by Katie Cross
“I believe Mabel has plans to overthrow me as High Priestess.”
I blinked.
“Overthrow you?”
“Yes.”
My mind spun. The late meeting with the High Priest, the snarky comments about the High Priestess, Miss Mabel’s questions during the trust potion test. They all swarmed me, spinning around my head like flighty birds.
The only question I could muster of the thousands that reeled in me was the one I feared the answer to the most.
“Why are you telling me?”
“There is reason to believe that she will use you as a means to get to me.”
My eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean?” I asked slowly. Her expression never wavered.
“It’s my belief that she plans to have you kill me.”
The blood left my face and hands, pooling in my stomach and making me want to vomit. It couldn’t be. Impossible. There was no chance. Sixteen. I was only sixteen.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “What did you say?”
“Miss Mabel is going to have you kill me.”
“It’s not possible,” I breathed.
“It’s very possible,” she countered. Her small eyes were firm, steely, even, but not afraid. “If you kill me, her hands are clean. The High Priest can offer her name up as my replacement and the Council would agree wholeheartedly. They love Mabel.”
I just stared at her, sorting through this information. The strange world I’d been living in since starting at Miss Mabel’s began to take form, and it resembled the shadows of a hideous beast. The Esbat curriculum, the Advanced Curses and Hexes Mark, practicing curses on a cat. Preparation, all of it, for one violent act of treachery. The conversation I’d overheard with the High Priest began to make sense.
“That’s what they were talking about,” I said, coming out of my thoughts. “I overheard them.”
The High Priestess lifted an inquiring eyebrow.
“Overheard who?”
She listened as I explained what had happened the night of the Esbat. When I finished, her already beady eyes tapered down and she rubbed her lips together.
“Yes, just as I thought.”
She spun and started toward her desk.
“So you knew about this?” I asked, following behind her.
“I’ve known she was up to something for a very long time, but it wasn’t until I saw you at the Esbat that my suspicions were confirmed.”
“The Esbat?” I questioned.
She sat in an ornate chair several feet taller than she was and motioned me into a seat across from it, which I reluctantly lowered myself into. Sitting down cemented the reality of what she told me, and I didn’t need more reality.
“There is no need for a sixteen-year-old girl to be at an Esbat, Bianca. Mabel has never taken notes during an Esbat. She doesn’t need them. She’s got a strong memory. It was a bold move. Bold, or stupid. The two are often difficult to distinguish. My suspicion is that she was testing you and probably getting you more familiar with Chatham.”
It sent my stomach into spirals.
“She’s not just training me to kill you,” I said, thinking about my lessons in the attic and clenching my teeth. A puppet. That’s all I’ve ever been. The fire flared in the hearth with a sudden pop, and the High Priestess sent me a sharp look. I forced myself to calm down by taking a long breath. “She’s training me to work for her, isn’t she?”
“It’s possible,” she said, still watching me with a wary eye.
“She’s going to use my curse as leverage. She’ll remove it only if I kill you.”
“I believe so, yes.”
The vehemence in my tone surprised me, almost bringing me out of the chair.
“I won’t do it.”
“Won’t you? Not even for your own life?”
“No!”
The High Priestess leaned forward. “Or the life of your mother, your friends?”
My heart nosedived. She was right. I’d do anything for my family, and Miss Mabel knew it.
You’re just like Hazel, you know. You’ve got a real soft spot for family.
“There’s nothing I can do about your Inheritance curse, Bianca. I can’t force a witch to do or undo any curse or spell that was cast before I took rule. But we can get through this together, if you’ll do exactly as I ask.”
I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders.
“Yes,” I said. It was good to have an adult take over now, to tell me what to do. “Of course.”
She nodded.
“She’s going to try to put you in a binding tomorrow morning, during your Advanced Curses and Hexes final.”
My final? It wasn’t supposed to be for another week.
“How do you know?” I asked.
Her irritated tone indicated she didn’t appreciate the question.
“I’m the High Priestess, Bianca. You’d be surprised at how much I know.”
The comment made me nervous. Her eyes seemed to pierce through mine. There were more secrets she knew about. Ones that no one else knew. Ones that possibly involved my father. My heart flip-flopped.
“She’s going to try to bind me into killing you tomorrow?” I asked, hoping to divert the conversation back, though the topic was twice as grim. Grim, but safer.
“Yes. She’ll want to take power before the Western High Priest, Almack, dies, I believe. That could be at any moment if our reports are correct.”
“What does the Western Network have to do with it?” I asked, my confusion deepening.
“Everything,” she said. So simple but so encompassing. A tangled web that I couldn’t even comprehend.
“Miss Mabel is working with Dane,” I whispered. It wasn’t even a question. I could see it in the High Priestess’s eyes. Dane would take over the Western Network. Miss Mabel wanted to take over the Central Network and join forces with the West.
She wanted a war.
“I want you to agree to her deal,” the High Priestess said, pulling me back out of the deepening recesses of my mind.
