by Katie Cross
“Sounds like a nightmare.”
“It can be difficult at times, but Grandfather has been running this Network for almost sixty years now. I am happy to defer to his wisdom. May I show you the ocean?” he asked. “It is the pride and joy of our Network. Everything in our lives depends on it.”
“Yes!” I said, excited by the prospect. “I’d like that very much. I’d never seen it before this morning.”
I followed him to a doorway and stepped onto an open porch with a dusting of sand scattered across the top of the white stones. Although I’d caught glimpses of it from the window this morning, nothing compared to a full view of the majestic band of water. Cliffs on the left plummeted straight into the ocean, where waves splashed and bubbled in frothy white bursts.
“Oh,” I breathed, my eyes widening. “It’s beautiful.”
The expansiveness of the ocean overwhelmed me. How did Niko not feel as if he would be swallowed by so much nothing? The comforting trees and vivid green canopy of Letum Wood felt like a hug compared to all this sky. I couldn’t help but feel a little frightened of just how big it was, and how small I felt next to it, with no greenery or forest to keep me from feeling exposed.
Niko leaned into the breeze and closed his eyes.
“The ocean is our lifeblood,” he said, his accent more pronounced. “Ever since we signed the Mansfeld Pact, we have depended on it for everything. Because of the ocean, we have unlimited resources to provide food and trade for our people. If you look to the right, you can see the port. Some fishermen have come back in. They must have filled their nets rather quickly this morning.”
I followed his direction, surprised to see two vessels, their white sails furled, moving toward us. Rope, canvas, and wood clogged their masts. Sailors scattered around the port to prepare the ships for docking.
“It’s more beautiful than I imagined,” I said, setting my arms on the wall. “The ocean seems very … powerful.”
“Perhaps you can go swimming on a later visit,” he said. “That is one experience I wouldn’t want you to miss while you are here, but other things take priority on this trip.”
“Oh?” I asked with an arched eyebrow. “Like what?”
“My grandmother Isobel would like to have tea with you before the meeting. Would you agree to that?”
I reared back in surprise. “The High Priestess wants to meet with me?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
“But … why?”
“Because you are our visitor and the High Priest’s daughter. Impressive, if you ask anyone that knows of Derek’s talent and power. Besides,” he said, eyes twinkling in a way that made me feel self-conscious, “Grandmother says that any young woman who carries her own sword into another Network sounds like a witch she would want to meet.”
I wondered how Isobel and Diego seemed to know my father, but reserved the question to ask her instead. Having tea with the High Priestess was an unexpected honor I wouldn’t refuse.
“I’d love to have tea with your grandmother.”
“Wonderful,” he said, his shoulders relaxing. “Allow me to take you there now. She’s waiting for you.”
We finished the rest of our tour in silence, winding out of what I imagined to be the east wing and into another. Niko came to a stop before a set of double doors decorated with a pair of ornate gold handles shaped like coral. He knocked with one knuckle, and a maid immediately opened it. She looked at him and me, gave a nod, and pulled the door open.
“Enjoy tea with my grandmother, Bianca,” he said with a smile. “Ariana will escort you back to the meeting when you’ve finished.”
He bowed and departed with easy grace. I watched him go, hesitant, until a quiet voice called from inside.
“Bianca Monroe? Please do come in.”
I took in a deep breath. The maid cast me an odd glance, but I smiled and slipped inside, preparing myself to meet one of the most powerful witches in all of Antebellum.
The room I walked into sparkled in tones of cream and baby blue, with gold-lined walls. Light from outside bounced through the satin drapes, glinting off the framework of a floor-to-ceiling mirror. It smelled like sea spray.
I tucked my hands behind my back, feeling out of place in such an opulent chamber. Papa and I were minimalists, forced into Chatham Castle by situation, not preference. A room of militaristic design, with swords and armor instead of silk, chiffon, and lace would have intimidated me less. I longed for the Sword Room again, where a simple linen dress didn’t seem so out of place.
