Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(6)
Her rambling voice died into the background as I trailed behind the two of them. Thanks to Brecken’s grim reminder of Miss Mabel’s presence, my mind fixated on the one place I didn’t want it to go.
It was a place far from the spiral staircases and wide stone halls of Chatham Castle. The little old manor in the shadows of Letum Wood, Miss Mabel’s School for Girls. The whole drama of my last day at the school unfolded in the space of two breaths. Me in the attic with my evil teacher Miss Mabel, using defensive magic against her in a battle for my life. Then Mama stepping in to protect me, and Miss Mabel killing her in one decisive move.
No. I stopped the flashback before it re-ignited the restless powers within me. The magic had had enough exercise for one day.
An Internal Weapon
I passed through the opulence of the Royal Hall later that evening with a feeling of trepidation. The impending meeting with the High Priestess had loomed in my mind for hours. Would she be angry with me for defending the forest dragon? Had I done something wrong? Papa would be waiting as well, and it would be a relief to have him at my side. He was the only thing left that made me feel safe.
Two Guardians lingered near the staircase, protecting the deserted hallway I started down. I didn’t mind the solitude because it gave me an opportunity to think.
Paintings of past High Priests and Priestesses covered the wall in gilded frames. All wore the same shade of crimson in the portraits, the Central Network’s color. Their faces held similar echoes of the stoic determination that I saw in our current High Priestess. Perhaps they all knew something that the rest of us, who didn’t lead, never would. Something besides the strange desire to tie themselves to a desk and sit through meetings for their whole lives. I shuddered at the thought.
I checked to make sure the nearby Guardians couldn’t see me, then crept up to the High Priestess’s door and pressed my ear to it. It was the perfect eavesdropping opportunity, and since I was the topic of conversation, I suppressed the pang of guilt rather quickly. I whispered a spell under my breath to magnify the sound and used my exceptional hearing to tune into the room.
If an important, secretive meeting had been going on, or if the castle had been unusually full of witches and visitors, the High Priestess would have cast a protective incantation to block nosy witches like me. Since I had little to do with Network security or the fear of upcoming war, I hoped she wouldn’t have taken such precautions.
The gravelly voice of the High Priestess worked through the elaborate door first.
“—the natural result of Marie’s death.”
I jerked away. The sound of Mama’s name shocked me, as if they’d touched a poker to my heart. It had been several weeks since I’d heard it spoken out loud. My heart thudded in my chest as I attempted to recover my calm. I let out a long, slow breath and tried again, placing the shell of my ear back on the cool wood.
That’s what you get when you listen to conversations you aren’t invited to, I thought in a moment of self-chiding.
“She misses Marie . . . how do I help when she won’t even speak of her? I’m not sure . . .”
Papa’s muffled voice moved in and out. His back must have been to the door. I could picture him pacing in front of the desk, trying to figure out why his daughter wanted to save a dangerous dragon. I didn’t blame him. Even I wondered.
“I’m most concerned about her safety,” the High Priestess said in a grim tone. “Things are getting ugly here.”
“We could leave . . . Go north—”
“Absolutely not. What would leaving do?”
Her words trailed off and I clenched my fist in frustration, only able to make out a low murmur with a few words in between. The High Priestess would never let Papa leave. Her vow to save me from the curse was proof she’d do just about anything to keep him here.
“Yes,” Papa said, pulling me back into their conversation. “Some outlet . . . I haven’t pressed her into getting a job because I wanted her to have space. . . Doesn’t run anymore.”
My heart twisted again. So Papa had noticed.
Just two months ago on the day Mama died, Miss Mabel blackmailed me into signing a magical binding, a contract in which I agreed to complete one unknown task. After I signed the binding, she killed my mother. She hadn’t assigned me a task yet; I’d been waiting for two months without word. I figured she would assign me to kill the High Priestess. What other reason could she have had? But because the binding’s protective magic prevented me from speaking about it to anyone, no one knew of my tie to Miss Mabel. At one point, the High Priestess had had her suspicions that Miss Mabel was going to put me under a binding, but I didn’t know if she still suspected it was done. If she did, she didn’t let on. Unfortunately, if I didn’t complete the task, I’d die.
In the meantime, my birthday approached fast. It stood just four months away, and brought with it the culmination of my old family curse. If the High Priestess didn’t fulfill her vow, the curse would kill me when I turned seventeen. I had four months left to live and two ways to die.
To top it off, Papa had no idea.
“—help control the power,” the High Priestess’s voice jarred me back into the present. “We need to help her protect herself. I can’t trust every Coven Leader or Council Member anymore. I’d feel a lot better if Bianca could do more than throw around a couple of blighters to defend herself. Mabel isn’t dead yet and I don’t think we should act like she is.”