The High Priest's Daughter

by Katie Cross

  “I still don’t think he’s good enough for Leda,” I muttered, glancing back out over the sparkling white landscape below.

  “Why not?”

  “He’s … boring.”

  “So is Leda.”

  “He’s old.”

  “He’s in his mid-twenties. Not that old. Merrick is twenty-three, and you like him.”

  “Merrick is just my friend. He’s my teacher, not … not—”

  Camille rolled her eyes. “Sure. A friend. Go easy on Leda. She eats prunes every day to aid digestion. She’s the oldest soul I’ve ever met in my life. She needs a witch like Rupert. She’d run most witches over.”

  I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to admit that Camille was right. An envelope fluttered into the room, landing on Michelle’s book. She read it, stood, and glanced at me apologetically.

  “Nicolas is waiting for me,” she mumbled. “Merry part, Bianca.”

  Camille checked herself in the mirror for the twentieth time after Michelle transported away. I glanced around the Witchery, at a loss for what to do with myself for the night. My eyes fell on Marten’s book, and I sighed.

  Pathetic.

  I was going to study, just like Leda. My thoughts drifted to Merrick, but he’d mentioned a new mission on the run that morning. Besides, after the awkward discussion with Papa, I needed some space from boys.

  “Don’t worry, Bianca,” Camille said with a warm smile, setting a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll have fun in the East, and we’ll all look forward to hearing what you thought.”

  She departed, disappearing down the turret stairs in the graceful shuffle of her dress. I stared at the empty Witchery, which felt cold in the aftermath of their familiar storm, and pulled my knees into my chest.

  Why did everything have to start changing just when it was finally going well? My friends and I had fallen into a lovely routine of time together ever since my birthday last summer, but lately everything seemed to be up in the air. Miss Scarlett made me question my future, Papa didn’t even have time to finish dinner, and my friends were too busy for me. I couldn’t stop it from happening. It seemed the future would come whether I wanted it to or not.

  Heartless, cruel fate.

  My eyes fell to Marten’s thick book. “Fine,” I muttered, calling it to me with an incantation. “I’ll study.”

  Attack

  Fog clung to the carriage on the highway outside Newberry the next morning, right where the Central Network met the boundary of the Eastern Network. A chilly mist crept through Letum Wood in haunting fingers of vapor and smoke. Everything dripped gray in the dark morning, including my hood. The thick cloud felt like snow gliding past my face. No real signs of life existed beyond the carriage driver waiting for me on top, hunched over like a gargoyle.

  “Ready to go?” Marten appeared from the mist, a cloud of white swirling behind him. “The driver was sent from the Eastern Network, so he knows the best roads to take. Should cut down some driving time.”

  I glanced to where the road disappeared into a two-track lane somewhere in the distance. The road had decayed over time from disuse. Perhaps I could convince the driver to let me sit with him on top. One more glance at his bulky, droll figure, and I thought better of it.

  “Sure,” I said. “Two days stuck in a bouncing box will be great.”

  Marten smirked and opened the door, motioning me inside. I climbed in, running my fingers along the crushed red velvet seat. Holes had worn through the floor, and the stingy drapes lay in shreds. It had only enough room for one witch to sit with outstretched legs, which meant the horses could pull it for a longer stretch of time. The door closed behind me with a creak.

  “It’ll be a bumpy ride the first hour or two,” Marten said, draping an arm along the open window. “Your driver will have to work through this old road to reach a functional highway.”

  He hovered just outside the door with a hesitant expression.

  “Keep an eye out,” he said, the corners of his lips tugged down in worry. “You should be safe enough, but the Eastern Network is restless. Scared, even. They don’t want any strangers. I don’t think they’ll be hostile to a carriage bearing the white flag, but … just keep an eye out. Oh, and Reeves sent this to me to give to you.”

  His eyes twinkled as he tossed the massive tome, the History of Antebellum, on the seat next to me.

  “Ah,” I said. “That would have been a shame to forget.”

