I’ll Destroy You 

Mildred stood in front of Evelyn’s desk early the next morning, hands resting at her sides. Her palms felt clammy, and her heart raced, but she maintained a cool expression. She’d been the first summoned to swear her fealty to Evelyn and didn’t doubt Porter would be next. Evelyn wanted to get rid of them.

“Well, Mildred,” Evelyn drawled from where she waited behind her desk. A fan of ebony feathers sprouted around her head in a halo from a chignon at the back of her neck. “Have you come to pledge your allegiance to the Network?”

A quill lifted into the air, hovering between them. Below it lay a piece of parchment with the words Network Binding scrawled across the top. A blob of ink fell onto the paper. Allegiance to the Network, indeed. No doubt it clarified allegiance to Evelyn somewhere in all that small writing.

It required all Mildred’s effort to keep her emotions calm while facing her best friend, allowing the vein of logic in her head to exert control. A wretched sense of disbelief had overtaken her. Despite having had so long to come to terms with her fight against Evelyn, she could still hardly reconcile the truth. Was Evelyn really her enemy? Or was Mildred just upset that it seemed believable?

“I think we both already know that I’m not going to sign that, Evelyn.”

“But it’s required. You know that.”

Mildred had known she’d lose her job as Council Member and be kicked out of Chatham Castle the moment she heard Grant’s announcement the night before. That’s why she, Stella, and Lavinia had stayed up until nearly dawn packing, organizing, and moving the Resistance information to a safer location. Losing the Middle Covens wasn’t what she wanted, but it didn’t matter anymore. The Resistance moved forward of its own power, and she would march with it to the very end, Council Member or not. That meant the ugliest task remained: facing Evelyn one last time.

“I know. But I will not sign it.”

Evelyn’s brow arched. “Oh, really?”

“How is Donovan these days?” Mildred asked, eyes narrowing. “Ever since you murdered Alfred, his wife, and Terry, we’ve had no updates on the health of the High Priest. Is his break benefitting him? Or is he simply getting worse?”

Evelyn laughed, her bright red lips spreading in a cold smile.

“Donovan is as sick as ever. You know how he hangs on to ipsum like a mother’s teat.”

Mildred steadied her voice. “I’m sure his solitude, surrounded by crates of ipsum, hasn’t helped. I’m also sure you’re reassuring him that all goes well in the Network, even though it’s burning to the ground. Since you control the Chatterer now, no one knows what’s really happening.”

“Well, well, Milly,” Evelyn said, flicking the words off her tongue one at a time. “You don’t sound loyal at all, do you? Do I have a little traitor on my hands? You won’t sign an agreement of loyalty—though I should hardly be surprised, as you seem devoted to nothing but your own ideals—and now you’re speculating that I have an agenda.”

Mildred motioned to the binding awaiting her signature on the top of the desk.

“I’m not going to sign it, Evelyn,” she said again, meeting her friend’s chilly gaze. “If you hadn’t already expected that, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

Evelyn’s eyes flickered with something close to pain, or surprise, but she quickly hid it. The fire crackled with a sudden surge of heat.

“You won’t support me? Fine. Then you’ll lose everything!” Evelyn cried, her bright eyes flaring like flames. “I’ll throw you in the dungeons for the rest of your life.”

“No,” Mildred retorted, “you won’t. I’m not the little girl struggling with magic that I used to be, Evelyn. I have power. More power than you know. And I’m willing to fight to put a better leader into place. You may think you’re giving justice to the Network, but you’re only oppressing it.”

“You’re one to talk about justice!”

“Controlling the poor won’t bring your parents back. It won’t reverse the Tobacco Riots that killed them.”

“I’ll never let you free!” Evelyn screeched, panting. “You’ll never be stronger than me!”

“And if I try to stop you?” Mildred asked, her stomach cold and heavy. She already knew what Evelyn was going to say. She saw it in the glittering depths of her darkening eyes. Evelyn lifted her chin.

“I’ll destroy you.”

Mildred let out a pained breath. Anticipating Evelyn’s betrayal could never have prepared her for the blow. She’d known all along that it could come to this, but a part of her had hoped that Evelyn could be persuaded away from it. The single band around Mildred’s pinky finger, where the Witches’ Oath lay, began to burn. It disintegrated, fading into the wrinkles in her skin.

“So mote it be,” Mildred whispered, transporting away before Evelyn could draw another breath.

Later that night, Jorden set a plate of food in front of Mildred and settled into a chair across from her. A pile of boiled potatoes waited, reminding her so much of her childhood that the mealy, bland texture looked appetizing. It just needed salt.

“Eat up,” he said, pushing the salt container toward her with a knowing wink.

Jorden’s wife Imogen, a petite, slender thing with thick blonde hair and a quiet smile, moved softly in the background of their little cottage in the countryside of the Ashleigh Covens. Their sweet little boy, a child with a glare as powerful as Mother’s, slept in a crib near the fireplace, his golden curls reflecting the simmering light.

“He’s a wonderful boy, Jorden,” Mildred said, eyeing her nephew fondly. “He looks just like you.”

He rubbed his jaw and smiled. “He acts like Mother.”