“What?” I hissed, gaping at her, all concerns for rank and respect aside. That was her big plan?
“Do you need your hearing checked? I told you to agree to whatever deal she makes you.”
“Your Highness, I-I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I can’t kill you!” I cried, jumping to my feet. Her infuriating composure made this worse. “I’m not that strong. I don’t have enough magical power to get into Chatham Castle with that intent. The Guardians would detect it right away. My father would–”
I stopped myself seconds too late.
“If you don’t agree to it, Mabel will kill you. Do you understand that?” she asked, her voice hardening. It was the tone of a woman who had been in charge for many years. “I will not have a student, or several of them, die because of me. If you don’t do it, she may try to find someone else, someone we can’t track or anticipate.”
My legs weakened until I fell back to the chair. I didn’t like it. Not at all. There had to be a better way.
“It’s crazy,” I whispered, staring at the intricate swirls of light red and gold on the carpet beneath me.
“It was a crazy man that came up with it. Fortunately, most of his ideas have a way of working out. He seemed to have an uncanny belief in you.”
She gave me a probing look then, one that kneaded right into my soul. I knew what man she spoke of, and so did she. Somewhere, somehow, the High Priestess had discovered that my father worked for her. A man who was not allowed to have a family by history’s traditions but did anyway.
“You know,” I said.
“Yes. I know that Derek is your father. Why do you think I recognized you at the Esbat? You’ve got his face. His serious expressions.”
I swallowed.
“Is he–”
“No. He’s not in any danger from me. But I’d advise you to continue keeping his secret, as I have. The Council is
not aware he has a daughter.”
“How long have you known?”
“He told me before I swore him in as the Head of Protectors. Your father is a man of honor. He came to me in private to refuse the position when I offered it to him, knowing the Council wouldn’t approve of him in such a high Network position because of you and your mother. Not unless he broke all ties with you and promised to never see or speak to you again. He refused to abandon you, and I forbade him from doing so. Instead, I promised to keep his secret, and the Council isn’t any the wiser sixteen years later.”
Tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them away. Of course Papa had told the High Priestess. Why had I assumed for all these years that he would deceive her?
Suddenly I felt very, very tired. It sank into my chest, a horror collapsing in on me that was too much to bear. Miss Mabel planned to attempt a coup, and the High Priestess wanted me to be a part of it. My father made a proposal in which I agree to kill the High Priestess, and it all started tomorrow, the day after my grandmother’s funeral.
Absurd.
“Can’t you just make her tell you?” I asked hopefully, though I already knew the answer.
She shot me a disapproving glare. “Do you really think I’d be talking to you right now if it was that easy?”
No, I didn’t. Miss Mabel was too powerful to beat with potions or truth spells. Her soul-deep conniving and treachery went too far. It wouldn’t be practical to kill her. Not yet.
“It’s imperative that she think we are ignorant of her plans. Do you understand?”
Her words gave me chills.
“Is this the only way?” I asked. The High Priestess paused, her chest rising and falling.
“No. But Derek believes it’s the best chance we have.”
I stood up and kept my hands at my side. She must have known that injecting Papa into it would give me strength, and she was right. Not much, but enough.
“Very well,” I said with a great deal more bravado than I felt. My hands were icy fists, my heart as skittish as a rabbit. I wondered if the High Priestess would still recruit me if she knew the depth of my fear. “How shall I inform you once I’ve accepted the binding?”
She opened her mouth to say something but decided against it.
“If you need any help, let Scarlett know.”
It didn’t slip my notice that she hadn’t answered my question, but I pushed that aside in my surprise. My eyebrows shot up. “Miss Scarlett?”
“Yes. She’s been my eye. Scarlett has worked for me for many years. Most of my information comes from her.”
The woman I thought was a lonely spinster obsessed with rules had actually been a secret spy for the High Priestess. Her actions the night of the Esbat, when I tripped outside Miss Mabel’s door, now made sense. Miss Scarlett had probably been listening to Miss Mabel’s conversation as well and had covered for me when I fell.
“Yes, Your Highness,” I said in a weak voice.
She paused, staring at me. Then she nodded her head in the direction of the fog gathering in the back corner of her office.
“Go, Bianca, and be well.”
Halfway across the room, I stopped and circled around.
“How did this happen?” I asked. “How did she get so strong?”
The High Priestess let out a deep sigh. Even in the gleaming light of the opulent office, she looked weary. It was the first time I had seen her display anything but regal haughtiness. She seemed human. Beneath the rough exterior, she probably wasn’t that bad.
“We all have the same chance to be powerful within us, Bianca. What it comes down to is the choices that we make along the way.”
It wasn’t an explanation, but I sensed she didn’t have one. I didn’t think anyone had the answer. After gazing back one last time, I turned around and disappeared into the fog.
Darkness had settled on the school grounds by the time I returned. Torches illuminated the road to the school in yellow light, and candles flickered in the kitchen window. Miss Celia moved as a dull shadow behind the white drapes. Augustus nodded to me when I climbed down from the carriage.
