by Katie Cross
Isadora dropped her gaze and bowed.
“I’m bringing the new bedsheets you requested.”
“You may proceed.”
“Yes, Great One,” she choked out.
Isadora shuffled toward the sprawling bed, mind racing. The powers swirled, but she forced them back into their quiet spot.
Not here, she said. You’re not needed.
They careened through her chest anyway. Isadora lay the sheets on the bottom of the bed, studying five layers of decorative pillows. No doubt Cecelia had rules regarding her bed’s appearance and what length the sheet should be on either side. If Isadora put the pillows on the floor, would Cecelia throw her off the balcony?
Deciding a lack of confidence would be more detrimental, Isadora started to stack the pillows. Only the crashing waves rang in the background.
“Forgive my lack of maids,” Cecelia said, casting herself a cursory glance in the mirror as she patted her hair. “I find myself short-staffed due to a recent loss.”
Then Cecelia stared into the mirror, eyes tapered, lips thin, as if she wanted to extract answers from herself.
Setting the pillows aside on a window seat and starting at the top corner, Isadora turned down a silky, garnet bedspread. She folded it in layers and set it on a thick cedar chest infused with gems at the end of the bed.
“It’s odd,” Cecelia murmured, “that Giorgia, one of my most loyal maids, should just up and quit, don’t you think?”
Not so loyal, she wanted to say, if she was fooling around with an East Guard.
There was a long silence before Isadora realized that Cecelia meant for her to answer. She paused, meeting Cecelia’s probing gaze through the mirror. After a few moments’ perusal, Isadora turned back to the bed.
“I wouldn’t know anything about her reasons.”
Cecelia spun. “You were there. I remember seeing you in the hall. You gave me the cuff links.”
“Yes, milady.”
“Tell me again what happened.”
“I was returning recently washed linens to the closet.”
“Which is against my rules. The lavanda maid stays in the lavanda.”
Isadora met her gaze. “I know, milady.”
Cecelia’s eyebrows rose. “You knew?”
“Yes. I was tired of being in the lavanda.”
Cecelia’s eyes tapered. Something, wispy as smoke, moved through them before disappearing.
“Continue.”
“The maid appeared to me, crying. She gave me the cuff links and said to give them to you.”
By sheer force of will, Isadora held Cecelia’s damning gaze. Only months of working with Maximillion could have prepared her for such intensity. Perhaps the aggravating man knew what he was doing after all. The hair on the back of Isadora’s neck stood up when Cecelia tilted her head to the side.
“Interesting,” Cecelia murmured. “Because the whole story was quite odd and unexpected. Naturally, I looked into it. My Defenders found Giorgia at her home. She told a very different story than you.”
Isadora curled her toes under her feet.
“Milady?”
Cecelia’s gaze didn’t waver. “Giorgia claims that I spoke to her. I fired her. She claims that I didn’t seem to be myself. That something was off. In fact, I wasn’t wearing my pastanda.” She reached up to touch her right earlobe, where a fourth diamond sparkled at the very top of her ear. “Something I’ve never taken off. Do you know anything about that?”
“No, milady.”
“You see, one of you is lying. It couldn’t have happened the way Giorgia suggested. I was in the courtyard with the Defenders, you see. Since you were the only other witch in that area of the castle at the time, I was hoping you could shed more light on the subject.”
Perhaps, had she been any other witch, Isadora would never have noticed the subtle shift of magic that filtered into her mind. She’d have mistaken it for terror, perhaps. Or a desperation to live. But the gentle tension in her thoughts was anything but fear.
“And I do hate liars,” Cecelia said. “My castle is my home, and I protect it with my life. Rituals protect us, you see. Systems. Rules. Castes. They create stability.”
Magic swelled through Isadora’s brain like a cloud. It wound into her chest. Her bones. She fought the urge to unfurl all her power. The paths. She wanted the paths. She needed the paths—craved them like a dying woman. Just for a moment.
