The High Priest's Daughter

by Katie Cross

  The Volare

  I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the Volare with a mute sense of awe. Isobel’s response had appeared with the Volare less than twenty minutes after I’d transported the letter to her.

  I’d seen the Volare when I visited Isobel’s personal chambers, but I hadn’t touched it, so I hadn’t fully appreciated the intricate beauty of the woven patterns. It lay sprawled on the ground in front of me just like a normal rug, albeit a magnificent one. A deep plum color ran along the edges, bordering an image of trees and stone. I wondered about the Volare’s history: Who made it? Where did it begin? How did Diego find it?

  My eyes strayed outside. Darkness had fallen hours before, which meant it was nearly time for me to go. Less than three hours left until midnight. I hadn’t dared leave any earlier for fear of being seen, and I hoped that fewer witches would remain near the wounded late at night.

  I skimmed Isobel’s instructions a third time.

  The Volare will return to me at midnight; that is all the time that I can give you. It will not be parted from me for any longer. Be warned: If you are in the middle of a flight, it will still disappear at the appointed time.

  The magic is ancient and precise. Only one witch may command it at a time. Be discreet, for I know of no other Volares in use. If anyone saw it, there’s no telling what they might do to possess it. The incantations needed are listed below. The Volare will know what you want and need. Except against fire, it can act as a shield to protect its occupants during the ride.

  The Volare leapt to life at my magical command, springing to waist height and hovering in the air. I grinned.

  “Excellent.”

  I’d already sent a note to Camille, telling her to go see Tabby for the night and I’d explain later. I hoped she received it. After tucking the instructions in the pocket of the slacks that I’d filched from the laundry, I pressed my hands onto the Volare to test it, delighted when it rippled as fluidly and lightly as silk. It lowered itself so I could scoot on rear first. I slipped across the soft weave, expecting it to feel loose, like sitting on a piece of cloth suspended between two chairs. But the Volare remained sure and firm. I didn’t sink, but it conformed to my body—it was neither stiff nor flimsy.

  “Be good to me,” I said to the Volare, commanding the window of my bedroom to open. “We have a life to save.”

  I hid myself with an invisibility incantation, ecstatic to see that it extended to the Volare also. A cold draft of air flew into the room from the open window, and I shuddered, pulling my oldest, most threadbare cloak more tightly around me. I sat upright on the rug, and though I hovered above the ground, felt no dizziness or fear.

  “This won’t be so bad. No. Not so bad.” I gripped the sides of the rug in my hand. Holding onto something made me feel better. “Not so bad.”

  The Volare inched forward but didn’t leave the room. It trembled, as if it were impatient to begin. I commanded it with a spell, picturing Brecken’s cot in the Southern Covens.

  It moved easily out the window and hovered over the castle grounds, which made me dizzy, for with the invisibility incantation I couldn’t see the Volare beneath me. While I didn’t hate heights, I certainly didn’t enjoy them.

  Fortunately, the Volare didn’t give me long to think but kept moving at impressive speed. We seemed to hover over the sea of Letum Wood. Comforted by the sight of the forest, even from my bird’s-eye view, I settled into the ride with a little sigh. The passage of air felt ice cold on my face, but it gave me a heady rush that made me feel alive. I soared over the darkness of the Central Network like a bird.

  A very fast bird.

  Before I knew it, the empty cotton fields of the Middle Covens bled into the thick forest of Letum Wood again. Before an hour had passed, the fires of Perth appeared on the horizon. It would be half past ten by this point. I had ninety minutes to retrieve him and take him home.

  “Let down quietly,” I murmured. Although I didn’t understand how, I had the distinct impression that the Volare understood me. Perhaps even magic could sense fear and desperation. The most dangerous part of the whole night approached: removing Brecken without making a scene. I didn’t know whether he’d get in trouble for being taken away, but I knew I’d be in trouble for taking him.

  Mentally, I’d already planned for the worst because my luck usually dictated it. No matter what came to pass, I refused to let the Volare be seen. Doing so would violate the trust of my friend and draw suspicion, and it could lead to the loss of one of the greatest treasures of our day.

