by Katie Cross
This was the anteroom. If I did anything wrong, I’d be trapped here until someone else came through. Since Mabel ensured I arrived late to the meeting, that meant it would be another month.
I couldn’t help but wonder if Miss Mabel would intervene or just let me die with a sigh of regret that yet another student failed her. Isadora was not here to see, to protect me. I imagined some great tragedy hitting the Central Network and delaying the Esbat for months. Years, even. Then they’d find my bones here in the anteroom, one arm stretched to the wooden door.
I shook off the shiver in my spine, annoyed for spooking myself. Pull it together, Bianca. Well, there was no better way to disappoint Miss Mabel than to arrive at the Esbat, ready to conquer.
Four metal hoops lay in a row on the heavy wooden door. Every hoop sat above a different triangle, one of each of the alchemy symbols. Air. Fire. Water. Earth. If I used the wrong hoop to knock, even once, I would not be admitted.
Without hesitation, I grabbed the second and third and slammed them down at the same time. Two different tones resonated into the castle. Fire and water together made the unity symbol, which was an upside down and right side up triangle pressed together.
To my relief, the door groaned open. A butler stood just behind it. His perfectly starched uniform smelled like powder. Light from the torch next to me glinted off his slick black hair. He didn’t say anything, just stared at me with dull eyes.
“I need to speak with the High Priestess. I’m here on business,” I said.
His forehead furrowed.
“What proof do you have?”
My heart jumped into my throat, and I fought back the urge to smack my forehead. Proof. Of course he wanted proof. Why wouldn’t he? Certainly I didn’t look suspicious at all, a lone sixteen-year-old entering an ancient castle by a secret door. There was no way to make this less awkward.
Unfortunately, I had no proof. No Esbat mark, no reason for him to allow me in. Uncertain whether my empty circlus would help or not, I exposed my right wrist. He glanced at it, hesitated, then pulled the door toward him just enough to allow me admittance. He wrinkled his upper lip, and I knew that he had no idea what to do with me.
The room I stepped into consisted of gray stones and a ceiling that curved into a peak at the top. A crimson carpet covered floor, infused with golden threaded designs. Banners hung along the walls in blood red and gold, a large C drawn in the middle, a hat-tip to the Central Network flag and colors. Statues stood at random intervals in shallow bays. Well-lit by torches and candles, the area had very little shadow. My eyes had to adjust to the light.
The butler motioned for me to stay where I stood. On his way to the door, he ran into a short, slender woman in a gray dress. They spoke in low tones, casting uneasy glances my way. When he left, the woman approached me. Her hair hung in limp blonde curls on her head, held in place by a large black pin. Rigid, and not very welcoming, she stopped a few feet away and looked me over with a haughty glance. Too late, I realized I’d left my hair down and my shoes in the carriage. No wonder the butler thought I looked odd. I pulled my toes under the skirt, silently berating myself.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Miss Mabel’s lessons came back to assist me.
If you are outside the Council room or if the doors to the Council room are unsealed, you should never say your name or reason for being there. Spies could be anywhere and may take many forms.
The suspicious glint in the woman’s eyes meant she had no idea what was going on either. My heart sunk a little deeper, if possible. Miss Mabel had not informed them of my arrival. She wanted me to get into the meeting alone, as a stranger, even though a current member always escorted newcomers to the Esbat. When it came to Network secrets, no one took any chances.
“I can’t tell you that,” I said, swallowing back the nervous fear that rose in my throat.
The unwelcoming glower turned dangerous. “Then why are you here?”
“On business. I need to speak to the High Priestess.”
“How old are you? Twelve?”
“Sixteen,” I said through clenched teeth. Better than fifty-four, I almost snapped but decided I couldn’t afford to have her as an enemy.
“But I don’t know you. Why should I let you into Chatham Castle?”