A simple, single moment.
“Milady,” she whispered, “I have no reason to lie to you.”
“Neither did Giorgia, supposedly. It’s up to you to convince me.”
Something flashed in Cecelia’s eyes. Isadora had seen that look before, somewhere. Only a few seconds passed before she recognized it. The same look Cecelia had right before she killed the young Watcher in the courtyard. A cat with a mouse. The triumph of a woman who thought she had all the power.
But she didn’t.
Isadora strengthened her voice. “She was having an affair with a Guardian, milady. I think that makes it fairly straightforward.”
Cecelia glanced to the balcony, as if considering.
“Repeat your story again. I want to be sure I haven’t missed any of the most important details.”
Isadora said the exact words she’d used before. She knew Cecelia’s game here—Mam had tried to catch Sanna in a lie often enough by the same means. Nuance in story always led to the lie unraveling. Once Isadora finished, Cecelia made a noise in the back of her throat.
“Interesting. Why do you think Giorgia would break my rules of loyalty and allow herself to fall in love with a Guardian?”
“Desperation.”
The word came out immediately.
Cecelia’s gaze cut to Isadora. “Who would be desperate for love?”
“Everyone.”
Cecelia snorted. “Sentimental, are you?”
The movement of magic through Isadora continued, stirring her desire to run away yet again. She could protect herself in the paths—at least for a little while. All she needed was a moment in the magic. If she collapsed, Cecelia would call for help. Isadora could duck into the paths, draw a breath, and return. It was a matter of leaving the paths at the right time, before Cecelia caught onto the game. Wouldn’t the paths show her when to return? Hadn’t she been successful in Carcere?
Isadora pinched her own arm.
Not only was Cecelia a murderer and her sworn mortal enemy, but a cunning manipulator. She clearly knew Isadora’s secret.
“Oddity, aren’t you?” Cecelia asked.
Sweat beaded Isadora’s forehead. She maintained eye contact by sheer willpower. Why wasn’t Cecelia trying to kill her?
“Most here are quite odd,” Isadora whispered. A lie detection spell—this had to be. They were well known for forcing a witch to spill the truth they hid. If Isadora could act like there was nothing to tell, she may get away with it.
But how could Cecelia use magic?
“Not feeling well?” Cecelia asked. Isadora blinked, feeling as if she were headed down a foggy tunnel that ended only in the paths. Something had taken hold of her.
“I’m fine.”
Cecelia’s head tilted back. Her eyes tapered further. “You don’t look fine. It’s difficult to resist, isn’t it?”
“There’s nothing to resist, Great One.”
The magic zipped away. Isadora came back to her own mind with a jolt. Cecelia continued to watch her, so Isadora made no sound.
“Silly young girls think it’s a good idea to fall in love,” Cecelia hissed. “A terrible idea. Guardians and Defenders don’t have love. They don’t care about stupid maids beneath their rank. Which is why it’s so horrible that Giorgia lied. She crept around behind my back, stole my time, and pretended to be a loyal servant. She broke the vow of service I swore her into. I cannot tolerate such a thing, now can I?”
A pair of curtains gusted open at a sudden burst of wind, drawing Isadora’s gaze. She stifled a scream. G
iorgia lay on the porch, a bloody knife protruding from her back. Blood pooled around her limp body.
Isadora stumbled back, her spine colliding with the wall. The magic flailed. Black dots stole across her vision as the paths threatened to pull her under. For a moment, she thought the powers would overwhelm her. Cecelia hadn’t left her mind—she’d only made it seem like she had.
Isadora clawed her way out of the raging magic, clutching at a morsel of control. She clamped down on a piece of restraint, then another, and another, until the magic became her servant again.
Cecelia’s lips thinned.
“Silly little girls,” she sang. “Never doing what they should. Always wanting what they can’t have. Always fighting for the witch who won’t love them back the way they deserve. I’ve done Giorgia a favor. Now, get out of here, you imbecile, before you join her.”