  Still invisible, the Volare responded to my command to hover in place over the camp until I located Brecken’s spot. Someone had erected a tent over the top of him and four other cots, which caused me to waste precious time searching.

  The camp of the wounded whispered in the background when the Volare lowered me to the ground next to Brecken. I slipped off it without a sound, and the Volare rested on the earth. The invisibility incantation broke, leaving me exposed. Grateful that I’d shucked the dress and replaced it with the easy freedom of pants, I slipped up to Brecken’s side. His forehead furrowed into deep lines of strain, and the red in his cheeks made me nervous. I certainly hadn’t come too early.

  No Apothecary Assistants hovered nearby when I crouched at his side. “Brecken?” I pressed a hand to his shoulder. “Brecken?”

  His eyes fluttered open, appearing drugged and hazy. They must have just given him a tonic for pain. Perfect.

  “What?” he croaked, as if his mouth were dry.

  “I’m here to take you home.”

  He blankly stared at me for another moment, then his head dropped back to the pillow, and his even, steady breathing resumed.

  “That’s for the best, my friend,” I murmured, pulling the blanket farther over him. “The less you’re aware of, the better for you.”

  Another glance around the camp verified that no one appeared to be watching, so I used an incantation to shift Brecken onto the Volare. He sank seamlessly, settling onto the fabric with barely a lurch. His forehead creased again, but he didn’t wake. The Volare seemed to have widened to accommodate both of us.

  “Okay, Breck. Let’s take you home.”

  Just as I began to whisper the invisibility incantation, a booted foot stepped on the Volare right next to Brecken’s head. My gaze traveled slowly up a pant leg to a pair of strong shoulders, past folded arms, and stopped on a familiar pair of green eyes.

  “Merrick!” I whispered in disbelief, forgetting my panic in relief. “You’re alive!”

  I launched myself forward and threw my arms around him. He stiffened, then relaxed just enough to put an arm around my back. He felt surprisingly warm, though leaner. Realizing what I’d done, I hastily backed away. My body seemed to burn where he had touched it.

  “Sorry. I just … I haven’t heard from you, you know and … jikes. You’re a mess.”

  Several cuts, held together by stitches, marred his face. A bandage was wrapped around the top of his arm, and I couldn’t tell if the blood staining the leather of his half-armor came from him or someone else. I hoped the latter.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “You couldn’t even write or stop in once to let me know you were alive?” I snapped, folding my arms across my chest, feeling exposed. “It’s almost been two weeks! I’ve been worried sick.”

  His eyes burned with a sudden, surprising intensity. “I didn’t realize you would care so much.”

  “Well we’re friends, aren’t we?”

  “Sure.”

  “Sure?” I asked, fuming. I pushed him, striking his chest. “Sure? What kind of answer is that? I’ve been worried about you!”

  He grinned in that lazy way that undid all my anger in a moment and then made it flare up again.

  “It’s a good answer. We are friends, Bianca.” He hesitated. “Good friends.”

  I wanted to slap him but didn’t know why. “If you didn’t already look so hurt, I’d make sure you le
ft injured.”

  “You could use a good fight,” he said, studying me with a wrinkled forehead. “You’re a mess yourself. Have you been running? I can feel your magic.”

  “Oh, be quiet,” I said, relieved to see him alive and so upset at the same time that I didn’t know how act. “I need to go.”

  He lifted an eyebrow and glanced down at the Volare. “What are you traveling with now, little troublemaker?”

  A shot of panic darted through me. What if Merrick told Papa about the Volare? What if Merrick told Papa about me?

  “I-I know what you’re thinking,” I said, holding out a shaky hand. “I shouldn’t be here. And you’re right, I’ll give you that. Papa would be livid. It’s not safe. The Volare isn’t mine. I know. I thought of all those things, but I had to save Brecken. I needed a way to take him home before his fever gets worse. If he dies, Camille will … she’ll never recover. I can’t let that happen. She’s just now finding a family to love her.”

