by E. E. Holmes
“She’s not exactly available,” I replied.
Mackie grinned. “Precisely. Anyway, I don’t think they ever vote on anything in the first day or two. It’s all policy proposals and propositions and suggested amendments and the like. I expect they will just keep pushing the voting off, until Mrs. Mistlemoore can get Catriona back into form again. They’re bound to figure out what’s wrong with her soon.”
She said this with a forced note of confidence, though her brow remained furrowed as she went back to her clipboard. A moment later an older Durupinen woman laid a hand on her elbow and leaned in to ask her something about seating arrangements, and so we left Mackie to deal with that and took our places in line.
“Hello, Jessica. Hannah,” a voice said from just over my shoulder.
Róisín and Riley Lightfoot were standing directly behind us.
“Hi, Riley. Hi, Róisín. It’s… uh… been a long time,” I said awkwardly.
I had been so intent on avoiding everyone’s gazes that I hadn’t even noticed them, and even if I had, I might have pretended not to. Róisín and Riley had both been first year Apprentices with us at Fairhaven three years before, but I couldn’t exactly call them friends. Both had belonged, by default and family association, to Peyton Clark’s elite clique. Peyton, being the spawn of Marion, was exactly as nasty as you’d expect her to be, and her clique had behaved according to her agenda. Róisín and Riley had participated, if somewhat reluctantly, in the constant campaign of humiliation and alienation that had plagued us during our first few miserable months at the castle. They had even helped Peyton and the other girls kidnap us in the middle of the night and trap us in the old ruins of the príosún hidden away in the wooded area of the grounds. Róisín had gotten cold feet when Peyton summoned the Elemental to torment us, and had abandoned the ritual hazing to go find help. If Finn and Carrick hadn’t rescued us on Róisín’s information, I cringed to think what would have happened to Hannah and me in that circle. But Róisín had refused to take credit for helping us when I tried to thank her. She was terrified that her interference on our behalf would jeopardize her social position among the other Apprentices, and so had continued to give us the cold shoulder in public. In fact, I don’t think she spoke another word to me, friendly or otherwise, until this totally unexpected hello.
It seemed the cold shoulder had melted in the intervening years, however, for Róisín gave us a warm smile and her voice, when she replied to my greeting, was friendly.
“It has been a long time. How have you both been?” she asked, as though we were old chums catching up over a nice latte and a scone.
Hannah shot me a startled look before turning back to Róisín to reply, “Fine, thanks. You?”
“Very well, thank you. We’re excited to participate this year. This is the first time both of us have been of age for an Airechtas, so it’s our first time sitting in on the sessions,” Róisín said. “Our mother will still be casting the vote, as she is on the Council, but we will be able to be a part of the process.”
“Yeah, that’s… great. I guess,” I said. What the hell else could I say? Honestly, I couldn’t be less enthused about being a part of the process. In fact, I was pretty sure it was “the process” that had royally screwed up my life over the past four years. The process, as Savvy would say, could well and truly sod off.
Róisín seemed to recognize our confusion, because her smile collapsed into a contrite expression. She sagged, dropping her eyes to her own fidgeting hands. “You probably can’t understand why I’m talking to you, particularly in light of how I behaved in the past. I know we haven’t… that is to say… I’m sorry for… I’d like to start over, if you would be amenable to that.”
Hannah and I looked at each other again. “Start over?” I repeated.
Róisín was blushing now. “Well, yes. A lot has changed since we last saw each other. That is to say, I’ve changed. Look, I never liked the way the other Apprentices treated you, but I was scared—scared that they would shut me out if I disagreed with them. Status is hard fought and easily lost around here, as you well know.” She shook her head briskly. “But that was no excuse for the way that I behaved, and I—we—want you to know how sorry we are.”
She looked over at Riley, whose expression was somewhat truculent. She did not meet our eyes, and I could tell from the sour twist of Riley’s mouth that this reconciliation had not been her idea.
