A loud sound cut through the noise, reducing its volume. Everyone went quiet

The class doors were pushed open and Keira walked in. "Alright girls, that's the lunch bell." She called amidst the resonating sound.

The girl's all stood and pushed towards the dinning hall, by now already knowing the way.

Lunch was neither quiet nor tense as it was before. All the witches had acquainted themselves and were connoting freely

.

When lunch was over, she made her way to her room with Ochen at her side. They had not mastered the way to their rooms yet so they followed behind Keira, passing through the maze of corridors and hallways that was the right wing.

"I can predict the days ahead of us." Ochen whined.

"What?" Asked Dea.

"I fear I might die of boredom as it is. I spoke with my maid and she said the stable master might allow us a horse or two to go ridding with, but she also said to give it time, as the ice prince treasures his horses, and--"

Dea stopped listening at that moment, for she had just remembered the King's order to meet his son, Icarus, after lunch. She didn't yet know her way out of her room to the grand hall, but, she pacified, an hour out of the two was enough.

"... Dea? Nadea!"

Her attention snapped to Ochen's exasperated face.

"You weren't listening, were you?" Ochen asked glumly.

Dea's answer was a brilliant smile. "Perhaps I too, will have a talk with my maid on what to do with our spare hours, she seems to know everything about the castle."

"Oh please do!" Ochen rushed out, "lest I expire from boredom."

Dea nodded.

They had reached the familiar gallery. With a quick wave at Ochen, she entered her room.

Lilith was back at the balcony while Imogen was nowhere to be seen, when Marah saw her, she rose from the stool she was sitting on and smiled brilliantly at Dea.

"Oh, Miss Nadea, you're back. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Dea plopped down on her bed unceremoniously. "Nothing Marah, and please call me Dea." She waved away Marah's protesting look, "I just want to know if there's anything that can be done with my spare hours."

Marah's face took on a thoughtful look. Then she listed, "er...explore the castle grounds, get some needle work done," she chuckled at Dea's scrunched up nose, "play some board games, chess perhaps. I'll suggest parlor games but, those are for children. Get some reading done, mayhap," she blushed, "those scandalous books."

Dea laughed. "You mean romance novels."

Marah huffed. "If that's what they call it these days."

Something occurred to Dea. "By the way, where are the children kept?"

"The children of the court are kept under Mrs Keira's care." She replied.

"Oh." Dea said, nodding. "And," she reduced her voice to a whisper, "do you perchance know what happened to the ice queen and--"

"Oh but I don't," Marah said hushedly, "you know, it all happened centuries ago, and in all those time the castle's workers had been changed." She bent her head further, her forehead almost touching Dea's. "But its whispered; there was a romantic interest between the king and the witch."

Dea gasped while Marah nodded grimly. "Indeed."

"Why, I didn't kn--" the balcony doors closed audibly and immediately Marah straightened while Dea averted her gaze as Lilith walked into the room.

"Please do not stop your gossiping on my account." Lilith's stiff voice called out. "Do carry on with your prattling." She said, moving out of the door.

Dea sighed meeting Marah's gaze.

Then she jerked, remembering something. Getting up to her feet in haste she took a quick check at the clock on the wall, one hour and thirty minutes left.

In her laze she had forgotten about the prince.

Marah's wide eyes watched her as she struggled combatively with her cloak, trying to put it on.

"Please," she got out, "can you show me to the King's office?" She rushed.

Marah's eyes, if possible, widened the more. She hurried to her feet as well. "You have an appointment with the prince?"

"Not exactly--" she was being cut off as Marah grabbed her hand.

"The prince detests tardiness."

Marah pulled her hurriedly along corridors and stairways.

She halted Marah as she was about to take the forbidden left staircase.

"But," Dea wheezed, regulating her breath, "isn't this stairway is out of bounds, someone might see us." She said, casting her gaze about the hall, servants and workers walked about.

Marah urged, "well, its the fastest way to the King's office, the servant's passageway is much longer. Come on let's go."

Dea conceded, allowing Marah to lead her up the stairs.

