The High Priest's Daughter

by Katie Cross

  The fateful words fell like the crash of a gong, and I could tell that our time to leave drew near. Diego’s blindness would destroy the beautiful witches of the Eastern Network. My eyes flickered to the doorway. I had to exhaust every option.

  “Without your help, this war could go on for years. You’ll get caught up in it eventually. If we work together, we can stop it now before they attack y—”

  “Excuse me,” I said, touching Marten’s sleeve. “May I use the bathroom?”

  Diego gestured out the door with a scowl and an impatient wave of his hand. “On the right.”

  I ducked out, avoiding Marten’s gaze, and slipped into the hall. Luckily, no servants waited outside. Because I’d committed the layout of the castle to memory when Niko escorted me on my tour, I knew I could find the path to Isobel’s chambers on the lower floors. Ensuring no one saw me, I used an invisibility incantation and tiptoed away.

  Two young maids passed me in the hall, but I pressed my back to the wall and narrowly avoided their elbows. They spoke in the smooth dialect of the Eastern Network instead of the common tongue, so I didn’t understand their words. When I arrived at Isobel’s, one of the two doors sat propped open. With a whisper, I removed the invisibility incantation and tapped my knuckle against the wood.

  Isobel glanced up. Her face shifted from narrowed confusion to wide-eyed surprise.

  “Bianca! Whatever are you doing here?”

  I pressed my fingers to my lips and shook my head. The approach of feet from the hallway frightened me, so I stepped behind the door and held my breath. A pair of East Guards marched by, their polished boots echoing on the tiled floor until they stopped in the doorway. The leather of their coats creaked when they bowed to Isobel.

  “Your Highness,” one of them said in a deep, rich timbre. “We just detected an unfamiliar magic. Have you seen anything?”

  My heart pounded beneath my ribs. Isobel straightened. “No, I haven’t seen anything suspicious, but I thank you for the warning. I shall keep my eyes open and will lock my door behind you.”

  Their feet echoed on the ground as they marched away. Isobel and I waited in strained silence for several moments before her doors swung closed and locked. Only when their footsteps faded completely did she turn to me with a long exhale.

  “Something must be wrong for you to visit me without permission,” she said in the calm, controlled tone of a mother who recognized panic in her child. “Come in, come in. You likely don’t have much time. Tell me quickly.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness. You’re right, I don’t have very long.”

  I recounted the conversation with Diego and watched her eyes droop in concern. She turned away and stared out at the ocean’s swelling and ebbing waves. When she swallowed, the muscles in her neck contracted with tension.

  “Diego is a very stubborn man,” she said with a heavy sigh. “He feels he’s making the best decision for the Network, although he’s just sticking his head in the sand.”

  “Isobel, I’ve seen what the West can do,” I whispered, swallowing back my emotion. “They’re using Almorran magic. It’s … it’s literally consuming our witches. Burning them alive. The South Guards are burning and raping and looting. So many are dead.”

  She slipped a hand over mine. Her sorrowful gaze nearly broke my tenuous restraint. “Bianca, I’m so sorry for your Network. You seem genuinely scared.”

  “Not for myself but for everyone else, for my friends.”

  She smiled gently. “You’re very self-sacrificing.”

  “They mean so much to me.”

  Her lips puckered in a sudden frown. “Are your friends safe? Are they at the castle with you?”

  “Yes, they’re fine. Leda is busier than ever helping Jansson in Chatham City. The others are … getting by.”

  She relaxed a little. “War is so hard on the young.”

  “I don’t want the same to happen here. That’s why I came to warn you. Has Diego mentioned anything to you?”

  “No, of course not. My only information comes from you. Bianca, please trust me. My husband is not a bad witch. He simply can’t comprehend an attack after a century of peace under the Mansfeld Pact. His grandfather was instrumental in forming the Pact, and he holds so very tightly to it.”

  “Rules can’t protect us against those that don’t play by the rules. And trust me,” I said. “The South and the West aren’t playing by any rules.”

