Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(88)

“You look like your mother in it.”

“Yes,” I agreed with a slight smile. “You’re right.”

“Go,” she commanded, turning back to her scroll. “I have a few things to attend to here.”

When I looked back over my shoulder, she remained in the same position, focused on the scroll. Regal, a touch haughty, and probably the most influential witch I’d ever met. I wondered why she looked so sad.

I hope I make you proud tonight, Your Highness, my heart whispered.

With a preparatory breath, I turned and steeled myself for whatever might come next. I didn’t know how Miss Mabel would come, or when, or if she’d even look like herself, but I knew she’d be there.

And I had to be ready.





She’s Here

“Isn’t it too wonderful?” Camille asked in a breathy voice. “I think I might just die from happiness. It’s all so pretty!”

The four of us stepped into the ballroom together. Although I couldn’t tell them, having my friends at my side made me feel strong. Being in control of the power brought a great deal of hope and light to my heart, but not as much as their persistent friendship. A wave of anxiety welled up from deep within. I embraced it, letting it roll through me, feeling it expand my magic.

Yes. Make me strong. Let me feel it all tonight. This time the emotions will make me mighty.

The massive ballroom had been decorated with such a natural elegance that it took us several minutes of staring to take it all in. Tables laden with food lined one wall, boasting at least fifty different pie offerings, as Michelle had promised. Sprawling paintings of Letum Wood filled every other wall in long murals of green and brown. Golden trim swept along the ceiling, while mirrors reflected the burning torches, and elaborate sconces dripped with golden Letum Ivy. Above it all loomed an emerald-laced forest dragon painted on the ceiling, breathing fire and banishing our enemies.

The High Priestess and Papa stood at opposite ends of the room, Papa on the right, the High Priestess on the left. Standing together made them too vulnerable. Even if they didn’t know or act like Miss Mabel was coming, they were certainly taking every precaution. Two thrones, smaller replicas of the real thrones in the Throne Room, had been placed at the end near the High Priestess. Later, when toasts were made from the Council Members to Papa, they’d sit there together. A few strategically placed Protectors hovered near both of them, occasionally blending in with the crowd, appearing and disappearing whenever they wanted. I searched for Merrick, hoping to congratulate him.

“It is beautiful,” Michelle said, looking awkward and thick in her high-waisted pink gown. Camille had pinned Michelle’s coarse brown hair up on her head with sprays of small white flowers and curls, making her face look wider than ever.

“Really, Bianca,” Camille huffed, casting another wary look at my hair. “You should have let me do something more than just that potion. It’s a ball, you know.”

Despite her demands, Camille hadn’t been allowed within arm’s length of me after Henrietta helped me with the dress. She’d spent most of the afternoon getting herself ready, and the time paid off. Her dishwater curls looked bright and blonde, formed into perfect ringlets that bounced whenever she turned her head. Her dress, an elaborate ivory piece with layers of lace and chiffon, made her look royal and elegant.

“My hair is just fine the way it is,” I said, watching a few couples spin past us. Council Member Patrice wore an extravagant green gown with so many ruffles I almost couldn’t see her beneath it all. She pranced away with another Council Member, giggling.

Leda let out a hefty sigh next to me.

“How are you, Leda?” I asked. “Is your curse beating you up?”

“It’s tolerable,” she said with a grimace and put a hand to her head. She spaced out again, her eyes distant. The light blue dress that Henrietta had sewn for her actually complemented her fair hair and skin. Tonight, Leda looked petite, pale, and lovely.

“Are you going to make it for very long?” I asked once she snapped out of it. A crowd of this size must be giving her a headache as walloping as mine. My own head pulsed and raged. Leda looked at me from the corner of her eyes, her face unusually pinched and her jaw clenched.

“I’ll be fine.”

I searched through the crowd with the fear that I’d see Miss Mabel’s suave grin and sparkling eyes peering out from amongst the innocent spectators. Perhaps she’d transform herself so no one recognized her, or pull me off to the side to deal with me in private. I hoped for the latter.

“Oh no,” Camille said under her breath, chewing on her bottom lip. “Here comes Luther.”

“You don’t want to dance with Luther?” Michelle asked.

“No!” she breathed, turning away and pressing her hand to her flushed cheek. “I don’t mind, I-I just hoped to dance with Brecken first.”

“Is Brecken back?” I asked.

“I don’t know!” she wailed under her breath, turning away as if she hadn’t seen Luther. “I haven’t seen him or heard from him. Oh, dear.”

My eyes widened as a familiar pair of broad shoulders and unruly brown curls stepped into Luther’s path, cutting him off.

“Camille,” Brecken said in his rolling, low voice. “You aren’t crying over me, are you?”