Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(70)

“A man named Damen, my distant ancestor, stepped forward and spoke for the dragons who hadn’t aligned with the Almorrans. He convinced Esmelda to spare them on the condition that they protect the castle, and her inhabitants, whenever they sensed the old powers. In years of peace, the dragons could live amongst the deep shadows of Letum Wood without disturbance. But when the old powers stirred, the forest dragons would be obligated to come out of their repose and protect the castle.”

My thoughts flew back to Miss Mabel and her partner. There was little doubt in my mind that they were somehow linked to the rising evil in Antebellum. I hoped the dragons didn’t sense part of Miss Mabel in me, like the gypsies had.

“The dragons are stirring because Chatham Castle is in danger.”

“Yes.” Sanna seemed a little too at ease with the conversation for my taste. She leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper. “I’d not go into Letum Wood if I were you.”

“If they are bound to protect Chatham Castle, why did they mean me harm? Don’t they like witches?”

“No!” she spat, recoiling. “Most of them hate us. The dragons don’t appreciate their bondage. They may protect our castle, but they don’t have to like it. Some are lukewarm about humans, but not many.”

“I recognized one of them,” I said, scooting to the edge of my chair. “I saved him from some poachers awhile ago. The blue one.”

Sanna leaned back in her seat. The teacup set itself onto the table nearby.

“Yes, yes. He’s nice enough at times. A bit emotional, really. His attitude has always turned on a hat pin.”

“Is there a way to resurrect Almorran magic? The priests have been gone for centuries.”

“Yes, there is,” Sanna said, smacking her lips carelessly. “There always is. Witches may die, but magic does not. Especially not the old magic. For the sake of every witch in Antebellum, let’s hope that’s not what happens. I’m not sure we’d survive that kind of resurrection.”

Her sudden shiver brought a little lump of fear into my heart.

“Yes,” I whispered, slumping back against the seat. “That’s what I was afraid of.”





Viveet

Merrick sat next to me the next morning and blew out a long breath of air. Neither of us spoke for a long time as we stared out at Letum Wood, lost in thought. I wondered if he’d still want to do a lesson today.

“So that’s what happened,” I said, swallowing. A few birds twittered by, disappearing into the ragged wall of green leaves that surrounded us. I was grateful to be sitting. It made it feel less like the world was moving too fast around me. “I finally let the memories come and everything changed.”

He’d remained quiet during my entire recounting of the previous day, including my time with Sanna. I’d even told him of my mother’s ghost, and how my reluctance to run stemmed from seeing her in the forest. Now he just stared out, his eyes stewing.

“I can tell that your magic has settled,” he finally said.

Settled, yes. That was it. The usual restless knot of anxiety, the cagey dragon in my chest, all of it had calmed. It seemed to purr like a content kitten.

“I’m still trying to figure out what happened,” I said, breaking the silence. “I think I understand it, but I’m not sure.”

His intense green eyes met mine.

“Tell me what you think happened.”

“I think that my refusal to remember or think or talk about Mama just built the powers. Then, when I got angry or scared, the emotions amplified an already volatile magic, and it took over.”

He nodded and asked, “So what did you do that changed the pattern?”

I paused for a moment, reflecting back.

“I didn’t stop myself from remembering.”

“Or feeling,” he pointed out.

“Yes,” I said slowly, thinking it over. I had felt a lot of emotions, brutal emotions that I’d never given time to before. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Denying your emotions only increases your powers until you can’t handle it anymore. Accepting the grief, even the pain, allows us to control it and stops it from expressing itself in more destructive ways.”

“Couldn’t you have just told me that?” I asked sheepishly.

“Would you have listened?” he shot right back.

“No,” I admitted after thinking it over. “I wouldn’t have.”

His voice dropped, and he regained some of that distant intensity in his green eyes. “Be prepared to really start experiencing the grief now that you’ve faced it. Everything you’ve been putting off will come at you full force. As long as you recognize that emotions are power, and you don’t prevent yourself from feeling it, you’ll get through.”

“Thanks,” I said, managing a small smile. He nodded.

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “Just remember that.”

“I will.”

Merrick stood up and began to lope at an effortless jog toward a leather parcel near the back wall of the garden.

“I brought this today but wasn’t sure if you were ready,” he said over his shoulder. “Now that I know you’ve figured out enough about controlling your powers that we can start working on it, I feel good about starting with swords.”