  With that, Marten disappeared with a wry grin, leaving a spiral of mist in his wake. The carriage lurched forward. I wrapped my hand around Viveet’s hilt. The sound of the horses’ clopping hooves echoed in my box as we moved into the white blur of cloud. I forced myself to relax against the seat and glanced at the History of Antebellum.

  It would be a long ride.

  Bianca. Bianca …

  I jerked awake with a gasp the moment my head slammed into the side of the carriage with a whack.

  My heart calmed when I realized that the voice I’d heard was only another disorganized nightmare. The strange vision of fire began to fade in the way that dreams do: slowly, like the dissolving of bubbles. I sought for it again, but felt only an impression of heavy darkness, like emerging from a long depression. It faded when I leaned forward and opened the window, drawing in a breath of crisp air.

  The hours had long since blurred into each other as we rolled past the Eastern Network’s lush farms, clear lakes, and occasional low, green forest crawling with bracken. It was the second evening of our journey. My jumpy driver insisted on riding through the night. The jarring on my bones and joints grew almost excruciating, despite our break to change horses every six hours. I jogged as much as I could whenever we stopped, hoping to stretch my aching muscles, but in the end it didn’t help.

  Coated with a light sheen of cold sweat, I wiped a hand over my face and peered out the window. Beyond the flattened vistas stood a white, glowing structure in the distance. Magnolia Castle. I lurched from side to side as the box settled over a bump in the road.

  “Just a nightmare,” I whispered, shoving a hand through my hair. “Just a nightmare. We’re almost there.”

  Despite many layers of clothing, my fingers felt stiff from the chill. I used an incantation to warm them and leaned forward to study the landscape, my breath fogging out in front of me. A dull thud interrupted my thoughts, followed by an agonized scream from the driver. A second thud and a flash of light came next.

  “Are you all right?” I yelled.

  The driver bellowed incoherently in response. A third and fourth thud rocked the carriage, and I saw a bright flame flare out of the corner of my eye. The shaft of a flaming arrow had struck the carriage a few inches from where I peered out the window.

  “Whoa!” I cried, leaning out the half-open window to douse the blaze with a spell. The old drapes caught fire, but I yanked them off and threw them to the road.

  “I’ve been shot!” the driver screamed.

  I hesitated, knowing Papa would want me to stay in the carriage, but I wasn’t willing to let the driver shriek in agony. If he was that hurt, he wouldn’t be able to drive anyway. I snapped off one of the smoking arrows, shoved it in my cloak, shucked off my boots, and climbed out of the box using the remaining arrow shafts as steps.

  “I’m coming,” I called.

  Panicked, the horse had bolted at a gallop, sending the box jumping and careening down the road at a reckless speed. I grabbed the luggage bar and pulled myself up the side, gripping the edge of the window with my toes. The driver clutched his left shoulder where an arrow stuck out at a right angle. Blood oozed between his fingers, dripping down his dirty shirt.

  “Hey! Help me, and I’ll take the reins,” I yelled, but the driver continued to thrash around. I ducked out of the path of an oncoming branch. Transporting around the branches was out of the question, as I’d have to accurately gauge the speed the carriage was moving at. Seeing a stretch of open space without low hanging branches, I carefully sc
rambled forward and lifted my leg over the driver’s seat.

  “Give me the reins!” I cried over the thundering of hooves.

  Magnolia Castle appeared through flashes of trees, growing brighter every moment. The driver’s flailing arm slammed into my nose, sending me backward. My stubborn grip on the back of the seat barely kept me from flying off the carriage and smacking the ground below. My eyes watered. I could feel hot blood seeping down my nose and over my lips.

  The driver suddenly sat down, his face as pale as cotton. Taking advantage of the momentary lull, I vaulted myself over the back.

  “Give me those,” I muttered, jerking the reins from his shaking hand, my eyes still stinging.

  “Get it out of me!” the driver screeched, reaching for the arrow. “Get it out!”

  “No! It’ll bleed, just leave it in!”

  But he grabbed for it anyway, so I cast a sleeping incantation on him. He blinked several times and then slumped forward, his head hitting the forward dash. The horses, still frantic, thundered down the road.

