The High Priest's Daughter

by Katie Cross

  The old man’s heavy forehead wrinkled over his suspicious eyes. He swallowed. “Who are you?” he barked. “I’ve known Bartie all my life. He didn’t have any friends except for me.”

  “My name is Bianca Monroe. I visited him this winter and came back to see if he made it through the attack.”

  The old man stepped back again, eyebrows knitted together, but as he hadn’t attempted another spell, I took heart. Just to set him at ease, I waited for him without moving.

  “He’s not here,” he finally said, wheezing. He leaned against the wall. “Bartie died.”

  I choked on my own surprise.

  “What? He died?”

  “You would have known if you were really a friend of his, wouldn’t you? So maybe you’re just snooping around here to get in trouble or something.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Because Bartie has such secret treasure around this old farmhouse? He didn’t even have enough currency for tea.”

  He growled. “Well … maybe you … that is—”

  “How did he die?”

  “West Guards,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Came in the night and cut his throat.”

  “Did they do the same to anyone else around here?”

  “Not that I know of. Maybe, but I doubt it. I would have heard.”

  Despite the atrocities of war, nothing could convince me that Bartie’s murder was happenstance. I felt sure it was linked to Angelina and the stolen Book of Spells. I felt bad for Bartie, caught in a war that was never his, a victim of a greedy witch.

  But then, weren’t we all?

  My last potential link to the strange Book of Light—outside Isadora, of course—was gone. Not that uneducated Bartie, who chugged hot water like it was ipsum and had probably never ventured far outside this farmhouse, would have known anything about it. Still, I felt more disheartened than ever.

  “Get out of here,” the old man snarled. “Leave so I can get back to my life.”

  “Why are you still in the Southern Covens, sir?” I asked. “It’s not safe. The South Guards are still pillaging villages and homes for supplies.”

  He grunted. “It’s my home. No South Guard or half-naked West Guard is going to scare me away from it. I can protect myself and my cow, thank you very much! Now leave!”

  “I don’t doubt that,” I said ruefully. Any witch that wanted to mess with him surely deserved whatever they got in response. “Thank you for answering my questions. I appreciate your help.”

  The old man hesitated. “That’s it? You’re really going to leave?”

  “That’s it,” I said, lowering my hands. “I wanted to see if Bartie was still alive, that’s all. I’m sad to hear he’s not.”

  His shaggy brows furrowed like a long, white caterpillar. “Then get out of here.”

  “Gladly.”

  I transported back to Marten’s office, grateful to find he hadn’t yet returned. The quiet room gave my thoughts space to swell and shrink while I sat in the chair. I truly did feel sad that Bartie had died, another innocent casualty in the war.

  And the elusive mystery remained: Did the Book of Light exist?

  The next weekend I walked into the Witchery to find a most unexpected sight: Priscilla and Leda sitting across from each other at the table. Their heads were bent, and they were clearly interacting.

  On purpose.

  The pile of firewood I had carried—to keep myself strong per Merrick’s orders—flew from my arms and stacked itself by the fireplace with a spell.

  “Merry meet, Bianca,” Camille chirped from where she sat on top of her bed, a gown spread over her knees. She held a needle in one hand and a spool of thread in the other. “How was work?”

  “Fine.” I motioned to Leda and Priscilla with a questioning jerk of my head. Camille grinned, her eyes sparkling. Even Michelle, who sat in a chair next to Camille’s bed perusing old cookbooks, smiled.

  “I’m just working on my new summer dress, thanks for asking,” Camille said as if our conversation had never waned. “I think it will be just lovely. I’ve chosen a light pink muslin because it will be nice and cool and isn’t that expensive. Not that material is easy to find right now anyway. Tabby helped me with the pattern because Henrietta is busy making extra bandages and shirts for the wounded.”

  Despite Brecken’s insistence that he come back to the castle to work out of the Gatehouse—although he hadn’t fully healed—I hadn’t seen Camille in days. I dropped my bag on the table, but neither Priscilla nor Leda looked up. Priscilla had taken a backseat in the Witchery and said very little, even when Leda wasn’t around. Either she’d outgrown the need for a constant following, or Camille’s willingness to prattle on and on kept Priscilla quiet, like it did most of us.