Normally, I might have nursed a grudge a little longer, or at least let Róisín apologize a few more times before letting it go. But here, in the depths of the vipers’ nest, I was ready to clutch at any offer of friendship like a drowning man clutches at a life preserver. And Hannah, it seemed, felt the same way, for she piped up before I could open my mouth.
“It’s okay, Róisín,” she said. “It was a long time ago, now.”
Róisín looked at Hannah skeptically, and opened her mouth again, but I cut her off.
“Seriously. Water under the bridge,” I said, even managing a smile.
Róisín’s expression cleared at once. Riley was still frowning, fiddling with her clan sash, although it was perfectly draped over her shoulder.
“That’s brilliant. I’m so pleased, really. So, you two will be voting, then?” Róisín asked. “Or is your aunt with you?”
“No, Karen couldn’t be here,” I said. “So, unfortunately, we will be doing the voting.”
“Why unfortunately?” Róisín asked.
I started to tell her that I’d cheerfully have a root canal instead of sit through this political garbage, when a familiar voice distracted me.
“I can’t even get her out of the room! She’s gone and locked it from the inside, and she’s not answering me anymore!” Savvy was saying to Siobhán. The two of them were standing on the first landing of the grand staircase, but Savvy’s voice, even louder than usual in her aggravation, carried clearly over the entrance hall.
Siobhán was making shushing gestures with her hands, glancing around nervously. When she replied, her voice was low enough that I couldn’t make out what she was saying, though whatever it was made Savvy snort derisively.
“Really, Siobhán? You think I haven’t tried that? I’m telling you she’s not coming down!” she cried. “And if you shush me one more time, I’ll show you what loud really sounds like!”
I stepped out of line and started for the staircase, but Hannah caught my arm.
“Jess? Where are you going? The procession is about to start!” she whispered.
“I’m just going to talk to Savvy. I’ll be right back,” I said.
“But what if the line starts without you?” Hannah asked. She fidgeted nervously with her sash.
“Look, do you want to come with me, if you’re so anxious about it?” I asked her. “It’s just a line of people. I’m pretty sure we can just step right back into it if it leaves without us. It’s not a train, Hannah.”
Hannah made a face at me and followed me across to the staircase. When we reached the foot of it, we could finally hear what Siobhán was saying.
“Perhaps if Celeste or I were to go up and speak with her—”
“Be my bloody guest,” Savvy cried, throwing her hands up in the air. “If you can get her out of that room, I’ll take up abstinence.”
“From what?” Siobhán asked, smirking sardonically.
“From bloody everything!” Savvy hollered. Several people nearest the stairs craned their necks to investigate. “Mind you, she thinks you’re part of her hallucination, so if you manage to pull that one off, you’re a bleeding miracle worker, you are.”
“Sav? Everything okay?” I called softly up the steps.
Savvy spotted me and immediately turned away from Siobhán, who was still talking, and descended the steps.
“This is not what I signed up for, I’ll tell you that for free,” Savvy said as she arrived at the bottom of the staircase.
“What happened?” Hannah asked.
“It’s Frankie!
She’s still convinced she’s concocted this place inside her head. She won’t come out of her room, she won’t read any of the books we gave her, she ignores every lesson, every assignment. We even took the Wards off her bedroom and told the resident ghosts to have at it. They’re floating in and out of there morning, noon, and night, and she still won’t admit she can see them.”
“Wow, really?” I asked. “You’ve got to give her credit, she’s committed.”
Savvy snorted. “Yeah, well if she doesn’t un-commit soon, I’m gonna go round the twist. We all thought she’d come around by now, but it’s been weeks, and she hasn’t budged an inch. Siobhán’s acting like this is my fault, but no one’s pinning this on me. You can’t mentor someone who refuses to believe you exist, for fuck’s sake.” She pointed to a red mark just below her jawline. “When I went up there just now to try to coax her down, she threw a book right at my bloody head!”
“Yikes,” I said. “You okay?”
“I’ll live. Might have to kill her, though. Maybe she’ll believe in ghosts if she is one,” Savvy said, rubbing her jaw.
