spreading a thick layer of ointment and bandaging her palm, Cassiopeia set her attention to boiling a new kettle of water, this time with substantially less water and heat. Although the preparation was aggravating, tea was something Cassiopeia had no intention of giving up.

Then she proceeded to rummage the cupboard, recalling a loaf of bread Angelica had given her when she first moved in. She wasn’t worried if the bread was stale or unsuitable for consumption—it was Angelica’s work and thus it would remain perfect for the unforeseeable future. What she was concerned about was the lack of butter or jam to spread on top of the slice she cut for herself. When was the last time she went to the market? Cassiopeia genuinely couldn’t recall. Sighing, she settled for her tea and slice of bread, unbuttered and untoasted.

Picking at the protruding skin on the side of her thumb, Cassiopeia glanced at the bottom of her cup. A visitor would be arriving today, around two in the afternoon. It was uncertain who the stranger would be but the leaves unmistakably arranged themselves in a pattern that resembled a door handle, signifying a visitor arriving just shy of two o’clock. Or perhaps it was a deformed dog? Cassiopeia frowned; she could hear Professor Strix lecturing her already.

“Now Cassiopeia dear, you have improved yet your aura of doubt is what is hindering you in your studies! Divination is about faith. Faith, child. The celestial position of Jupiter could be affecting your predictions as well. Might I suggest leaving some water out every new moon and bathing in it to cleanse your eight chakras. But honestly my dear, this reading has never been more clear. Obviously the east will be struck with a terrible famine, and only a third of their population would survive the catastrophe—there would be no children in those days, only orphans. Are you sure you’re not in need of …”

Cassiopeia shuddered and clinked her cup back onto its saucer. That was enough divination practice for today.

The knock came at three in the afternoon, an hour late. Cassiopeia’s brow furrowed as she got up from her chair, making sure to push it back in before heading to the front door. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting—all her usual clients, whether they be merfolk, sorcerers, or faeries of some variation, had already received their prescriptions for the week.

The last creature she expected to appear at the footsteps of her home was a human. It seemed that the human matched her surprise, blue-green eyes so vibrantly wide mirrored back her reflection.

Cassiopeia coughed. “Yes?”

“Yes?” The stranger echoed.

“Your business here,” Cassiopeia clarified, “What is your business that you, a human, would seek out a witch?”

“Wait,” the human’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re a witch, the witch?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“No, no.” The stranger shook his head. “It’s just…”

“Just?” Cassiopeia crossed her arms against her chest.

“Well, I was expecting something more…” The human darted his eyes.

“Well, spit it out boy. We don’t have all day.”

The boy’s lips pursed.

“If anything, I'm older than you.”

“Your business, boy.” Cassiopeia repeated, making sure that the sound of “boy” lingered long enough for the stranger’s fingers to twitch.

“I need a spell.”

“Don’t we all?” Cassiopeia murmured under her breath

“More specifically a curse.”

Cassiopeia paused and this time, she took the liberty to regard her visitor, to really look at him. She had to tilt her head slightly since the boy was so tall. The blue-green eyes which had greeted her at the door reminded her of the streams she would dip her feet into on a hot summer day. Yet something inside her knew that his eyes would have frozen her feet had she submerged them into their depths.

They were encapsulated by lashes so white they looked more like the ends of a snowflake. The curls which framed his face were the same color, a crown of pure snow. Cassiopeia scowled slightly in irritation when she realized that the human was right—he resembled more man than boy, his face nearly void of the softness of childhood. The only evidence that signified his lingering juvenility were the slight roundness on the apples of his cheeks; they wouldn’t remain there long—unforgiving sharpness was growing on the edges of his temples.

“I am a witch.” Cassiopeia proceeded cautiously. “Despite what you humans think, we have our honor. I will only warn you once. Do you even know what you’re asking of me?” The human nodded. “I am aware.”

“A phrase I’ve heard countless times.” Cassiopeia shook her head. “Alright then, please proceed. What exactly do you have in mind?”

“I ask that you unleash unimaginable misery and torment to the family that call themselves the rulers of this land. I request that their only mark in history will be their humiliation—that no one can even recount their traces of royalty. May they only be remembered as the lowest of the low, so much so that even the dirt we walk on is held with infinite more regard.” 

Cassiopeia quirked her brow. “What a strange human indeed.” She thought. Cassiopeia had no knowledge of the royal family, only of their existence. They were the pesky breed of human who wore sad metal hats on their heads they had the audacity to call crowns and pranced around, claiming the land her people resided was under their domain—fools. Granted, she was part of the folk so her opinion of the family was not exactly favorable. Yet here was a human boy, spitting pure venom at the mere mention of them.

“This is within my abilities.” Cassiopeia nodded. “However, how exactly do you intend to pay me?” The boy reached into his satchel, hanging across his body, and pulled out a large bag; it jingled as he handed it to her. 

Cassiopeia opened the bag and inside were small metal coins, stamped on each one was the face of the human king. “There’s 7,000 pieces.” The boy replied. Cassiopeia frowned and handed the bag back to him. “What’s the matter?” The boy asked. “If it’s a matter of inadequacy, I can bring more.”

Cassiopeia shook her head. “It is indeed inadequate but not because it’s not enough.” The human frowned. “I don’t understand.” “Well,” Cassiopeia began, “your currency is worthless here. Not many humans dare to travel to our domain unless they’re desperate, mad, or kidnapped.” Cassiopeia shrugged. “Do you have any precious family heirlooms you could exchange instead? Jewelry, perhaps? ” The boy shook his head. 

“I only have human coins but I suppose…”

“Yes?” 

“Would you find any use with my horse?” 

Cassiopeia’s eyes drifted to the animal the boy mentioned, tied to a tree nearby.

“A horse would be more valuable.” Cassiopeia acknowledged. “But I’ve never learned to ride one. So I’m afraid I don’t have much use for it. It would make quite a bothersome garden decoration with the maintenance and what not.” She sighed. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck. However, this is perhaps for the best human. Curses are not something to be dealt with lightly.” 

“Take me.”

Cassiopeia blinked. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Take me.” The boy said again. 

“What use would I have in a human?”

“I was going to be knighted in two weeks. I have expertise in swordsmanship, archery, hunting, swimming, and equestrianism. I could serve you as your guard.” 

Cassiopeia crossed her arms. “My magic can protect me from various forms of harm, infinitely better than whatever you can do.”

“I am also well versed in literature, poetry, accounting…” 

“You seem to forget that sorcerers pride themselves in their education above all things.”

The boy paused. 

“If it's of any use to you, I can also clean, cook…” 

“Cook?”

“Urr… yes. Pretty much anything really. In my early days as a squire I was usually left in charge of preparing some of the meals when the knights came back late from assignments.” 

Cassiopeia beamed. 

“Well why didn’t you say so!”