Antebellum Awakening (26 page)

“That doesn’t make me like it,” I muttered, grunting when my forearm wrenched and threatened to cramp in pain. Merrick agreed with a lift of his eyebrows. A quiet shuffle off to the left, tucked in the back of the gardens, caught my attention. I stopped and set the rocks down.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

“A bird,” he said dismissively. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Merrick disappeared with the soft sound of transportation. I abandoned the buckets and crept silently toward the sound. Last time I’d seen something out of place here, a dragon popped up. A low murmur of voices met my ears the closer I approached the hedged garden. I knew it well. Inside was a fountain with angels spouting water from their mouths. Several trellises lined with blooming white flowers formed a ceiling above it, filtering little snippets of light through their thick petals. It was rumored to be the High Priestess’s favorite garden.

“I don’t like it,” Ambassador Marten said in a firm tone. “I don’t like it at all, Mildred.”

I slipped down onto my stomach and peered just around the corner. Marten and the High Priestess stood in the back of the small garden, their hands clasped and bodies pressed close together. The High Priestess’s face angled away from me with a sad, rueful expression.

“It’s not an ideal solution, Marten, but at least it’s something,” she said, but her voice didn’t have its usual sting.

“I don’t agree,” Marten replied. “You can figure out another way to solve it. This isn’t the only way. You’ve encountered more difficult situations before and come up with better answers.”

A bit of her spine returned. She stiffened and shot him a haughty look. “I think I know what I’m doing. After all these years together, don’t you trust me?”

“I’ve always trusted you.”

“I’m the one to make the final decision in the end,” she said with impressive resolution. “This is how I plan to move forward. It’s the best thing for the whole Network.”

“And Stella?” Marten asked in a vehement voice. “What did she think?”

“She thinks I’m right. She doesn’t like it, but she sees the wisdom in it. It won’t happen any other way. I think you know that too; you need to come to terms with it.”

His shoulders slumped as he capitulated to her words. “Yes. You’re right. I can’t stop you. But I just . . . I want more time to try to make this work. I don’t want to lose you, Mildred.”

“Have you ever really had me, Marten?”

He reached up and touched her face with the tips of his fingers. She closed her eyes and leaned into his palm. Their voices fell too low to distinguish, but I wouldn’t have wanted to hear what they said even if I could. My heart stalled in my throat as I crept away, eyes wide.

The High Priestess had a lover.

That was the only way to describe the scene: the look in their eyes, the quiet way they touched each other. The intimate scene I’d just witnessed rocked everything I thought I’d known about the High Priestess.

Should I tell anyone? No, that would violate her privacy. I respected her too much to do that. How long had they been together? What did it mean? Like the Head of Protectors and Head of Guardians, the High Priestess could not have a spouse or a family. But clearly she’d maintained a lover all these years.

I toiled with my questions on my way back to Chatham Castle, still reeling. Would
Mildred’s Resistance
have details about the High Priestess’s secret lover? No, that would be madness. She’d never allow something like that printed. If I told anyone else what I’d seen, it could turn the Council against the High Priestess in such a way that could threaten her life. Not even Leda could know.

I shook my head, hoping to clear my thoughts. No wonder the High Priestess took pity on my father all those years ago, letting him take position in defiance of tradition. She must have known what it felt like, loving without being able to live it.

No, I decided. This secret would remain my own, like the others I held in my heart.

Betrayer

“P
lease, Camille?”

“Bianca, you’re mad!” Camille said, peering into a little mirror hanging on the wall as she put the finishing touches on an elegant braid in her hair. “I’m not taking you into Chatham City today. Except to run with Merrick, you’re not supposed to leave the castle grounds and you know it.”

“I just need to get away for awhile,” I said, sitting on the edge of the divan. I’d fallen into a desperate melancholy the past two days, ever since the Council’s vote. Waiting on the High Priestess’s final decision, and keeping her secret tryst to myself, made me irritable and snappish. Even Merrick had noticed my distraction during our practice that morning and stopped our session early. I rubbed the bruise on my forearm from when I hadn’t anticipated an obvious lunge. “Please?”

“What if we get caught?”

“Then I’d get in trouble, not you.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s what I’m worried about! You don’t need any more trouble. Oh, hullo!” she sang under her breath, peeking out the window to the lower bailey. “Brecken just took his shirt off. I can see his muscles from here. Goodness! He’s so handsome.”

She gave a happy little shudder, as if she’d just taken a bite from a delicious pastry, and sank back onto the window seat to pull her slippers on. She wore a new dress from Henrietta. Pale pink flowers decorated a white fabric with a scooped neckline and rounded sleeves. It was feminine and classy and looked perfect on Camille’s tan skin.

“Please?”

“No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “You can’t come.”

“Fine,” I concluded with determination. “I’ll just transport ahead of you. I’ll stop by Miss Holly’s Candy Shop first and buy all of the vanilla-flavored caramels before you even get there. Then I’ll give them to the gypsies.”

Camille shot me a glare. “You wouldn’t,” she whispered, her eyes narrowing. I gave her a cheeky smile.

“Oh yes I would and you know it! Merry part!” I called.

“Bianca!”

“I’m already on my way. In fact, it will probably be easier to sneak out without you.” I started walking down the turret stairs.

“Wait!” she said after I’d made it down ten steps, scrambling to catch up. “Fine, I’ll let you come with Michelle and me. But you aren’t allowed to talk to anyone!”

•••

Chatham City surged around us an hour later, teeming with witches, dogs, and a bitter smell that made my stomach turn. Tall brick chimneys huffed black soot into the air. A couple of scrollboys stood on the corners of the street, arms flailing.