  “What is your father’s plan? Perhaps if I can tell Diego, I may convince him to help.”

  “I think he’s going to try to go after Dane.”

  “Kill Dane?” she whispered, pressing a hand to her chest. “My goodness. Can it be done?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Isobel sat in troubled thought for a moment. “Perhaps, if Derek succeeds, Diego might join the cause. I can’t guarantee it. But if Dane were gone, the risk to our Network would be less severe. Diego will only act in the best interest of our witches.”

  She squeezed my hand.

  “I will talk to Diego about it as soon as you leave. I promise. We shall do everything we can.”

  “Thank you, Isobel. I don’t ask for my own Network alone, but for all the innocent witches in yours.”

  A scuffle of voices outside the room caught our attention, reminding me that I needed to return. I’d already been gone far too long. Diego didn’t seem like the type to forgive or forget such a suspicious absence.

  “I’ll take you back to Diego,” Isobel said, straightening her skirt and putting a hand up to check her hair. “He’ll be suspicious, and I don’t want him to ban you from Magnolia Castle. Take the handles behind me. You can wheel me to the Sword Room.”

  I obeyed, and we wheeled into the hallway as soon as it lay empty. By the time we returned, Diego and Marten stood several paces apart in the doorway.

  “Hello Marten,” Isobel sang, lifting a hand and smiling wide. “It is so good to see you again. Good morning, my love,” she said to Diego, taking his hand with obvious adoration. “You know it’s always a delight to see you as well.”

  Diego’s rigid expression melted when he smiled down at her, but his dark eyes flickered to me in a narrow question. I didn’t flinch away.

  “Always good to see you, High Priestess Isobel,” Marten said, bowing over her hand but sending a sharp glance to me. “Did you find my Assistant wandering the halls?”

  “No, actually,” Isobel said with an easy laugh. “Bianca had just stepped out of the washroom when I stopped her and pulled her into a quick conversation. I tried to convince her to take tea with me again, but she insisted she had to return at once. If you’ve been waiting, you must accept my apology, for I had her wheel me here to see you, Marten. I missed you last time.”

  Marten met my eyes over Isobel’s head, and the quick flash of curiosity in them said he didn’t buy it for a moment. Diego had relaxed however, detecting no guile in his wife’s story.

  Well done, Isobel, I thought with relief.

  “As much as I would love to take tea with you myself,” Marten said, motioning for me to join him at his side. “We must be going back. It was wonderful to see you again. You’re looking as lovely as ever.”

  Isobel beamed at him and threaded her fingers through Diego’s hand.

  “Come again soon for a longer visit next time,” she admonished, as if she had no idea that a war raged beyond the borders. “I’m sure we can arrange an Ambassador’s dinner.”

  “Anything for you, High Priestess. Thank you for your time, Diego. Best of luck.”

  A hint of tension flared between Diego and Marten. Marten steered me down the hallway to the patio we’d arrived on. A pair of Guardians appeared from a doorway and followed us down the hall. Marten and I didn’t speak, and I didn’t care, wanting nothing more than to get away.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Diego and Isobel in deep discussion at the far end of the hall, hands clasped. Isobel’s forehead had wrinkled with concern. The Guardians st
epped to the right, obscuring my view with their scowling faces. I studied their uniforms indifferently, then followed Marten’s example and transported home.

  Weakest of All

  “No,” I said in exasperation, fighting not to roll my eyes. “If you see a witch trying to cross the Central Network border into the Eastern Network, you may paralyze them with an incantation long enough to restrain them for interrogation later, but you cannot leave the spell on for more than half an hour. Have you ever been stuck in the same position for hours? It will cause harm, and you will lose your job.”

  The disappointed Border Guard, Todd, scuffed his foot in the dirt. “Fine. But I’m not afraid to stop them with a paralyzing spell! I’ve done it before, you know.”

  “Good. Because that’s your job.”

