by E. E. Holmes
I hesitated again. “It’s . . . it’s going to sound rude.”
Róisín rolled her eyes. “Jessica, I once helped kidnap you in the dead of night in a hazing ritual that could have killed you. Whatever you have to say, I think you’re owed the right to say it without worrying that I may be offended.”
I smirked. “Good point. Well, it’s just that you’re talking about our opponents like they are these separate, foreign entities, but . . . well, your mother is right in Marion’s inner circle, isn’t she? Don’t you think she and—by extension, you—should be counted amongst those opponents?”
Róisín didn’t look offended at all. “A year ago, I would have agreed with you. But friendships like my mother’s and Marion’s are based on alliances and advantages, not affection. Marion’s influence is fading, struggle as she may to wield it as she once did. I think her involvement in your attack, however indirect, was a turning point for my mother.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Oh, yes. In fact, that’s why I’m here,” Róisín said and, with a deep breath, held out a wax-sealed envelope I recognized at once.
“Holy shit,” I gasped, reaching my hand out for it.
“I gather from your colorful reaction that you know what this is,” Róisín said, grinning rather broadly now.
“Yeah, I . . . we’ve seen a few of these already,” I said vaguely. I wasn’t sure what the rules were regarding telling people about pledges from other clans. If Hannah were indeed building some kind of momentum, I didn’t want to be the one to screw it up.
“I don’t know what you intend to do with the other pledges you get, but this one is rather valuable. I’d hang on to it, if I were you,” Róisín said, and there was an edge of clan pride in her voice that she couldn’t quite suppress.
I just nodded, reluctant to let her see just how ignorant of this upcoming election I really was.
“I feel obligated to warn you that this is a purely political maneuver on my mother’s part,” Róisín said, looking down at the pledge and frowning. “You shouldn’t expect a sudden surge of acceptance or friendliness from the senior clans. They aren’t looking to be chums, and both you and Hannah would have a long road of proving yourselves should you manage to pull off a victory. But you do have real supporters as well, and I count myself among them. My mother and I are not the same person. I love and respect her, but she holds prejudices and grudges that prevent her from seeing clearly, sometimes. She looks so diligently for the value in political connections that I think she sometimes fails to see the far deeper value in personal ones.”
She was looking at me expectantly, so I replied, “I agree with you. I just didn’t expect any members of current Council families to feel that way.”
Róisín waved a hand airily. “You mustn’t lump all of us together, Jess. I personally feel there is quite a disconnect between our mothers’ generation and our own. We don’t cling to politics and history the way they do.”
I arched a single, sardonic eyebrow, and Róisín blushed a little.
“You probably think I have quite a bit of nerve, making a statement like that. We were all terrible to you when you arrived here for Apprentice training. But a lot has changed since then. Even Peyton has come a long way in seeing the damage her mother’s blind ambition caused. I mean, my goodness, just look at their entire clan. They’re in utter disgrace. And the rest of us were lucky to escape with our lives when the Necromancers came. Some Durupinen will always focus on what could have happened, but many of us choose to focus on what did happen: you and your sister saved us that day. You saved the entire Gateway system. And then with the Shattering—my mother might still be a Host if it weren’t for you and your sister discovering the identity of the Shattered spirit. We ought to be thanking you, not punishing you.”
I finally shook off enough of my shock to smile at her. “Thank you, Róisín. Seriously, it means a lot to hear you say that. To hear anyone say that, really.”
“You’re welcome. And please do share my words with your sister. I was hoping to catch her, but she must be out. No one answered the door,” Róisín said.
“She’s in Karen’s rooms, I think, preparing for the speech,” I said.
“Oh, of course. She must be quite nervous. Well, please tell her that I, for one, look very much forward to hearing what she has to say.”
“I’ll tell her. I know she’ll be grateful to hear it,” I said.
At that moment, a cloud outside shifted and a ray of sunlight shot through the nearby window, casting rainbow sparkles onto the walls around us. I looked down and saw that the light had fallen directly on Róisín’s left hand, where an enormous diamond glittered on a delicate gold band.
“Oh, my God!” I exclaimed.
“What?” Róisín asked, looking alarmed.
“I . . . sorry, I just noticed your ring,” I said, pointing unnecessarily as the offending jewelry sent another glimmer of multicolored lights shooting off across the wall.
Róisín looked down in surprise and then back up at me, a relieved half-smile on her face. “Is that all? I thought you’d spotted something terrifying!”
“I did,” I said without thinking.
“What?” Róisín asked frowning in confusion.
“Nothing, nothing,” I said. “It just surprised me, that’s all. It’s beautiful. Is it . . . are you engaged?”
“Oh, yes,” Róisín said with a smile as dazzling as her ring. “Last summer. The wedding is this June.”
“Wow,” I said, trying to look delighted instead of horrified. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Róisín gushed. “I’ll be very glad to have the wedding over and done with. It’s been a good deal of work and planning, and my mother has been insufferable. You’ve seen how she can be in Council meetings. Just imagine trying to have a say when she’s in charge of planning an event.”
I just nodded, attempting to look politely interested, but Róisín smirked at me.