  “Remember,” Priscilla said quietly to Leda, pointing to a line on the page, “Coven Leaders are invited to the Esbat to report, so this format is required of all attendees.”

  “Oh,” Leda whispered. “I see. I didn’t realize that. So what about—”

  “What’s going on?” I asked Camille and Michelle under my breath, my eyes still glued on the strange couple at the table. “Has the world truly come to an end now? Are Leda and Priscilla … friends?”

  Camille flounced her hair over her shoulder with a giggle. “Leda finally climbed off her high horse when she realized Priscilla was a good resource.”

  “They started studying together last week,” Michelle said, writing on a scroll that had been lying on the floor. “Now Priscilla tutors her every day.”

  From the patient, even cadence of Priscilla’s tone, she seemed to be a willing teacher. I shook my head, unable to imagine the two girls together.

  “How did it happen?” I asked, leaning back on my hands.

  Camille grinned. “I passed my transformation class with highest marks thanks to Priscilla. Leda said if Priscilla can do that, she must be a miracle worker, and she decided to ask for help.”

  Michelle guffawed. “You should have seen Priscilla’s face when Leda walked up to her. I think Priscilla thought Leda was going to curse her or yell at her at first.”

  “What?” I screeched, eyes wide. “You received highest marks in transformation, Camille?”

  “I know!” she beamed, blushing. “It was the second-best moment of my life. I never thought I’d pass highest marks on anything except embroidery, but Miss Scarlett won’t let me take that class. She says I’m too good already and need to learn something useful.”

  I glanced skeptically at the flag hanging above the fireplace that read The Wits instead of The Witchery. It had been Camille’s first project when she moved to the castle the year before. “Uh, embroidery, sure. If passing transformation was the second-best moment of your life, what was the first?”

  Camille’s smile deepened with a wispy sigh. “The moment Brecken first kissed me.”

  I rolled my eyes and collapsed back on her bed. A flash of Merrick’s face floated through my mind, but I banished it.

  “Ugh. Can we talk about something else?”

  “Nicolas and I decided to go ahead with the hand fasting ceremony instead of waiting for the war to end,” Michelle said. “We’re going to do it in Letum Wood on the first day of the first month of summer. Fina even offered to cook for it. There isn’t much we can have for refreshments, so I’m trying to find simple recipes.”

  “I wish you could decorate with all the tulips blooming in the gardens,” Camille said with a dramatic sigh, yelping when she pricked her finger. “But I suppose they’ll be gone by summer. It’s almost the third month of spring now.”

  “We can use tulips,” Michelle said with a quiet smile. “You and Priscilla could just transform some of the other flowers. That was on your final, remember?”

  Priscilla glanced up from the table at the sound of her name. Camille beamed at her. “I forgot! We have an expert on transformation in our midst now! Priscilla can transform anything. Priscilla, will you transform flowers into tulips for Michelle’s hand fasting ceremo
ny?”

  “Of course.” Priscilla smiled, appearing pleased at Camille’s praise.

  “How is work, Priscilla?” I asked, calling across the room. She blinked, as if startled by my attention, but rallied herself again.

  “Good,” she said. “It’s settled back into the usual education work, I suppose. Although Miss Scarlett and I have been helping with a few orphanages that had to be moved from the Southern Covens.”

  I thought back to my etiquette lesson when Miss Scarlett had admitted her own orphan heritage, and I wasn’t surprised she would be the one to take them under her wing.

  “Sounds great.”

  Priscilla hesitated, staring at the three of us before turning back to Leda. A knock on the door below startled all of us, and for a second everyone looked at each other in question.

  “I’ll get it,” I said, transporting to the bottom of the stairs. When I pulled it open, Brecken stood on the other side.

  “Brecken! Merry meet!”

