by Casey Bond
“What stipulations?”
“The first is that you will not marry or accept any proposals that Prince Tauren might offer.”
That would be simple enough. Prince Tauren, as enchanted as he might be with my abilities, would never – could never – take a witch to be his wife.
“And the second?” I asked.
“You will hand-fast to a male witch promptly upon your return to Thirteen.”
“Unless my stay extends beyond the Solstice, you mean.” Which was exactly what I would attempt to ensure happened.
“No,” he said. “The Circle has agreed to make an exception for you. You are to hand-fast upon your return to Thirteen, though you are free to approach whatever male you’d like for the honor of being your chosen mate for the duration of your time together. Your union would end at the subsequent Solstice, though.”
I had enough to worry about with the Prince, the invitation, and my new House. Grandmother Ela knew this would make me dread returning here, and she was right. But I was seventeen. Perhaps this would not only be my first, but my only opportunity to hand-fast.
Courier Stewart shifted his weight on his feet as he pretended to watch the birds that plucked worms from the yard and flew to the tree limbs above to gobble them down.
“I accept the invitation,” I said. The moment the words left my mouth, Fate released his grip on me and I took several restorative breaths.
Courier Stewart, who’d politely been pretending not to listen to our conversation, turned to me. “Have you gathered what you’d like to take with you, Miss Sable?”
Beyond the Courier, I saw two men hefting a large trunk onto the back of a carriage. Four more waited for them. They were discussing how to arrange them. “Whose trunks are those?”
Mira clapped her hands together, wringing them with a look of pent-up excitement on her lips. “Mine. I am to dress you.”
“Dress me?”
“Oh, yes. Bay insists you represent us in style,” she beamed.
Why would Bay care how I dressed?
Her eyes traveled from my head to my toes, causing her nose to wrinkle. “You aren’t planning to wear that, are you?”
I looked down, smoothing my fingertips over the simple fabric of the best dress I owned.
She waved me off. “I have just the thing.” Mira ran down the steps and threw open one of the trunks that hadn’t been moved. She rifled around inside and pulled something out. Something poufy. Then she plucked out a pair of matching heels.
Royalty might require poufy, but, “I prefer my boots!” I yelled to her.
“Oh, no you don’t,” she replied breezily, jogging back up the steps. She shoved the pair of shiny heels into my hands. “Trust me.”
Clutching the shoes against my chest with one hand, Mira used the other to pull me farther into the house, dragging me into the first bedroom we came to, and swiftly helped me change. The girl was a small tornado of energy.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror and sucked in a breath. “This is beautiful.” I wore an impeccably tailored, black riding jacket that fell to my hips in the front, but cascaded to the backs of my thighs in the back. Underneath, layers of white ruffles spilled down in soft waves. Mira had added a pair of tight, black pants, and when I slid my feet into the perfectly fitted heels, she squealed and clapped her hands.
“You are so beautiful! You don’t even need make-up, and your hair is like silk,” she fawned, combing her fingers through the strands and placing them over my shoulders. “You look like you already belong at the palace.”
I gave her a look of warning. I belonged in this House.
I wasn’t going for some silly, romantic reason. I was going to help the Prince, to find out who wanted him dead and hopefully prevent their plan from coming to fruition. Nothing more. Didn’t the Circle explain that to her?
Mira said she’d give me a minute to center myself and left the room. Why did Mira make such garments, and for whom? They fit me perfectly, as did the shoes. I wiggled my toes in the pointed tips and twisted my leg to see the back. Situated on the heel was a thin, silver dagger. Most would assume it was merely decorative, but it looked real. I slid the small blade from the sheath built into the heel, grateful that Mira had armed me.
Glancing at my discarded dress on the floor, I immediately felt better that she was coming along. She was far more adept with current fashions than I was. If she watched the royals on the telecaster, she’d know how I needed to look to fit in, and fitting in was the only way I would be able to remain at the palace long enough for Fate to reveal the would-be murderer.
The wishbone revealed that Tauren would die, but it didn’t reveal exactly how. I couldn’t sense the person behind the malice yet. And until I did, I would have to join the gaggle of moony-eyed girls vying for a scrap of the Prince’s attention.
I smoothed a hand down my stomach, glancing at the mirror and admiring the way I looked in the coat and pondering whether it or the heels were my favorite.
What…? My breath caught. For a moment, I could’ve sworn my reflection shifted. I blinked, then waved my hand in front of my body and watched the mirrored me move the same way. Shaking off the strange sensation, I turned and headed toward the door to join the others.
In the living room, Brecan waited with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cloak. He turned at the sound of my heels clicking on the wooden floor and his eyes widened. His mouth parted, and he sucked in a breath before quickly schooling his features. “Are you ready? Your trunk has been loaded. Though I’m not sure the horses will be able to pull us and all our luggage,” he laughed.
“You don’t have to escort me, Brecan. I know it’s awkward.”
He dropped his head. “It doesn’t have to be. I volunteered to escort and protect you. Ela demanded a male witch go, to send a strong message that we stick with our own.”
