Thank you. Cookies will do just fine, Raven. Yum. My favourite too.
Clothilda sat back in her chair, first rearranging a cushion and began:
Honey was well-named because her hair was the colour of honey made from Clover, a rich golden amber, her skin, tanned gold in the summer to the hue of Orange Blossom honey, her eyes were a soft brown like honey made from wildflowers and her voice, warm and buttery just like Avocado honey.
You could never tell from Honey's colouring that green skin lurked in her blood and, if it wasn't for family portraits of great aunt Hortense, the witch blood of Hammet and his sisters may have fallen from memory altogether.
When Honey was fresh out of college she met and married a serious young man named Ezekiel Angel and they were very happy together.
Ezekiel, like your brother, Raphael, was a man of science. He smiled indulgently at Honey's tales of witches and spells but it was obvious to her that he didn't believe them. So, after a time, she stopped talking about them and glossed over her heritage.
As you know,' Clothilda smiled. 'This fortunate pair were blessed with adorable male triplets who grew into fine, sturdy sons and made their parents proud.'
Triplets are uncommon, but nothing to remark upon beyond the initial gasp of surprise and this tidy little unit should have continued on living the suburban dream like any other ordinary family.
When the boys were almost grown Honey found she was pregnant again and this time she produced a daughter.' Clothilda smiled at Lucy.
'They were teens,' volunteered Lucy. 'They didn't like me much, well not when I started getting into their things and ripping things up.'
Clothilda laughed. 'The horrors of a toddler sister. I'm sure they loved you despite your destructive ways.'
Lucy looked doubtful.
'Now, it is not strange for an ageing couple to have a late life baby.' continued Clothilda.
'Most shrug their shoulders and get on with the task of coping with broken nights and dirty diapers when they thought they had put it all behind them. What is strange is that this couple had a daughter and not just an ordinary daughter. This little babe had the green skin and raven hair of her long dead ancestors and,' Clothilda paused and winked, 'Something extra as well that was not apparent at birth.'
Lucy leant forward. Whatever was Clothilda talking about.
Clothilda, took a deep breath. This was obviously something she had been waiting to explain and her eyes sparkled behind her glasses.
'You see Lucy, you inherited your true blood from your mother's side but, now this is important, you also inherited the blood of King Edward from your father's side.
Lucy gasped and Clothilda smiled smugly.
'It took some ferreting on my part and a lot of calling in favours from various witches and wizards from over the world but we finally found what we were looking for. Your father's ancestry can be traced back to Zachary, who was the second child of Princess Isolde and Prince Nicolas.
'But if my dad was of King Edward's line', Lucy screwed up her face in puzzlement, 'How then did they have me? They should have just had boys.'
'Indeed,' agreed Clothilda excitedly pounding the table and making the crockery jump.
'They should have and it seemed as though they were meant to have but something interfered with the curse. Something managed to overcome it and, lacking all evidence to the contrary, I think that it was either the potent combination of your mother's line and your father's royal blood or simply a triumph for the natural order of things.
'I think your father would have liked that.' She pondered.
Lucy smiled. 'Yes. He would have.'
'So that is your story, Lucy. You are the miracle child and you may hold the key to breaking the curse – you and another.' Her voice faded on the last word.
Lucy, basking in the warm glow of being called a very special person almost let it pass her by but there was a tiny thorn poking at her composure.
'Another? Who else, Clothilda?'