  He half-grinned in a lopsided way, although a permanent edge of pain showed in his eyes. Attached to his right leg was a wooden peg, carved with the names of his Guardians and enchanted with a spell that left the end of the wood soft and cushioned for the stump at his knee. He still appeared thin and pale.

  “Merry meet, Bianca. I’m glad you answered. I never had a chance to thank you for everything you did.”

  I waved it off. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Well, I’ve actually wanted to ask. How did you get me home? I was so delirious with fever that I don’t really remember much. My mom and Camille said you just sort of showed up with me. How did you do it? I know I didn’t transport.”

  My grin felt strained. “Oh, just a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  “I swear I remember being in the air, almost like I was flying. There was wind and … stars?” He looked at me in question. “Were there stars?”

  “Stars? Uh … why would there be stars?”

  “Maybe it was the pain potion that made me remember funny things, like wind. And you next to me.”

  “Uh … it was just a … not a big …” I stopped stammering to look him straight in the eye. “Do you trust me, Brecken?”

  He snorted in amusement. “With my life.”

  “Good. Let’s leave it at that?”

  He hesitated, but must have seen something in my face that stopped him because he nodded.

  “Okay.”

  “Great! How are you feeling?”

  “Better.” He lifted a carved cane. “Just moved off crutches, and I’m trying this out now. Once the war ends, Tiberius says he knows an apothecary that specializes in fake legs. He could use some kind of magic to make it so I wouldn’t need a cane or anything.”

  “Sounds great.”

  He shrugged. “It would have been better to never have lost it, of course.”

  “Hey Breck,” Camille said, coming down the stairs with a warm smile. She kissed him gently on the lips and took his hand. “How is it feeling today? You look a bit more stable.”

  “Not bad.”

  “Hurting?”

  “I’m okay.”

  She frowned. “That means it’s hurting. I brought some extra potion with me just in case.” She pulled a purple vial from her pocket and dangled it between her thumb and forefinger. “Why don’t you take some before the date? Just one dose.”

  Brecken sent a discreet glance at me. “Camille, we’ll talk about this later.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s just Bianca. You don’t have to be brave for her. Please take some? You’ll have a better time. Remember last time you went out without it?”

  Her voice took on a long drawl. Brecken let out a sigh before giving in. “Fine, Camille. You’re right.”

  Camille winked at me. “I normally am.” Brecken swigged a bit of the bottle, then stopped it up again and gave it back to her. Despite the tinge of annoyance in his voice, I saw nothing but love in his eyes. Losing his leg had done nothing for Camille’s adoration of him. If anything, their relationship had suddenly taken on a deeper significance. I smiled at both of them.

  “Have a great time tonight.”

  “Priscilla is on her way down,” Camille said, straightening Brecken’s skewed shirt. “She just had to grab her cloak.”

  “Garth just arrived.” He motioned to another witch striding down the hallway toward the Witchery door.

  “We’re going on a double date tonight,” Camille said to me. “Garth found us some opera tickets.”

  Garth stopped at Brecken’s side. I smiled, but my heart sank a little. Two friends down. If Leda and Michelle had plans, it would be another empty Witchery night for me.

  “I’ll go check on Priscilla,” I offered. “I hope you guys have fun.”

  I transported back to the top to find Priscilla trying to back away from the desk, but Leda holding her captive with questions.

  “Let her go, Leda,” I said. “They’re waiting.”

  Priscilla straightened her dress and calmly ran her fingers through her hair. Despite the lacking ministrations, she still looked exquisite and vibrant, with a waterfall of red hair over one shoulder. I thought back to our conversation alone, when Priscilla had admitted she hated courting, and sent her a secret, understanding smile. To my surprise, she returned it before disappearing down the turret stairs.

  Leda, apparently deeming it pointless to study the Esbat without Priscilla, sent three books to her sheeted-off area of the Witchery with a spell. Her forehead bruise was almost gone.

  “Rupert and I are going to go over last quarter’s taxes together tonight,” she announced, though no one had asked. “He promised to explain how he manages the ledger.”