“Why does she need to come to the Airechtas?” I asked. “She doesn’t need to vote, does she?”
Savvy shook her head. “Nah, she and her sister don’t become an official clan until they’re initiated, and we can’t do that while she’s… well…”
“Rejecting all attempts to bring her back to reality?” I suggested.
“Yeah,” Savvy said ruefully. “I spent the last hour trying to convince Frankie to come downstairs. I gave it a go for as long as I could, but Phoebe and I have to be at the Airechtas as well.” She pointed to her own lavender sash and pulled a face. “We’re the only ones in our clan, so we can’t count on anyone else to sit through it for us. I would have made Phoebe go alone, but she’s such a moron, I doubt she’d know when to raise her hand.”
Savvy looked over her shoulder. I followed her gaze. Phoebe stood at the very back of the line. She was staring blankly into space, twisting a strand of hair around her finger and chewing on it. Poor Savvy detested being so closely tied to her cousin, whom she’d only met a handful of times during her childhood. At first, I’d thought Savvy was being too hard on Phoebe, just because Phoebe had grown up in a tiny country village, but my subsequent interactions with her had justified Savvy’s many complaints: Phoebe was, in all likelihood, the dullest person ever in the history of the world. No wonder Savvy was on a constant quest for her next irresponsible, spontaneous decision—she was just trying to balance things out.
“I can talk to Frankie later tonight, if you want,” Hannah offered. “When the Airechtas is over.”
Savvy sighed in relief. “Would you? I’d be ever so grateful. I know you mentioned it before, but I wasn’t going to pressure you, especially now that Frankie’s taken to throwing things.”
Hannah laughed lightly. “Sav, I’ve been her. Seriously, however badly she’s dealing with it, I’ve been worse. Trust me. On the meds, off the meds, in denial, in full-out panic mode, I ran the whole spectrum before Jess and Karen broke me out. I can get through to Frankie, I know I can.”
“Better wear protective headgear, then,” Savvy groaned, rubbing the mark on her face. It was just starting to bruise.
A second gong resounded through the hall, making my head ring. At the front of the line, the massive double doors of the Grand Council Room creaked slowly open.
“Good luck staying awake,” I said to Savvy over my shoulder as we rejoined the line. She grinned at me, then flipped me off. I turned back around, and gasped at the sight before me.
Even in my unenthused state, the sight of the inside of the hall took my breath away. All the candles in the ancient wooden chandeliers had been lit, casting a dancing golden light over the entire space. Long mahogany tables stood end to end across the entire length of the room, draped in gold clothes that were embroidered with a pattern of Triskeles and Celtic knots in glinting silver thread. High-backed chairs stood along the tables. A silver panel of fabric was tied to the back of each one, embroidered with the name of the clan who was to sit there. The bare stone walls were no longer visible. Instead, the many elaborate tapestries from the upper halls of the castle had been brought down and hung, so that we now seemed to be processing into a portrait gallery. Every High Priestess of the last millennium gazed regally down upon us, seeming to exert collective authority over the proceedings from beyond the Aether.
I scanned the tapestries until I found the haughty, imperial gaze of Agnes Isherwood, my own ancestor, bearing down on me. Was it naïve that I thought I could see a family resemblance in her long straight nose, her dark hair, and her wide eyes? Did I perhaps just wish I saw some of myself up there—a desperate attempt to prove to myself that I belonged here in this castle that seemed constantly to be chewing me up and spitting me out?
Agnes Isherwood wasn’t just a distant ancestor to whom time had eroded my feeble connection. She was a Seer who made the very Prophecy that had shaped the course of my life, and so many other lives as well. The Isherwood Prophecy had sown the seeds of fear amongst the Northern Clans, and those seeds had flourished and run rampant—a stifling, choking weed that had entangled many Durupinen before us, twisting and knotting them in a snare they could not escape. As I stared up into her face, I could not tell if I wanted to salute Agnes Isherwood’s image, or hold a lighter to the damn thing and watch it go up in flames.
