Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(23)
“You can’t keep giving up.”
I opened my eyes and looked at the trail through sweaty tendrils of hair. A memory of Mama and Papa together in Letum Wood stood a few paces away, their gossamer existence as fragile as my own control. They murmured quietly together, their hands clasped. The unsettled power stirred like a mighty storm, robbing my ability to temper it.
“I told you I can’t do this,” I said. “I’m done. This was far enough.”
“Bianca—”
“No! I’m done. I’m not ready for this. I told you I wasn’t.”
Merrick opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t wait around to hear it. I transported back to Chatham Castle, landing in the middle of my bedroom. Once I recognized my arched window and the plumes of deep blue satin draped around the four-poster bed, I pressed my back to the wall and sank down with an unsteady breath. The tears surfaced, stinging the insides of my eyes. I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyelids, refusing to let them out.
I will not be weak.
I. Will. Not.
Isadora
“Bianca, I already went over the rules with you,” Leda said with a long-suffering sigh the next afternoon. “When you’re playing Networks, a Guardian can’t take out a West Guard on their own. They only move forward across the Network Line, remember?”
I glared at the pieces of the well-loved board game. My half-slain row of Guardians and dying handful of Protectors stood facing Leda’s double row of West Guards. She hadn’t lost a single one yet. Her eyebrow lifted in a gentle smirk. No matter what move I made, she’d be able to kill my High Priestess. Since she’d killed my High Priest at the beginning, I’d have no one left to ascend the throne. She’d won this game and she knew it. I just had to find a graceful way to admit it.
“Oh, fine,” I growled, pushing the last of my Protectors into a new position. “Take over.”
With a little shout of glee, Leda waved her hand. “West Guard to High Priestess,” she declared. A West Guard pawn slid forward and knocked my High Priestess over. The rest of my pieces wilted on the spot, as if someone had taken a flame to them. I let out a long, bitter sigh.
“You win again, Leda.”
“Yes. I always do,” she said.
“Well at least you’re humble about it.”
“I think you’re mad for playing against Leda at all,” Camille said, pulling a lollipop from her mouth with a pop. “She’s been playing Networks since she was a little girl.”
Leda grinned and swept the pieces, now restored to their previous form, into the velvet bag.
“I’m particularly fierce when I play as the West Guards,” she said. “But I use more strategy with the Eastern Guards. The Eastern Network has excellent political strategy.”
I straightened my back, working out the kinked muscles as I stood up. Rain drizzled from the sky, settling on the cobblestone outside with a gentle patter. Fog crept toward the castle from the depths of Letum Wood with a slow, easy crawl. The sweet scent, cool air, and low murmur of the rain made me sleepy. But there was little time for sleep. I had a plan for today.
“I love rainy days,” Leda said as she pushed the checkered marble board onto a shelf near her own window and looked outside with a sigh. “I think I’ll go into the library and curl up with a good book. Advanced Algebra should hold my attention. Don’t bother me.”
Camille, who lounged on a set of massive pillows on the floor in her knickers and binder, acted as if she were gagging and rolled her eyes. Leda didn’t notice and trounced down the stairs, humming under her breath.
“I hate it when it rains,” Camille lamented. “There’s nothing to do. I’d much rather walk through all the pretty gardens.”
“I like the rain,” Michelle said quietly. She sat in front of a large scroll, transcribing recipes from a book she’d borrowed from Fina. “We were always glad when it rained at home because it was good for the crops, and that meant we’d have food.”
Camille sucked loudly on the sweet candy and moved farther down a fashion scroll she’d bought in Chatham City on her last weekly visit. The discarded wrappers of several caramels littered the floor around her.
“Aunt Bettina used to make me do extra homework on days it rained. She said that rain meant I had to be quiet since I couldn’t go outside and give her a break.”
Once I saw that the two of them were occupied, I grabbed my cape from a rack near the door, slipped into the turret staircase, and padded barefoot down the stone steps without them any wiser. Camille’s voice continued to drone on behind me. Out of sight, I closed my eyes, whispered the transportation spell, and fell into the waiting darkness. It whisked me away, bearing down on my chest and face, and dropped me in the middle of the forest.
The fading aftermath of rain choked the air when I struggled to my feet in a copse of trees far from Chatham Castle.
“Jikes,” I muttered, batting several tenacious branches away from my arms and making a mental note to talk with Papa about learning a more precise way to transport. Once I caught a glimpse of the trail off to the side, I battled my way through the thick, wet brush. Tendrils of hair flew around my head in a wild halo from the humidity, but I didn’t care. Bigger monsters than a poor hairstyle awaited me. I moved onto the nearby trail, hopping over mud puddles and moving from stone to stone.