Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(7)

The stark reality of the High Priestess’s words struck a chord of fear deep inside me. I lived in a castle filled with Guardians and Protectors, not to mention with Papa, one of the most talented witches in all of Antebellum. Yet, the High Priestess still feared for my life. Safety was an illusion, something cursory that one thought of but never found. After watching Mama die before my eyes, I figured I knew that better than anyone.

“Merry meet, Bianca.”

A quiet, amused voice came up from behind me with all the presence of a ghost. I jumped and whirled around to find Merrick, my father’s apprentice, standing there. His freshly washed hair rested against the base of his neck in a ponytail. The blonde strands nestled amidst the light brown looked bright in the light of the nearby torch. A shadow of brown stubble covered his tanned, handsome face and made his eyes look as green as the spring leaves outside. He wasn’t much older than me, something close to twenty-two or three. As a fledgling, almost-accepted Protector, Merrick spent a lot of time with Papa but rarely interacted with me. He was always focused on whatever task Papa had given him.

“Oh,” I said, pressing a hand to my galloping heart. “You startled me. What are you doing here, Merrick?”

His face twisted into an expression of wry irony.

“The High Priestess summoned me.”

A little envelope with the High Priestess’s writing flashed between his fingers.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, glancing between me and the door. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but realized I had no good explanation. He’d caught me.

“Ensuring the success of my future,” I said. To my surprise, a little grin filtered across his features.

“You may want to step back then,” he said. “Or else your future is going to involve a black eye.”

Better safe than sorry. I obeyed. The doors cracked open as I stepped away, spilling a sliver of light into the hall. I shot him a silent, grateful look. The thick wood would have smacked me in the face, revealing my eavesdropping in the worst way.

“Both of you may enter,” the High Priestess called. Merrick stepped back to allow me in first, and I ducked inside.

The dying light of day ringed the edges of Letum Wood just outside. Four open windows allowed the cooling spring air to spill in. Scrolls and pieces of parchment sat on the High Priestess’s massive desk, limp from the humidity of the day, as if they were melting. There were no books in her office. She kept them all in a side closet, with the simple explanation that offices weren’t libraries. Pictures lined the walls instead, covering the dull gray stone and leaving the impression of a quiet room of art. The High Priestess waited until I stood just across from her desk to address me.

“The grief over losing your mother has made your magic stronger,” she said with a direct stare. The door to her office closed behind Merrick. “I’m not sure how I feel about you being so bold while your powers are out of control.”

That’s a surprise, I thought of saying. I’d assume that everyone likes a girl who will step in front of dragon and throw herself onto a dangerous poacher.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” I said, ignoring her reference to Mama. She rolled her small, dark eyes. Small talk did not exist in the High Priestess’s world, and this habit of getting right to the point was one of my favorite things about her. I was grateful to get this over with. Papa moved to stand near the window. He cast me a quick wink, allowing me to release some of the anxiety in my chest.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet,” she muttered. “You may not have reason to apologize. I spoke with everyone involved with the incident.”

“What did they say?” I asked.

“All the witnesses had the same story. You stopped Alvyn from shooting the forest dragon. When he tried to attack you, you used magic to cause an explosion. It sent you rolling down the hill while Alvyn and his accomplice were knocked out.”

A poor choice of weapon on my part, I thought with a frown. Now that time had passed, my back and shoulders felt sore and tight from the tumble. I’d have a bruise or two to deal with later.

“Well?” the High Priestess demanded, pulling me from my thoughts again. “Is that what happened?”

“I believe so, Your Highness. I don’t remember much.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Why did you want to save that dragon?”

My jaw tightened. “He hadn’t done anything wrong. Killing him for being alive seemed a bit . . .” I trailed off, meeting her eyes. “Ruthless.”

“It’s a dragon, not your mother.”

“It’s a life,” I snapped. “And I saved it according to my conscience.”

The magic, now itself resembling a roaring dragon, calmed enough that I could think. Ever since Mama died the magic made me restless and fidgety, keeping me up into the late hours of the night while I stared at the ceiling, missing Mama with an ache so terrible I thought I’d break. There were days I couldn’t control the powers, and those were usually the days when my grief felt the strongest.

Papa shot me a sharp look of reprimand.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” I said with a true pang of guilt. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

The High Priestess released a long breath and let the error slide.

“Your conscience led you right and I thank you for it.”