Heart of the Rebellion

by E. E. Holmes

  “And voilà!” Milo said, and he flipped his hands toward Savvy’s hair, as though we were a studio audience and she was the prize behind door number three. “And there we have it. A hairstyle befitting a woman who chops off her hair with a sword like a badass warrior goddess.”

  Savvy snorted. “A warrior goddess? A nutter who’s lost her bloody mind, more like, but I’ll take it. Cheers, mate,” she added, grinning at Milo.

  The haircut really was fabulous. Milo had cropped closely to Savvy’s head on one side, and then sharply angled the other side into an ultra-chic angled bob that ended in a curl at her jawline. He had also done something with the color. Her hair was still red, but there were these vivid streaks of purple peeking out from underneath the top strands. They caught the light when she turned her head. Savvy’s hair had been a main of ginger curls that stretched halfway down her back since I’d met her, but somehow, as I looked at her with this new style, it seemed as though it were the haircut she was always meant to have. Milo was right. It suited her perfectly.

  “How did you do that with the color?” Hannah asked, still looking mystified and yet impressed.

  “I have my sources,” Milo said, winking. Then, he leaned in toward me, and said in a stage whisper, “By the way, you’re out of purple hair dye.”

  “Good to know,” I said, returning his wink. “In this one instance, I one-hundred-percent approve of you stealing my stuff.”

  Milo smirked. “I knew you would,” he said.

  I turned back to Savvy, and said, in a quiet voice, “We were all really worried about you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Savvy didn’t quite meet my eye, and her smile faltered. “I don’t rightly know,” she said. “I think maybe I will be, but for now… well, I’m just going to get along as best I can. That’s all any of us can do, right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. That really is the best any of us can do.”

  “It really is good to see you, Savvy,” Hannah said, smiling gently.

  “It’s good to be seen, mate,” Savvy said, returning the smile a bit reluctantly. “Sorry, I freaked out there for a bit.”

  Mackie was shaking her head. “There’s no need to apologize, mate. We’ve all been there. Look at me. I’m an Empath. My entire life is basically getting run over by a truckload of other people’s emotions every few minutes. I try to bear up, but it doesn’t always work. Sometimes I win, most times not.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Everyone at this table has dealt with their fair share of overwhelming situations. More than our fair share, I’d say.”

  “A table full of emotional wrecks,” Mackie said, nodding solemnly.

  “Damaged goods,” Hannah said cottoning on and adopting a somber tone. “Dysfunctional beyond repair, the lot of us.”

  “We really should consider just turning ourselves in for scrap,” Milo added cheerfully. “Between the five of us, we might be able to cobble together a single functioning human being.”

  Savvy looked around the table at us, and her sad smile widened as some of her pain fell away. “Cheers, you lot. Now, what are you all doing in here, anyway?”

  Hannah pushed a copy of her research toward Savvy. “Trying to make a case for the abolishment of this archaic arrangement between Durupinen and Caomhnóir.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Savvy said slowly. “I think Jess told me about this. Didn’t you? When I was… less than sober last night?”

  “Yup,” I confirmed.

  “And you think this will… will change things?” Savvy asked, looking skeptically at the stacks and stacks of books we had piled on the table.

  “I think it’s the best chance we have,” Hannah told her solemnly.

  Savvy let out a long low whistle. “If you say so, half-pint. Chuck us a book, then. Let’s get to work.”

  §

  “Hannah, why don’t you take a break for a little while?” I suggested.

  After a headache-inducing afternoon of research, Hannah and I found ourselves back in our room, but rather than leaving the books and reams of notes in the library, Hannah had forced me to lug them back with us to the room.

  “I just have one more section to get through,” she murmured, not even bothering to look up at me. She had a pencil clenched between her teeth, and she was gnawing on it thoughtfully.

  “There’s always one more section to get through, Hannah,” I said. “You’re only human. You need to step back once in a while or you’re going to burn out.”

