Anya lay on the bed in her room and tried to decide what to do.  She would write a letter to Thorne the next day, and gather what she needed when she was in the woods sending it to him.

Anya also thought about all that she had done. Apparently her attempt to kill Lord Wildwood with poison had gone unremarked. Could a healer not tell what the health problem was? She did not know enough about a wizard's healing magic to know the answer. Perhaps she could find something in the library on the subject.

Anya supposed the other reason that they might not be mentioning it was so that she would have a chance to give herself away.

Which is exactly what she would do if they were watching. She needed to act upon before Lord Wildwood left the castle again. The next day she would send Thorne a message detailing what had happened and what she would do. She would also collect the ingredients to make a witch's potion to create despair. Then she would simply have to find a way to trick the man into drinking it.

Anya wondered briefly if he would be able to sense the magic at close range, but she doubted it.

Wizards seemed to be very intuitive of their own and each other's inherent magic, but mostly ignorant of external. It appeared as if they could sense the magic from spells being continually maintained, but she wondered if a potion with very little magic could escape his notice. Missus Allendale used magic to prepare the food and no one seemed to remark it, although the remaining traces of magic were almost there undetectable even to her.

Once Lord Wildwood would drink the potion, he would fall very quickly into a deep depression. He would despair of ever finding happiness and want nothing more than oblivion. He would quickly take steps to end his life, and he would most likely feel relief as he accomplished it. Everyone else would grieve terribly, but that was unavoidable.

It was still more merciful than ripping his magic out of him. It would be like having his self ripped into two. Anya's father had always told her that it was the most terrible, most unforgivable thing that a witch or warlock could do to another human being. Anya had never done it, but she had had nightmares about it when she was younger of being the innocent victim and later of being the terrible victimizer. She had hated both dreams. She had never imagined that she might find herself in such a situation where she would even need to contemplate the act.

Not that she would do that. She would kill him without doing that to him and herself.

Without quite noticing it, Anya slipped off to sleep.

* * * * *

Anya's dreams were full of twisted dark shapes and the people of Wildwood moved in and out of her mind uneasily. Anya tried to find her brother and sister, but they were forever out of her reach.

Anya jerked awake. Her room was completely dark. Her stomach was clenched with anxiety. Her face was wet from tears she did not remember shedding. Some of her dreams had been horrifyingly close to reality.

"Damani, Kallie," she moaned. "Oh, I should have killed Thorne the moment I saw him. I knew that he was evil. I had that potion in my pocket... I could have done it..." Anya buried her face in her pillow.

Anya lay there feeling tired and empty and angry at basically everyone. She almost wished that they had realized what she had done. Why was Wildwood not more suspicious? Or was he? She did not want that either. And why were all the staff in the castle so trusting? Why did they all have to be so nice? At that moment, she hated them. She hated Lord Wildwood and Lady Theresa, and all the staff who had accepted her with such open arms. She hated the lords and most especially the ladies running through the castle with their empty heads that she had styled so competently.

She hated herself most of all. She was a craven coward. It had probably been so easy for Thorne to manipulate her.

If he was not holding her brother and sister, Anya would betray Thorne to Lady Theresa and Lord Wildwood in a second. She would do it happily. Thorne knew that. Would she really ever see them again?

He had no reason to keep them away from her once she was finished, she reassured herself. Once she finished his task, there was no good reason not to let them free. Then Anya would take them somewhere far away. Perhaps she could make their way as a wizard hairdresser.

The hair spells. Anya suddenly realized that none of the spells that she was maintaining were still in effect. After momentary panic, Anya realized that she had probably slept right through everyone letting their hair down. She decided to go and check anyway. She fumbled around and lit the candle beside her bed.

The castle halls were utterly deserted and even the wall sconces had burned themselves out as testament to the lateness of the hour. Anya relaxed a bit. She was not tired, and she decided to make her way to the library to read. Perhaps she could find something that would take her mind off of everything. There was nothing that she could do at such a late time. It would be suspicious to take a walk in the woods in the middle of the night. She did not have a suitable lantern with her. Furthermore, Sabin would be sleeping anyway.

The library was deserted when Anya arrived and she walked around the shelves. Finally she settled on a book titled Magical Offence and Defense. Once she had the twins back, she had no idea where they would end up. It would be wise to learn to defend them without needing ingredients to do so. It was unlikely that they would encounter another villain like Thorne, but it was better to be prepared.

Anya moved to the back of the library and settled down into a chair with her candle close beside her and opened the book. It was written in a difficult script, but Anya welcomed a challenge.

* * * * *

Magical Offence and Defense: A Preface

There are a great many ways in which magic can be wielded. Most spells can be modified to do damage or protect as the purveyor so desires, but there are certain spells which have little other purpose than to create damage or protect from thereof.