As they scurried on, she noted that the right wing she thought above beautiful was nothing compared to the opulence of the left wing they hurried through.

As they rushed through spacious corridors filled with guards in blue and white liveries, she had no time to admire the resplendence.

They entered into a hall that had twice the number of guards than those in the other halls.

Marah slowed down and Dea followed suit.

Nearing the huge double doors with two large guards stationed before it, Marah curtsied, Dea did the same.

Marah proceeded to speak to the guards while Dea looked around, noting the enthralling decor of the hall.

She turned as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Now, Miss Nadea," Marah whispered to her. "Prince Icarus isn't the kindest of men, please do understand the toll loosing one's family can have on a person. Believe me he has a kind heart and--"

"Servant." One of the burly guards called. Marah expelled a breath and nodded at Dea, she released her shoulder and left the hall without a backward glance.

Dea squared her shoulders and edged towards the door, a guard opened the doors and she walked in as the doors closed immediately behind her.

She stopped in her tracks as she spotted the prince seating behind a large oak desk.

He was bent over a ledger, his white hair fell over his side profile and hung over his chest, and just like his table, his chest was equally monumental. His linen shirt stretched over broad chest and rippling muscles, behind the curtain of white hair blue glyphs glowed from his pale neck and trailed down to his bare chest, exposed by the V of his shirt. She wondered where the glyphs led to, she blushed, mortified at where her thoughts had trailed to.

She studied his brooding face, or half of it, she could make out sculpted cheekbones and strong, square jaw. A brooding mouth with lush lips...

"Cedric," he lifted his head, and paused.

She stood still, ashen and shame faced as his glacier blue eyes froze her in place, radiating power.

Recognition dawned in those frigid blue orbs, but for the life of her she couldn't remember meeting someone such as he.

Realising that she was openly staring at him, she dropped to a curtsy, so steep was her curtsy that it could have been a bow.

Later, she would realise that not all royals were worth curtsying to. Perhaps she should have taken a hint from the way she toppled over, her arms flailing precariously in a bid to steady her dropping form. But to no avail, she landed unflatteringly in a heap of frilly skirts and drawers.

She rushed to her feet, her face burning incandescently with embarrassment. In all the disarray, her bonnet still remained intact, no riotous strands peeking out.

She sneaked a glance at the prince and was a little relived that his attention was fixed on the ledger.

Her face burned even more as she spoke. "I," her voice came out as a croak, clearing her throat she continued, "I was sent by your father, the king, he said to meet you regarding a personal favour I sought." The prince was still focused on his ledger, not speaking.

Maybe he was waiting for her to get to the point, he couldn't be as bad as his father was.

"I have come to ask for a royal warlock from your court, who'll strengthen our coven and restore its energy."

She was met with silence.

Worst. He was as futile as his father had been, perhaps even more so.

"My coven," she continued, determined, "is the only source of protection our village has. We have no guards securing our boarders from attacks, seeing as... Seeing as his majesty banned all witches and people alike from the kingdom without any protection and--"

"Really.." He drawled, Dea thought he sounded just like his father at that instant.

The prince's attention was still on the ledger in front of him. Perhaps that was a good thing because his glacial eyes were so intimidating she wouldn't be able to get a word out.

"Give me two reasons, witch, why I should send a warlock to your coven," his deep, rumbling voice was like the most soothing of music. She hhad a feeling that such comparison would not be appreciated.

"Because--"

"Every single day," the prince continued, "each morning, for the rest of the month." He concluded with, "starting tomorrow."

Dea had a feeling she had just been dismissed and the thought was confirmed as the prince whistled and a magnificent eagle came flying across the room, perching on the prince's wrist, the prince proceeded to stroke the feathers of the bird.

Watching the movement of his large hands a hot sensation unfurled at the base of her stomach.

She dipped to a curtsy, carefully this time, and departed the room. The unexplainable hot, tingling sensation a constant companion.

As the guard closed the doors behind her,she remembered that she didn't know her way to the grand hall and Marah was nowhere to be found.

