by Katie Cross
After running my hand through my hair to get rid of the tangles and checking to make sure I didn’t have any dried drool on my face, I brushed my palm down the dress to smooth out any wrinkles and headed for the door.
The halls of Magnolia Castle were white and flat, with the rough texture of a smooth, softly gritty stone. Because I’d arrived after dark, I hadn’t appreciated how much light echoed through the corridor. The morning sunshine pushed out the night, making everything feel bright. Elegant crystal sconces lined with gold led the way to a little nook with light blue divans at the end of the hall. A nearby hallway admitted sunshine through open skylights, which allowed the bracing sea breeze to pour in. It felt silky and smooth, carrying the scent of salt.
“Did you get lost already?”
Merrick’s voice startled me. I paused, whirling around to find him leaning against the wall outside Marten’s room. My heart hammered.
“No. Just … exploring.”
“Right. Well, Marten wants to talk to you.” He jerked his head to the side. “In his room.”
I sighed. “Of course.”
Marten eyed me with a critical gaze when I walked in. “Rough night?”
“Something like that,” I said through a yawn. Merrick moved to the other side of the room, looking well rested for having stayed up half the night.
“Diego has invited us to breakfast with himself and Niko before we move on to negotiations. Tradition is very important to him, so although I’d rather talk and get it over with, we’ll eat breakfast first.”
“Sounds riveting. What would you like me to do?”
“Pay attention,” he said, tapping the side of his head. “The Aldanas won’t allow us to take notes during the meeting. They are very careful about things like that, so remember everything you can.”
“No notes?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing. “That sounds ridiculous.”
“Welcome to the East,” Merrick muttered.
Marten hesitated. “Diego is careful, which is why he doesn’t employ an Ambassador but handles all negotiations himself. He’s a man of rules and tradition. The Aldanas usually take breakfast in the Sword Room, which you, of all witches, will find interesting, I think.”
“Redemptive,” I admitted, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Despite my finger-brush straightening session, my hair remained a wild mane. I used an incantation to calm the worst of the fuzz, glad to see it straightened into less of a nest. My hair didn’t curl like Camille’s, but neither was it stick-straight like Leda’s. I lived in hair limbo, which would have been annoying if I cared more about it.
A light tap sounded at the door, and Ariana’s voice followed.
“Ambassador and Miss Bianca, the Aldanas have sent me to escort you to breakfast.”
Marten looked at me.
“Here we go,” I said, motioning for him to go first. “Take me to the infamous Diego Aldana himself.”
Ariana, Marten, Merrick, and I didn’t speak as we walked down the sparkling hall.
“Here is the Sword Room, Ambassador, Miss Bianca, Protector.” Ariana curtsied and stepped to the side, motioning with a sweep of her thin arm into a room with a whitewashed door.
The brilliance of hundreds of glittering swords stopped me in my tracks. Niko, who stood just inside the room, grinned at me.
“Good morning, Miss Monroe.”
“Merry meet, Niko.”
“You have heard of the Sword Room, I imagine?” Niko asked after I moved in behind Marten, eyes wide.
“Once or twice,” I said. Hundreds of swords lined every wall, gleaming in golden and silver radiance. The weapons remained open to the air, hanging and twisting slowly in place, reflecting the rising sunlight. It felt like standing inside a massive chandelier.
“Does it fulfill your expectations, Miss Monroe?” Niko asked, smiling as if he already knew the answer.
“Exceeds them. And please, call me Bianca.”
Niko pressed his lips together in a way that surely meant I’d amused him, but he was too kind to say it. No doubt I’d committed some faux pas that would have appalled Miss Scarlett.
“I noticed your own sword last night,” Niko said, his eyes straying to my empty hip. Of course, I wouldn’t openly wear Viveet to a diplomatic meeting. She lay underneath my skirt, strapped to my thigh with a special sheath. Since Viveet was shorter than a broadsword, her tip extended just beyond my knee when I stood, which made her easy to hide. Thanks to her own magic, when I sat down she shrank just enough that she wouldn’t stick out. “I will admit I was surprised to see a female witch with a sword. But then, the Central Network is not as traditional as the East, I think, for you were also barefoot last night.”