Chapter One: Offensive Spells

It is in some ways unfortunate that offensive spells have received a largely negative reputation. There is truth in the claim that offensive magic can do damage most severe, but there are also many that can have both peaceful and useful purposes. An excellent exempt of such the spell of ignition. The spell can be used in several ways. There is the negative usage such as to light a hapless victim on fire or to burn down property, however, when controlled properly, an ignition spell can also be used to frighten away dangerous animals or to start a fire to cook a delightful meal or for warmth. One cannot forget that the world is a dangerous place. Evil exists, and those who have no way to protect themselves all too often find themselves the hapless victims of those with negative intent and superior power.

In the following chapters I shall lay out the theory and procedure behind some of the more common and productive spells I have encountered in my extensive experiences. I record my knowledge because I hope to give a measure of power to those who have been rendered powerless and to provide help to those who have fallen helpless. I therefore entreat you who read my words to use what I have here written with caution and responsibility.

Anya's mouth felt dry and she flipped ahead to a chapter on using simple magic as a weapon. She did not want to read the author's philosophy that hit far too close to home. He seemed to think that knowledge of magic could fix the ills of the world. Yet Anya knew magic, and she had still been pushed into a corner as readily as if she had none. Rather, she likely would have been of no interest to Thorne's plotting if she had no magical ability to speak of.

The next chapter was dry and factual, and Anya tried to commit as much of it as possible to memory.

Anya heard the door open. "Is someone here?" The words were not loud, but they echoed in the dark and silent room like a scream.

"Hello?" Anya asked. Anya wondered if offensive magic might not be a suspicious topic to be reading about late at night. She flipped the book far forward into the section on magical defense and peered into the darkness beyond the candlelight.

A tall form moved closer and Anya strained to see who it was.

"My wife's..." he seemed to be searching for her name. "Anya," said Lord Wildwood as he came into the light.

Anya felt like jumping from her skin. He was the last person who she wanted to see at a suspiciously late time of night reading a suspect book. Anya should have stayed in bed. She was supposed to be blending in.

Anya realized that it would be odd not to say something. "My lord. Can I get you anything?"

Anya could not really see him well and his half shadowed visage was terrifying. She had never really been so close to him, and his power was oppressing and overwhelming. Every moment she spent near him sapped her confidence that she could ever save the twins.

"Let me borrow your light," he said, and he lit a candle on the one that she had sitting on the table. "Having trouble sleeping?"

"I fell asleep early because I'm not used to maintaining as many spells as I have been," Anya explained lamely.

He nodded. "It will get easier. You'll find the more that you do the more you will be able to do over time. What are you studying?" he asked.

Anya glanced down at the page to see and hoped that he did not notice. "Magical shielding."

He nodded. "That's very useful. Jim mentioned that your training was not formal. I'm certain my wife told you, but I encourage wizards to learn more magic while in my household."

"She did." He seemed not to suspect that she had ulterior motives, yet her heart was beating frantically.

"Jim is uncommonly skilled at using defensive magic. Ask him to teach you the practical parts of shielding."

Anya wondered if it was a friendly suggestion or an order from her lord. "Yes," she agreed for want of a better response.

"Lady Theresa mentioned that you are going to teach Hanna magic," he commented.

Anya could not tell whether he approved or disapproved by his voice. "Yes," she said cautiously.

He nodded. "I've always found it important to work together with other people and other wizards. We can accomplish much more together than we could ever alone."

He paused. "Well, I must not get diverted. I should find the text I am looking for and return before my wife notices my absence." Lord Wildwood moved off towards the bookshelves and began to read along the spines.

Anya had never wanted to confess everything more. She had seen the loyalty of everyone around Lord Wildwood. It was not the sort of loyalty that could be bought with money or forced with fear. It was freely given, and while Lord Wildwood was still fearsome in his power, he was clearly trustworthy in his intent. Unlike most nobles, he seemed to value people regardless of their station in life.

If she told him everything, he would and could most probably help her. Anya had only half-heartedly tried to kill him once against her will, and if she confessed she might be forgiven. Maybe with their help she could save the twins.

Thorne could be defeated, Anya was certain. Yet Thorne had the twins in his control. He was almost certainly spying on her. Was there a spy in the household? Was he using a magical means? Could he see her right at this moment?

Would Thorne know if she turned to Lord Wildwood for help?

It seemed horribly likely. If he knew he would hurt Damani and Kallie. Even if Lord Wildwood immediately helped her, surely they would not be able to find the twins in time.

Anya could feel the painful pressure behind her eyes. She forced herself not to give into it and looked down at the book. Anya pretended to read the page she was on. She flipped it for effect, but saw nothing.

"Feel free to take the book to your room if you wish. Have a good night," she heard Lord Wildwood say.

"Thank you. Good night," she agreed as evenly as she could.

He nodded, extinguished his candle and left the room swiftly.

Anya waited a moment until he was well gone, and then tucked the book beneath her arm and nearly ran to her room.

Anya was so alone. It was as if her entire life had conspired to set her into that very state. There was no one who could help her and she was not ever sure she could help herself. She cried herself to sleep.