“You look like you’re going to be ill,” she said with a little laugh.
I smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m . . . I guess I’m not in the marriage frame of mind yet. I’m still usually living on ramen and pretending to be an adult.”
“Oh, I see,” Róisín said. “Of course, you haven’t grown up in a traditional Durupinen atmosphere. I expect this seems rather young to be married to you, doesn’t it?”
“Isn’t it?” I asked hesitantly.
“Not for a Durupinen, no,” Róisín said, looking surprised. “I’m one of the last of my circle to be married. Peyton married two summers ago, and Olivia was married last winter.”
I gaped at her. “But . . . you’re all the same age as me, aren’t you?” I asked blankly.
“Yes,” Róisín sighed. “Twenty-two. Practically an old maid in Durupinen terms.”
For some reason, I was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic. “Is this one of those ancient traditions you all cling to?” I asked.
Róisín looked puzzled again, but then laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, of course. You weren’t here for the whole second year of training, were you? And I expect Karen didn’t subject you to the social grooming aspect of Durupinen life under her instruction.”
“Social grooming?” I repeated blankly. The walls were closing in on me.
“Oh, yes,” Róisín said, and she suddenly took on a very businesslike tone, like she was pitching a presentation to a board room. “Obviously, it was a priority from the earliest days to make sure that the Gateways were passed down from mother to daughter through the clans. It was a mark of distinction to produce your clan’s next Gateway, and a particular accomplishment to produce both Passage and Key.”
“Produce?” I said, and my voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel. “You’re talking about . . . pregnancy?”
“Of course,” Róisín said. “Every clan wanted to ensure the continuation of their calling, and so producing the next Gateway was app
roached with the same fervor as monarchs felt to produce the next heir to the throne. Although, Durupinen value female offspring rather than male offspring. Of course, the optimum window for having healthy children really is so small that it makes perfect sense to start early. And when there are lots of girls in your family, a little healthy competition helps to move things along as well. I don’t want Riley getting all the glory.” She winked. “Mother’s been insufferable about it. I expect she’ll be throwing baby clothes at me instead of rice as I walk up the aisle.”
I think I laughed at the joke, but I couldn’t be sure. I was too busy fighting against a sensation that I was falling down a deep, dark hole.
“It was more difficult to find a suitable partner in previous centuries because of all of the rules about total secrecy and whatnot. Now, at least there are accommodations that can be made if your spouse finds out about your calling. And of course, the Council offers excellent scouting services, so that makes finding a suitable partner that much easier.”
“What are scouting services?” I asked, my mouth very dry.
Róisín snorted. “It’s a ridiculous title, isn’t it? Really, it’s just a glorified matchmaking operation. But the older clans often avail themselves of the scouting services just for the sake of convenience. And honestly, who wouldn’t want to have the option of having their future prospects pre-screened for suitability? I, for one, found it to be very handy. Goodness knows that dating is difficult enough without wondering what kind of riff-raff you might be getting involved with. I knew Jeremy had all the qualities I was looking for—gorgeous, wealthy family, athletic, excellent job—before I ever even had to meet him.”
“Wow, that’s . . . great for you,” I said with barely concealed distaste.
“Of course, scouting goes far beyond that. With the benefit of the Trackers, any match made through scouting has been background checked, health-screened, and even been put through full behavioral and psychological analysis,” Róisín said. It sounded as though she wanted to impress me, but my face obviously suggested that her efforts were fruitless. “You needn’t look so horrified, Jess. Why let any of those factors be nasty surprises later in life if you can avoid them? I mean, honestly, wouldn’t you rather know?”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, not even really paying attention to what I was agreeing to. My brain was too busy trying to process what I was hearing.
“I’m surprised you haven’t heard of scouting before, what with your role in the Trackers,” Róisín said, looking genuinely surprised. “I believe collecting information for scouting is a fairly sizeable portion of the workload for them.”
“No one ever mentioned it,” I said, starting to feel a dull anger spreading through my body, waking up my shocked sensibilities. “I assure you, it wasn’t in my job description or I wouldn’t have taken the job.”
Róisín threw her head back and laughed. “Oh honestly, Jessica, you needn’t look so shocked. Surely, you’ve been around the Durupinen long enough to realize how we cling to tradition, and to our power. Scouting is just another tool that helps us to do that. Disastrous marriages and tainted gene pools were very real threats in centuries past. Now we have a better chance than anyone of finding lasting success in our marriages.”
“I’m not even sure I want to get married,” I said.
Róisín raised her eyebrows. “Why ever not?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It seems very . . . restrictive. And permanent.”
Róisín laughed. “Good heavens, you make it sound like a prison sentence.”
“If the metaphor fits . . .” I muttered under my breath as she continued to giggle at me. I had never been witness to a proper marriage growing up with just my mom, and I’d never lived in one place long enough to watch anyone else’s marriage function for any meaningful amount of time. I’d grown used to the idea of people as independent beings, fending for themselves, looking out for their autonomy in a world determined to snatch it from them, either by dire happenstance or insidious social construct.
Okay, there was definitely a good chance that I was the one screwed up here, not Róisín.