  “You’re more protective of your friends than yourself, you know.”

  “Well, someone has to do it.”

  “Where did you find a Volare?” he asked with an even tone, gesturing to the rug, which sat innocently on the ground with a restless, fitful Brecken on top. The camp moved on around us without interruption. My eyes strayed to the moon. I needed to leave now.

  “It’s … nothing you need to worry about.”

  But it was too late. Merrick had seen it, and now I’d have to explain myself in full. Likely not only to him, which would be bad enough, but to Papa, who might lock me in the castle for the rest of the foreseeable future.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest. He motioned to Brecken.

  “Checking on my friend. I was there when the accident happened.”

  “Oh.”

  “B, don’t change the subject. What is—”

  “Look, you can scold me, yell at me, or make me train for hours later to teach me a lesson on making stupid decisions, but I have to go now. Brecken is getting worse. I won’t let him die here in this hellhole, and I refuse to fall from the sky just because you want to get mad at me for taking a risk.”

  Merrick opened his mouth, but on studying my panicked expression a moment longer, seemed to relent. He held up a finger.

  “Fine. But only on one condition. You explain yourself the moment I return.” His eyes wandered uneasily to the Volare. “Knowing that you’re wandering around here, where diseases and death run rampant, is the last thing your father needs on his mind.”

  “I know,” I whispered, stuffing aside a pang of guilt. “But I still don’t regret it. Get off my rug.”

  He shot me an annoyed glare, then let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair, drawing my attention to an odd bald spot on the side of his head.

  “Promise me you won’t leave Chatham Castle again.”

  But I dug my figurative heels into the field of his stubbornness. He might be angry at me for risking my life, but he wasn’t my father and couldn’t order me around. Despite his strange surprise, Merrick and I were friends. Good friends, if the weightless feeling I got when I was around him meant anything at all.

  “No, I won’t promise.”

  “Bianca, I don’t want you wandering around at night with West Guards and—”

  “Well I don’t want you to do something stupid and hurt yourself, but clearly I won’t get what I want.”

  “Of the two of us, I think I’m the one with the shorter history of stupid decisions.”

  “Fine. Trust yourself, but I’ll do what I must to keep my friends safe,” I said, stepping back onto the Volare. The invisibility incantation bled back through me, covering Brecken, myself, and the Volare. When I spoke, my voice came from empty air. “That is what I promise. By the way, it’s good to see you again.”

  With that, I commanded the Volare to rise. Merrick let out a heavy sigh.

  “Just be careful, friend,” he said softly, though a tinge of something deeper marked his voice.

  “I will.”

  The Volare flew, soaring into the sky, far from the field of wounded Guardians. I watched Merrick until I could no longer see him, and I felt strangely empty once he disappeared.

  True to Isobel’s word, the Volare seemed to sense my worry, or Brecken’s illness, and the return ride passed with even greater speed. The top of the rug curled over Brecken’s head, and the sides moved inward, cocooning both of us in a tube of safety. I stared at the passing stars overhead, losing myself in the whistle of the wind.

  Since Camille hadn’t sent a response to my letter, I assumed she had obeyed. When Brecken and I landed outside a beautiful two-story house set just inside a little copse of trees, I hoped that my arrival wouldn’t seem too strange. I’d never been to Brecken’s house before, but based on Camille’s many descriptions of the local area and the house, managed to find it.

  The Volare deposited Brecken on the porch, then rolled into a cylinder. I stashed it in the trees on a dry patch of ground and rushed back to the porch. Brecken trembled when I rapped on the door, which opened to reveal a squat woman with graying brown curls. Camille stood just behind her.

  “Bianca?” Camille asked, mouth agape. “What in the—”

  “I brought Brecken home. I found him in Perth today and … he’s sick. He needs immediate help. I didn’t know if he’d make it there, so I brought him back.”

  Brecken’s mother dropped her candlestick with a gasp. I stopped it with an incantation before it crashed to the floor and splattered his face with hot wax.

