This chapter is from the sorceress’s perspective. The novella has three characters’ perspectives: Elestren the pixie, Kerensa the sorceress, and Amaryllis the witch. The novella also explains the difference between a sorceress and a witch like Amaryllis.
In case you missed Chapter 1:
https://open.substack.com/pub/whimsicalwords/p/amaryllis-and-the-pixie-chapter-1?r=5m2is&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true
Amaryllis & the Pixie, Chapter 2
The sorceress Kerensa leaves the shed on the edge of her castle’s courtyard. Heading across the mossy cobblestones, black maxi frock fluttering in the wind and light rain, she enters a wooden side door into the castle proper. She heads down a corridor and into the grand hall, which is quiet and empty, since she had to lay off the servants after her trecherous husband died.
Kerensa feels satisfied with her accomplishment. For months she hoped to catch a pixie to use for a youth potion, because a highly demanding and high-ranking patron insisted it was what he wanted most. He threatened to find another sorceress or sorcerer to make the potion for him, though she couldn’t think of anyone else in Cornwall who fit that description. The cheek, threatening her!
Times had been hard since her husband, Jowen Makepeace III, died last year… and left a fortune to the British Museum and to his mistress of many years. He left some money to each of their children, who both grumbled about the museum and the mistress. He left not a penny to Kerensa.
While the bastard was alive—and yes, despite considering him a bastard now, she still loved the bastard—she could live in luxury. But ever since the discovery that she not only wouldn’t receive Jowen’s earned income as a lawyer any longer but also that she wasn’t inheriting anything from him, well. It was a shock.
No more luxurious living, unless living in this medieval castle counted as luxury. This home was Kerensa’s from the start, since it was passed down in her ancient Welsh family, not his. She had to admit that since his death she discovered she still liked the tastes of oatmeal and of ramen, but that was a far cry from attending galas on her husband’s arm, as she was so accustomed to doing.
After Jowen’s death and the reading of the will, Kerensa resolved to make money off her magic, something she hadn’t stooped to since the early years of their marriage.
She hadn’t even known about the affair until after Jowen died. What a humiliation! It made her look like a fool in the eyes of society. Nobody said that to her face, but the pitying looks were horrible enough. She figured high society was talking about her behind her back, ridiculing her. Her husband had a London flat rather than commuting all the way from Cornwall every day—no wonder, in hindsight, it was easy for him to have a mistress.
After the reading of the will, Kerensa stopped regularly showing her face in public. She lived alone in this drafty old castle, part ruin. She had to let all the servants go, since her husband wasn’t around to pay them. Well, at least being reclusive meant she need not wear those blasted high heels anymore. Not until she’s back in the public eye, though she doesn’t know how soon that will be, if ever.
Kerensa is in no hurry to return to the public eye, truth be told. After all, there was a lot of pressure in the news spotlight—tabloids mostly—and being seen and seeing others in high society. There was too much pressure to keep up appearances. And with the media lapping up her husband’s scandalous betrayal, it wasn’t as though she wished to show her face in public.
As a sorceress in this coastal castle, she didn’t have to worry about tabloids, nosy journalists, society—any of that nonsense. She need only worry about finding food and wine in the cupboards… and about making money. At least there is still a wine cellar—that whore didn’t get that, or the castle, because the castle never belonged to her husband in the first place.
Her son and daughter, both in their twenties, avoided her because, according to them, “You’re a narcissist, a hypercritical mother, and an evil sorceress.” Such judgmental children! How could she possibly have raised such ungrateful and judgmental children?
She looked back on their childhoods and thought they were happy. They should have been happy. Sure, she didn’t change diapers—she hired a nanny to do such disgusting labor as soon as she could. The nanny was admittedly the one who read to them at bedtime. But they were spoiled! Nobody read to her at bedtime when she was a child. Nobody lavished wealth on her when she was a child.
This castle is from the twelfth century and has been in her family most of that time. Sure, it has some lovely tapestries, some impressive antiques. But when she grew up here, it didn’t have the tapestries and not nearly as many antiques as it has now, thanks to her husband’s income.
Kerensa thinks this while sipping from a tall glass of wine and gazing at a somewhat faded unicorn tapestry before her. Yes, her husband’s wealth over time meant they could afford to deck out the castle like a proper castle, at last. It wasn’t all items that were original to this specific fortress, and she went antiquing all over the United Kingdom and even in France from time to time. But it made such a great difference in the décor. Strangely, her husband didn’t appreciate the “ancient ruin,” as he called it, nearly as much as he should have. She remembered saying, “Only one wing is in ruins! Most of the castle is in tip-top shape!”
She noticed that her husband’s office was chock full of modern conveniences. Now that he was deceased, she wondered if she’d ever actually known him. She’d only once seen his London flat, and it was contemporary in style.
He never appreciated being married to a powerful sorceress. And until after his funeral, she admits now, she didn’t appreciate how powerful she truly is. Yes, she can make a living as a sorceress. She recently set up an online business. Before long, she’ll dine upon gourmet truffles instead of ramen again. She’ll be the one laughing, not those odious reporters.