He finished with a kind smile. A slight blush rose to my cheeks. I’d forgotten that I’d removed my shoes to climb on top of the carriage.
“Yes,” I drawled. “Well, I suppose I’m not your typical Central Network female.”
“You are Derek’s daughter; I can imagine that you wouldn’t be. You slept well, I hope?” Niko asked. I managed to tear my eyes away from the glittering swords to respond with a smile.
“Yes,” I said, suppressing the urge to touch every blade. Some of them looked distinctly smaller, like Viveet. Definitely made for women. “I slept very well. Thank you for your hospitality.”
Niko’s slender, graceful form, like that of a dancer, was so different from Papa’s brazen strength that I couldn’t help but stare. He wore a crisp black coat with a golden watch chain dangling from his breast pocket. I thought of Papa, who, even as High Priest, typically strode around Chatham Castle in half-armor or a pair of dirty leather breeches and a white shirt. I imagined Papa imitating Diego’s formal air of propriety and almost scoffed at the thought.
“I’m glad your accommodations were pleasing. I think we owe you at least that much after your trip here. Your chamber is our second-best room, and we save it for our traveling guests,” he said, brushing the hospitality off as if he’d only loaned me a cup of sugar. “Come, I would be honored to introduce you to my grandfather, His Greatness, Diego Aldana.”
Merrick stepped back, standing unobtrusively against the wall, his eyes roving over the whole room. Marten had already found his way over to Diego, who stood in a beam of sunshine near the window. For a man in his nineties, Diego didn’t look a day over fifty-five. He reminded me of a silk ribbon in the wind, and his voice rippled up and down in smooth motions. He had dark hair and olive skin that made the stunning darkness of his chocolate eyes even deeper. Attractive streaks of gray spread through his hair, which filled his head in a thick ebony mop.
“Bianca Monroe, secret daughter to the great Derek Black,” Diego said with a perfect bow and warm expression. He held out his hand and took mine in his. His skin felt warm and soft, like a worn piece of leather. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Not as great as my pleasure, Your Greatness,” I said, dipping into an impressive curtsy. Marten sent me an approving wink, and I breathed a little easier.
“Are you hungry?” Diego asked. “I have ordered a breakfast feast just for you.”
“Ravenous.”
Diego laughed from deep in his belly. “Oh ho! She’s spunky.”
I managed a smile. He thought I was spunky because I admitted to ravenous hunger? I hoped he didn’t get a real view of my sarcasm.
“My sweet wife Isobel will not be joining us today,” Diego said in a tone full of regret. “She is ill and does not come down for meals anymore. We try not to strain her health because the Apothecaries aren’t sure what ails her.”
Old age? I thought, but pasted a sympathetic smile on my face instead, averting my eyes to the floor out of respect. The Eastern Network High Priestess, Isobel, was at least as old as Diego, though I didn’t know her exact age.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Marten murmured. “Please tell Isobel that we’ll bear the loss of her company as best we can. She’s a lively conversationalist.”
Diego smiled like a young boy
in love. “That she is. But no more of this delay! Let us eat!” He waved his hands in the air. “Miss Monroe is ravenous, and I simply won’t have it in my house!”
Breakfast outdid my expectations. It wasn’t a meal so much as an extravagant display of art. Diego made it out of the ordinary, no doubt, to either impress us or intimidate us. We didn’t dish the food up from the table, as we did in the Central Network; instead, four butlers circled the table with rotating dishes from the sideboard.
“Would you like an eel, Miss Monroe?”
I maintained a smooth facade, though the muscles of my nose twitched. “Yes,” I said, leaning back to give the butler access to my plate. The formality made me itch. A rubbery black ball landed on my plate. I hadn’t really wanted it, of course, but Miss Scarlett hadn’t covered how to politely refuse a chewy morsel of unwanted food.