Oh well, I thought, eyeing a painting of an elegant woman in a white dress on the wall. I crept forward despite my sudden insecurity, vaguely aware of my presence in a massive mirror on the wall.
“You must be Bianca. I’m delighted to have you for tea.”
I twirled to the side to see a striking woman sitting in a chair by the window. Her black hair shone in the bright daylight, swooped into an elegant bun at the back of her head. She was pale, with dark circles under her luminous eyes, but looked no older than fifty. In politics, one never knew the true age of another witch; the older generation often transformed their appearance.
“Your Greatness,” I said, dropping into a curtsy. “I’m honored to meet you.”
Isobel’s deep brown eyes, set in a slender face, seemed to twinkle. I couldn’t help but feel at ease. I imagined she would have floated if she could have walked, but she remained on a chair with a white blanket pulled over her lap. She held out both hands for me.
“It’s wonderful to meet you. Come, take my hand and have a seat next to me. We have much to discuss!”
I took her hand without knowing what I would do with it afterward, and managed to dip into a curtsy a moment before it would have been too late.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you ever since Diego told me you were coming with our friend, Marten. It sounds like you’ve had quite an adventure. I am so sorry about the violent attack on your carriage.”
“I’m honored to come, High Priestess. I’m not much of a guest. I fear I’ve stirred up trouble just by arriving.”
She laughed. “You let me be the judge of that. How do you like Magnolia Castle? I told Niko to give you a special tour so you could see the view.”
I smiled and sat down in the chair next to her. “Of course. You have a very obedient grandson.”
“He is wonderful, isn’t he? Niko is just like his father and his grandfather, though that may not be a good thing.”
“He’s very kind.”
“Tell me, how is your father doing? He used to come with Marten as his Protector. After a while I got to know him pretty well.”
“He’s doing well.”
“You’re the first High Priest’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Has that been difficult?”
I hesitated, peering into her curious dark eyes. Yes, it had been very difficult, but I never admitted it, and no one had asked.
“It’s been a challenge,” I said, searching for the diplomatic answer Marten would have suggested.
She smiled quietly as if she understood. “Ah, I see. Derek must worry about you every day. Does he allow you to leave the castle?”
“Yes, of course.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “By yourself?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
She recoiled. “Because you make him more vulnerable, do you not? I assume that’s why your Network traditionally does not allow High Leadership to marry or have children.”
“I suppose it is,” I said, startled that I hadn’t thought of it myself. “I travel with Marten to the border towns often, so it’s mostly safe when I do leave,” I added, lest she think me unprotected and Papa irresponsible.
Lines of concern formed on her brow. “Hmm … I must admit I was surprised he allowed you to come so far away. I would never have let my children travel to other Networks. They aren’t allowed to go into the markets without Guards either.”
“We have dragons a
t Chatham Castle now. There aren’t many witches that would attack me on castle grounds with dragons overhead.”
She laughed. “No, I suppose not. Well, that makes me feel a little better about your safety. At least you’re not wandering the Network unprotected. Except for on a carriage ride to here, I suppose.”
She sent me a sly grin. Her concern and warm prattle reminded me of a grandmother.
“I’m very safe here with Marten and our Protector,” I said with a reassuring smile. “And Papa is quite protective, but he’s taught me defensive magic ever since I was a child. I’ve learned to take care of myself.”
Isobel grinned. “Which is just why I think I shall like you, Bianca Monroe. An independent girl after my own heart. Now tell me, what do you think of the ocean and our castle?”
“Both are very lovely.”
A maid in a starched white uniform set out silver cups and plates on a table that moved to sit in front of us.
“Niko insisted that I take this as my personal chambers when I fell ill,” Isobel said, glancing around us. “It’s the nicest room in the entire castle, and used to be reserved for Ambassadors. That means I spend a lot of time alone while Diego works, but … it’s a nice place. Diego comes in for dinner every night, and Niko visits every morning.”