Isadora spun on her feet and ran. Cecelia’s laugh followed her, ringing in her ears until she skidded to a stop at the lavanda window, leaned out, and vomited onto the sand below.
With relief, Sanna settled against a trunk, nestled between two deep grooves on a branch as wide as she was tall. Subtle slants of moonlight pierced the upper canopy and fell around her like splashes of rain. She held out a hand, watching the shift of light play across her palm.
“I thought I’d find you up here.”
Jesse dropped from the branch just above, landing with perfect balance on his bare feet. Sanna lifted an eyebrow.
“You’re getting more confident up here.”
“Elis likes the trees.”
Most dragons do, Luteis purred through her mind. She wondered where he was but could only sense that he was near. Sanna clutched her legs to her chest to make room for Jesse. Instead of sitting in front of her, he plopped on the branch at her side and leaned back against the trunk. His shoulder rubbed hers. She swallowed hard.
“I needed a break,” she said, then gently touched her face. “All the dust from making those spears is getting into my wounds.”
Jesse snorted. “I’ve never worked so hard in my life. Daid and I only slept two hours last night, but we finished the underground cave between that root system. It’ll be perfect for your mam and the kids to hide in until it’s all over. The roots will keep the ground from collapsing. It’ll be dark and damp and cramped for a while, but better than facing fire.”
“And acid.”
The fatigue showed in his red-rimmed eyes and drooping shoulders. Still, a light infused him when Elis’s tail appeared from nowhere and nestled close by.
“So?” she asked, inching to the side. “How is it being back with your family?”
He grinned. “Beautiful. I don’t know how Isadora does it.”
“Does what?”
“Being gone so long. Just being in the Western Network was hard enough, and we were only there a few days. Hardly enough to really miss them, you’d think. But I did.”
“Did you miss your family or the forest?”
“Family,” he said immediately. “Probably the forest, eventually, but not like my brothers.”
Sanna thought of the deep, exhausting yearning she’d felt to be back under the canopy. To soar through the forest on long vines. To feel the familiarity of Letum Wood sing in her veins.
“Oh.”
He glanced at her. “You?”
“Forest.”
“You don’t miss Isadora?”
Sanna hesitated. She missed Isadora, but that didn’t explain the surge of rage and disappointment that accompanied thoughts of her. Isadora was gone. So was Daid. Now Isadora would never see him again, never know how much they’d struggled. She had her own life now.
“I miss her,” she said, but her voice was flat.
“Your mam?”
“Desperately,” she whispered. She missed the mam she’d known growing up. The familiar mam, not this ghost who lingered in her place.
Jesse propped his forearms on his bent knees and stared into the trees. Some hair had fallen into his eyes again. He blew at it. Sanna tried not to wish that he’d go away. She wanted to want him there, but … she didn’t.
She just wanted Luteis.
“Sanna?”
She jerked out of her thoughts to find Jesse staring at her, only a breath away. The movement of his breath felt hot on her cheek. His gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips, then back.
“I … can I …”
His eyes closed. He leaned forward, bridging the gap between them. Sanna gasped and reared back, tipping over the side of the branch. Before she could fall, a black tail snaked out and grabbed her by the shoulders. She dangled upside down for only a second before Luteis set her safely back on the branch, facing Jesse. Jesse’s cheeks flamed bright red.
“What in Halla was that?” she cried.
“I don’t know!”
“Were you trying … did you want … you were—”
He glanced behind, then stumbled back. “J-just forget it happened.”
“I can’t!”
“I-I need to help Daid,” he said, snatching a vine. “I need to go. I just … sorry, that … it’ll never happen again.”
Before she could say another word, he plummeted into the foliage. The gentle, subtle rustle of branches from the next tree over followed. Elis, no doubt. Sanna whipped around to find Luteis looming over her, a condemning glare on his face. Heat radiated from him in shimmering waves. His lips closed over what had been bared teeth.