She called to a maid passing by, "excuse me,please could you show me to the grand hall?"

The maid nodded and led the way.

On a further request from Dea, the maid led her up the right staircase and into the gallery that led to her room.

Marah stood as she came in, questions brimming in her eyes.

"So?" She prodded.

Dea flushed beet red. "I fell."

Marah smiled gleefully, her voice ridden with squeals. "I knew the prince was too handsome for his own good, but this... To trigger such powerful emotion in just a single meeting..." Her gleeful claps filled in the hanging sentence.

"I fell... Literally speaking."

The delighted squeals halted immediately and Marah wore a horrified expression on her face. "You, fe-fell?" She sputtered grimly.

Dea nodded solemnly, removed her cloak and proceeded to tell Marah about the brief meeting with the prince.

Marah listened aptly and interrupted once in a while with gasps and coos.

When Dea was done narrating she glanced at the ornate clock on the wall and sprang to her feet.

When Marah asked what was wrong she replied with a hasty, "two minutes to the afternoon classes." She donned her cloak and rushed to the door with Marah in tow.

"All this jumping about..." Marah muttered, ushering her to the grand hall. Some witches were already disappearing behind the doors of the blue hall.

She bounded into the hall and entered the classroom immediately. Witches were already seated.

Ochen waved her over to their seat, she sat down just when the warlock walked into the class. As he walked over to the front of the class, the doors were pushed open once again and three witches strode in hastily.

The warlock turned sharply and halted them mid stride.

"Three of you," his steel voice addressed, "to the front of the class, now."

All the witches seated casted their gazes at the three witches, some worried,some, curious.

The three witches; Snow, Apple and October trudged onwards.

He said something to them giving them each a black sack. They nodded their heads and went round the class, distributing pruned tree branches.

The witches seated stared at the sticks in wonder, then Eirwen spoke up, her voice incredulous. "Is this a wand?" She asked.

When the warlock nodded, she looked at the stick distastefully. "But these were only used by, possibly, only primordials."

The warlock explained coolly. "Those wands are simply channels for your magic, they help in casting your spells effectively and, training your magic to transcend low limits.

"At the end of this training your wands will be given to you. But, like most things concerning magic, your wands will choose you. And not you, them."

He did not allow them to mull on his words as he proceeded almost immediately, "I'm afraid this would be a brief class, your headmaster is yet to address you."

When the three witches sharing the wands were done they proceeded to the front of the class, apparently the warlock had told them to wait.

The warlock introduced himself as Alvar. "Spells," his cool voice continued, "are one of the main bodies of magic, spells can be sung, recited or spoken." He turned to the witches a space beside him, "one of you should step forward and perform a galdr."

Immediately, Apple came forward, her eyes glinting enthusiastically.

"I'll perform the uldr."

The uldr, a spell used on white witches --an extinct coven-- by important people who sought favours. The spell could only be used by one whom the white witch had permitted to use her essence. Her essence being; blood, hair or other bodily units, the white witches were the only race capable of controlling all the elements.

The black witches, another powerful coven, had gone extinct as well, and for a good reason. Although not all black witches were bad, most were dangerous. The ability to wield time was a greedily coveted and malicious power.

Apple's voice rang through out the class room, her voice the epitome of all that was unharmonious. "Glow hair glow... Let your powers shine.."

Apple's voice carried on, increasing at disastrous pitches and reducing to disturbing a softness. But all, were harmful to the ears.

When she was done, Alvar nodded at her curtly. "Very well," he looked at the two witches beside Apple. "One of you, a chanting spell."

October's somber countenance graced the class.

"A permanent sleeping spell." Was all she said before reducing her voice to a dark tone. The witches all casted protective spells on themselves, in order to not fall prey to the chanting spell.

October's low voice carried through the class. "Bliss, thou can't ignore. Velvet, to thee devour. Peace, thou shalt savour. Sleep, till death occurs."

Silence, then, "very good." Alvar said. "The next witch, a word spell."