Telling her I knew Miss Mabel would also be a mistake. It didn’t even matter to them that I’d come in by a secret entrance that a lay person couldn’t have broached, speaking another witch’s name in association with the Esbat equated with treason.
Spies could be anywhere.
“I’m supposed to be here,” I stated with false confidence. Even I wasn’t sure anymore. “I can prove it.”
“Oh really? No one told me you were coming.”
“It must have slipped her mind,” I retorted quickly, surprised at my own condescension. “I’m sure she is very busy.”
She muttered something under her breath and folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes glittered.
“If you’re supposed to be here,” she said with a nasty snark in her tone, “prove it.”
The last words came out punctuated with disdain, and I couldn’t say I blamed her. The muscles in my throat seemed to spasm. My false bravado caught up to me. I couldn’t prove it. I didn’t even have the Esbat mark yet. I hesitated. She tapped her foot on the floor. Her eyebrows, lifted halfway into her hairline, seemed to ask, Where is your courage now, little girl?
Good question.
If I could at least get into the Council Room, I might be able to defend myself to, or get myself imprisoned by, the Council Members who were there. Even that would be better than making it this far just to flounder in the hallway with the housekeeper. Better to die in pride than wallow in regret.
I just had to get past her.
“I can only address my business to the people who actually understand what I am here to say,” I finally concluded, turning my nose up in a queenly move that would have made Priscilla applaud. “I’m not sure a servant would know my purpose.”
Her anger deepened to murderous intent in a flash.
“I see,” she said, tightening with scorn. “Well then, let’s see you prove yourself to the Council.”
I fought the urge to run away and leave it all behind me. Instead I straightened my neck to a pristine tightness.
“Yes, that will suffice. Thank you.”
My dread doubled into a sickening pit at the bottom of my stomach as I followed her. What had I just done? The meeting could have started and the doors sealed with a protective spell. If someone from the outside tried to listen or cast a spell to eavesdrop, they’d only hear the false drone of a very boring meeting in the background, one that wasn’t real.
If the doors were already sealed on this meeting, they’d have to break the seal to admit me. My stomach committed to a terrifying nosedive. I wasn’t sure what the ramifications of breaking the seal were, but I knew they wouldn’t help my cause.
I trailed a few steps back, walking in her long shadow down hallways dotted by paintings of wrinkled faces and landscapes, statues, and grand tapestries until we came to a set of closed double doors. The woman flung the doors open and stepped aside. Her face lifted into a delighted sneer.
“I hope they understand all you have to say.”
A crowd of nearly thirty adults sat around a sprawling table; they all turned to face me at the same moment. Although I didn’t know what to expect, their stoic, eerie silence wasn’t it.
The room looked similar to the rest of the sprawling estate. Cold slate walls, a glittering chandelier with tiny candles that reflected light off the crystals, an oak table, and maroon banners. Skinny windows with shiny panes of glass filled the far wall.
An older woman in an elegant black dress stood directly across from me. She had short silver hair and biting eyes the color of cinnamon. Her imposing bearing and the rigid lines of her face gave her a determined, straightforward look. Here was a Council Member I didn’t want t
o mess with.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“I-I’m here on business,” I said, taking a step forward. The doors chugged to a close behind me.
“I didn’t ask what you were here for. I asked your name.”
“I know what you asked,” I said, hoping the trembling in my hands didn’t transmit to my voice. The doors weren’t sealed by magic yet. I would not say my name.
“Oh,” she lifted an eyebrow. “You’re just going to ignore it then?”
Several witches stood near the fireplace, the rest sitting in plush red chairs. They all gave me the same harpooning glare from over their wine glasses.
“The butler allowed me in,” I offered instead, trying to veer away from further questions. My voice sounded less certain now. The faces surrounding me were not familiar. Where was Miss Mabel? I didn’t dare look too far away from the commanding woman at the center to find out.
“The only reason they let you enter is because you have a circlus on your wrist,” she said. Her voice was deep and succinct, and her indifference chilling. The way her glare bore down, when taken with her gritty voice, terrified me. “Strangers are usually killed on the spot.”
