Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(19)
Merrick and I stood on top of the Wall the next morning, hidden back in the shadow that Chatham Castle sent over the lower bailey. Masses of Guardian hopefuls teemed in the deep stone pit, fighting each other with the wooden swords that meant they were new recruits. Furious cries rang through the air now and then, a sure indication that some inattentive trainee would later be nursing a bruise or a splinter.
Good thing they don’t have real swords yet.
The spring air sat heavy on my shoulders, thick with fog and threatening a chilly rain. It felt good to have a cool day. Even though I’d faced Miss Mabel two days before, the desert heat still felt real on my face. After my unexpected visit, I’d awoken in Letum Wood with scratches on my hands and feet, and no idea where I was. I had to transport back to Chatham Castle. Sleep had been elusive for the past couple days, adding to my weariness. To my relief, I didn’t see Mrs. L again.
Seeking a bit of security, I pulled my deep blue cloak closer around my shoulders but left the hood down. Camille had woken up early to tuck my hair into two braids against my head, ensuring it would be out of my way for either a fight or a run. But it had been in vain. Merrick and I had been hidden for an hour, studying proper fighting technique. Or, more realistically, how not to fight.
“Watch that one,” he said, pointing to a different fellow on the other side. “He seems to know what he’s doing. We’ll start working on new footwork patterns tomorrow. Learning a sword is pointless without them.”
“Are you going to make me practice with the Guardians?” I asked, a disturbing image of fighting with the burly boys flickering through my mind. One gangly Guardian stumbled over his own feet, fell to his knees, curled into a ball, and pled for mercy. Then again, I thought with a wry look, perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad.
“No. I’m teaching you a different sword fighting style, but the basics are the same.”
“Why?”
He thought it over for a second. “If you are truly training to fight Miss Mabel, then she’ll expect you to be trained to fight like the Guardians. Teaching you a different style may give you an advantage.”
“Oh,” I said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Tradition isn’t always a good thing,” he said with a grim tone. “Keep that in mind.”
“What do you mean?”
He shook his head with stoic disregard. “It’s not important now. Our current task is just to get you ready for it. Focus on that.”
I was grateful when he finally released me for the day, hoping the Witchery was empty so I could have a chance to iron out my thoughts. I trudged up several winding staircases and down the lonely castle halls. An abandoned Witchery waited for me and I let out a sigh of relief.
Several notes cluttered our rickety table. Michelle was working on an order of orange rolls in the kitchen. Leda was in the library writing an essay for her political history class, and I’d heard Camille laughing with a couple of Guardians as I walked through a back hall. Despite the pervasive silence, the solitude was welcome.
I dragged a thick wooden box filled with blankets and herbs to the window and sat on top, my knees pulled into my chest, protecting my heart. The wind blew the scent of Letum Wood into the turret. I closed my eyes and savored the sweet smell. Calm moments like these made me remember Mama in a way that didn’t hurt quite so much. It was one of the rare days when the grief took second place to better memories, and didn’t sit on my chest quite so much.
I felt so calm that I gave into the rare weakness of thinking about Mama, recalling the smell of lavender on her linen dresses. She had liked the light touch of the material, the way it never felt heavy or restrictive. Although she had stayed home to raise me and run the Tea and Herb Pantry with Grandmother, Mama had been a free spirit.
Just when the daydreams about home started to feel real, when I began to convince myself that I still lived in the cottage deep in Letum Wood, I jerked out of it to the sound of Miss Mabel’s voice.
Your task is to kill the High Priest.
My eyes darted around the room, and then I realized I’d started to fall asleep in the mild spring air. I straightened and pushed the hair out of my face. Try as I might, Miss Mabel’s voice wouldn’t leave. Her task echoed through my mind over and over and over.
Your task is to kill the High Priest.
Though today’s memories of Mama were gentle, I was grateful for something else to focus on. I started to formulate a plan. There were only two ways out of the binding: figure out a way to destroy it or die. No matter what happened, Miss Mabel wouldn’t get me without a fight. I ran the pad of my thumb along my bottom lip as I pondered over our meeting. Miss Mabel had said she hated someone as much as I hated her. It had to be the High Priestess, the only witch with more power than her.
The flash of inspiration I had when I’d seen the contract again for the first time ran back through my mind. Would a binding have any power if there was no evidence of it? Could I steal the binding and destroy it?
My heart hammered at the thought. If it were possible, I’d have to go to the Western Network under my own power, find the Book of Contracts, search for mine, destroy it, and get back before someone noticed. If the West Guards caught me, they’d kill me on the spot. If Miss Mabel caught me?
I shuddered at the thought.
The tattoos staining the skin of my right wrist called my attention. I gazed down on the circlus, a ring containing the three marks that I’d earned at Miss Mabel’s School for Girls. It represented three areas of magical expertise: the Esbat—an advanced course in leadership and ancient languages—Advanced Curses and Hexes, and Advanced Defensive Magic.