Page 11 of The Pebbled Path

She had said precisely that with Papa. The food, then, was part of her devious plans.

Hansel sneezed, pulling their attention to him once more.

“Are you ill?” The enchantress sounded utterly disgusted.

“Only a little.” He sounded pleading, as if desperate for her to approve of him.

She circled him, Gretel entirely forgotten. “You do seem hale enough. Young.” She ran a clawed finger down his arm. “Strong.”

He watched her worshipfully.

The enchantress nodded to herself. “You’ll do. But first you must regain your health.” She motioned him toward the room where Gretel had found the spell book. “Lie down. Rest. My maid here will bring you food and water until you’ve recovered. Then you”—she laid a hand on his chest—“and I will have our supper.”

He nodded mutely, his gaze never leaving the enchantress’s face.

“To the room,” she repeated.

He walked in that direction, repeatedly looking back at the enchantress. She waved him on. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

A frown firm on her face, the enchantress turned to Gretel. “Make broth. See to it that he is well soon.”

Gretel nodded. Here was an unforeseen bit of luck. The enchantress needed Hansel fully healthy, which he was not. They had time to think of a plan, if only the spell the enchantress wove on men’s perception of her was not too strong for Gretel to get around.

The enchantress entered her own room and snapped the door closed. Gretel set to the task of making broth. She did not know precisely what her mistress did to the food she fed the men who came to the cottage, but at least Gretel could be assured that the food she would make for him was safe.

The sounds of the enchantress sleeping soon filled the cottage. Gretel stirred the pot of broth simmering above the fire. How was she to get through to Hansel, to help him escape? If she brought a bowl of broth in to him, she would have time to look at the spell book, perhaps find something to free him.

Footsteps sounded behind her. She looked back. Hansel had emerged, no doubt looking for the mesmerizing, engaging woman he thought the enchantress was.

“She is asleep,” Gretel said. “You’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see her again. For now, you had best lie back down.”

His eyes darted toward the closed door to the enchantress’s room. “I heard the snoring. I hoped that meant we would have a few minutes.”

That was unexpected. “You aren’t looking for her?”

He shuddered. “I likely am meant to be. Her appearance fluctuated between beautiful and horrifying. I suspect I was only supposed to see the alluring version, but somehow the enchantment is not working.”

Gretel stepped away from the fireplace and directly to him. She clutched his upper arms. “You have to leave. If she is not truly trapping you here, you have to go.”

He did not heed her warning but instead wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “She means for you to nurse me to health. I can feign a slow recovery. We will have time and plenty for managing both of our escapes.”

Though she ought to have argued and insisted that he leave while he still could, she leaned into his embrace, resting her head against his beating heart. “I do not know how you found me. The path leading here is enchanted to make you go the other way.”

“I came from the other direction, on my way back from the village.”

She hadn’t thought that the enchantress might have bewitched other paths leading to the cottage, but she should have. “She kills the men she lures here. I could not endure it if you suffered that same fate.”

“We will escape, my dearest Gretel. I have full faith we will.”

“I do not know how to break the spell that keeps me here.”

His hand rubbed a comforting circle on her back. “There is a spell book in the room she’s placed me in.”

“I’ve read portions of it. I haven’t found anything yet.”

“I will read while I am supposed to be sleeping. You can read while you’re meant to be nursing me. We will find the answer.”

She pulled back enough to meet his eye. “Will you promise me you will be careful?”