Chapter Text
Eloise’s heart hammered as she approached the grove. Her teeth chattered and she sucked in a sharp breath to ward off shivers. Her cloak kept the worst of the cold at bay, but the misty midnight air conjured a chill that seeped into her bones. The sparse forest path was barely visible under the weak glow of her flickering lantern light. The faint crunch of dry leaves underfoot caused her to glance uselessly from side to side, just to ensure no creature lurked out of view.
It has to be just ahead.
Her breath hitched as a twig snapped underfoot. “Just ahead,” she whispered, desperately focusing on the path. “Just ahead.”
Finally, the crowded trees pulled away, revealing a mossy clearing laden with moon glow. Eloise lowered the lantern, letting it rest on an unearthed tree root, and took a step in. The thick moss muted her footsteps as she slowly picked her way to the center of the grove. Standing there, heart drumming and breath catching, she stared into the darkness, wide-eyed, doubting her sanity as each second ticked by.
A voice crawled forth from the shadows like tendrils of smoke, deep and reverberating with darkness, “Who dares approach the Witch of Glamorgan?”
Eloise breathed faster. “Um, me. That is—My name is Eloise.”
A figure shrouded in smoke and darkness spilled forth into the clearing, materializing mere inches before Eloise. Bright blue eyes wreathed in storm clouds and lightning pierced the shadows. Tendrils of smoke rose to form the shape of curling horns atop a head, and yet the rest of the body remained shifting, wreathed in an impassible cloak of mist.
“Eloise,” the figure echoed. “You are unlike most of my visitors.” The shadows flickered, and the entity moved a few paces away from her. With its whole frame in view, Eloise could see the shadows writhe and twist into a form that suggested feminine features—a curved waist, a swell at the chest, long and elegant fingers. Eloise felt her face flush with heat.
“Eloise Bridgerton, if it matters.”
Something shifted in the figure’s stance. Those cold blue eyes flicked toward her again, fixing her with an icy stare. “I have never had the good fortune to serve one of landed gentry,” the voice murmured. “Tell me, what could a woman from such means desire that the world cannot provide?”
If her heart could burst from her chest, it would. Eloise took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to summon the last of her courage. “I want—that is, I need power. Some means of staving off marriage. Indefinitely. Without dragging the rest of my family into scandal. I do not wish to be chained to the rules of the ton but I do not want my desires to ruin what joy my siblings might find.”
The shadowy figure glided toward her again. A cold hand touched the underside of her chin and tilted her head to the side, as if the witch were inspecting her. “Why not simply…ruin yourself?”
Eloise shuddered at how the word “ruin” fell from the witch’s mouth. A whisper, a curse, an utterly scandalous suggestion. “I do not wish to hurt my family.”
“And so you turn to me…” The hand trailed down her chin, along her neck, then settled upon her clavicle. “The question is…what could you possibly give me for such power?”
“I do not know, truthfully. I hear you accept body parts. Perhaps my left hand?”
Eloise meant it as a jest, but she was still startled when the shadowy figure released a throaty chuckle. “As delightful a trade as that might be, I fear a mere hand is inadequate.”
Her breath hitched. “So what is it you ask for?”
That low rumble of laughter spilled forth again, and the witch leaned even closer, lips next to Eloise’s ear as she whispered, “Your heart.”
“My heart?” Eloise echoed. “I would think I’d drop dead without it.”
The figure pulled back, storm-cloud eyes locking with hers once more. “I need not remove it from your chest. Merely…swear that it belongs to no one else. If I am to keep you from marriage, then I need some assurance that my efforts are not to be in vain.”
Eloise scoffed. “That hardly seems like an equitable trade. I have no intention of giving it to anyone regardless.”
“Think of it as a bargain in your favor, then.” The witch raised her stormcloud hands to cup the sides of Eloise’s face. “That which you have no intention of using could not possibly go to waste in such a deal.”
Eloise’s heart thudded in her ears. Was it protesting her willingness to cast it aside? “So it is a deal then?” Her voice rasped with terror.
“Simply tell me that I have it, that you give me your heart, and yes. The deal will be done.”