  The small border town of Lockwood, south of Newberry, lay sprawled on the rolling foothills below me like the sleepy stretch of a cat. I stood on top of a small hill that marked the boundary between the Eastern and Central Networks. Houses and chimneys dotted the landscape. Letum Wood abutted Lockwood, providing a dark backdrop to the single road that cut straight through the village. The end of the first month of spring neared, bringing the first hint of grass blades in the field.

  “So what’s going on down there?” Todd asked, motioning south with his head. “Anything new? We haven’t seen Marten in a while, just you.”

  “New is relative. What’s the last thing you heard?”

  “That we were invaded.”

  I blinked in disbelief. “That’s the last thing you heard?”

  “We keep track of some scattered details from witches like you, but I’ve never been to the Southern Covens so it’s hard to really know what’s going on.”

  Except for the hundreds of articles the Chatham Chatterer pours out every day, of course, I wanted to point out. The war consumed life at Chatham Castle. When I wasn’t dealing with its side effects, like the increase in black market trading, witches pouring across the borders, and the Factios terrorizing Chatham City, I was worrying it would kill my father. Such a cozy little village, so untouched by the horror, seemed both novel and annoying. I wanted to protect them from it while also shaking them into reality.

  We’re at war. Don’t you get it?

  “The invasion happened over a month ago. A lot is going on.”

  He shrugged. “So something must have happened since then. What is it?”

  I sighed. “The South Guards are spread out along the border, and they keep trying to push back into the Southern Covens. The West Guards attack villages and settlements at random, but we’ve been able to hold off some of those as well. That’s the main gist of it.”

  “So we aren’t losing?”

  “Everyone loses in war,” I snapped, thinking of all the dying Guardians I’d seen. He took the news in with little change in expression.

  “Hmm.”

  Perturbed that someone could appear so apathetic to the change that this war brought to our world, I released the bottom of my open scroll so it rolled shut with a slam.

  “Well, Todd, that’s all I have to say. I wanted to check and see how things were going here. Looks fine. No more paralyzing witches for over an hour, okay? You’ve been warned. Marten will fire you. Let me know if you have any questions.”

  He grunted. “Sure. I’ll keep these other guys in line. Don’t worry about us up here. Sounds like you have bigger problems.”

  You have no idea.

  I transported back to Marten’s office, the bottoms of my feet aching from walking all day. Marten sat at his desk when I appeared. He spent half his time in the Southern Covens, advising Papa and working with the Protectors—though he wouldn’t say what he was doing—and the other half at Chatham.

  “Marten,” I said in surprise. “Lovely to see you again. How was your vacation in the south?”

  “Enchanting. How is Todd?” he asked.

  “As clueless as ever.” I tossed the report onto my desk. “He let a Border Guard paralyze a fleeing witch for two hours. I threatened his job, so if he does it again, I’ll need you to fire him.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “How are things down there?”

  “The same. We’re holding them off, and they keep trying.”

  “The West Guards’ attacks have slowed,” I said, forehead ruffled. “I read the reports. There’s only been one in the last week. What’s that about?”

  He frowned. “We don’t know.”

  “Is Papa still planning on going after Dane?”

  Marten’s eyes flickered up to mine in surprise. “I don’t know. I can’t stay for too long today, just wanted to look things over. You’re doing a beautiful job here, Bianca. I’m very proud of you.”

  “As delightful as it is to chastise witches twice my age, I’d rather be running through the forest.”

  “Well, thank you for all you’re doing. It frees me up to help your father and participate in the fighting where I can be of more use.”

  I didn’t want to tell him I resented being stuck at the castle when I could fight better than half the Guardians, because that wasn’t his fault. I smiled instead. “Sure, Marten. I’m glad to help any way I can.”

  “Can you go to the border towns near the Western Network tomorrow? I have a message for them—a few more tips to help them protect themselves. Derek thinks the South Guards will abandon the Southern Covens to try to work their way northward and claim the Borderlands.”

  “Toward Chatham City?”

  He nodded. “I want our border towns ready but not panicking.”

