Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(14)



“Tomorrow,” Merrick said, his green eyes distant. I wondered what he was thinking about my odd, frantic behavior. Would he tell Papa? “Same time. Meet me in the Forgotten Gardens.”

“Tomorrow,” I repeated, and walked away as fast as I could.

???

“Ready for breakfast, B?” Papa called.

I came out of my bedroom and entered the main room of the apartment, shaking out my wet hair. A cold bath had shrunk the jittery feelings from the run to a manageable size, and my powers had retreated. I’d all but forgotten the brief encounter in that vague place we’d gone.

Papa’s apartment was sparse, but it felt like him, so I loved it. A brick fireplace filled the wall on the right, swathed with decorative bundles of willow boughs tied with twine. Two mustard-colored divans clustered around the fireplace on a woven black and tan rug. A few matching pillows plumped up the window seat overlooking Letum Wood, where I often curled up for naps in the sunshine. Swords and gleaming knives filled the rest of the walls. A pair of crossed spears hung above the door leading to the balcony.

Guardians bustled in the lower bailey below, preparing for their first training lesson of the day. Despite the early hour, the clang of swords kissing drifted up to the apartment. I glanced down with a grim face. The Guardians trained around the clock now, preparing for war with the West.

“Thanks for waiting, Papa,” I said, settling into a wooden chair. A tray of food sat on the small table we’d used since I’d arrived. Before I lived with Papa he’d always eaten in the Gatehouse with Tiberius. Now we ate breakfast together every morning that he wasn’t on a mission. A loaf of fresh bread, four eggs sunny side up, a crock of strawberry preserves and another jar filled with butter awaited. My stomach growled in anticipation. It had been awhile since I felt hungry. Perhaps the running inspired my lacking appetite.

“Here’s your fork,” Papa said, and we dove in. Fina had stopped sending up plates with our food because we never used them. It had always been like that, even when Mama was alive.

Plates, Papa always said with his roguish smile, are for formal occasions, not family.

“How’d the lesson go?” he asked, squinting at me through the bright sunshine that rose above Letum Wood.

“Great,” I said, slathering a thick piece of warm bread with butter that instantly melted. “We went for a run.”

“Was it hard?”

My annoyance wasn’t contrived. “Yes. I’ve lost a lot of my endurance.”

Papa stared into the lower bailey with a tight jaw. I wondered what he’d think if I told him the truth. Part of me wanted to talk to him about everything that had happened. About my hatred of living in Chatham Castle, missing the forest, wanting to see Grandmother’s little shop, the Tea and Herb Pantry, again. But I wouldn’t, even though I knew he wanted me to. He’d tried hard enough to get me to open up about how I felt. Talking about it only brought pain, so I avoided it, even though I saw the same agony in his eyes every time I refused.

It’s for the best, Papa. You’ll see.

At least, that’s what I always told myself. Thankfully, Papa didn’t question me further about the run. His thoughts had moved on already.

“And what do you think of Merrick?”

“He’s heartless,” I quipped. Papa tilted his head back and laughed. It was a deep belly laugh that rolled out in long waves. I smiled, unable to stop myself. Papa’s mirth relaxed some of the tension in my shoulders, and for just a moment, the strained magic eased off inside me.

“He’s focused,” Papa corrected with a wink. “Not heartless. I chose him for the job because I know he’ll get results. He must. His career as a Protector depends on his success with your training and he knows it.”

I thought that over and chewed a bite of Fina’s pillowy bread.

“Where does Merrick come from?”

“You’ll have to ask him,” he said vaguely. “He doesn’t talk much about himself.”

Papa piled two of the eggs between slices of bread and bit into it. I pushed my questions about Merrick aside and turned to more worrisome thoughts.

“Has the Council said more about removing you as Head of Protectors now that the secret is out?” I asked.

When the High Priestess asked Papa to become Head of Protectors, he was unmarried but deeply in love with Mama. Unfortunately, tradition as set forth by the first High Priestess stated that the Head of Protectors, the Head of Guardians, the High Priest, and High Priestess, were not allowed to be married or have a family. Their jobs demanded total focus. Guardians and Protectors could marry and have children, but they would lose their chance for leadership.

Papa could have taken the job and left Mama behind without a word of explanation. No one knew about her. But he refused to leave her. He divulged the truth to the High Priestess. He would take the job, but he wouldn’t leave Marie. If she’d allow it, he’d shoulder the position of Head of Protectors and keep Mama a secret, only visiting when his responsibilities as Head of Protectors allowed.

To his surprise, the High Priestess eventually agreed. It was a terrible breach of tradition, one they both knew would incur severe consequences if discovered, but the High Priestess was willing to risk it. I came along less than a year later.

Papa had lived a double life, sneaking away to be with us whenever he could while leading the most talented band of brothers, or spies, that Antebellum had ever known. Mama and I were his best-kept secret until she died, and then the world and the Council found out the truth.

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