Trays continued to rotate through the table—platters of clams, smoked fish, salmon, and skewers of shrimp coated with coconut. Baskets of fresh bread sat in the middle of the table, flat and thin. They tasted like crackers sprinkled with seeds. It seemed more like a militaristic show of force than breakfast.
See what we have? Diego seemed to be saying. All the food from the ocean we could ever want. We don’t need the Central Network. We don’t need anyone.
I speared a second bite of crab cake, unable to argue with the logic. They had great food.
“Bianca, I hear you like sword fighting,” Diego said, motioning toward the swords twirling in eternal splendor. “You must be curious about our collection.”
“Yes, of course,” I said, following his gaze to the wall. “It’s impressive to say the least.”
“The strength of the Eastern Network lies in our history,” Diego said with pride. “The Aldanas alone have maintained an unbroken line of High Priests and High Priestesses for three hundred years now. The continuation of tradition makes us strong.”
Merrick’s words from months earlier filtered through my mind. Traditions make us weak, predictable.
“We abide by the rules, and the rules are good to us,” Diego continued quietly, with a reverential tone. His eyes flickered to Marten. “And we will always continue to do so.”
“Do the witches of the Eastern Network agree to a familial line of rule?” I asked.
If I startled him with the question, he gave no sign. Marten sent me a warning glance.
“Why wouldn’t they?” Diego asked with a shrug, stirring a heaping pile of sugar into a glass of warmed milk. “They’ve never known anything different. And all we have to do is look back to—well, let’s just say that the Aldanas have never experienced any kind of violent political uprising.”
Marten took a sip of his drink but said nothing. I clenched my hand into a fist around the cloth napkin on my lap. Diego had just made a direct jab at Mildred, who organized a Resistance to take over as High Priestess and save the Network from destruction at Evelyn’s hand.
Niko’s eyes had widened, but I cut him off before he could soften the blow.
“Except for three hundred years ago,” I replied with a saccharine smile, unable to help myself. “When the Aldana family slew the entire Castaneda regime by setting them on fire and stuffing them into a cave to die.”
Diego’s smile twitched, but he never faltered, like a true politician. I kept my calm gaze on him and waited while he studied me. Everyone, the butlers included, seemed to hold their breaths until Diego smiled.
“It appears Miss Monroe knows her history and does not like to be bested.” He tapped the side of his nose. “Like I said: spunky.”
A noise at the door prevented me from searching for a response. A letter floated into the room to Diego. Once he finished reading it, he waved it into the fire.
“I must apologize,” he said, setting his napkin on the table and gaining his feet. “I’ve been summoned to an urgent meeting.”
“Not at all,” Marten said, standing. “We understand that you must take care of business.”
I hurried to my feet as well, knocking a snail off my plate with the prongs of my fork. I caught it mid-flight and tossed it back, accidentally sending it into a small fruit drink above my utensils. My eyes widened in horror, but neither Diego nor Niko seemed to notice. The butler across from me lifted a hand to his face and cleared his throat. Merrick rolled his eyes.
“My grandson will see you through the meal, and I will meet you at eleven thirty.” Diego clicked his heels together and bowed. “It’s been an honor to dine with both of you this morning. And please, accept my apologies for your unfortunate accident last night.” He gestured to my face, which showed further signs of bruising around my left eye. “We are looking into it now, but it appears it may have been a training accident gone awry.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Your Greatness.”
Niko, Marten, and I finished the rest of the lavish breakfast with light conversation and the pointless prattle of witches asking questions they didn’t really care about.
Isobel
“Miss Bianca?”
A knock on the door startled me from my perusal of notes written by a previous Ambassador after a meeting with the Eastern Network. I lay on my stomach across the bed in my room, waiting for the hour to pass until our meeting with Diego began. While they hadn’t exactly condemned us to our rooms, Ariana made it clear enough that we weren’t supposed to wander out of our little hall.