Tearing my eyes from Agnes, I followed Hannah down the center aisle between the tables, searching as I did so for our clan name on any of the chairs. Finally, I spotted Clan Sassanaigh in the second row from the front. We slid into the aisle to stand behind the chairs, but did not yet sit, taking our cue from the many other Durupinen already standing in their assigned places.
“Do you think anyone would notice if we just grabbed a spot in the last row?” I asked Hannah, leaning in so that no one would hear me. Róisín and Riley were standing in the row directly behind us.
“This isn’t exactly an open seating situation, Jess,” Hannah hissed. “We just have to suck it up. Besides, I don’t think this meeting is going to be any shorter or any more interesting from the back row.”
“It would be if I was asleep,” I muttered, so quietly that she either didn’t hear me, or pretended not to.
As we stood behind our chairs, waiting for everyone to file into their places, I ran my fingers over the delicate silver embroidery on the chair cover. Now that I could see it up close, the sheen of the fabric was worn down in places, and a few of the seams were slightly frayed. This chair cover, with our clan name on it, was probably the oldest piece of fabric I’d ever touched. It ought to have been in a museum… well, if clandestine matriarchal societies shrouded in centuries of secrecy actually had museums.
Finally, a hush settled over the assembled rows of Durupinen as the last of the seats were filled. After a few long moments of anticipatory silence, a lone flute began to play, the sound of it filling the hall so completely that it was impossible to tell where the musician might be hiding. As the melody swelled with quintessentially Celtic tones, the members of the Council started filing in. I turned to watch their procession toward the raised benches at the head of the room, and took immediate note of their attire. I had stood before the Council a number of times, but they had always been dressed in their own street clothes. Now each wore a long gold robe, not unlike something a particularly flashy gospel choir might don, except with unusually high collars and lace-edged sleeves that draped from their wrists and trailed behind them like trains on wedding dresses. As they drew closer, I could also see that upon each head rested a delicate circlet of hammered gold leaves on a twisted vine. I knew they must be hundreds of years old, and yet it did not seem possible that something so fragile could last for so long and still be in such pristine condition. Could objects, like people, be repaired and renewed through Leeching, I found myself wondering?
Fiona stumped by me, looking bad-tempered as usual. Her circlet was slightly
askew and the hands peeking out from the sleeves of her robe were splattered with paint, as were the tips of her grubby old work boots. Several Durupinen were staring at her as she stomped past, their expressions disapproving. As she passed our row, Fiona caught my eye and gave me a wink and a grimace that quite clearly said, “Can you believe we have to participate in this arcane bullshit?” I fought against a laugh that threatened to bubble up in my throat.
The Council members filed into their places in the benches and turned to face the assembly. I realized as I listened to the music swelling that it was incomplete. The last time I’d heard music accompanying a Durupinen procession was when Hannah and I were being Initiated as our clan’s new Gateway. As we had walked to the central courtyard, nervously clutching our candles, a flute and a violin had serenaded us. That violin had been played hauntingly by none other than Catriona; now, it was the absence of her playing that was haunting. Equally haunting was the gaping hole in the Council formation, where Catriona ought to have been standing at that moment.
A military drum began to pound a steady rhythm and the Caomhnóir trooped into the room in tight marching formation. They were outfitted in their formal uniforms, each draped with the sash of the clan they were sworn to protect. I could just glimpse Finn’s stoic face in the fourth row, his chest thrown out as though it could barely contain the deep-seated pride he felt for his duty. I smothered the fluttery feeling he set off in my stomach and the smile that was trying to tug at the corners of my mouth; surrounded by the entirety of the Northern Clans was probably not the best place to betray my forbidden relationship with Finn.
The Caomhnóir split off and filed into two long lines, one on either side of the Grand Council Room, so that they seemed to be standing guard over the tapestries along the walls above their heads. As the last Caomhnóir assumed their posts, the final beat of the drum struck, echoing through the room so that the silence that followed it seemed almost oppressive. Then the doors to the hall opened again and Finvarra entered to renewed melodies from the flute.