“I know.”
“The only reason you’re alive right now is because you’re young.”
“But I’m not a stranger,” I said in a pitiful attempt to elevate my drowning chances. “I’ve been in this Network my whole life.”
“You’re a stranger in this room!” she thundered. “Obviously you don’t understand how suspicious you are. The only conclusion I can draw is that someone sent you here to spy on our Esbat. Do you agree?”
Although the sharp look in her eyes raked through me like a hot set of talons, I felt a thrill all the same. Spy on our Esbat, eh? How about you see how it feels to look like a fool.
“No, I do not agree,” I replied in a calm voice, looking at the unsealed doors with a deliberate gaze. “I never mentioned an Esbat. I’m here for business.”
A few shocked expressions passed from participant to participant, but they remained silent. Whether they reacted to my cheekiness or to her fault in mentioning the purpose of the meeting with unsealed doors, I didn’t know. Either way, I knew drowning when I felt it. When the woman’s face took on a perturbed, assessing stare, my chance at the Esbat mark disintegrated. Survival or occasional visitation from my mother while in the dungeons was the best I could hope for now. I curled my toes in again, hoping they didn’t peep out the edges of my dress.
The woman glared at me for several minutes with regal superiority.
“I know your face,” she said. “I’ve seen it before.”
“Perhaps out in the Network?” I suggested.
“No, that’s not it,” she said with a peevish snap, then shifted the conversation so suddenly it took me a moment to catch up. “I will ask you once more. What is your name?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“No? You will stand before all of us and refuse a command from one of your superiors? Would you like to give your refusal to the High Priestess instead? We can arrange that.”
What little ground I had left rapidly slipped away, leaving me on precarious footing. Defending myself would only damage my chances further. I already faced failure and a thirteen-year sentence with Miss Mabel. A movement across the room caught my eye, and I looked up to see my beloved teacher standing near a painting of a peacock. My heart sped up when I noticed her grin.
She enjoyed this. Today was no longer just a test for the Esbat mark. It was a battle for the next thirteen years of my life.
“Answer the question or we will send you to the High Priestess,” the woman demanded. “She won’t give you a chance to explain yourself.”
I hesitated as the two of us locked eyes. Something didn’t feel right.
“There’s nothing to explain,” I said, trying to buy a few moments to think this out.
“Don’t waste our time,” she barked. “Tell us your name or we’ll have the Guardians come in, take you into the dungeon for a few uncomfortable nights, and you can discuss it with the High Priestess then.”
A metallic bracelet on the woman’s wrist caught my attention with a gleam of light. An ancient language covered the front that I could just decipher.
SAC ERO DOS SUM MUS
I caught my gasp before it came out. I’d seen those words in the Esbat book. I knew what they meant, what the bracelet meant.
Nothing is ever what it seems.
My next move was a wild guess that risked my life, and my grandmother’s—a chance decision that Leda would not approve. If it failed, Miss Mabel would own me until my twenty-eighth birthday. Grandmother, and possibly my mother, would die without me.
Given how close I felt to the edge of sanity, my mind seemed surprisingly clear. Every eye focused on me. Miss Mabel chuckled to herself as she tipped her head back and downed the last of her wine.
“I already have discussed it with the High Priestess.” I moved into a low curtsy. “Or should I say, Your Highness?”
Searing Pains
A familiar, searing pain grew in my right wrist.
“You are smart for one so young,” the High Priestess declared in a dramatically altered tone of voice, although she was still far from kind. “When your teacher suggested this as a method of testing you for your mark, I reluctantly agreed. I didn’t think it would work, but obviously you did well.”
Our eyes met and silence fell. The burning faded from my wrist, and I glanced down to see the two triangles of the unity symbol tattooed within the circlus.
“Well?” she asked. “Don’t you have anything to say?”