What event just transpired? Luteis asked. I didn’t like it. You seemed to not have enjoyed it either.
Her shoulders relaxed. She glanced back at the branch and resisted the urge to touch her lips. Jesse had definitely wanted to kiss her. The thought made her upper lip curl. Kiss Jesse? One of her only childhood friends?
That kind of thing was for Isadora.
“I think he wanted to kiss me.”
What does that mean?
“I don’t know.”
Is it a form of attack?
“Uh … not really, I guess. Most witches probably like it.”
What is done during this … kiss?
This time, Sanna’s cheeks flared. She turned away, grateful that shadows had fallen. “You touch with your lips.”
He snorted. I cannot see the purpose.
“Me either.”
She sighed. How desperately she needed Isadora. Isadora always knew what to do in situations like these. Surely this would change … something between her and Jesse. How did one kiss, anyway? Isadora had once mentioned something about tongues touching, but that seemed too revolting to be real. Surely it wasn’t that strange of a practice. Mam and Daid had always been so reserved around them, like the other Servant couples, that she’d never seen much affection.
I did not like him so close to you. Shall I be on defense against future attempts?
“No. No, it’s fine. I can handle it.”
But should you? Perhaps he will not try if he knows that I stand between your lips and his.
Sanna rolled her lips together to keep from laughing. “Perhaps. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Can we fly?”
I was hoping you’d ask.
Sanna crawled onto his back, settling into the juncture between his wings with relief. By the time he burst into the night, the sun had sunk in the far horizon. Darkness crept along the top of the forest like a bruise. She leaned into the heat of his neck and sighed.
Your heart seems heavy tonight.
“It is.”
Your daid?
How could she explain that it wasn’t just Daid that made her sad now? But Mam? Isadora’s absence?
Everything?
At least the dragons showed continual improvement. Not only did the hatchlings power increase every day, but the younger adults had mostly progressed to gliding. Perhaps, should Selsay still be seeking them, they had a chance.
Luteis tilted to the right, spinning them in a low arc over the trees. They never flew high anymore, choosing the murky backdrop
of the forest to provide cover for them. Moonlight cast long shadows that even mountain dragons could see. She preferred staying close to the trees.
She turned her thoughts away from Daid and watched the horizon. No signs of dragons, though Luteis had seen hints of them a few hours away that morning. Luteis shifted to the left, taking a new course, as he did every night.
“Tashi mentioned Halla when we were in the West,” she said. “What do you know of the place dragons go after death?”
I saw it briefly, when I died after fighting Talis.
She straightened. “Really?”
Very briefly.
“What is it?”
A place much like Letum Wood, only very different at the same time. I find it difficult to explain. wasn’t there long. For the time I was there, I felt a tugging, as if pulled between two places. Then I returned to you.
Disbelief swelled within her. He’d never mentioned this before.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
You did not ask.
“Did you see your mam?”
Perhaps, but I cannot remember.
“Was … was Deasylva there?”
Of course. She escorted me to that place and prevented me from going entirely in. A gift, really.
Sanna snorted. “How?”
I know it exists for certain. I have seen a portion of it. Now I will never fear death and will always trust my goddess, for I know she does provide for us in the afterlife, as she has promised.
“Is it for witches as well as dragons?”
Do you think we would be parted?
“I hope not.”
Me as well.
Sanna couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t answer her question. Not really. But she realized there wasn’t really an answer.
Luteis’s body rippled beneath her, skimming the tops of the trees as they soared. His scales were warm to the touch. They normally comforted her, but tonight, something itched deep inside her soul. Below them, Letum Wood lay in quiet repose, nothing but the lush—sometimes bare—trees rustling below them in a soughing dance. The blank sky, holding only stars, remained empty.
Something doesn’t feel right, she said. Speaking out loud felt too abrasive in such encompassing silence.
Why?
I’m not sure. I just … it’s been so quiet. The mountain dragons attacked Finn days ago, and we’ve seen nothing.