  “He needs to get inside!” I said. “He’s burning up with fever. They had to cut off one of his legs at the knee.”

  “His leg! Oh, my darling son. Paul!” Tabby screeched. “Paul, come here!”

  I used a spell to move Brecken into the house, and it spurred them into motion. Camille threw open the door, Tabby toddled out of the way, and I lowered Brecken onto a divan near the fire. The clock above the mantle read five minutes to midnight. Tabby jumped into her work, commanding a wooden box with a spell and flaming the fire higher. Camille turned to me.

  “Bianca, I don’t know what to say.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t believe—”

  “Go,” I said, motioning to Brecken. “I think Tabby will need your help for several days.”

  “His leg?” Camille whispered, hoarse and strained. “They cut it off?”

  I nodded. “Yes. They had to. Now it’s infected, and he’s not doing well.”

  “But how did you—”

  “Let’s just say I grew wings,” I whispered, and a wave of understanding passed over her face. “If Tabby asks, tell her you don’t know, understood? No one can know, Camille. No one.”

  “But—” She stared at me, blinked, and seemed to understand. In a rush, she threw her arms around me in a teary hug. “Thank you,” she whispered, holding me so tight it hurt. A tear rolled down her cheek and onto my neck. “Thank you for saving him. Tell Isobel thank you.”

  When I went back outside to find the Volare, it had disappeared. A note from Isobel popped into the air in front of me.

  It has returned. Thank you, dear friend, for allowing me to help.

  Isobel

  Send Him Home

  Three more interminable days passed without a word from Papa or Merrick. Even though spring started showing signs of her return, no one seemed to notice. Marten returned to the castle full-time, which removed the worst demands of work from my life and left me with more time to stew over Merrick and Papa. Without Letum Wood to run through, my magic flared in restless spurts. I paced the gardens, but it only made it worse. Standing so close to Letum Wood tortured me.

  Camille didn’t return to the castle but sent me updates every day. Brecken healed with slower progress than desired, but he did improve. Michelle transported to Cousin Luke’s house every evening to visit her family, and Leda worked fourteen hours a day as Jansson’s temporary Assistant. When I did see he
r, she appeared deliriously happy. Priscilla occasionally ventured into the Witchery without Camille but seemed busy enough helping Miss Scarlett.

  I slept on the divan every night, hoping I’d wake up if Papa came home. Reeves often covered me with a second blanket or left a cup of tea that never cooled. He puttered around the apartment, cleaning things that had already been cleaned, searching for meaning in a world without Papa to give his job purpose.

  “I’m going to visit Stella before I go to work, Reeves,” I said early on the third morning. He shot me a murderous look, so I scooped the toast off my plate and chewed a bite. “I’ll eat on my way.”

  Satisfied, he nodded in his usual mute way. I walked through the castle halls, enjoying the early morning quiet before most of the servants started work. A frost had fallen on the gardens below, coating everything in a layer of thin, white frosting. I’d just approached Stella’s office when a familiar voice stopped my heart.

  “We’ve pushed the South Guards back into the Southern Network for now,” Papa said in a steady drone. “We’ve been able to remove all the Southern Covens’ residents. I’ve started the evacuation of the wounded out of Perth because Tiberius needs more room for his Guardians. We’re sending them here and to Ashleigh House. Donovan’s old palace will house most of them.”

  “What of the roaming West Guards?” Stella asked. “What can we do to stop them? They continue attacking at random across the Network. Stilton, in the Middle Covens, was just burned to the ground by ten West Guards two nights ago. Twenty witches died, including two children.”

  I hovered just outside the door, barely able to restrain the impulse to throw myself into Papa’s arms. He was alive! I forced myself to wait another moment, hoping to hear unfiltered news.

  “Zane and I have come up with a few ideas that we’ve put into motion,” Papa said. “A few Protectors are out on missions right now, and I’ve been on a few.”

  “You’re going to wear yourself out, Derek.” Stella’s voice lowered with warning. “You’ll be no good to us if you don’t take care of yourself.”