“No, Your Highness,” I responded, realizing I might need to atone for my lack of respect. “Except to thank you for the honor of your participation in this test.” Just for show, I added another curtsy. When a few of my toes peeked out, I quickly straightened.
Her eyes narrowed to thin slits.
“You’re a little impudent, aren’t you?” she murmured, and then paused. “Yes, you are. You’ve got a bit of vinegar beneath that calm expression, not a very attractive trait for a young girl. Especially with that hair of yours. Don’t you wear it in buns anymore?”
I resisted the urge to reach for it, imagining barbs from the thorn bushes hanging down my back. Certainly not how a respectable young girl should meet the leader of her Network, but I couldn’t change what had happened. Camille would shake me when she found out. Miss Scarlett’s lips would press into that disappointed line.
You only get one chance to introduce yourself to the High Priestess.
And I botched mine very thoroughly, to no great surprise. I had the condolence of knowing both curtsies passed, however, and took strength in that. Perhaps Miss Scarlett wouldn’t condemn me to an eternity of etiquette lessons.
“Yes, Your Highness,” I said for lack of anything else, curling my toes even further. I nearly stood on them, and my joints smarted with pain. “The bun gave me a headache on my way over, and I forgot to replace it.”
A long, willowy man at her side interrupted with a whisper I couldn’t hear. He had a drippy nose and red eyes. The High Priestess waved him off.
“Yes, Donald, please seal the doors.”
A clicking, whirring sound came from behind me, then swept through the room with a broad, methodical stroke. A burst of air moved past and all fell silent again.
“Go sit with your teacher,” she said to me with the same dismissive wave. “We will now begin.”
Relieved to be out of the center of the room, I turned to the right and walked to the end of the table with small steps that kept my feet within my hem. A woman with graying auburn hair met my eyes and smiled with the corner of her lips. Her eyes flickered to the floor and back to mine.
Horrified, I looked away as if we’d never made eye contact in the first place.
Miss Mabel smiled as I sat in the chair next to hers. The empty wine glass sparkled at her fingertips.
&nbs
p; “Welcome,” she whispered, a gleam in her eyes. “You did marvelous, throwing that error back in her face. I would have given you the Esbat mark for that.”
I didn’t say anything. The wine refilled itself in her glass when I sat down and pulled a roll of parchment, a jar of white ink, and the peacock feather out of my bag. I wondered if the wine made Miss Mabel a little too bold. It was a risky thing to say with the High Priestess so near.
The High Priestess focused her gaze on someone to the right. I made the assumption that Donald was the High Priestess’s Assistant, as he constantly fluttered through papers, muttering to himself and watching her every move.
“As I was saying before we were interrupted, the High Priest could not attend this Esbat. He is sick at home today. Please do an invocation and blessing for healing on his behalf. Melinda from the Eastern Coven will address us first. Have the problems arising from the flood last month been resolved?”
On the other side of the room, a middle-aged woman with faded red hair and a concerned expression stood.
“Yes, Your Highness. The support team of builders from the Network rebuilt the bridges and restored supplies to our farmers. Thank you for your assistance.”
“I’m glad it was sufficient.”
Melinda sat down.
“Mr. Crabtree from Tillan’s Cove Coven,” the High Priestess said without missing a beat
I started to outline the events as the people in the room spoke, trying to commit their faces to my memory. It didn’t take long to realize that most of the people were Coven leaders, here to present their communities’ issues to the Network. Their assistants sat off to the side, and I imagined Leda there one day, with her pale face and high opinions.
There were people who never spoke at all. They lingered in the shadowy background with no particular purpose. Most of them looked to be in their thirties, but a few were middle aged. It wasn’t until I counted ten of them that I realized they made up the Council of Leaders. Like Miss Mabel, they hid their true ages. Papa had told me stories regarding several of the Council Members, many of whom were at least ninety. I wondered about the High Priestess. Why didn’t she hide her true age? Or did she?