Snow's nostrils flared as she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

"A music spell." She said, "unïm di ästay." Immediately sweet music permeated the atmosphere lulling them to sweet oblivion. Snow's proficiency and focus was to be applauded.

Alvar nodded his head in a commending manner, which was as good as an applause one got from him. "Good so-"

He was cut off as Sybil came in through the doors. "Sorry for interrupting your class Alvar." Alvar shook his head protestingly.

Trailing behind the headmaster were a small group of servants carrying bags.

"Alright, your class schedule will be given to you now, together with your magic cases." The witches looked at him in confusion.

"A magic case has sections within in for every magical tool; potion vials, wands, spell books, charm stones and all things alike.

The witches nodded in understanding, by now Alvar had already left the class.

Sybil signaled to the servants to start distributing the 'magic cases.'

When Dea got her case she stared at the stiff leather bag in wonder. Opening it, the interior had a large indent in the middle with a strap, probably for the spell books, she thought. Around the carved space were smaller sections for vials, a wand and charm stones.

"Look, it has a hand attached to it." Ochen said, drawing on the long strap connecting to the case at both sides.

"How are we supposed to wear it?" She asked.

"Probably on our shoulders," Dea replied.

Ochen nodded in bemusement, running her fingers exploringly along the interior indents.

"Your class schedule, or lack of thereof," the head master said, "will not be given to you. There will be no specific classes on given days, no warlocks to expect and no classes to look forward to. In all essence your classes are at random."

The witches looked perplexed.

The head master sighed, his paunch expanding with the movement. "Due to a decision made by some warlocks your class schedule will be withheld from you. They said yo always keep you on your toes."

Sybil lifted his hat to wipe his balding head with a handkerchief. Dea puzzled at the head master, who was supposedly the head of all the royal warlocks. She hadn't dwelled on what the ice warlock would have looked like. Perhaps a part of her had thought he would look more cold and severe, but instead he looked warm and almost... Paternal.

"I see you've all gotten your magic cases, I'll leave now. And," his voice reduced to a conspirational whisper. "Just so you know, your next class is curses, and just like the subject, the warlock teaching it could be a bit curst as well."

The witches expelled startled giggles.

Sybil chuckled and left the class, the servants trailing behind him.

Not long after he was gone, the next warlock strode in, carrying a bunch of tablets.

The witches gaped with unhidden delight as the warlock walked to the class front, this warlock happened to be one of the handsome ones.

His white hair fell in braids around his sculpted face.

The delight in the witches face dimmed, a smidge, when he turned hard eyes towards them.

"What the hell are you all gawping at?" His harsh, smooth voice asked. Perhaps the curses teacher took his subject a bit too seriously. "Never seen a warlock before?"

With that, Dea summarised the warlock was mean-spirited. But telling that to the witches would do nothing to douse their interest.

He dropped his tablets on the oak desk before the class.

"The name's Julius and I'm your curses teacher."

He proceeded, without further ado, to teach at length about; hexes, bindings, jinxes and terms related to curses.

The girls wore dazed looks on their faces, an explanation of jinxes seemed to be an invitation to stare at his lips and droll like ninnies.

Beside her, even Ochen had a beatific expression on her face. A bird would have made a nest on her head and she wouldn't have even noticed.

When the resonating sound of the dinner bell rang off, he closed his curse book sharply, which seemed to snap the witched out of their daze, and gathered his curse tablets.

The witches were met with a surprise as they filed into the dining hall.

The king sat on his seat at the head of the table. When the witches were all sat and the dishes were brought in, he commenced the dinner.

For the witches, using the right cutleries, cutting their foods into perfect bits and putting each miniscule part into their mouths was an art done with careful precision.

Dea noticed the way recognition and puzzlement skittered in Ochen's eyes each time she looked at the king.

But judging from the way her eyes quickly left his person when she thought someone was looking, Dea summarised that she didn't want to be caught, much less asked a question concerning her behaviour.

Curiosity was a niggling weakness in Dea's personality, she badly needed to know Ochen's thoughts at the moment.

But then again, she had just made a friend and she wasn't about to loose her by making her uncomfortable. She hoped.