Antebellum Awakening (37 page)

“Thank you,” I said, gazing up to her. That simple phrase encompassed so much more than I could ever verbalize. The High Priestess’s face softened, looking so much like Grandmother’s that another pang of longing swelled inside me. I knew I’d never question her again; the High Priestess understood far more than I ever gave her credit for.

“You’re welcome.”

I wiped the tears off my cheek, and the High Priestess directed the conversation elsewhere.

“I’m sure you are wondering about our vow,” she said, her tone becoming clipped and businesslike again.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you still trust me?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The High Priestess leaned back in her chair.

“Good. Then I would ask you to extend that trust another hour.”

A flicker of hesitation, perhaps uncertainty, moved across her face. I wondered what kind of magic she would have to use to make this come about, but I forced the thoughts from my mind. I had to focus on my part and trust that she knew what she was doing.

“I’m proud of you,” she said, taking me by surprise. “You’ve come a long way in the past couple of months. The good gods know that nothing has ever been easy for you, but somehow you’ve made it out alive.”

Don’t get ahead of yourself,
I thought.

“Thank you.”

“Whatever happens tonight, Bianca, I want you to accept it. Do you understand? The things that will happen to the Central Network over the next months or years are bigger than either one of us.”

Miss Mabel is coming. Do you know?
I wanted to ask, but the words stuck in my throat.

“Yes, Your Highness,” I whispered instead, not entirely certain I understood what she meant. Did it matter? No. Not tonight. All that mattered tonight was staying alive and killing Miss Mabel before she killed me.

“That’s all,” she finally said, her gaze lingering on me. “You may go.”

“Thank you for the dress,” I said, standing up. “Henrietta said you chose the material. It’s lovely.”

“You look like your mother in it.”

“Yes,” I agreed with a slight smile. “You’re right.”

“Go,” she commanded, turning back to her scroll. “I have a few things to attend to here.”

When I looked back over my shoulder, she remained in the same position, focused on the scroll. Regal, a touch haughty, and probably the most influential witch I’d ever met. I wondered why she looked so sad.

I hope I make you proud tonight, Your Highness,
my heart whispered.

With a preparatory breath, I turned and steeled myself for whatever might come next. I didn’t know how Miss Mabel would come, or when, or if she’d even look like herself, but I knew she’d be there.

And I had to be ready.

She’s Here

“I
sn’t it too wonderful?” Camille asked in a breathy voice. “I think I might just die from happiness. It’s all so pretty!”

The four of us stepped into the ballroom together. Although I couldn’t tell them, having my friends at my side made me feel strong. Being in control of the power brought a great deal of hope and light to my heart, but not as much as their persistent friendship. A wave of anxiety welled up from deep within. I embraced it, letting it roll through me, feeling it expand my magic.

Yes. Make me strong. Let me feel it all tonight. This time the emotions will make me mighty.

The massive ballroom had been decorated with such a natural elegance that it took us several minutes of staring to take it all in. Tables laden with food lined one wall, boasting at least fifty different pie offerings, as Michelle had promised. Sprawling paintings of Letum Wood filled every other wall in long murals of green and brown. Golden trim swept along the ceiling, while mirrors reflected the burning torches, and elaborate sconces dripped with golden Letum Ivy. Above it all loomed an emerald-laced forest dragon painted on the ceiling, breathing fire and banishing our enemies.

The High Priestess and Papa stood at opposite ends of the room, Papa on the right, the High Priestess on the left. Standing together made them too vulnerable. Even if they didn’t know or act like Miss Mabel was coming, they were certainly taking every precaution. Two thrones, smaller replicas of the real thrones in the Throne Room, had been placed at the end near the High Priestess. Later, when toasts were made from the Council Members to Papa, they’d sit there together. A few strategically placed Protectors hovered near both of them, occasionally blending in with the crowd, appearing and disappearing whenever they wanted. I searched for Merrick, hoping to congratulate him.

“It is beautiful,” Michelle said, looking awkward and thick in her high-waisted pink gown. Camille had pinned Michelle’s coarse brown hair up on her head with sprays of small white flowers and curls, making her face look wider than ever.

“Really, Bianca,” Camille huffed, casting another wary look at my hair. “You should have let me do something more than just that potion. It’s a ball, you know.”

Despite her demands, Camille hadn’t been allowed within arm’s length of me after Henrietta helped me with the dress. She’d spent most of the afternoon getting herself ready, and the time paid off. Her dishwater curls looked bright and blonde, formed into perfect ringlets that bounced whenever she turned her head. Her dress, an elaborate ivory piece with layers of lace and chiffon, made her look royal and elegant.

“My hair is just fine the way it is,” I said, watching a few couples spin past us. Council Member Patrice wore an extravagant green gown with so many ruffles I almost couldn’t see her beneath it all. She pranced away with another Council Member, giggling.

Leda let out a hefty sigh next to me.

“How are you, Leda?” I asked. “Is your curse beating you up?”

“It’s tolerable,” she said with a grimace and put a hand to her head. She spaced out again, her eyes distant. The light blue dress that Henrietta had sewn for her actually complemented her fair hair and skin. Tonight, Leda looked petite, pale, and lovely.

“Are you going to make it for very long?” I asked once she snapped out of it. A crowd of this size must be giving her a headache as walloping as mine. My own head pulsed and raged. Leda looked at me from the corner of her eyes, her face unusually pinched and her jaw clenched.

“I’ll be fine.”

I searched through the crowd with the fear that I’d see Miss Mabel’s suave grin and sparkling eyes peering out from amongst the innocent spectators. Perhaps she’d transform herself so no one recognized her, or pull me off to the side to deal with me in private. I hoped for the latter.