Two younger boys ran around the sandy beach outside, shrieking and laughing as they dashed through the surf bare-chested in old pants cut off just below the knee. The High Priestess watched them with a warm smile.
“Those are my great-grandsons,” she said with a fond chuckle. “Sometimes I wish I could bottle their energy and take it for myself. I apologize that I can’t more properly receive you.” She smoothed out the lines of her blanket over her skinny legs. “I’m not well, you see, and standing tires me. My youngest son, Tomas, designed this clever chair for me. Do you like it?”
She moved the blanket to reveal a set of wheels attached to each post of the chair.
“My maids wheel me through the castle as I need it. There’s a handle along the back. It helps immensely in preserving my strength.”
“He’s very clever,” I said. “I’ve never seen that before.”
“My children are all very smart. Even those that aren’t with us anymore,” she finished with a pained expression.
“Niko mentioned that you lost a son a few years ago. I’m very sorry.”
“I’ve lost more than that,” she said with a sigh. “One son died just after he was born. The Apothecaries think he had a heart problem, for he only lived a few hours. He died in my arms, poor boy.”
My heart went out to her. Surely the grief of losing a child rivaled—if not exceeded—the heartbreak of losing a parent. “I’m very sorry.”
“Oh, don’t apologize. Such is the way of life.” Isobel’s face narrowed in sudden question. “Do you mind if I’m completely honest with you, Bianca?”
“Of course not.”
She pressed her lips to one side of her face in obvious distress. “I hate pouring tea. I always spill, or mix in the wrong amount of sugar, or steep it for so long it tastes bitter. Since I have a feeling you hate formality as much as I, let’s skip it, shall we?”
I released my first genuine smile, relieved that I wouldn’t have to pour either. “Yes!”
Isobel smiled and rang a little bell on a table next to her chair. “Gabriella, please return this tray of tea and bring us two mugs of our best hot chocolate, with cookies. Thank you, dear girl.”
Gabriella glided from the doorway, nodded, and removed the tray. Once she left, Isobel leaned back in her chair, rested her hands on her lap, and slouched in a most unbecoming way. I laughed.
“I’m too old to put on airs,” she said. “Sitting up so straight exhausts me. I’m glad to see you are someone I may relax with. Are you comfortable?”
“Not as comfortable as I am without shoes, but yes, I’m quite comfortable, thank you.”
“Oh!” she cried with a laugh. “How lovely. We are kindred spirits. I simply can’t stand shoes. My feet are so old these days, it causes me pain to entrap them. Let’s both remove our shoes!”
“Gladly,” I said, releasing my feet into freedom. Isobel removed hers with an incantation and soon we were talking about all the formal customs we loathed—curtsying among them. I quickly forgot that I’d ever been afraid to meet her. Gabriella brought a plate of cookies and we sipped at the soothing hot chocolate and enjoyed the breeze lingering in the air.
“You have a lovely rug there, High Priestess.” I gestured to an elaborate tapestry as long as me. It lay on the floor close to her chair, appearing out of place.
“That rug was a very special gift from Diego when we first married. It’s a magical rug called a Volare. Have you heard of them?”
A Volare! Who hadn’t heard of them? They were exquisitely rare rugs, crafted over a thousand years before, with magic woven into their ornate tapestries. The special magic the weavers used had long since died away. A Volare was more than just a floor decoration; it could fly. They also held strict obedience to their owners.
“No!” I gasped. “You have a Volare?”
Her eyes sparkled. “I do. I cherish it deeply. Except for my children and my position as High Priestess, it’s my most prized possession. I don’t know how Diego came across it, but that doesn’t really matter. It’s as loyal as they say and follows me everywhere.”
To demonstrate, the chair with wheels moved forward, and the Volare followed close behind.
“How wonderful!” I cried, clapping.
“Now, I want to tell you the real reason I invited you here today. Aside from the excitement of hearing a new accent, of course.”