  “Fine,” I said, bracing myself. “Run yourselves out. We’re almost there.”

  The pockmarked dirt road turned into smooth cobblestone. As if they knew where to go, the horses veered to the left at an intersection, despite my attempts to slow them, and kept running. Two East Guards standing at a sweeping gate made of twisted iron waved their arms to get me to stop.

  “I can’t!” I shouted as we roared past. I was just about to transport off the carriage and let the horses run themselves out when the end of the driveway appeared ahead. It circled into itself, leading around a majestic, flowing fountain spewing into the sky. A sweeping set of stairs, funneling up to the entrance of the infamous Magnolia Castle, stood just off the circle. My eyes widened, temporarily blinded by the blazing torchlight after the dim byways.

  The horses slowed themselves and came to a stop by the stairs, as if that had been their intent all along.

  “Bloody fool.” I glanced down at the driver and secured the reins. “You almost killed both of us.”

  No turrets cluttered Magnolia Castle like they did Chatham and the Southern Network. White stones, a surprising bleached color that looked like bones in a desert, comprised most of the sprawling structure. Despite the winter season, the clusters of magnolia trees cluttering the gardens off to the left bloomed in full splendor, emitting a delicious fragrance. Legend said that the magnolia trees never stopped blooming, giving the castle its name. Marten waited for me at the bottom of the steps.

  “What happened?” he asked calmly, though I sensed panic beneath the facade. “Are you all right? Do you need the apothecary?”

  “Oh, I just decided to stir things up a bit because I was bored, so I asked them to shoot us with flaming arrows.”

  Seeing that I wasn’t on the verge of death, he seemed to relax for a moment. “Sleeping incantation?” he asked with a raise of an eyebrow, studying the driver.

  “He was panicking and almost killed me.”

  “Well chosen,” Marten murmured. “But by the look of your face, whoever fought you almost won.”

  I reached to feel blood on my upper lip and chin. I’d already forgotten about it. Now that I remembered, it started to pound. I’d have a lovely black eye in the morning.

  “Sure you’re all right, Bianca?” His eyebrows dropped low and his lips puckered. “Looks like a nasty blow to the face.”

  “Fine.”

  “What happened?”

  “The driver and I had a moment of confusion, that’s all.”

  “If I had known that this would happen I would have—”

  “It’s not your fault, Marten.” I waved it off with a careless hand, as if my face weren’t pulsing with pain. “Really. It all ended well enough.”

  He gave me a reluctant grin. “Didn’t Merrick teach you to watch your opponent’s hands?”

  “The driver wasn’t supposed to be my opponent.”

  I clenched my hands to hide a slight tremor. Holding the rampaging horses had fatigued my grip. East Guards swarmed the carriage in uniforms of green and ivory. Three went immediately to the horses and three trained their bows on me. The Captain strode up to Marten.

  “What’s the meaning of this?”

  Marten calmly gestured at the arrows still embedded in the side of the carriage, and then at the driver. “I have the same question for you. It appears that someone in your Network shot at a peaceful delegation. Or, I should say, at the High Priest’s daughter.”

  “Lower your arrows,” I said. “I don’t want another round.”

  The Captain paled at Marten’s words and barked orders, but his men had already moved into action. Two East Guards pulled the driver from the carriage box, and a third joined them to carry him away to an apothecary. Two others reached for me, but I batted them away.

  “I’m fine.”

  The sound of a crisp pair of shoes tapped down the staircase leading to the castle.

  “Marten, is everything all right?” A concerned, musical voice floated from the shadows, so quiet it was almost a whisper.

  A male witch wearing colors of ivory and deep green, just like the East Guards, strode toward us with a small flock of witches behind him. He boasted dark skin and features, a smooth face, and strong jaw. His eyes, however, were dark pools of black and brown. He couldn’t have been much older than Merrick, maybe twenty-six.

  “You must be Derek’s daughter, Bianca,” he said, bowing. He over-enunciated the i in my name so it sounded like Beeanca. “My name is Niko Aldana. I’m the oldest grandson to the High Priest, Diego Aldana. What has happened to you?”