“Oh no,” Camille said under her breath, chewing on her bottom lip. “Here comes Luther.”

“You don’t want to dance with Luther?” Michelle asked.

“No!” she breathed, turning away and pressing her hand to her flushed cheek. “I don’t mind, I-I just hoped to dance with Brecken first.”

“Is Brecken back?” I asked.

“I don’t know!” she wailed under her breath, turning away as if she hadn’t seen Luther. “I haven’t seen him or heard from him. Oh, dear.”

My eyes widened as a familiar pair of broad shoulders and unruly brown curls stepped into Luther’s path, cutting him off.

“Camille,” Brecken said in his rolling, low voice. “You aren’t crying over me, are you?”

Like the other Captains, Brecken looked handsome in a deep red shirt underlying a black overcoat. Colorful emblems stitched onto his jacket indicated his achievements as a Captain of the Guards, silent testimonies to his years of work. Camille whirled around, wide-eyed and shocked.

“Brecken?” she whispered.

He grinned with a wicked smile.

“As if you ever doubted that I’d come,” he said and whisked her onto the dance floor without another word. The two of them disappeared, absorbed into the teeming mass of bodies.

“Michelle?” came a voice from behind.

Michelle and I looked back to see Nicolas standing there, slightly hunched and burly. He stood several inches taller than Michelle’s towering frame, with beefy shoulders and hands to match.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he said, smiling in his soft, quiet way. “You look wonderful tonight. More beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

A dazzling blush crept over her face when she ducked her head down.

“Merry meet, Nicolas,” she whispered so quietly the violins in the background absorbed her voice. He smiled and then bowed once to me.

“Merry meet, Miss Bianca. You look lovely in dark blue.”

I smiled. “Merry meet, Nicolas. Thank you.”

A cumbersome silence followed. Michelle opened her mouth to say something, decided against it, and looked to me with a wide-eyed plea for help.

“Would you do me a favor, Nicolas?” I asked.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “I would love to.”

“We were just on our way to get something to drink,” I said. “But I have a terrible headache and don’t plan on moving very far. Would you mind going with Michelle? It’s not good manners to walk around alone at a ball.”

A smile so wide I thought it would split his head met my request.

“I would love to help! If Michelle doesn’t mind, of course.”

Michelle looked up, startled.

“No!” she said too loudly. She calmed her response. “I mean . . . I’d love it if you walked over there with me.”

He offered her his arm and she took it, sending me a secret, grateful smile over her shoulder.

Two friends taken care of,
I thought, circling back around to face the dance.
One to go.

“Well,” I said to Leda, gazing around, “I guess we’ll just be stuck here waiting to dance together.”

“Speak for yourself,” she scoffed. “I have a dance or two lined up.”

To my disbelief, Rupert moved toward us with a hand out to Leda. His red mustache gleamed in the candlelight and looked so proper that I wondered if he’d actually brushed it before the ball. Leda took his hand and disappeared without a glance back.

“Good for you, Leda,” I murmured with a smile that quickly faded. I hoped this wasn’t goodbye.

All for the best,
I reminded myself. Dancing wasn’t my idea of a good time. At any rate, I had plans.

I was scouting out the ballroom when a hand captured my wrist and tugged, twirling me around until I stood face-to-face with Merrick. I didn’t comprehend for several seconds that we were dancing, but soon realized that he glided me along without me even knowing it. A little flutter of butterflies moved deep in my stomach. Did they teach all the Protectors how to dance so smoothly?

“Merry meet,” I said, clearing my throat, mortified to feel a blush rising to my cheeks. Like the rest of the Protectors, Merrick wore a simple outfit that blended in; in his case, black pants and a white shirt with a black jacket over it. It was formal enough to get by, but not nearly as stuffy and pompous as some of the other witches. His hair, freshly washed, was pulled back into a ponytail. The sandy streaks of brown and blonde looked especially bright in the ballroom lighting. His shaven face looked temptingly soft. I curled my fingers into my palm instead of reaching up to feel his cheek. He hadn’t even changed his appearance for the Ball this evening. “I hear that congratulations are in order.”

He smiled with that wry quality I’d come to appreciate so much, like he constantly knew something no one else did.

“Thanks.”

“Are you relieved?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “A little. Now the hard stuff really begins. You look different tonight. Is it your hair?”

“Different?” I repeated.

“Okay, beautiful.”

“Uh . . . thanks. Who taught you how to dance?”

His eyes clouded up like a thunderstorm. “My mother.”

“You don’t talk about her much,” I said, surprised to hear her mentioned.

“That’s no accident," he said, his forehead wrinkled, getting right to business. “Listen, I wanted to tell you that I have a bad feeling about tonight. Something’s wrong. Something’s off.”

A shudder skimmed my spine.

Yes. I’m probably part of that reason.

I opened my mouth to tell him to try to get the High Priestess out of the ballroom, or at least to take my father far away, but the binding’s magic activated and stopped the words in my throat. I drew in a deep breath and looked away, frustrated. My eyes latched onto the High Priestess at the far end of the room. She wore a white dress with feathery extensions that looked quite atrocious on her. My eyes trailed to the nearer side of the room, where Papa stood with several witches around him, in deep discussion. The open windows streamed summer air into the stuffy room. Beyond the night I thought I saw a shadow shift in the air, momentarily blocking a star. Dragons?

“I was just outside and saw your little friend,” Merrick said, following my gaze.

“My little friend?”

“Your dragon. The sapphire one.”