Intrigued, I straightened up. A solemn shadow had fallen over her face. “Is something wrong, High Priestess? May I do something for you?”
“Perhaps.”
Her eyes flickered to the doorway, and she waved the doors to her chambers shut. She sealed them with an incantation. Gabriella had left the room, leaving us alone.
“I love my husband with all my heart,” she said, pressing a palm to her bosom, “but he is so protective. He’s pulled Niko in with him, so the two of them hardly tell me anything of what’s happening in Antebellum anymore. They fear worrying will tire me out, but it’s just the opposite. I worry more not knowing what’s going on.”
Desperation surfaced in her eyes, and her fingers reached out to curl around mine with surprising strength.
“They haven’t told you anything of what’s going on?” I asked, my voice lifting in surprise. She pressed her lips together and shook her head.
“Not within the past few months, no. I know that Derek is High Priest and that’s all.”
She leaned back, as if the display of emotion had tired her, and her warm fingers slipped away from mine. Her soft touch reminded me of Grandmother, and I missed it when it left.
“The maids were placed under orders not to speak to me about it either. Before I became ill with … well, whatever this is,” she motioned to her body with a wave, “I ruled at Diego’s side. We made decisions together. And now …”
Her voice trailed off. She stared into the distance, then shook her head. When she met my eyes again, she gave me a tired smile.
“Don’t think Diego heartless, dear child. He’s a wonderful witch who is only trying to protect me. When I heard Marten was coming, I hoped I could plead for his help, but now I have you, my new friend. Do you think I’m a wretched wife?”
“A wretched wife? Goodness, no! I’d love to tell you everything I know. But … if Diego finds out—”
“He won’t,” she said, cutting me off. “I’ll not let on at all, I promise. I’m so disconnected from a world I once loved very much. I’m not ready to die yet, though my body ages on.” She smiled weakly. “It’s terrible to lose one’s health.”
I didn’t have the heart to deny such a mournful tone.
“Of course I’ll tell you.”
“Oh, Bianca, thank you!” she breathed. H
er shoulders sagged. “I shall be in your debt, and I never forget a debt. I’ll do anything you need. All you have to do is ask.”
“I don’t know everything, of course,” I said, “but I’m happy to tell you what I do know.”
Captivated by her hungry expression, I launched into a summary of the building war between the Networks, starting with the Western Network’s incursion into the Borderlands and Miss Mabel’s attempted overthrow.
“… And now Miss Mabel is in the dungeons,” I said, minutes later. “Her mother, a witch named Angelina, has increased her attacks on our Network lately. She set fire to Chatham City.”
“Oh dear,” she murmured, leaning back in her seat. “It sounds very frightening. Does Angelina scare you?”
“Angelina? No.”
“Of course not.” Isobel smiled, though it appeared faint. “I doubt she scares Derek either, which is how it should be. A Network needs a strong leader.”
“Papa isn’t afraid of anything.”
She smiled softly. “All of us fear something, Bianca. All of us. Your father wouldn’t release such an odious woman from the dungeons, would he? There’s no way she can break free? Surely she’d leave your Network, and try to find refuge in another. Maybe even come here.”
“No,” I said firmly. “He will never let her go.”
She heaved a breath of relief. “Good. I imagine all of us are in danger if that Miss Marple—”
“Mabel.”
“Oh, right, Mabel. If that Miss Mabel character were to be freed, we would have a great reason to fear. Have you seen any signs of the Southern Network planning to act?”
“Not necessarily. But they will, I’m sure of it.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you, though I doubt my husband does. It’s frightening, isn’t it?” Her fingers fiddled with a bunch in her skirt, and when she looked out the window, her pale lips had pulled down. I feared that I’d said too much. After a few moments of deep thought, Isobel seemed to rally herself. She straightened. The color came back to her cheeks, and when she smiled, the last of my reservations faded away.
“Thank you, Bianca. I truly am in your debt, for now I know what to expect, and I won’t be so frightened. I will sleep better tonight than I have in months thanks to you.”