Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(98)

“You did good, Bianca,” he said, studying me with his serious emerald eyes. “I’m proud of you.”

I looked away, my eyes filling with tears, and gazed up at my father. He stood in between the two thrones, his sword clenched in his fist, glowing with a bright crimson flame.

“Witches of the Central Network!” he called. His voice rang over the ballroom, spilling out into the gardens where contingents of Guardians waited, listening. “I stand before you today not as a fellow witch, not as a leader, but as a brother-in-arms. We’ve been attacked, but we have prevailed!”

He held his sword above his head, his jaw tight.

“We have prevailed!”

The Guardians raised their swords and joined in his cry. The maids and kitchen servants sniffling in the corner came out of hiding. The Protectors lifted their broken fists and joined in the call. Their shout spread from the ballroom to the gardens. The contingents of Guardians outside bellowed, augmented by the livid roar of the dragons circling the castle in the air.

“We will continue to prevail,” Papa said, “until we are safe. This I promise you, as your High Priest. We will honor Mildred’s name and her legacy.” His voice faltered, but he regained it with a determined ferocity, his nostrils flaring. “We will not fear. We will fight. We will win. We will live!”

The cries and shouts of the Guardians continued, ringing around us. Several witches collapsed into sobs. Papa stood above it all, strong and powerful, mighty in ways we could not be. I stared at him in a mixture of awe and fear.

“It’s begun, hasn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes,” Merrick said. “It’s begun.”

???

Leda didn’t wake up until late the next morning.

I lay curled up next to her on the bed, staring at her face, willing her eyes to open. Michelle had bandaged my feet and my arm, and helped me wash the bloody stains off my body. Stella, tousled but alive, worked a special magic with her healing oils so I didn’t feel any pain when I walked. The three of us worked into the early hours of the morning in the ballroom and kitchen. Merrick, true to his word, didn’t leave my side, but helped with the rest of us. Then Papa pulled me away before dawn. I recounted everything to him, Tiberius, Zane, Marten, and Jansson. The vow with the High Priestess, the visits to Miss Mabel in the West, the binding to complete an unknown task, and our newest threat, Angelina.

Four Council Members were dead, the eccentric Council Member Patrice amongst them. The rest of them had been injured to varying degrees. The tally of bodies hadn’t yet been finished, and I didn’t want to know the final number. The bloody battle would haunt my dreams for years.

A large bump had bubbled up from the left side of Leda’s head, spreading a light black and blue bruise down her eye and cheek. The apothecary had sewn shut a deep cut on her neck and cheek with twenty perfect little stitches. The dried blood seemed especially dark against her creamy white skin. Camille’s handwork with a brush had left Leda’s hair washed and braided in two short braids.

Camille had finally dropped into sleep around daybreak, curled up on Leda’s other side, holding her hand. Michelle sat in a chair behind me, her eyes trained forward. She rocked back and forth, back and forth. For a long time, the only sound was the creak of the wood as it moved. It was anchoring, reassuring, or else the silence would have been too overwhelming and I would have screamed.

“I’m going to go check on Nicolas,” Michelle said in a wooden voice. She had a dazed expression on her face, her eyes fixed and unseeing. Her lips barely moved when she spoke. I didn’t say anything, just watched her disappear down the stairs wearing only one shoe. Someone would tell her. And if they didn’t, what did it matter?

Leda’s pale eyelashes slowly fluttered open.

“Bianca?”

I let out a long breath of relief, as if I’d been holding it all that time.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “Why are you staring at me?”

“We’re waiting for you to wake up,” I whispered.

She glanced around but didn’t move her head. Shadows and fatigue stained her eyes.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“The Witchery.”

Her foggy eyes didn’t clear. She blinked several times.

“Oh,” she whispered, dazed. “I remember.” Her eyes widened in a panic. “Camille! Where’s Camille? Is she okay? I had to leave her—”

I held a finger up to my lips to signal her to be quiet.

“She’s right behind you, holding your hand. She just fell asleep so don’t wake her up.”

Leda looked at her right hand, intertwined with Camille’s, and relaxed back against the pillow. My throat tightened with unshed tears.

“You saved my life,” I said.

“I know,” she remarked with a dry grin, gazing at me from the corner of her eyes.

“Thank you.”

Leda let out a breathy laugh, then winced and grabbed her side, her face twisted in pain.

“You broke a couple ribs,” I told her. “You also have stitches on your face and neck, not to mention a mild head injury, so you’re supposed to rest for several days. Miss Scarlett brought your mother here. They are both downstairs right now, helping the apothecary. She’s very nice, by the way.”

“Mama came?” Leda asked, blinking rapidly, unable to hide the relief that crossed her face. Her eyes misted.