“Thank you,” I said, and he disappeared into the night.
The hall held no noise or light when I ventured down the main corridor and up the spiral staircase. I tuned my ear to the sounds of the school as I trudged upward. A rustle of sheets. The low whisper of second-years in the common area. A crackling fire. A light cough from the first-year floor. The fragrant smell of plumeria. My heart started to pound.
Plumeria.
Miss Mabel.
At first a shadow, her dark hourglass figure on the attic landing took shape like a goddess waiting for her sacrificial offering. I kept climbing as if she wasn’t there until I made it to the last step.
I met her with a flinty gaze.
She didn’t say anything when I stopped. For a moment, I feared I couldn’t control my hatred enough to hide it. All the manipulations, the secret plans, the puppeteering behind my back caught up with me. After talking to the High Priestess, my fear and anger collided into a far greater mass than I had anticipated. I didn’t know how to control these emotions, and I stopped trying the moment I saw her. The candlelight flared, blazing with bright light.
Miss Mabel straightened up, her chest rising. The lustrous blue in her eyes gleamed in the growing candlelight from the wall sconce. Delight, mirth, happiness. I saw it all in her face. She’d gotten the response she wanted from me now. Her low drawl, as slow as her languid smile, told me she knew how angry I felt and how loose that made my power.
“Welcome back, Bianca.”
42
Not For Anything
The perfect morning for a most horrific scenario started too early.
A low storm seemed to churn just above the school, threatening flecks of ice and snow. Bitter gusts of wind hit the building, nipping the tips of my fingers and nose in my cool room. I stayed buried beneath my blankets, staring at the wall, reviewing every memory and scrap of information I could recall my father teaching me. I couldn’t help the feeling in my gut that told me today wasn’t going to end in a peaceful binding to murder our leader.
No, I was in the mood for a fight.
I didn’t sleep, kept company by the calico cat that had strolled into my room on my return to the attic. She hadn’t been around in weeks, and purred near my head in sleep. Camille and Leda sent me several messages as soon as I returned, their envelopes flying underneath my door like darts. I left them on my desk, unopened.
Miss Mabel stirred before I crept out of bed. Once I heard her movements, I grabbed my clothes from where I’d tucked them beneath my pillow to keep them warm and dressed under the covers. Another trick Papa had taught me.
The white cat appeared from hunting, his fur cold. He followed me into the classroom and settled near the fireplace. Miss Mabel whirled around. A cream-colored dress made her sapphire eyes seem especially bright. Her hair fell onto her shoulders in gleaming waves.
I loathed her and her stunning beauty.
“Good morning, Bianca.”
“Miss Mabel.”
You horrid dragon.
“I have a surprise for you today. Instead of stressing you out with last minute studying and memorization, I decided we’d do the Advanced Curses and Hexes final this morning.”
I tried to sound surprised, but it came out strangled.
“Oh?”
“Yes. Isn’t that kind of me?”
“Yes, Miss Mabel.”
She smiled. “Wonderful. I’d like to get started as soon as possible. In an effort to make the best use of my time, I’m going to teach you your first lesson on your next mark, Advanced Defensive Magic, while we take your final.”
I took a mental step backward and looked up. Something wasn’t right. The extra layer of malicious intent in her eyes gleamed like a wobbly crystal chandelier.
“You’ve heard of a Mactos, haven’t you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Miss Mabel began her usual stroll around me. Her dress fluttered out behind her with the quiet sound of swishing silk. Diffusing through the windowpanes in white beams, the sunlight illuminated specks in the air that swirled up behind her.
“As you should know from your reading, a Mactos is a magical fight between two witches involving a shield and a versatile little weapon called a blighter.”
A flash caught my eye and I spun to the right. Seconds later, a burning red fireball skimmed my back, just missing skin. The heat of it burned my dress, leaving a singed smell in the air.
A blighter.
We stared at each other, surprised.
Did she just send an actual blighter at me?
Red blighters burned. Blue froze. Orange caused bruising and swelling. There were many others, all categorized by color and effect.
“Well, well,” she whispered. Her coy smile chilled my bones. “What a fast little mover. Have you ever conjured a blighter before, Bianca?”
My quick reflexes had betrayed me. She hadn’t expected me to move fast enough away from the blighter. She wanted it to hit me.
Well, two could play this game.
“No, Miss Mabel,” I lied. Underestimate me, I silently dared her. I’m not afraid of you anymore. “I’ve never worked with blighters before.”
She studied me with a knowing look. My lie hadn’t been effective. “Hmm … well, this could be rather fun,” she said.
Three green blighters materialized from different corners of the room, headed straight for me. They would paralyze whatever they hit and were exceptionally sticky and difficult to remove.
I grabbed a heavy book off my desk. The first blighter came on my right. I whacked it into the path of the second and used the book as a shield against the third. The first two crashed into the vaulted ceiling, and the third clung to the book cover like a glowing snail.
She stopped walking to stare at me.
“You have done this before,” she said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”