It would send no such message since I already accepted the Prince’s invitation, but of course my grandmother had to push her will on me in some way. I just hoped Brecan understood that I still wouldn’t choose him to be hand-fasted to when I returned.
“What if we aren’t back by the Solstice? You want to hand-fast this year.”
“It can wait. This is more important,” he answered.
“How is Ela?” I dared ask.
“Quite frail, Sable. If you wish to see her…”
“It would only upset her. I just… I wonder why she’s aging so quickly.”
“I spoke with Wayra, and she explained it. You are of age, Sable, flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood, and the magic that has sustained her for so long has passed to you.”
“Are you saying that she’s dying because my power matured?” Brecan gave a gentle nod. That was exactly what he was saying. Though my grandmother and I shared no affinity, the harsh reality of magic was that it followed its own rules and demanded much from those to whom it was gifted.
I steeled my shoulders. There was nothing I could do to stop the course of nature now that the path had been established. Ela would have to endure her decline until death came for her, and I could not do a single thing about it – not even if I stayed in The Gallows. Not that Fate would allow it, at this point.
“Thank you for volunteering. I’m sure they would have had to order it of any other male.”
He snorted. “On the contrary. I was the first to volunteer, but hardly the only one.” He pointed outside where Courier Stewart waited patiently near the carriage. “They’re ready if you are.”
I grabbed the invitation and letter off a nearby table and tucked them into the pocket of my coat. Whispering a spell, I stepped onto the porch behind him and closed the door, sealing the House until I returned.
It wasn’t until I started down the steps that I saw everyone. Every witch, male and female, from every House, stood in the Center, gawking at me. They
watched as Brecan helped me into the carriage and climbed up after me, taking the seat beside Mira. She beamed to her sisters and brothers of the House of Water, waving to them as Courier Stewart climbed into the carriage and took the seat beside me. His men on horseback flanked us.
He gave the command to take us to the palace. As the carriage lurched forward, I saw something different in the eyes of my peers. Awe mixed with a touch of envy.
Ela and Wayra, Bay and Ethne stood in the middle of the crowd of witches, obvious alliances forged and lines drawn, with a different warning flashing in each of their eyes. Fate calmed my boiling blood, and the feeling that I was doing the right thing washed over me.
As the horses trotted, tugging us along the trail that led into the woods toward the border, the murmur of every witch in Thirteen melded together. The witches were excited to see one of their own leave for the palace – even if it was me. But I doubted the people of the lower sectors would be so quickly accepting of the Prince inviting a witch into the heart of their kingdom.
In the Kingdom of Nautilus, trade and travel among the lower twelve sectors was permitted. Citizens came and went as they pleased, as long as they checked in and out through the border walls. Thirteen was the exception to that rule.
Witches could pass to and from Thirteen with no issue, but no one from the Lowers was allowed into The Gallows unless it was one of our renowned celebration days. There were only two exceptions: the royal family, or former subjects exiled by the King, who were removed beyond Thirteen’s borders into the wild lands.
Those two groups were periodically granted passage through Thirteen, with the caveat that anyone who entered Thirteen was subject to our laws and the penalties attached to them. Most of the exiles behaved, choosing a life in the wild lands over swinging from the gallows.
The border to each sector was walled, typically using natural materials mined from within its borders. Our border lay just on our sector’s side of the Kingdom’s official wall that separated Twelve from Thirteen.
Man-made walls weren’t impenetrable and could be brought down, given enough force, whereas Thirteen’s could not. Our wall wasn’t comprised of stone and mortar, or crafted of thick pine from our forests. It was spelled by the Circle, shimmering with the magic collected within it. To protect those within, Grandmother would say.
When I needed anything from the lower sectors – and it was rare that I did – Brecan would retrieve what I needed. I had never set foot out of Sector Thirteen. As our carriage crossed the magical border, the spell sparked in the air, allowing us to pass freely, even as it made the hair on my arms stand up. I reveled in the intensity of it and couldn’t help but scoot closer to the window to better see out.
When we reached the concrete wall belonging to Twelve, we paused until the gates rolled open. I wondered if the King’s men felt the same spark I had, or if they felt it every time they passed into The Gallows. I wondered if it scared them.
Courier Stewart sat rigidly to my left. If he felt anything at all, he didn’t comment about it. He kept his eyes trained forward, looking past Brecan and Mira. He hadn’t moved an inch in miles, so when he spoke, it startled me. “The Kingdom of Nautilus is arranged like its namesake, a nautilus’s shell. Do you know the creature?”
“I do.” Every witch could appreciate the complexity and beauty of the nautilus, not to mention the fact it was a required ingredient to a few of the more intense spells I knew, and probably many others I didn’t.
He gave an approving nod. “The palace is located at the center, and the sectors spiral out from it in ever-increasing waves. The first four are the smallest, but densest in population. As they are closest to the palace, they house the most affluent and influential persons in the Kingdom. A great deal of the Royal Guard is also stationed within the first four. The sectors begin to spread out from there, and each grows larger as the spiral expands to Sectors Five through Twelve. Twelve is best known for the timber industry. Nine, Ten, and Eleven for farming. They produce goods the Kingdom requires. Seven and Eight are filled with factories, and Five and Six are best known for their artwork. You’ll find painters, writers, chefs, and sculptors there. Both Five and Six are very beautiful and worth visiting if you have the chance.”
