Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(9)
I turned away from his intense gaze. He was right: I wouldn’t talk about Mama. The ability to control the madness in my heart? I would work for that, especially if I could avoid speaking about her. Having a solid distraction from the grief and madness in my mind would be even better. I’d start immediately, if they wanted.
“Yes, Papa,” I said. “I’ll try.”
“Do you have any questions?” the High Priestess asked.
I had so many I couldn’t narrow them down. Should I be worried about my safety all the time? Did Alvyn work for Miss Mabel? Could my powers even be controlled?
“Why did those witches want to kill the forest dragon?” I asked, voicing the first that came to my tongue. “Forest dragons haven’t been seen in centuries.”
The High Priestess’s lips pressed into a thin, pale line.
“Hunting them for Mabel,” she said, and left it at that. The confirmation of my fear stirred the magic inside. It felt like a dragon just starting to wake up. Perhaps dragons weren’t just the threatening creatures in Letum Wood. Perhaps the magic made me part dragon now, roaring and raging on the whim of my internal fury.
“Your first lesson begins in two days. That will give Merrick time to rearrange his schedule and prepare the lessons. Go away, all of you,” the High Priestess said with a flick of her wrist. “I have work to see to.”
Papa walked up to my side and hooked an arm around my shoulders while Merrick led the way to the door.
“Come on, B,” Papa said. “Let’s go get dinner.”
We shuffled into the hallway without a word, leaving the quiet office behind. I cast one last glance over my shoulder to see the High Priestess already buried in a new correspondence that had just flown in the window.
The Witchery
The Witchery was an abandoned turret that my three friends—Leda, Michelle, and Camille—and I had claimed the week they’d arrived. No one challenged us for it. No one really seemed to want it.
Leda and Camille came to live at Chatham Castle a month after Mama’s death. Although I didn’t remember much of the first few weeks without her, I knew that I’d slept through most of it. One day I woke up to Leda glaring down at me, fists on her hips, and Camille hopping for joy. The High Priestess had arranged for them to be with me, doing their classes at the castle with Miss Scarlett occasionally checking in. Their presence had been a definite balm for my aching heart.
Our explorations of the castle during the long winter days led us to an old wooden door, behind which a set of winding stairs led to an abandoned room. The turret rose so far above the ground that we could see all of Chatham City and the blurred edge of the rolling horizon from the arched windows. I couldn’t imagine how no one seemed to notice it had been empty for years. Of Chatham’s ten turrets that speared the sky, it was the tallest and widest.
Leda and I came to the conclusion that a vengeful witch had cursed it so no one would go in. Chatham Castle, and all her inhabitants, tended to be a superstitious lot. Perhaps my spreading of the rumor that the ghost of Esmelda—the first High Priestess of the Central Network—had been seen there helped maintain our privacy.
The next morning after breakfast Papa informed me my lessons with Merrick were to start the next day, then ruffled my hair and headed for his office in the Gatehouse. I cleaned up, changed into a fresh cotton dress, and headed for the many steps of the spiraling turret staircase. The tips of my fingers skimmed the walls on either side. Every few steps an arched window about knee high spilled light on the stairs, allowing the fresh air to sing through.
I released a content little sigh. Though the world might crumble around us, the Witchery was always a safe place.
“Merry meet!” I called to my friends when I gained the upper stair.
Leda sat curled on a window seat, her white-blonde hair reflecting the sun like strands of snowflakes. She had a pert little nose that turned up just slightly at the tip, giving her a girlish mien. An ancient book with frayed edges held her attention, as usual. She didn’t bother to look up when I entered, so I ignored her. Leda was a friend better tolerated if she chose when to speak. Asking her a question she didn’t want to answer only led to a reply I didn’t want.
“Merry meet, Bianca,” Camille replied. “What did the High Priestess say last night? Are you in trouble? I hope not! Even if I do think you’re crazy for saving that dragon.”
She stood at the window opposite Leda, where she always watched the Guardians when they trained below. The clash and clang of sword fighting drifted up from the lower bailey, which took up half of the front of Chatham Castle’s walled interior and swept over to the left side.
“Who were you looking at?” I asked instead of answering.
Tiberius, the Head of the Guardians and Papa’s best friend, stood on the Wall, looking down on his charges in the lower bailey like a great bird assessing his prey. Swords and shields glinted in the sunlight as the Guardians sparred. I wondered if Merrick would have me doing the same kinds of routines. Would I learn how to use a sword as well as the Guardians did? I was already skilled with my shield. Perhaps that would give me a small advantage.
“No one in particular,” Camille said with a wave of her wrist, but her eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Bianca, what do you know about Brecken?”
“Brecken?”
“Yes. The Guardian that walked us back yesterday? I tried to get him to talk but he barely said a word.” Her lips pulled down in an uncharacteristic frown. “I can’t figure him out. I’ve never had a problem getting a Guardian to talk to me before. They’re all so excited for the attention of a lady they practically beg me to speak.”