  “Riveting,” I said, sprawling across Camille’s bed again. Michelle’s lips twitched, but her focus remained intent on the recipe book. Leda shot me a sharp, suspicious look.

  “I’m excited about it.”

  “I see that you and Priscilla are friends now,” I said nonchalantly, drawing a smile from Michelle. “Anything spur this change of heart?”

  “Acquaintances,” Leda said, checking her hair in one of Camille’s many mirrors. She wore a new burgundy dress with long sleeves, and her hair fell down around her shoulders in soft strands of pale blonde. “She has more skill as a teacher than I expected, I’ll admit.”

  “You’re acquaintances with a girl who was once your mortal enemy. Well done, Leda. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you may even become friends with Priscilla soon.” I tsked. “So unlike you.”

  Leda rolled her eyes. “I don’t like anyone, Bianca. Least of all you right now.”

  Michelle and I both laughed, drawing a reluctant smile from Leda. An envelope fluttered into the room from the stairwell and stopped in front of Michelle.

  “Oh, good. It’s Nicolas. He must be ready for me. We’re going to work with the red dragon again this evening. She’s finally warming up.”

  My throat tightened, but I forced out a strangled, “Have fun,” to Michelle’s back when she stood and transported away. The disquieted powers in my chest jumped, making it difficult to breathe. I closed my eyes and forced myself to concentrate, but felt the sudden flare of heat when the fire grew in the hearth.

  Leda stood near the door, hands on her hips. “What’s wrong with you? You seem upset.”

  “Me?” I asked, forcing the words out with subdued ease. “What do you mean? I’ve been perfectly pleasant tonight.”

  “Exactly. You’re never pleasant when all of us have plans. So what’s up?”

  “Nothing. Just go.”

  “If you’re bored, you could go see Fina. I think she needs some help moving bags of grain. Sounds like something you would like.”

  “It’s fine,” I insisted, feeling the familiar coil of magic about to spring free. I reined it back in desperately. “Go have fun with Rupert.”

  “Bianca—”

  “Go!” The torches popped with a bright white light. She startled back, protect
ing her face from the wall of heat.

  “Oh,” she whispered once it had dissipated, her eyes wide. “Is it that bad?”

  I swallowed. “Sometimes.”

  “What if you found a Guardian to sword fight with? Beating them always makes you feel better. Merrick is around, isn’t he?”

  The compassion in her tone nearly undid me. I rolled my eyes and straightened my back. “I’ll figure something out. Have fun with Rupert.”

  She lingered for a moment, her face elongating with worry the longer she studied me.

  “Seriously, Bianca. Are you okay?”

  I stared at the ceiling to avoid her gaze, breathless with magic and power and fear. “No. No, I’m not.”

  She swallowed. “I’m sorry about your papa. I know this has been really hard on you.”

  “Thanks.”

  When I gave no further indication of conversing, Leda disappeared. I pressed a hand to my forehead. My magic, having found a short-lived release, felt edgier than ever.

  This would be a very long night.

  Can’t You Feel It?

  “Where are all your friends?”

  Merrick walked up behind me just before I disappeared back into the Witchery after scrounging up dinner. I jumped, nearly dropping the pile of dried apples I’d carried up from the kitchen. A new set of stitches held his left eyebrow together. I hadn’t seen him for almost three days, despite his residence at Chatham Castle. Although I’d harbored a secret hope I’d be able to spend time with him tonight, I hadn’t actually thought it would happen. Night represented a prime opportunity for action for Factios members.

  “Merry meet to you too,” I muttered, flashing him an annoyed look. “And all my friends are … out tonight. Don’t you have to work?”

  “I have a few hours before I need to be anywhere. Why aren’t you out with them?”

  I cleared my throat. “Oh … well, they’re all out with … you know … uh … interested parties.”

  He grinned. “Dates, you mean.”

  “Yes.” I sighed. “Dates.”

  His expression turned serious. “And why aren’t you?”

  Because you didn’t ask me, I thought with a flurry of butterflies. “Are you kidding? Who would ask me out? They’re all scared of my father.”