“Just a second,” I called through the wood.
“No rush,” Niko replied. “I will wait as long as needed.”
Merrick transported into my room, no doubt having heard my visitor. He put a hand on the hilt of his sword. I rolled my eyes.
“Seriously? It’s just Niko.”
Merrick ignored me, and I shot him a warning glance. His erect posture seemed to stiffen even more.
“Merry meet, Niko,” I said after pulling the door open, purposefully blocking Merrick from sight.
“Good day,” he said with a smile. “As a gesture of goodwill to make up for yesterday, I have come to see if you’d like a tour of the castle.”
“Of course!” I said, delighted at the idea of getting away from paperwork for a small adventure. “I’d love to.”
“Let’s begin now,” he said, inviting me into the hall by extending a bent arm. I slipped mine through his. “That will give us time to finish before the meeting.”
Even Ambassadors had few opportunities to glimpse the world of another Network, as most only met once every two or three years, which meant I’d take another carriage of flaming arrows if I could see more of the inner workings here. Small details like the number of servants, the type of decor, and background noises could hint at greater things. I followed Niko several steps down the hall before noticing a twinkle in his eye.
“Is something amusing you?” I asked.
“The way you speak,” he said. “Merry meet, I mean. I’ve only heard that phrase in books. With your accent, it’s quite charming.”
It was the first time I’d ever been in a position to have an accent, but I realized here in his world, I was an oddity.
“You have one too, you know,” I said. “You speak very smoothly. Central Network witches, especially in Chatham City, often sound like they’re choking on a hairball.”
He tipped his head back and laughed.
“Tell me more about the Aldanas,” I said, assuming he’d appreciate the topic and hoping I could glean enough history to avoid having to read about it.
“What?” he asked with a sparkle in his eye. “Don’t you already know so much about it?”
I smiled sheepishly. “Ah, that. Yes, sorry if that was out of line.”
“No, no. No apologies expected. Grandfather is very proud of our heritage. So proud that sometimes he forgets himself and his manners. He is an old man, after all. As you know, my family has held power for three centuries,” Niko said as we walked down a long hallway lit by skylights. “The Aldana line is the strongest in the history of Antebellum.”
&nbs
p; We walked slowly so I could take in the ornate decorations of Magnolia Castle. We moved up and down in level, but never beyond the wing they’d sequestered us in. I had little doubt that this small portion of the palace—while grand—held little importance. I couldn’t fault them for not taking me further into the heart of the castle. The idea of Niko and Diego wandering around Chatham Castle and learning who-knows-what about us sent a shudder through my body.
The bleached white walls often gave way to ocean views, and the salty air brought in a cool breeze that kissed my cheek at every window. Despite the winter season, I didn’t feel the cold deep in my bones, the way I did at home.
“You are next in line to High Priest, aren’t you?” I asked, looking up at him.
He nodded in a solemn way that made him look like his grandfather. “Yes. My father died in a carriage accident when I was young, so I take his rightful place of honor.”
Niko had been groomed to take over as High Priest from the day he was born in much the same way I’d been raised to fight for my life. Although our worlds were on very different paths, I suspected Niko and I weren’t all that different.
“And your wife?” I asked, recalling the Aldana tradition of marrying a peasant from the villages to ensure a connection with their witches. “Have you found her strolling along the beach yet?”
Niko’s grin came after a flush of his cheeks.
“To my mother’s disappointment, no. But I will eventually. It’s very difficult because she has to be the right kind of person to win Grandfather’s approval.”
“What about your mother?” I asked. “Is she as hard to please?”
“No.” He laughed softly, shaking his head back and forth. His tone was affectionate and filled with love. “My mother is much more patient because she, too, was once a peasant. Like my grandmother, Isobel, Mother recognizes that people can change and learn. Grandfather expects witches to fill their roles immediately, instead of learning how over time.”
My forehead wrinkled. “Even a poor village girl that’s never been in the castle?”
“Even then.”