  He sent a rolled parchment to my desk, and I used an incantation to duplicate it thirty times. Visiting each border town meant I’d travel to thirty different places tomorrow. I’d need an early start. I yawned just thinking about it.

  “Sure,” I said. “Anything else?”

  He ticked off another list of things for me to accomplish, promised to be back in two days, and left again. In his absence, the silence of the office nearly lulled me to sleep. I glanced at the clock. Six-thirty. My stomach growled in protest. I’d forgotten to eat lunch again.

  “Tomorrow. This can all wait until tomorrow.”

  When I transported back to the apartment, a note sticking to the door by an arrow arrested my attention. Recognizing the design of the flange, a flutter of surprise overtook my belly. Merrick. It had been two weeks since I’d last heard from him, when I’d escaped with Brecken. I tugged the arrow away from the door and took the piece of paper between my fingers.

  Meet me on the Wall.

  —M

  Merrick stood right where I thought he’d be: leaning against the top of the Wall near the Gatehouse. The gardens below had become a spongy field of grass. I welcomed the warming spring air with a deep breath and wondered why he wanted to meet here, of all places.

  “Hey,” I said, standing next to him, my heart flip-flopping.

  “Hey.”

  He smiled when I leaned against the wall next to him. His hair sat loose on his shoulders today, and his eyes shone bright but tired. We sat in the quiet for several long moments.

  “How long are you back at Chatham for?” I asked. Ever since the second week of fighting, Protectors had been circulating out of the Southern Covens two at a time to stay in Chatham City and fight the rising Factios. The gypsies put up a good defense but couldn’t work alone. And with the war, Tiberius had to scale back the Guardians in Chatham City by a full contingent, leaving a skeleton crew behind. The two Protectors here were more necessary than ever to keep the gypsies from leaving. I hadn’t heard from Jackie since she left and wondered if they’d made it to their homeland.

  Merrick’s face darkened. “I’m here for a while.”

  “What?”

  “Zane sent me back permanently to deal with the Factios. Probably because I’m the youngest Protector in the Brotherhood, or they think I’m the weakest. He’s still going to send at least one Protector back to work with me every week. Tobias is here n
ow.”

  “So you aren’t going back to the Southern Covens?”

  He chucked a rock off the Wall and watched it fall into the trees. “Not unless the Factios and the gypsies decide to start holding hands and stop killing each other.”

  Relief swept through me. Merrick wouldn’t be in the fighting. At least not in the Southern Covens, though the argument could be made that Chatham City was a far more dangerous battleground. Perhaps I’d always be on the verge of losing my best friend.

  “You, uh, don’t seem happy about it,” I said, clearing my throat and steering my thoughts away from my uncertain friendship—or was it something else?—with Merrick and back toward safer ground. Merrick looked down at the ground.

  “I’m happy to serve my Network.”

  “But not when the Brotherhood serves it somewhere else,” I said, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

  “Yes,” he said, tossing another rock. “Exactly.”

  Despite the twisted logic, I understood his frustration. Every Protector toiled and sacrificed to be part of the Brotherhood; forcible separation from their most active, difficult battles would hurt. Papa had always been the same way. Although Merrick would be closer to me—though likely just as busy—I felt sad for him.

  “You’ve always been strongest working with the Factios, Merrick. You’re one of the only Protectors that really gets results in the slums. At least that’s what Zane and Papa have said. So I doubt Zane sent you here because you have less experience. I’m sure it’s more to do with the need for results.”

  He appeared to think it over, although it was almost impossible to interpret Merrick’s emotions from his stoic expression. Moments later he straightened up, and his stormy eyes calmed.

  “You owe me an explanation,” he said, taking me by surprise. His cool eyes slid to mine. “Where did you find that Volare?”

  I sighed. He never forgot. “A friend.”

  “You mean Isobel.”

  I stared at him. “How did you know?”

  “I pay attention,” he said vaguely, scowling. “And I don’t trust Niko.”

  “You followed us, didn’t you? You followed Niko and I around Magnolia Castle, you creep!”