He watched me carefully in his periphery.
“Are Five and Six your favorites?” I intuited.
“They certainly are, Miss Sable. I’m fairly sure they’re everyone’s favorites.”
“What are you permitted to tell me about the royal family?” I asked. I didn’t know nearly enough. I hadn’t even recognized Prince Tauren when he sat in my living room.
Brecan shifted in his seat. He and Mira watched for Courier Stewart’s reply.
“They care very deeply about their kingdom, and have my utmost respect, Miss.”
Stewart glared at Brecan until he finally looked away. Did something transpire between the men before Brecan and Mira delivered the Circle’s decision?
His conversational skills depleted, Courier Stewart stopped talking after that. I watched as Sector Twelve, with its towering stacks of felled and stripped trees, along with mills and the smell of pine and sawdust faded away. Eleven, Ten, and Nine were a patchwork quilt of fields, most of which had already been harvested; the similarity of vegetation made it difficult to tell the sectors apart. I was sure they grew different things, but the earth had been stripped and turned. The smells of fresh grass, manure, and rich soil pervaded the air.
Eight and Seven were filled with enormous metal buildings and concrete towers that shot into the sky. Some spouted clouds. Others breathed perpetual flame.
These sectors were loud with machinery churning violently and steadily. They were also the worst smelling, with sharp, indistinguishably unpleasant scents emanating from each factory. Some of the scents burnt my nose. I was glad when we neared the sector’s wall.
Six… Six took my breath away. Even the wall encasing it had been painted in vibrant shades and scenes. Murals captured humanity and nature alike, including the most miniscule details. Other sections were abstract and strangely beautiful.
Five was more elegant and formal, showcasing a classic beauty. Its streets were lined with statue after statue; so lifelike, I thought they were watching us pass. The bridges were masterfully erected, bowing with elegant lines swooping over wide, shallow rivers and deeper, narrow canals. Flowers hung from every post, spilling lush petals onto the streets and sidewalks.
Before we left the sector, I got to see an artisan at work. His brow was sweaty and his muscles strained beneath his short-sleeved shirt as he chiseled away at a chunk of granite that stood three times taller than he did.
I didn’t get to see nearly enough of Five or Six. I looked to Courier Stewart as we left the beauty behind us and were pulled into Four. “You were right.”
He inclined his head and offered a small smile. “I’m glad you enjoyed passing through. You could spend a lifetime in each of those sectors and never tire of their beauty, nor see all the treasures hidden within. There is constantly something new being created.”
“It’s a wonder they’re not the most densely populated.”
“They’re the most visited,” he confirmed. At least that much was unsurprising.
Four passed much faster than the others had. There were buildings stacked next to buildings, rising high into the sky; rooftops were the only places large enough for gardens and small trees to grow. Three and Two were smaller still, with sleek, glassy buildings climbing even higher into the heavens. I could barely see the rooftops from the carriage window, but there was no green to be seen there. Only steel and metal and glass.
And One, I almost missed altogether. It was more a neighborhood than a sector, and the homes closest to the palace were enormous. Their yards were impeccably manicured, their gardens immaculate. They were what I envisioned a palace to look like. So, when Courier Stewart announced
that we had arrived, Brecan, Mira, and I craned our necks to see where the royals lived, and where we would temporarily reside.
The palace was nothing short of breathtaking. The stone encasing it was a pale pink. The entire, magnificent structure glittered in the distance, set on a knoll and surrounded by the most luxuriant, green grass I’d ever seen. The Earth witches would be in heaven here.
And the witches of Air… the bright blue sky stretched on for miles. Brecan studied it, his eyes catching on every wispy cloud. There were no trees in the yards closest to the palace, but there was plenty of woodland. The palace was a city unto itself, a glittery star in a vast sky. Not even the homes and buildings in surrounding sectors could be seen in the distance.
“Wow,” Mira breathed, scooting closer to the window.
Even Brecan was transfixed. The palace’s scale could not be appreciated from so far away, but as the horses trotted nearer, it seemed to grow taller and expand. Rows of perfect steps swept up to a pair of grand, white doors, taller than ten men.
The driver yelled, “Whoa,” and the horses slowed their pace, then stopped.
Two waiting guards opened the carriage door, and I accepted one of their hands as I climbed down.
Courier Stewart exited next and announced me. “Arriving is Miss Sable, from Sector Thirteen.”
Brecan cleared his throat.
“And her companions,” amended the courier.
Brecan and Mira exited the carriage.
“She travels light,” one of the guards joked, glancing at the pile of trunks on the small platform behind the carriage itself.
I couldn’t help but smile at him. He tugged at his collar and cleared his throat, looking away.
Courier Stewart gestured toward the immense palace door. “If you will allow me to see you inside, Miss Sable.”
“Thank you.”
Brecan and Mira fell in step behind us as we ascended the layers and layers of steps, climbing toward the first floor of the mountainous palace. For a second, I felt like a parcel being delivered. In a way, I was.
