"Theodora Goss - The Rose in Twelve Petals" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goss Theodora)

lily maid of Astolat. It would, she supposes, have made no
difference. She trips on a step and almost drops the book.
She has no reason to suppose, of course, that the Witch
will be there, so early in the morning. But somehow, Alice
hopes she will be.
She is, sitting on a low stool with a spinning wheel in front
of her.
16 The Rose in Twelve Petals
by Theodora Goss
“Were you waiting for me?” asks Alice. It sounds silly—who
else would the Witch be waiting for? But she can think of
nothing else to say.
“I was.” The Witch's voice is low and cadenced, and
although she has wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and
her hair has turned gray, she is still rather beautiful. She is
not, exactly, what Alice expected.
“How did you know I was coming so early?”
The Witch smiles. “I've gotten rather good at magic. I sell
fortunes for my living, you see. It's not much, just enough to
buy bread and butter, and to rent a small cottage. But it
amuses me, knowing things about people—their lives and
their future.”
“Do you know anything—about me?” Alice looks down at
the book. What idiotic questions to be asking. Surely a
heroine from Scott's novels would think of better.
The Witch nods, and sunlight catches the silver cross
suspended from a chain around her neck. She says, “I'm
sorry.”
Alice understands, and her face flushes. “You mean that
you've been watching all along. That you've known what it's
been like, being the cursed princess.” She turns and walks to
the tower window, so the Witch will not see how her hands
are shaking. “You know the other girls wouldn't play with me
or touch my toys, that the boys would spit over their
shoulder, to break the curse they said. Even the
chambermaids would make the sign of the cross when I
wasn't looking.” She can feel tears where they always begin,
at the corners of her eyes, and she leans out the window to
17 The Rose in Twelve Petals
by Theodora Goss
cool her face. Far below, a gardener is crossing the courtyard,
carrying a pair of pruning shears. She says, “Why didn't you
remove the curse, then?”
“Magic doesn't work that way.” The Witch's voice is sad.
Alice turns around and sees that her cheeks are wet with
tears. Alice steps toward her, trips again, and drops the book,
which falls under the spinning wheel.
The Witch picks it up and smiles as she examines the
cover. “Of course, your Goethe. I always wondered what
happened to Wolfgang Magus.”