“High Priest announced tomorrow,” their squeaky voices called in melodic tones, waving newsscrolls at anyone passing. “The Council votes 6-4 against Derek as Head of Protectors. High Priestess to announce Head of Protectors! Cast your bet on the new High Priest and Head of Protectors at Owen’s Pub!”

“This is pandemonium,” Camille hissed, dodging a witch walking unusually fast and nearly falling into the gutter for her trouble. “I don’t know why I agreed to let you come! What if someone from the castle sees you out here? Everyone knows that you’re restricted to the castle grounds. There was an article about it in the
Chatterer
.”

“No one is going to recognize me. They can’t even see my face when I’m wearing my hood.”

“Fine, be reckless. In the meantime, I need to find a ribbon for the ball,” Camille said, gazing around. “Do you see any shops? Let’s go to Miss Holly’s last. Then I can look forward to it. Anticipation always makes the caramels taste better.”

Finding a ribbon was the last thing on my mind, but I didn’t say so. I followed along behind without any trouble. When ten minutes had passed and no one jumped out of the crowds to point me out, Camille seemed to relax.

“Oh!” she cried several minutes later in front of a shop. “That’s just the one. Look, Michelle. That one would match your dress! Henrietta will be so happy.”

Camille hurried Michelle inside, leaving me out on the street. The castle was prison enough for me; I couldn’t fathom finding anything in the stuffy, over-perfumed shops that I’d want more than a brownie from the gypsies.

But the anxiety in my chest tripled now that I stood alone in the heart of Chatham City. Perhaps coming here hadn’t been the best idea.
Chocolate,
I decided, ignoring the tense magic.
Chocolate will make this terrible mood all better.

The gypsy markets began one street over, and I peered at them through the whip of carriages and horses legs speeding past. No one would know me there, and if anyone recognized my face, they wouldn’t care. A small group of gypsies gathered in a circle, laughing and dancing with a careless disregard I envied. When I turned and gazed in the shop window, Camille had her back to me, ten different ribbons already in her hands.

Knowing I’d have time to run over, buy a treat, and come back before Camille finished, I dodged across the street. A gang of young witches nearly ran me over as they kicked a ball down the road, oblivious to the heavy traffic.

Like my friend Jackie from Miss Mabel’s, the gypsies had skin the color of caramel and hot chocolate. Their bright yellow, red, and orange silk robes were a far cry from the earthy greens and blacks I normally wore. Most of them made their living as Diviners or merchants, selling lustrous beads, gowns, and headdresses on the streets of Chatham. Their wares were expensive and garish, but strangely fascinating.

I wandered amongst the hastily constructed stalls, running my fingers over the jewelry and scarves. Some of the beads were as big as broaches. A Diviner girl with a green dot just above her right eyebrow smiled at me, making her tattoo crinkle.

“Ya like?” she asked, pointing to a broad, metallic necklace piece of gold laced with multi-colored gems. Her husky Chatham accent sounded off-kilter in comparison with the usual heavy tones of the gypsies.

“It’s very pretty,” I said. Her gaze grew troubled when we made eye contact. She took a step back, suddenly wary.

“Go,” she cried, jerking her head. “Leave!”

I obeyed but cast an uneasy glance over my shoulder as I went. Her accusing eyes followed me until I was out of sight down the way. A tent made from layers of bright green fabric caught my attention. It smelled like fresh cotton. When I peered inside, a hand shot out from between the folds of silk and grabbed my wrist. I gasped but didn’t pull away.

The wrinkled face of an old woman came into view. Her deep brown eyes appeared nearly as black as her thick hair. Wires of white ran through the tight, small curls. A flowing robe of lavender and mustard silk, stained with old sweat marks, clung to her ancient body. Candles with emerald flames burned inside the tent. My breath caught.

A Diviner.

“I pull your cards,” she said, with the clacking accent and incomplete sentences of the gypsy dialect. “Stay.”

“No.” I pulled my arm from her soft hand. My last experience with Divination at the hands of my friend Jackie, a would-be Diviner at Miss Mabel’s, had left a bad taste in my mouth. If Jackie, with her amateur skill, could detect the darkness in my heart, what would stop an experienced Diviner? Perhaps this old lady already had, just like the gypsy that demanded I leave.

“Oooh,” she crooned, her lips forming a small o. “Fear. Anxiety.”

She reached up and tapped a finger over my heart. It seemed to ping inside me like a door knocker, stirring the magic. I swallowed.

“Yes,” I said. “I don’t want to know my paths.”

The Diviner frowned.

“No?”

“No.”

Her eyebrows crashed together.

“Blind!” she whispered, but it was a sharp accusation. “You choose blindness. Fool. Fools choose blindness.”

I shifted back a step.

“I’m no fool,” I insisted, but it came out with less conviction than I’d hoped.

“Ya look at sky,” she said, motioning up with her finger and taking a deep breath through her nose, “when snakes at ya feet. Ya see? The cards say.”

My stomach lurched when I saw three cards displayed in her hand, taken from the top of the deck. The raven, the High Priestess, and the fool. Three of the cards Jackie had drawn over five months ago.

Death, mourning, and denial.

The air in the tent suddenly seemed hot and overbearing. The powers woke inside me with a roar of fear, making my fingertips tingle. The green flames of the candles flared with a gust of violent wind. The Diviner stood up, terror in her eyes that battled my own.

“Betrayer! The power in ya heart!” she screeched. “Go from us, betrayer! Go!”

Her squawks rang out through the air and I stumbled back, nearly upsetting the entire tent.

“Nan!” a voice called out. A girl rushed into the tent. “Nan, calm down.”

The horrified cries ceased and the candles died down. The girl spoke in the gypsy language, soothing her grandmother with the warm cadence of their words. Forgotten, I turned to go when I caught a glimpse of the girl’s face.

“Jackie?” I whispered.

She whirled around. Her eyes widened in disbelief when she took me in.