A Little Witch's Fantasy

Mali darted behind the holly hedge, her little heart hammering wildly. She did not even notice that she had dropped the little pouch containing her spellcasting materials. She ran all the way back to her room, chased out the maids, and threw herself onto the bed, gasping for breath. Her head swam, her cheeks tingled, and the world before her spun without cease. She did not know what was happening to her... but His Majesty the King—she meant Louis, dear Louis's voice—kept lingering in her ears.

He had said that he would not marry Princess Henrietta.

Before Mali Mancini came to Paris, she had still been a child. Though she was only two or three years younger than Louis, having been born a witch meant that she had spent far more time in the inner world than in the outer one. The customs of the inner world were plainly nowhere near as harsh as those of the outer world. Thus, after coming to Paris—especially after being allowed to attend upon the Queen Mother—she encountered much jealous mockery and scheming. Though she retaliated against every one of them, she always felt out of place in this world. Especially since the bishop had told her that it was best not to use the powers of the inner world too often.

But she was a witch.

Had her father and uncle not repeatedly warned her so sternly, Mali might have found a way to return to the inner world. That was where she belonged—at court, though the existence of witches was almost an open secret, she still had to abide strictly by the rules. If a member of the royal family dared to openly keep witches or dark creatures, they would be excommunicated by the Church, or even questioned in person by the Inquisition.

And her family did not wish for her to exist at court merely as a witch. What they placed their hopes in was not her understanding and mastery of magic, but her face and voice. But... to Mali, that was simply a humiliation. She did not wish to give up her identity as a witch, either. She hoped that her husband would believe in her, understand her, support her, and even comprehend the wondrous beauty of magic.

The problem was that even though she was only a child, she knew that was almost impossible. In the inner world, it was not as though there had never been wizards or witches who had fallen in love with mortals from the outer world and accidentally exposed their identities. The outcomes were plain for all to see: either the witch killed their beloved, or they were betrayed by that beloved and sent to the stake. So even as a girl's longing, that figure had remained blurred, elusive, and difficult to imagine.

Until she had stood shoulder to shoulder with His Majesty the King on that dreadful night, fighting packs of werewolves.

The very first time they met, he had known that she was a witch.

Mali had worried that His Majesty the King might be like those mortals described by witches, who fell into terror upon seeing them cast spells, then went mad. Clearly, he had not. His Majesty had accepted her existence. He did not fear her, nor did he fawn upon her. His manner... could only be described this way: it was as if he were facing a musician, a priest, or a scholar. Spells that made mortals turn pale at the very mention were merely a skill to him—a skill like tending flowers or baking bread. He accepted her, and magic as well, with remarkable calm. When she eagerly spoke of matters in the inner world, he did not shrink back or become angry. Instead, he listened with complete attention, with sincerity and enthusiasm.

—She did not know when that blurred figure had become distinct, so distinct that he seemed ready to appear before her eyes at any moment.

Until today, when she heard those words outside the door, Louis had suddenly overlapped with that figure.

Realizing this, Mali panicked, not knowing what to do. She had even accidentally twisted off the cord of her pouch. When she discovered that Louis was walking toward her, she turned and fled without hesitation. She could not face him—not today, at least. Perhaps not for the next few days either.

But just when she was at a loss, Louis came.

The King could refuse an audience with others, but within the Richelieu Residence, no one could refuse a visit from the King. Mali went to see him with a flushed face. Louis thought she had drunk too much wine. "This is your pouch," he said, holding it out as he returned it to Mali. "Be careful, Miss Mancini," he said kindly. "The streets of Paris are full of Inquisition men these days. Some ill-intentioned people may do things they should not."

Mali thanked him from the bottom of her heart. She also knew that she had made a mistake, yet she still bowed respectfully to the King and thanked him.

Even Louis found that somewhat surprising. Miss Mancini was perhaps the most unrestrained person around him. She did not quite treat him as a king. She often called him Louis directly, walked ahead of him, or insisted on riding with him. For that reason, among the numerous ladies-in-waiting, Mali Mancini had left the deepest impression on him. Louis was never angered by her breaches of etiquette. After all, she was so vividly alive that she made him feel as though he were still in the past. Perhaps that was why he had been willing to spend time with her so often.

Louis waited patiently for a while. Mali looked somewhat dazed, which worried the King. He reached out and touched Mali's forehead. His cold fingers immediately startled her awake. She knew that she ought to curtsy and see His Majesty the King off, but before she had not wanted to see him, and now she did not want him to leave.

"What is it, Mali?" Louis asked. "Don't worry. I found this pouch myself; I did not let a second person see it. Put it away properly, and make sure there is no next time."

"Yes..." Mali said, lowering her eyes, scarcely daring to meet Louis's gaze. "I will be careful."

"Then I should be going," the King said. "Perhaps tomorrow we can go to the market together."

He was about to turn and leave when he was tugged backward.

Mali had grabbed his shoulder strap.

"What are you doing, Mali?" the King said, somewhat angrily. "This is rather improper of you."

He had nearly scolded Mali, but the little girl raised her head. Those bright eyes could have calmed even a lion in the throes of fury. "All right," she said softly. "Your Majesty, all right. I am willing to go anywhere with you."

Louis helplessly raised a hand and stroked her curls.

"Then get some proper rest," he said. "Do not make anyone worry again."

In truth, visiting the market had been one of Louis's ideas. He wanted to know more about Paris, and about his people. Now, because the Inquisition's black-robed judges and penitents appeared on the streets of Paris from time to time, the city's public order was much better than before. The market had reopened three months ago. In this age with so little entertainment, the bustling market not only drew commoners and merchants like moths to a flame; even nobles and high ministers could not resist such temptation. The Queen Mother Anne had also mentioned that they ought to stroll through the market, as had the Duchess of Montpensier. The Duchess had been complaining all along that she did not want to remain at the Richelieu Residence all the time.

The King wrote several short notes and had Bontemps deliver them to the Queen Mother Anne, his younger brother Philip, his aunt Queen Mary and her daughter Princess Henrietta, as well as the Duchess of Montpensier, inviting them to visit the market together the next day. Replies came quickly, except from the Duchess of Montpensier—she said that she was ill, very unwell, and could scarcely even walk, so she could only appreciate the King's kindness.

Louis did not take that to heart. Philip, however, came in person to offer his thanks. Naturally, afterward he shared the King's bed as a matter of course. Before falling asleep, he gave the King an endorsed bill of exchange worth fifteen thousand gold louis.

"What is this?" the King asked.

"Mother's ten thousand gold louis, and my five thousand gold louis," Philip said. "For you, Your Majesty. Though we do not understand why you insist on this, if you wish to do it, you may simply tell us."

"I did not mean for you to pay for it," Louis said.

"But we are much wealthier than you," Philip said bluntly. "Louis, this is not for the King. It is for a son and an elder brother."