By virtue of being over-glorified interns, it was the maidens that actually ran a coven of witches. They were the ones who were always running, fetching, getting... If there was something to be remembered, they would be the ones to remind. And if there was anything worth knowing, a maiden was more than likely to know it and repeat it to her own inner circle long before it reached her own matron witch. At least, that was how things had shaken out for the coven in Falvista. Maybe it worked differently elsewhere.

Mildred Daemonne watched her own maiden witch—Taffeta, but everyone called her Taffy. She was still one of those cute young things. Bubbly. Everyone liked her, even Mildred—as she exchanged whispers with the maiden that had brought matron witch Cedonia. She wouldn’t say she could ever picture Taffy as much of a schemer—Mildred had been as a maiden witch, and she’d admit it too—but she had to wonder what the other one was trying to stir up now.

Cedonia cleared her throat before speaking again. “Mildred? Aren’t you listening?”

Mildred had been caught. There was no sense in hiding it. “Hm?”

“I said you’ve been assigned a goddaughter. At last.”

“Oh.” Mildred blinked. That tacked on ‘at last’ hadn’t escaped notice, though she really had forgotten to expect anything of the sort. She’d never been interested in that part of witchery, but she knew that you were supposed to throw your name in the metaphorical hat because it made you look good. Even if they were organized—perhaps too organized—witches still had a number of outside perspectives to deal with. Granting what usually amounted to make-overs certainly did make a witch look altruistic. “Alright.”

Cedonia raised an eyebrow at the tepid response as she raised her teacup and saucer. “Aren’t you even curious to know who?”

“Well, it wouldn’t serve you very well to keep it from me,” Mildred said with a smile.

Cedonia gave her that look; She knew it well enough from years past. The look was meant to warn Mildred that she wasn’t abiding by some social contract. It mattered less when they were alone together. That was why they had become friends—at least that was the reason for Mildred’s side of things.

But they weren’t alone.

“It’s the new little princess, Briallen. Lysanne said they didn’t even draw for it. They just picked you. On purpose.” Cedonia’s maiden witch spoke up on her matron’s behalf. Mildred couldn't, for the life of her, remember the girl’s name. Willow? Roan? Something with trees. This was going to bother Mildred, her memory wasn’t that bad.

Mildred frowned. She didn’t like the way that sounded, but she wasn’t about to get into it with some maiden. “What does a princess need a fairy godmother for, anyway? She’s a princess.”

“Would you rather be on the list for someone motherless and deserving?” Still, the maiden spoke. She had that tone. It was not dissimilar to Cedonia’s look, but it was different coming from a maiden. From more and more of them as of late, sometimes even Taffy—even if she did trust it more from her. Wasn't it cute? The matron was forgetting herself again.

Mildred fixed Cedonia with a look of her own. Handle your maiden, it was supposed to say, while she said, “No.”

Mildred never quite understood how they figured that last one out, which was part of the reason she had never volunteered for the reserves like that in the first place. If the Falvista Coven’s council had decided she was best suited to be this princess’s godmother, then that was that. There were still some decisions that maiden witches didn’t get to make for her, although they certainly had their influence over them.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“We’ll have to go to the naming ceremony then, won’t we?” Taffy cut through the tension with her sweet little voice and an excited bounce in her seat. “That’ll be fun.”

Mildred sighed and reached for the teapot at the center of the table. She knew what Taffy was doing. And it was working. If it had only been up to Mildred—and it still technically was—she might have accepted the role in title only, but an invitation to a social function within the royal court... That would be fun, for Taffy. And what sort of matron would Mildred be to deny her maiden that?

Taffy didn’t dare breathe while Mildred poured herself another cup of tea, taking her sweet time to plop in two sugar cubes and a dash of cream. There were rules of tea service being ignored here, but Mildred had already snapped at Cedonia’s maiden once, saying that if she didn’t like it, then perhaps she should have been the one to play hostess.

“When is it, Cedonia?” Mildred asked only once she’d had a sip of her tea.

“Her first birthday, Draconus Twelfth.”

“That’s a bit away…” Mildred hemmed, as if she had any sort of busy schedule. She could, if she wanted to; as a city witch, there was no end to potential clients. But she hated to note now that she really had begun to slow down as of late. No matter, the hesitation still left Taffy fidgeting in her seat. “Do you think they’ll have need of me before then?”

“It couldn’t hurt to offer. Lucky for you, after the ceremony, nobody will be expecting much. Unless the princess herself asks for you when she’s older, then you’ll have to answer.”

“Of course.” Mildred nodded, beginning to get lost in her own thoughts on the matter. There was a chance—especially because she was a princess—that Mildred would never be called on. It wasn’t as if she never wanted to be... She didn’t think it was that; it was just-

“What do you think you’ll have her call you?” Taffy cut through with her words again. “Granny Mildred? Granny Deamonne?”

“She doesn’t have to call me that.” She shot a scowl at Taffy, but it softened on the way there. The maiden was only excited. She had been this way too, when she was one. “I’m not that old yet.”

“You will be when it matters.” Cedonia ever so helpfully reminded the entire table. Mildred caught her reflection in one of the silver spoons. Unfortunate timing. “You’re right, though; no child is ever going to be able to pronounce either of those... Grand Milly is sort of cute though, isn’t it?”

No one called Mildred ‘Milly’ anymore. They’d used it when she was younger, though. She guessed that if she had to be called anything, she could work with that.

✨

“What were the two of you whispering about?”

It was typical for Mildred and Taffy to have their own debriefing while washing up. There wasn’t much to wash, but Mildred didn’t expect there would be much to speak about outside of Taffy’s looking forward to the naming ceremony.

“Cedonia is due to become a crone soon. This was some of her tying up loose ends.”

“Oh. Well.” Why hadn’t Mildred guessed that? She should have. She knew something was up. Why hadn’t Cedonia said so herself? “She still could have come by later, if it was more convenient for her.”

“No, she couldn’t. The coven is sending her out to Kitzfield. They haven’t had a good hag in a while.”

Mildred let herself fully scowl at the word ‘hag’, until she caught the way it made her reflection look in the spoons again. “I don’t think you’re supposed to call them that anymore.”

Taffy shrugged, but it was the sort of shrug that told Mildred she wasn’t being heard—just humored. “Do you think they’ll advance you soon? Rowena wondered. Then we might be matrons together. Like you and Cedonia were.”

There, that was the maiden’s name. She knew it had something to do with trees.

“I doubt it. I’ve only just gotten my first goddaughter.” Mildred did doubt it, but more importantly, she hoped she was right. It wasn’t as though she had been putting it off, either. Clearly, they had been saving her for this exact pairing. It should have been an honor. A sign that the coven trusted her with matters of not just magical importance but political too. Matron Mildred Deamonne was a damn good witch, she wasn’t ready to step aside just yet.

Taffy hummed. She sounded doubtful. Perhaps she was a bit of a schemer after all.