“Did he say what for?” Artemisia pushed her chair away from the

  table and stood up.

  “He said there was someone here to see you?” The servant ducked

  his head nervously, perhaps feeling intimidated by the gaze of two

  confident young women.

  “Oh!”

  She remembered that the duke had told her the day before that the

  witch would be visiting the next day.

  “Sorry Emile, but can we end this here today?” Artemisia made an

  apologetic gesture.

  “Very well,” Emile said. “What’s got you so excited?”

  “Ah, um, nothing!” Artemisia tried to smooth her grin, following

  the servant out of the room.

  I can’t help it! I read fantasy for escapism – of course the

  concept of magic excites me! I want to see how it works!

  The walk to her father’s study seemed excruciatingly long, and not

  for the first time Artemisia questioned the size of the manor. There

  were so many unnecessary rooms.

  I wonder what trope the author went with for witches in this

  world? Will she be a hunched over crone, or a beautiful and alluring

  sorceress? I should probably be fine if it’s the former, but I need

  to be careful with the latter. Those characters are almost never good

  news.

  Unfortunately for Artemisia’s active imagination, the witch

  followed neither of those tropes. The woman she was greeted with when

  she entered Hesperus’ study was a perfectly ordinary looking

  middle-aged woman. Her clothes indicated that she was moderately well

  off, but a little below the level of nobility. The only thing that

  was particularly interesting about her was the large jewel pendant

  she wore around her neck. The woman curtsied to Artemisia.

  “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

  “Charmed,” Artemisia responded, nodding her head with all the

  airs of a noble lady she could summon.

  “Artemisia, this is Mrs Bowes, and she is a most accomplished

  witch. She has assisted me in some matters before, and I have every

  confidence in her ability.” Hesperus was sat at his desk. Two

  chairs had been arranged in front of it, facing each other.

  Artemisia glanced at Hesperus, raising her hand to chew

  absent-mindedly on her thumbnail. Is he here to watch? What if she

  picks up that my soul is different from my body, or however it gets

  worded? Would she say anything? How would she word it? I’m

  sure it wouldn’t mean anything good…

  “Your Grace, sir?” said Mrs Bowes all of a sudden. “This could

  be an uncomfortable experience for a young woman who has had little

  to no experience of witchcraft before. If you would be so kind, could

  we do it in a more intimate environment?”

  Hesperus raised his eyebrows as if the idea had never occurred to

  him, before glancing at Artemisia. “Arte, would that agree with

  you?”

  Artemisia breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  If it’s just her, I should be able to convince her not to say

  anything if she notices something odd. It wouldn’t be my preferred

  action, but surely I could bribe her, right?

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  “Yes, father, it would.”

  But wait, she worded that like a doctor talking to a patient.

  She’s not going to do anything too invasive… is she?

  The two of them were moved to a small parlour, the type where a lady

  might receive a close friend. Hesperus agreed to have only the two of

  them in the room, but said he would be waiting on the other side of

  the door.

  Once the duke had left the room, Artemisia turned nervous eyes upon

  Mrs Bowes. “What are you going to do, exactly?”

  “Oh, don’t worry.” Mrs

  Bowes smiled encouragingly. She

  was less deferential than the servants around the estate usually

  were; it seemed likely she was used to nobles, or confident enough in

  her position as a witch to not fawn over them. “I saw you were

  nervous and thought it might help to get your father out of the room.

  It’s quite intimidating in his study, is it not?”

  “Yes, it is.” Artemisia sat down on one of the sofas, and

  motioned at the other one. A teaset had been produced seemingly out

  of nowhere, but as Artemisia reached for the teapot, Mrs Bowes

  blanched.

  “My lady! Please, let me pour the tea! Don’t lower yourself for

  my sake!”

  “What?” Artemisia frowned. “But as the host, should I not serve

  you?”

  “Perhaps when amongst the

  nobility, but it is most unusual for a woman of your status to pour

  the tea for someone of a lower class, such as myself.”

  “I understand. But please, let me do this for you. You are here to

  see me, after all.”

  “Very well, my lady.” Mrs Bowes sat down on the opposite sofa,

  and sipped politely at the tea Artemisia poured for her.

  “So,” Artemisia began, sitting back down. “By your readiness to

  correct me, I assume you are aware of my memory loss.”

  “Yes, I am. The duke explained your accident and resulting

  situation to me as much as he was able. However, is there anything

  you yourself remember?”

  “Nothing.” Artemisia drank her tea to put off answering any

  further.

  “And have you noticed anything

  unusual about yourself since the accident? Any sudden headaches, body

  pains, or strange marks on

  your body?”

  “No, I don’t think so… can those be a sign of a curse?”

  Artemisia asked.

  “Some curses do manifest side effects like that, yes. However, if

  you have been cursed, the memory loss indicates that this is a curse

  of the mind, not the body.”

  “A curse of the mind?” Artemisia leaned forward. “What is the

  difference between the two? Are there any other types of curses? I’m

  curious to learn more.”

  Mrs Bowes blinked a few times, apparently taken aback by Artemisia’s

  enthusiasm. “Ahem, these are the two types of curses used to affect

  a living being. There are other types of curses, ones that might

  refer to a location or an object, for example, but I doubt they apply

  here.” When she saw Artemisia’s eager expression, she seemed

  pleased, and her explanation picked up steam. “Curses of the body

  affect the physical you, such as weakening your limbs, or making you

  waste away, or in the worst cases, killing the unfortunate soul

  outright. Curses of the mind are a little more subtle, and affect the

  mental you. Amnesia is a rare but not unheard of result.”

  “How do you intend to test if I am cursed?”

  “Don’t worry, my lady,” Mrs Bowes said reassuringly. “It is a

  very simple procedure. All I need to do is use my conduit,” she

  touched her pendant, “and hold your hand. I will send a small pulse

  of magic through your body, and the echo that returns to me will let

  me see if there is any magic lingering in your body.”

  “It will only take a minute or so,” continued Mrs Bowes. She

  extended her hand. “You might feel a tingling sensation, but that

  will be it.”

  Artemisia reached out, and then hesitated, her hand hovering above

  Mrs Bowes’. I have no idea what’s going to happen here. This

  could completely expose me. I have no idea how I came to be in

  Artemisia’s body, after all. It could have been magic? In fact, it

  likely was magic!

  But… the transmigrated protagonists are never figured out this

  early in the storyline. Or if they are, it’s something that can be

  easily brushed over. Therefore, by that logic, I should be a-okay!

  “Lady Artemisia? Are you alright? Are you nervous still?”

  “Oh, um, yes! I’m perfectly fine!” Artemisia said, and held Mrs

  Bowes’ hand before she had the chance to worry any longer.

  I thought I had gotten past my anxiety holding me back… wait,

  where did that thought come from?