  Hannah sat up and rubbed at her eyes. “Okay,” she sighed. “You’re right, I know it.”

  “I hope everyone on the Council appreciates how much work you do,” I said. “Honestly, Fiona can barely be bothered to keep herself conscious during Council meetings, and you’ve singlehandedly scoured all of Durupinen written history.”

  Hannah gave a wan smile. “Don’t exaggerate.”

  “Okay, half of Durupinen written history,” I amended.

  “So, do you remember yesterday at breakfast when I mentioned the idea of getting a Caomhnóir to co-sponsor my legislation?”

  “Sure,” I said, having not the vaguest recollection of such a thing.

  “Well, Keira gave me a suggestion for someone I might ask but… I don’t know. I felt weird about it.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Who is it?”

  “His name is Kiernan Worthington,” Hannah said. “Do you know him?”

  “No, but that’s not surprising,” I said. “I don’t know most of the Caomhnóir around here.”

  “Well, he’s a recently graduated Novitiate,” Hannah said, twirling the chewed-up pencil between her fingers. “I guess, when it came time for him to be granted an assignment, he petitioned the Council to opt out of guardianship and become a Scribe.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Opt out of guardianship? That’s… not a thing, is it?”

  “No, it’s not,” Hannah confirmed. “And there has never been a Caomhnóir Scribe before. The Council didn’t know what to make of his request, and wound up assigning him as security for the Scribes when they travel with important documents and artifacts. It seemed to be their way of trying to accommodate his request.”

  “Except they kind of ignored it, didn’t they?” I pointed out.

  “Well, yes. Anyway, because Kiernan showed a vested interest in widening the roles and opportunities for Caomhnóir, and because reportedly he put a great deal of time and research into his request, Keira thought he would be an ideal candidate to co-sponsor my work.”

  I nodded, impressed. “Sounds like she’s absolutely right. So, why do you look so hesitant about it?”

  “Well…” Hannah let the pencil fall into her lap with a sigh. “Kiernan is Lucida’s nephew.”

  My mouth fell open. “You’re joking!”

  Hannah shrugged. “I wish I were.”

  “Damn,” I said with a long sigh. “No wonder you’re hesitating.”

  “But that’s silly, right?” Hannah asked. “I mean, I can’t hold his aunt’s actions against him. That would be as unfair as everyone punishing us for our mom’s mistakes. I can’t refuse to work with him just because of who he’s related to.”

  “That’s a good point,” I agreed. “Just look at me. I spend half my life working with Catriona now, and no one was closer to Lucida than her.”

  “Exactly,” Hannah said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself much more than she was trying to convince me. “So… so I should just find him, right? Introduce myself? Tell him about the project?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I think you should. And just because you talk to the guy doesn’t mean you have to work with him. Just feel him out. You’ll know if he’s the right person for the job.”

  Hannah looked pensive again. She didn’t commit either way, but gave me a grateful smile. “Thanks, Jess. I’ll think about it.”

  A sudden buzzing noise made me glance around. “Is that you?” I asked Hannah.

  Hannah dug around between her pillows until she found her phone hi
ding beneath them. “Nope,” she said, checking her notifications. “Must be yours.”

  I searched my bed and the surrounding area until I finally found my phone, which had slipped down between the mattress and the wall. The missed call was from Tia.

  “It’s Tia,” I told Hannah as I hurried to call her back. “I wonder how her test went.”

  Hannah laughed. “And why are you wondering, exactly?”

  I joined in the laughter. “Touché,” I told her. It was Tia. The test went great. It was the only way any of her tests ever went. Unless, I added silently, with a squirm of guilt, your best friend got you tangled up with a psychopath who destroyed all sense of normalcy in your life. Then you conceivably might see a dip in your grade point average.

  “Jess!” Tia’s voice squealed into the phone, causing me to have to pull it quickly away from my ear. My pulse sped up, as I was unsure how to interpret the excitement I heard in her voice.