  A quick glance at my wrinkled, bloodstained dress made me grimace.

  Great first impression, Bianca.

  Although I probably looked a shade worse than death, I dipped into a light curtsy anyway. If I hadn’t, Miss Scarlett would have found out and forced me into another lecture. She’d know somehow.

  “It’s an honor to meet you, Niko. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

  “Not as sorry as I,” he replied, his voice quiet with concern. “Do you need me to call the apothecary? I didn’t realize you’d been injured. Is your nose broken?”

  “Good question.” I gently probed the skin. “I think it’s okay.”

  “I’m outraged that you would be subjected to such a thing in our Network,” he said in a voice that trembled with fury. “Once you get the chance to clean up, I will have my East Guards get all the details from you and launch an immediate investigation. Grandfather will hear about this from me as soon as I see to your comfort. My personal servant Celio will carry you to your room.”

  Niko gestured to a set of stairs that disappeared into a lush array of gardens with torches lighting the way. A thick, muscled man in black breeches and a white shirt stepped forward, arms folded across his chest.

  “Oh, no!” I cried, mortified. “That’s very appreciated, but I can walk. Really.”

  Niko’s forehead ruffled. “Are you sure? You’ve had a great shock. I can’t imagine how you kept up your strength, being a delicate young lady.”

  Marten snorted.

  “I’m fine,” I said. Niko hesitated, but finally acquiesced with a nod. His eyes fell to Viveet, who peeked out from the folds of my skirt. He turned away, forehead ruffled and lips pressed.

  “Let’s get you both inside,” he concluded. “We can speak regarding formalities later, after you are more comfortable.”

  Magnolia Castle

  Whether they felt guilty over my less-than-welcoming arrival to the Eastern Network or they feared the wrath of my father, the Eastern Network wrapped me in hospitality and comfort. They assigned me a maid named Ariana, a soft-spoken girl of about fifteen, with beautifully dark eyes, voluminous hair, and skin the color of milk.

  “Do you receive many guests, Ariana?” I asked, following her up the twisting stairs along the outside of the castle. Unlike everyone else, she hadn’t given my bloody face a second glance,
as if she saw this kind of thing every day.

  “You’re the only foreign visitor we’ve had outside of an Ambassador for a long time, Miss.”

  “Call me Bianca.”

  “Miss Bianca.”

  “Or just Bianca.”

  “Yes, Miss Bianca.”

  “Close enough.”

  She led me into a hallway dimly lit by wall sconces and torchlight. Fronds of deep emerald green filled the sidewalls, and ivy grew along the golden frames of oil paintings that littered the hall. The calm corridor soothed me.

  “For you, Miss Bianca,” Ariana said, opening the third door on the right. Like Niko, she softly pronounced her i’s with the sound of an e, so it sounded like she said, Mees Beeanca.

  “Just for me?” I asked, stepping in. A large chamber of polished white stone awaited me. The fire crackled high and hot with tempting warmth. I wanted to lie down in front of it and go right to sleep. A new set of clothes, just about my size, lay near a steaming bath.

  “Can I get you anything else?” Ariana asked.

  “Thank you, no. This looks like everything.”

  She disappeared without a sound, leaving me alone. I ripped my clothes off and melted into the bath without a moment’s hesitation, lingering until all the chill slipped out of my bones. Once finished, I scrubbed the grime of travel off myself, gingerly cleaned the blood from my face, worked through my hair with a sweet-smelling bar of soap, and finished by wrapping my body in a fluffy towel.

  I’d just donned a long-sleeved muslin dress, combed my hair, and started for a platter of food on the table when someone knocked at the door.

  “Bianca?” The thick wood of the door muffled Marten’s voice.

  “Come in.”

  He stepped inside with Merrick in tow. The door closed behind them with a quiet snick. Marten whispered under his breath and a slight shimmer ran down the door. A sealing incantation. If anyone from the Eastern Network was trying to listen in, they wouldn’t hear a word.