Mildred smiled, and so did he. The warmth of the fire made the room cozy in a way that Chatham Castle could never be. Books stood on top of the mantle, and Imogen hummed whenever she moved. The quaint scene was so perfect for Jorden that it didn’t matter they were as poor as Mildred had been growing up. Dirt floors were as good as marble. A pang of envy stabbed her aching heart. What she’d give for close wooden walls and the quiet movement of life!

“Thank you for letting me come,” Mildred said, cutting a potato with a prong of her fork. “I won’t stay the night, but I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

“Marten and I worked out a few safe spots that I’ll rotate through,” she said, waving her hand. She caught the determined look in his eye and shook her head. “I won’t tell you where, Jorden, so you can ban the idea from your head. I’m not telling anyone, not even Stella, who is also in hiding, so only contact her through the silenda. I won’t put anyone in more danger than absolutely necessary.”

His protest faltered. “Fine,” he muttered. “It’s not worth fighting with you over it. You’re so stubborn; you always win.”

Gratified, she returned her focus to the red potatoes. Imogen refilled Mildred’s cup with cold water from a well, smiled, and moved away again. Jorden’s face sobered when he leaned his elbows onto the table.

“Stella told me you’ve been running around the Network all day, talking to Resistance members and your Coven Leaders. I hope you were careful. Evelyn put a notice out for your arrest with a one hundred pentacle reward this morning, just after you left her office. Desperate witches might turn you in for far less.”

Mildred snorted. “Evelyn doesn’t frighten me. She couldn’t even find me after I left. She tried to track my magic, but I transported from place to place too quickly, and she lost the impression. I’m stronger than she’s giving me credit for.”

“She should scare you,” he said. “She proved today that she’s willing to do anything to get what she wants.”

A chilling note in his voice set her on edge. She glanced up. “What do you mean?”

“She killed Porter,” he whispered. Mildred froze, fork hovering in mid-air above her steaming potatoes.

“What?”

“He wouldn’t sign, so she killed him. He tried to leave, but she’d learned from your escape.”

“There’s been nothing about it in the Chatterer—” The response died on Mildred’s lips. No, of course there wouldn’t be an announcement. Evelyn controlled the newsscroll. She could have Porter killed, institute her own Council Member over Chatham City and Chatham Castle, and gain total control of the Council without anyone knowing.

“Dolph saw Porter’s body,” he said. “Told Marten that he recognized it as a rare death caused by an old spell, which means it’s likely Noah killed him under Evelyn’s orders.”

Mildred set her fork down, too astonished to eat. Porter gone? She’d expected imprisonment—if he didn’t break away as an outlaw the way she had—not secret murder. Why hadn’t she warned him?

“Evelyn controls all of Chatham City and Castle now,” she said.

“Which means the Resistance needs more witches to fight in Chatham City. Stella thinks it’s not safe to continue with the current plan if we don’t drum up more support.”

A wave of dizziness passed over Mildred, clouding the edges of her vision. Her silenda warmed, and a queue of four messages came at the same time. She ignored them and sat without moving while the lightheaded moment passed, striving to look deep in thought instead of teetering on the verge of consciousness. The last thing she needed was to provoke Jorden’s suspicion that she’d taken on too much.

“Stella’s right,” she admitted. “It’s not safe. But then, this plan has never been guaranteed, has it? There’s so much to worry about, really. I worry about all of it. The Resistors. Marten. Dolph. What if they’re caught? What about Stella? What about you, Imogen, and the baby?”

Jorden folded his hands in front of him.

“Mother would tell you to focus on one problem at a time and then move on,” he said with a wry smile. Mildred couldn’t help but laugh. “No doubt Evelyn most influences Ashleigh City and Chatham City,” he continued. “Imogen and I know a number of trustworthy witches in Ashleigh City. All fifty swore a vow of silence and allegiance to the Resistance, as you specified. But we still don’t have enough to stop the Elitists from taking over Ashleigh City when they hear what’s happening at the castle. The Elitists in Ashleigh City could provide a safe haven for other fleeing Elitists and fight back.”

“My power is limited now,” she said, holding out her palms as if to show him they were bare. “I can’t return to the castle until I fight Evelyn. We don’t have time to recruit and train more witches, nor would I trust that they weren’t her spies. According to my Resistors at Ashleigh House, Donovan is sicker than ever before. He could die within weeks.”

Her thoughts trailed away.

“Can I propose something?” Jorden asked, and Mildred glanced up at him in surprise. The firelight flickered across his face, and he looked mature in a way she’d never imagined her brother to be. Wouldn’t they always be little kids, crouching in a closet, hiding from the wrath of their father? Or had their bullies simply taken on a different form now, and instead of cowering, they stood together?

“Of course,” Mildred said, patting her lips and setting her napkin on her empty plate. “I’ll take any help at this point.”

“You aren’t looking everywhere. Maybe there is a way to get a group of trustworthy witches on your side that you don’t need to train in defensive magic. Or in any magic that Evelyn would anticipate.”

“Just what do you suggest?” she asked.

He grinned. “Have you thought of the gypsies?”