“So,” Cally asked when it became obvious that the woman wasn't going to physically hurt her. At least not now. “If you're a witch–”

The woman's eyes twitched. “Do not.”

Cally hesitated, decided the woman really could know what she was going to ask, and then continued anyway. “How come you're so beautiful? I thought all witches were supposed to be…” Wait, okay, it made sense why she’d asked her not to.

The woman scowled. “Really?” She asked the ceiling. “That is what you ask?” She shook her head. “Of course your education is as subpar as your common sense.”

Cally flushed. “I’ll have you know that my mother commissioned only the best tutors–”

“Did you listen to them?”

Cally flinched back, falling silent.

The witch stared at her accusingly for a second, then sighed. “Oh, very well,” She grumbled. “I suppose it is my duty as…” She trailed off, shook her head, and then looked straight at Cally. “No, witches are not ‘supposed to be’ ugly. We are but normal, just as your citizens are, if blessed with a tad more power and the capacity to use it. That ‘ugliness’ you speak of? ’Tis a misnomer perpetuated by hedge witches and weak, untrained magic users who brewed faulty beauty potions and spells, ruined their own faces, and hunched their bodies.” She sniffed. “Of course, they wouldn’t have remained untrained in the first place if it wasn’t for Jarvis, but–” She devolved into muttering under her breath.

Cally frowned. Why was that name so familiar? But before she could ask, the woman turned to Cally again, her hands on her hips and expression pointed. “Have I answered enough? Can we go back to the more typical relationship between kidnapper and kidnappee, sweetling?”

Cally huffed. “The ‘sweetling’ does not go towards convincing me of that, thank you.” She tilted her head. “And who are you, actually? I just realized you never never told me your name.”

The woman had looked disgruntled before. Disbelieving at times. Definitely annoyed. But now? Now, she actually looked hurt. It was morbidly incredible. “You–” She sputtered. “You don’t know who I am?” She asked weakly. “Not even my moniker? My name? Nothing?”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Cally shrugged a shoulder. “... I would have known a little more about witches if I did?” She tried because it was certainly true. She would have gotten curious, and her curiosity was always a rabbit hole she fell into face first.

“Truly?” The woman asked.

Cally had no idea what else she could say to that, so she just shrugged.

The woman buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled enough that Cally could barely hear it, but she was frankly impressed at the level of swearing she heard. And then–

And then Cally heard a name she would never have expected to.

Asera.

Her eyes widened and her heart sped up, the room somehow seeming smaller, the woman that much more dangerous. “How– how do you know–” Her throat constricted and she almost broke off, but the idea that she could– “How do you know my mother?”

The woman let her hands fall to her sides, looking back, her expression closing off in front of Cally’s eyes. “That, sweetling,” She said, and her voice was just shy of being a hiss. “Is none of your business.”

The strangest part was, Cally had no idea why, but she didn’t think that vitriol was directed at her.

Asera.

“You’re… angry at my mother?” She hazarded.

The woman’s eyes flared, and for a moment, she looked surprised. Then she scowled again. “Who isn’t angry at the royal family?” She asked.

Cally opened her mouth, but the witch didn’t let her speak.

“My name,” She said loudly. “Is Artesia, and I am the Lady of the Night.” She smiled slightly. “Tis a well-earned name, I assure you.”

Cally frowned. “... Because you kidnapped me at night?”

Artesia gestured faintly toward the window, where the moon was shining through, brighter than Cally had seen in quite some time. “Because, Calvera of Argentum, I am at my most powerful at night.” She stepped closer, and Cally’s breath caught as the moonlight shimmered and fell upon her like a sea of threads, weaving upon her streams of power and magic. Dark, glittering pools sparkled at her feet, and she seemed so much more. “And now,” She said, voice colder than Cally had absurdly gotten used to hearing. “It is time that I take what was stolen from my family.”