Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(72)
Enduring the pain of Mama’s death instead of trying to ignore it made me the master, and the magic my minion. Once I stopped fighting the grief, the power flowed into me, swift and strong.
As Merrick promised, my emotions took on a higher range. Acknowledging the feelings had a way of amplifying them. Sometimes it frightened me, the enormity of what I felt. One minute I could be laughing, and the next fighting back tears. My lows became very low indeed. I cried myself to sleep at night, and occasionally locked myself into a melancholic seclusion. Other days it let me go, gave me a break, allowing me to laugh and live and heal another small corner of my heart before the next onslaught.
A flurry of activity surrounded Papa day and night. Except for our ritual breakfasts, I rarely saw him. Witches came to protest his upcoming reign every day at the front gates of Chatham Castle. The Factios provoked rallies against him throughout Chatham City. I no longer doubted whether they worked for Miss Mabel or her partner: I could see it in the darkness of their eyes. The protestors shouted Papa’s name so loud I could hear it from the Witchery. Papa and the High Priestess didn’t seem to notice, but I did. The rage and discontent settling over Chatham City terrified me.
The High Priestess scheduled the Empowerment on the morning of my seventeenth birthday, the same day as the Anniversary Ball. The castle started preparing months in advance. I took it all in with a detached air, living for one thing: learning to meld magic and sword fighting so I could defeat Miss Mabel.
Leda graduated from her first-year and immediately dove into her second-year courses just as spring finished. Brecken left for a three-month assignment guarding the Borderlands, leaving Camille behind. She avoided her classes even more dutifully than before and went on long walks in the rambling gardens alone. Michelle spent more time blushing, and more time in the kitchens with Nicolas, than ever before.
The ebb and flow of life seemed to elongate into one long river that moved me closer and closer to my birthday. I moved with it, gaining strength and power with every day that passed until it dumped me firmly on the doorstep of my demise. Before I knew it, spring had become summer and three months had passed.
One hot summer afternoon two days before my birthday, the heat drove Camille and I deeper into the cold, unexplored passages of Chatham Castle. She let out a dramatic sigh. We were staring at a painting of two water nymphs trying to woo a young witch into the water. Once he gave into their song, they would devour him and use his bones to make the walls of their house. Camille stared at it as if it were a road map for her life instead of a vulgar painting with half-naked women and an enamored young man.
“I’m sad today, Bianca,” Camille admitted, finally abandoning the painting. We walked down the dank corridor side by side. Her normal enthusiasm had waned, and today she seemed quite depressed and dull.
“Why are you sad?” I asked, running my fingers along a faded gold frame that left a light coating of dust on my finger. The painting was of a woman with long auburn curls billowing around her. She had a thin face with high cheekbones and a confident expression. Esmelda, our first High Priestess.
“I don’t know,” Camille said in a low voice, brushing past a velvet seat along the side of the hallway. “I’m just sad.”
“Even with the Anniversary Ball coming up in two days?”
“Yes.”
“Does this have something to do with Brecken?”
“Brecken?” Camille murmured with a little too much innocence in her tone. “W-why would this be about him?”
“Well, you haven’t seen him for several months now.”
I expected her to shoot me a sharp look and a curt expression, but she just sighed instead.
“You’re right.”
Startled, I turned to look at her, confirming now what I had suspected for weeks.
“I miss him. He’s been gone for three months, and I haven’t gotten a letter from him in two weeks.”
“You like him a lot, don’t you?”
“Oh, very much! To make matters worse, several more Guardians have asked me to the Anniversary Ball, and I just don’t know what to do. There’s a chance he could be back in time to attend with the rest of the Captains, but he doesn’t know for sure. He may not. I certainly can’t wait around for him to figure it out.”
“Then don’t go with anyone,” I said, peering down another hallway on the right. An occasional window shed light on the wooden floors, highlighting a few old paintings and dusty divans. “Just go without a date.”
“Without a date?” she asked slowly, as if she’d never pronounced the words before. “Are you mad?”
I shrugged. “Just an idea.”
“Oh, I don’t know what to do!” she wailed in a forlorn voice, running her fingers along the wall. “I’ll decide later. I’m too tired today and—”
She trailed off and didn’t pick the thought back up again. I hid a smile. The pathetic worry on her face was so innocent, so sincere, that I couldn’t help but think of a lost little girl.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“Let’s head back. I’m tired of thinking about boys. Michelle is supposed to bring lunch to the Witchery. I hope she brings chocolate," she muttered. “Gobs of it.”
We walked back to the occupied region of the castle in silence, both lost in our own reveries. I thought of Miss Mabel, of my birthday just two days away, and allowed the usual feeling of dread it brought. The emotions made me feel jittery, but I embraced them instead of turning them away.