  “Hey, Ti,” I replied. “Is everything okay? You sound… freaked out or something.”

  “No, no, I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” Tia said hastily. “Sorry, I should probably try to answer the phone a little more calmly, given everything that’s happened recently.”

  “It would definitely help my heart rate,” I admitted with a shaky chuckle.

  “Sorry,” Tia said again. “Like I said, everything is good here. In fact, everything’s great!”

  “So, your test went well, I take it?” I asked. My ear closest to the phone was still ringing. I massaged it with the palm of my hand.

  “What test?” Tia asked blankly. Then she laughed. “Oh, my exam from this morning! Right! Oh, yeah, the exam was fine. Piece of cake.”

  “A piece of cake? Your med school classmates must loathe you,” I said with a snort of laughter. “Well, what’s so great then, if you’re not talking about your test?”

  “Well, when I got back to the flat, there were a bunch of messages on the machine, which, I mean, totally makes sense, because we haven’t been here in days,” Tia babbled, her words tumbling out over each other in her excitement, so that it was hard to decipher exactly what she was saying. “Well, anyway, the last one was from the Dean of the medical school. She said that one of my professors had submitted my paper for that conference I was telling you about—you know, the one in Paris?”

  “Oh, yeah, the Paris conference. I remember you mentioning that,” I said. I didn’t actually remember it at all, but no need to mention that.

  “Well, they don’t usually accept papers from first-year students, but one of the third years had to pull out of the conference unexpectedly, so my professor submitted my paper anyway and…” I could hear the squeal building in her throat, “they accepted it! I’m actually going! I’m actually presenting my first paper at my first-ever medical conference!”

  I squealed right along with her in solidarity. “Oh my God, Tia! That is so exciting! I am so damn proud of you! I mean, not that I’m even remotely surprised, because you’re absolutely brilliant, but this is just… Congratulations!”

  “Thank you!” Tia gushed. “I still can’t believe it! I think I must’ve listened to the message like, I don’t know, a dozen times before I let myself believe that it was real. I haven’t even had a chance to get nervous yet!”

  “So, when do you leave?” I asked her.

  “Three days!” Tia cried. “I’m freaking out! I called the Dean back, because I was afraid that I might’ve missed my chance. After all, the message was from a few days ago, and I was afraid that if they hadn’t heard from me, they might ask someone else instead. But luckily, they hadn’t. I’ll have to do a few revisions, and I’m going to want to go over the presentation with my advisor, and it feels like so much to do in just a few short days, but… I have to say yes, don’t I? I mean, shouldn’t I? I can’t pass this up, it’s such a great opportunity!”

  “Of course you have to say yes! What kind of the question is that?” I exclaimed.

  “I don’t know,” Tia said, a bit of uncertainty coloring her tone for the first time. “I guess with everything that just happened, I don’t know if I’m supposed to… You think it’s okay to go?”

  “Tia, everything that just happened to you is exactly why you absolutely have to go,” I told her incredulously. “There’s no right way to handle what just happened. You’re not required to sit in your bedroom inhaling pints of ice cream and engaging in armchair therapy just because somehow you got the idea that that’s how women are supposed to deal with shit like this. In fact, I think the healthiest thing you can do is get right back out there and take control of your life in a major way. Don’t let… him… overtake another single second of your life. Leave him in the dust, Tia, where he deserves to be. Thrive.”

  “And you’re… you’re okay if I go, right?” Tia asked hesitantly.

  “Oh Tia,” I groaned. “First of all, the fact that you’re even considering me in this decision is one of the reasons why you are such a wonderful friend and why I love you so much. Second of all, stop considering me in this decision right this second. I am absolutely fine. And even if I weren’t absolutely fine, that would be no reason not to take advantage of this opportunity. There is not a single thing you could do in this world that would make me happier than you getting on that plane and taking that medical conference by storm.”

  “And you’re not just saying that, right?” Tia asked in a tiny voice.

  “Of course not,” I told her firmly.