“I…” Eloise swallowed. She was so close. “You have my heart. It is yours.”
Whatever shadowy wisps of lips this creature possessed twisted into a smile, and then a cackle echoed throughout the grove. “The deal is struck.”
Thunder cracked the sky as those lightning-blue eyes flashed. The hands on either side of her face pressed cold fingertips to her temple, and Eloise cried out as something surged through her. White light flashed through the grove, and when it faded, the shadowy figure had materialized into the most unlikely of beings.
A woman stood before Eloise, tall and striking, her cheekbones sharp and jawline strong. Her eyes flashed that same thunderstorm blue and her full, pink lips twisted into a smirk. Her brilliant blond hair twisted up in a manner that hinted at the smoky horns. She was clad in a flowing, silky pink dress with ruffled sleeves, exactly the sort fashion the ton expected.
She was stunning.
“Cressida Cowper, at your service.” The woman offered a low curtsy.
At first, Eloise could not speak. The witch—this woman—was simply not what she was expecting. She was refined, she was imposing, she was…
“You look like a woman of society.”
The woman, Cressida, laughed. “I suppose I was, once. Though I still love an excuse to wear a beautiful gown.” She reached a slender hand down and bunched up the pink skirt, drawing the fabric up and letting it fall through her fingers. She locked eyes with Eloise, a devilish smile upon her lips. “Wherever you go, I shall be there to accompany you.” She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. A small silver chain appeared, clasped between her thumb and forefinger. “Simply wear this bracelet. You will not need to summon me, for I will know you are in need.”
Eloise silently extended her arm and offered her wrist. “And what will you do, when I am in need?”
Cressida effortlessly slipped the bracelet over Eloise’s wrist. “It depends.” Even after the chain was clasped, her hand stayed in place, tracing her fingers down Eloise’s palm. It sent a shiver through her. “If a man were to give you unwanted attention, I could obscure you from him. If you were to attempt something scandalous in public, I might bend people’s perceptions so that you might be unnoticed.”
“What, I could stab a man in the streets and no one would be the wiser?”
Cressida laughed. “Nothing so bold. My powers do have their limits. But…say you wanted to take an extra glass of wine at a party, or eat a bonbon without concern for proper etiquette, or parade about in trousers and a shirt—” Eloise felt a hot pulse course through her stomach at the suggestion. “I could make it so you are left in peace. No scandal. No rumors. No shipping you off to a distant relative or an asylum. And your family…will be at peace.”
Finally, Cressida’s hand dropped away. It felt as though lightning bolts danced across her skin where she had touched. Eloise shuddered. “And…all I need to do in return is never give my heart away.” She kept her wrist extended, examining the delicate silver chain now resting on it.
A dark shadow crossed Cressida’s face. Her eyes flashed. “That is our bargain.”
Eloise exhaled and lowered her hand back to her side. “Good! That is—what a relief.” Her limbs trembled. The cold was beginning to seep its way back in now that adrenaline no longer pumped so viciously through her veins. “Forgive me, but I do not know the etiquette of visiting with otherworldly beings. Should I…How do I excuse myself?”
Cressida smirked and took a step forward. “Allow me.” She rushed toward Eloise, suddenly cloaked in storm clouds and thunderbolts. Eloise shrieked and raised her arms to protect herself. A loud cackle rang through the forest and storm clouds roiled past her, wind whipping her hair. Eloise squeezed her eyes shut, but as soon as the storm encompassed her, it was gone. The breeze stilled, and she heard the faint sound of crickets chirping.
Eloise opened her eyes only to discover she was standing next to the old tree on her family’s grounds, swings gently swaying in the aftermath of whatever winds had carried her there. Her lantern lay on its side, extinguished. For a moment, Eloise was inclined to think that everything that had just transpired was a vibrant hallucination. But as she reached down to retrieve her lantern, Eloise caught sight of the silver bracelet dangling from her wrist.
Warmth pooled in her chest as the possibilities of testing this new pact coursed through her mind. She would give many things to avoid the fate that awaited her in society. Her heart was doing no good to her, empty as it was for any love of the ton’s suitors. Trading it for her freedom was the easiest choice she had ever made.