Róisín patted me on the arm, pulling me out of my internal self-analysis. “Well, do try to rein in your horror. No one is going to force you into matrimony. But for those of us who choose it,” she smiled and flashed her ring at me again, “the assistance of scouting is much appreciated. It’s like having a personal shopper for dating.”
“Yeah. I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the tip,” I muttered darkly. “I, uh . . . I’m going to see how Hannah’s doing with that speech. I’ll see you later. Congratulations again.”
§
I flung the door to Karen’s room open so hard that Karen leapt up from her seat and Milo vanished on the spot. Hannah yelped and the speech she was rehearsing fluttered to the floor at her feet.
“Jess? What is it? What’s wrong?” Hannah asked breathlessly.
“Scouting,” I said, without further illumination. Hannah just stared at me blankly, having clearly never heard of it before. Milo popped back into form, cursing under his breath. Karen, however, looked up at the ceiling as though praying for patience.
“What about it?” Karen asked calmly.
“What about it? What about it?” I cried. “Uh, well, it exists, how about that for a start?”
“What is scouting?” Milo asked tentatively, as though not really sure he wanted to risk the explosion that might come with further explanation.
“It is a Durupinen tradition of matchmaking. It was customary many years ago to match young Durupinen with suitable men that gave us the best chance of maintaining our secrecy and carrying on the Gateways within the established clans. Some of the older clans still participate in it,” Karen explained.
Hannah looked from Karen to me as though she had missed something. “Okay. And . . . that’s bad?”
“Well, not when you say it like that!” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. Where the hell was everyone else’s righteous feminist anger, for heaven’s sake? “It’s basically arranged marriages! You expect that kind of thing hundreds of years ago, I guess, but not in the twenty-first century. Not with people we know! Did you know that Róisín is engaged?”
Hannah looked mildly interested. “Oh, no, I didn’t. That’s nice.”
“Nice? Are you . . . what are you even . . . she’s barely twenty-two!”
Hannah shrugged. “I guess that’s kind of younger than average. But she’s an adult, Jess. It’s not like anyone’s forcing her, is it?”
“Well, no, but . . . it’s cultural, Hannah! It’s encouraged! Just like the Caomhnóir are running around as kids learning that Durupinen are evil temptresses, Durupinen girls are being told on their mother’s knee that their biggest goal in life should be to marry and mate for the good of the clan! Apparently, Peyton and Olivia are both already married. Róisín actually called herself an ‘old maid!’ At twenty-two!”
Hannah’s face fell. “Okay, that’s a little weird.”
“Damn right, it is! And it gets worse! She was going on and on about how the point was to produce the next Gateway!”
Hannah’s eyes grew wide. “Produce . . . ?”
“Yes!” I said, happy to see a little of my own horror finally reflected on another face. “I mean, what kind of dystopian, anti-feminist fuckery have we landed ourselves in? Here I am, soothing myself with all of this bullshit about how this is a matriarchal society, and women are in charge, and wow, isn’t that refreshing. Aren’t I lucky to be born into a sisterhood that, if nothing else, acknowledges the power of women? And doesn’t that sort of make up for the constant hauntings and the overbearing male protectors? And all the while, there’s this cultural practice of marrying us off and knocking us up as soon as we can breed just to ensure the continuation of the Gateways?”
Karen put her hands up. “Jess, you’re getting a little over-dramatic here.”
“I’ve never been over-dramatic in my life!” I s
hrieked.
“Oh, honey,” Milo cooed, patting my shoulder so that it tingled with cold. “If you’d only been alive for the last five minutes, that still wouldn’t be a true statement.”
“I understand what you’re so upset about,” Karen jumped in before I could turn my anger on Milo. “Scouting is a ridiculous practice. In fact, that’s the reason I never mentioned it to you. I knew you would find it as ridiculous and antiquated as I did. I refused flat out to participate when I was in training here, as did your mother. And believe me, in our family, that was tantamount to mutiny. After all, your grandmother met and married your grandfather as a result of a scouting match. If it weren’t for scouting, none of us would even be here.”
“Oh, God, I think I’m going to throw up,” I said.
“Please don’t,” Milo suggested, floating several feet further away from me.
Karen smirked at me. “Your mom and I felt the same way. Your grandmother was beside herself with anger when we both refused the scouting services.”
I gaped at Karen. “They actually tried to rope you and Mom into this insanity?”
“Oh yes,” Karen said with a wry smile. “But Mother underestimated our father’s influence over his girls.”
“What do you mean?” Hannah asked.
“Your grandfather was a lot of things. He was quiet and stubbornly set in his ways. He was devoutly religious, and that often made him intractable on issues of morality. But he was also a great lover of books and learning, and unlike many men of his generation, he did not believe that education was a privilege reserved for boys. He instilled a fierce work ethic and drive in both your mother and me. Your grandmother didn’t mind at first, as we could apply that work ethic anywhere in life, including to our Durupinen calling. But she didn’t count on how it would stoke our professional ambitions. At eighteen, she found her two daughters gunning for ivy league schools, not diamond rings. I need hardly say she was less than pleased.”
“What did she do?” I asked, momentarily forgetting to yell.