  “And you wouldn’t tell me even if you were,” Tia said shrewdly.

  “Not a chance,” I agreed.

  “Okay,” Tia said, and I was relieved to hear the decision in her voice. “Okay, that’s it, then. I’m going. Thanks, Jess.”

  “What the hell are you thanking me for?” I asked her. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “I needed to hear someone else say that this was the right decision,” Tia said. “And you did.”

  “You know, someday pretty soon, you’re going to have to start saying whether something is the right decision, if you want to be a doctor,” I pointed out.

  “I know that,” Tia said. “I’ll get there. Baby steps.”

  “Well, you’d better call your professor back and tell them to book your flight to Paris,” I suggested. “And then get to work, you slacker.”

  “Okay, okay, I will,” Tia said, laughing. “Oh, and speaking of calling people back, make sure you call Karen.”

  “Huh?”

  “I said, make sure you call Karen back,” Tia repeated. “There were, like, four messages from her on the machine, and each one sounded increasingly frantic. Have you talked to her since… well, everything?”

  “Oh,” I said with a groan. “Right. Yeah, I’ve kind of been avoiding that on purpose. You know, because I like to make problems infinitely worse by pretending they don’t exist for as long as possible.”

  A sharp knock echoed against the door of our room. Hannah started to slide off her bed to answer it, but I was closer, and waved her away.

  “Well, if I were you, I’d stop avoiding it.” Tia’s admonishment rang in my ear as I crossed the room. “If Karen’s anything like my mom, if you ignore her long enough, she’ll just jump on a plane and come over here.”

  “Yeah, she can get pretty feisty about things if we don’t keep her in the loop,” I said, as I put my hand on the doorknob. “I’ll talk to Karen today, I promise.”

  I pulled the door open, and nearly dropped the phone in my surprise and alarm.

  “Yes, you most certainly will talk to her today,” Karen said sharply.

  There she stood, on the other side of the door, a suitcase by her feet, and a storm raging in her expression.

  “Jess?” Tia said into my long, shocked silence. “Jess, are you still there?”

  “Sorry Tia,” I said hoarsely. “I’ve got to call you back later. That jumping on a plane thing? Yeah, it looks like it already happened.”

  “Oh my!” Tia gasped. “You’re kiddin
g! You mean she’s…”

  “Yup,” I confirmed without waiting for her to finish the sentence. “I’ll call you later, if she permits me to live.”

  I ended the call, and slipped the phone into my back pocket before daring to look up into Karen’s face. Facing that expression did nothing for my courage.

  I sighed and my head drooped again. “Karen, I know you must be really angry with me. I’m so sorry, I just —”

  But she didn’t even give me a chance to start apologizing. The second I opened my mouth, Karen’s face crumpled and she flew forward, wrapping her arms around me and burying her face in my hair, where she proceeded to cry as though she’d only just learned how and she had a lifetime of tears to shed.

  I froze, completely shocked that I was not being yelled at, and it was a few seconds before I recovered enough from my surprise to wrap my arms around her in return and relax into the embrace. Before I knew what was happening, both of us were crying. Then, Hannah had crossed the room and put her arms around both of us at once, so that we became a single tangled sobbing entity, kind of like an Elemental, but snottier and in desperate need of tissues.

  After several minutes of collective, soggy emotional collapse, the three of us broke apart and moved together to the chairs in front of the fireplace. Karen dropped into one of them, and I handed her a box of tissues as Hannah, still breathing in a shuddery way, walked back over to the door to lug Karen’s suitcase across the threshold and pulled the door closed behind her.

  “How did you find out?” I asked at last, when Karen’s sobs had finally quieted.

  “It wasn’t easy,” Karen said cynically, dabbing at her eyes. Her usually flawless make-up was now streaked and smeared all around her swollen eyes. “I got suspicious when you weren’t returning my phone calls. And even more suspicious when my texts went unanswered. Finally, I decided I had to go around you if I was going to find out what was going on, so I called Celeste.”