Poor Form 

Council Member Porter ran Chatham City and Chatham Castle with unusual temerity.

He began every day at five and retired at midnight. He never needed much sleep, and he never appeared tired. Although he inspired respect, many on the Council found him overly opinionated and prone to favor only the witches that agreed with him.

They were right.

He stopped at a mirror to ensure that his silver hair hadn’t moved, straightened his frock coat, and turned to his Assistant.

“I’ve an early appointment with the High Priestess. I’m unavailable until then.”

The floor-length windows behind his desk lit the office in an early morning light, illuminating drifting dust motes. Stacks of old tomes lined his walls, hiding his special collection. His very special collection.

Porter approached the farthest bookcase on the left, murmuring a rare incantation under his breath. The entire shelf swung forward, revealing an extensive collection of wine. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface of a bottle, selected one, and withdrew to his desk to pour.

“Delicate,” he murmured, closing his eyes with a deep sigh and enjoying the lingering bouquet on his tongue. “Just a hint of lavender.”

Drinking such an expensive wine in the morning dulled his constant frustration with his career. Thoughts of meeting with the High Priestess eased some of the strain. Nell had always seen eye-to-eye with him. They’d had something of a silent partnership for many years now, preventing Donovan from implementing some of his dumber ideas.

But knowing that Nell’s troublesome Assistant was the topic of their meeting tempted him to enjoy a full glass before their arrival. Evelyn, a spoiled teenager with too much power, was going to throw a fit.

“No.” He replaced the wine with a feeling of regret. “Just a sip.”

He’d just settled in to reply to his weekly correspondences when a knock interrupted him. “Come in.”

The High Priestess stepped inside wearing a muted gray dress, her matching hair tucked into a high bun.

“Your Highness,” he said warmly, executing a perfect bow. “I am so grateful that you agreed to come to this meeting. Please, have a seat.”

He pulled his best chair close to the fire, and she settled in with a smile.

“I’m always happy to meet with you, Porter. And of course I would come to anything that involves my Evie,” she said with a note of worry in her voice. “You said that you had an issue about her to discuss?”

“Yes,” he drawled, not wanting to alarm her. “If you don’t mind, I would like to wait until she arrives.”

Nell nodded. “Of course. In the meantime, tell me how things are going in Chatham City.”

Evelyn slipped inside five minutes later, wearing an extravagant dress with emerald beads and a silky blue skirt that sparkled in the sunlight. Porter grimaced. Such an expensive gown on a weekday morning? Poor form.

“You wanted to see me, Council Member?” Evelyn asked, stopping a few paces in. Porter motioned her to the chair opposite Nell.

“Yes, Evelyn, have a seat.”

She paused, catching sight of Nell’s familiar bun over the top of the chair, and slid her eyes back to him in calculated question.

“Thank you,” she said, as calm as pond water as she sashayed to Nell’s side. “I prefer standing. Good morning, Nell. I didn’t know you would be here.”

Nell waved, but neither of them had taken their eyes off of Porter. “Go ahead,” Nell said. “What do you need from us?”

“I’ll get right to it,” Porter said, leaning back against his desk. “As Council Member of Chatham City and Chatham Castle, I make sure that everything here runs smoothly. I’m in charge of the staff, the Coven Leaders, the upkeep, the kitchens, and anything else you could think of, right down to the smallest garden and the employment of librarians.”

“What’s your point?” Evelyn asked. “I’m already aware of what you control.”

Porter stopped to stare at her in undisguised annoyance. Evelyn did not back down, though a light flush in her cheeks indicated she had some awareness of her horrible manners.

“Are you aware of what I control, Evelyn?” he asked with cool surprise. “Because you like to order the servants of this castle around as if you were in my position.”

Evelyn’s eyes went distant for a minute.

“What does he mean, Evelyn?” Nell asked.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Evelyn replied innocently, folding her hands behind her back.

Porter gave her a flinty grin. “Then I’ll be happy to fill you both in. It just happened last week, so I’m sure you’ll remember soon.”

Nell’s eyes widened as Porter regaled her with the story of Evelyn, Stella, and Matilda.

“According to the two butlers who reported it independently of each other, Matilda begged to be allowed to complete her errand, but Evelyn refused to listen. Do you need me to recount more?”

“No,” Evelyn muttered, teeth clenched and cheeks bright red. “I remember now.”

“Oh good. I thought you would.”

“Evie, is this true?”

“Yes,” Evelyn whispered, leveling a glare of fire at Porter, who received it with an easy smile. Seeing Evelyn so uncomfortable was delightful. “I threatened to fire Matilda if she didn’t do as I said.”

“I see. Then you shall apologize to Porter and to Matilda,” Nell concluded, rising to her feet to look Evelyn in the eyes. “I’m very disappointed in you. It seems to be a recurring theme lately.”

Evelyn swallowed, enduring a long stretch of silence. Her cheeks flared a brighter red.

“I apologize, Council Member Porter,” Evelyn finally muttered, bowing her head in reluctant subjugation. “I shall also seek out and apologize to Matilda.”

“Accepted.” He turned to Nell. “In the future, Evelyn may request favors of the staff in a courteous manner, but they are under no obligation to follow her commands. I’ve met with the staff, and they are aware.”

“That seems fair,” Nell said. “It’s no less than the rest of us should do to respect our staff. What came of Matilda?”

“I’ve reassigned her to avoid any . . . unpleasantness.”

Evelyn stalked to the door without a dismissal, letting it slam in her wake. Nell stood with a weary smile.

“Thank you, Porter. I appreciate your honesty. The good gods know it hasn’t been easy since she returned.”

“Maybe she’ll come around.”

Nell stared at the door. “Maybe.”

Porter waited several minutes after they left before he chuckled, congratulated himself on successfully putting Evelyn in her place for the first time, and plucked his wine off the shelf again.

Miss Mabel’s School for Girls was in full swing when Evelyn transported there in the middle of the first month of Fall. The smell of Miss Celia’s bread wafted through the deadfall of Letum Wood with the beckoning promise of buttery crusts. Evelyn sauntered up the path to the front door and slipped inside. The low murmur of voices, once so familiar to her, now wrapped her in a distant memory. How she missed her days at school! Things were much simpler then. Did adulthood become more complicated with every step?

Students walking by gave her an odd stare, but Evelyn ignored them and started down the hallway to the left, following it until she found a familiar set of spiraling iron steps and began to climb.

“I’m here, May,” she called the moment she set her slippered foot on the landing. A lone student—the winner of the Competition and May’s only pupil—sat at a desk in the middle of the attic classroom, where she’d spent many days herself. The girl glanced up, then turned away.

“Come to my office, Evie dear.” May’s voice drifted down the hallway. “Tea is waiting for you.”

Evelyn found May sitting behind her desk, a small disaster of scrolls and parchments scattered on top. She wore a pair of glasses on the edge of her nose and controlled three quills writing furiously on different scrolls. The room was neat but cluttered with trinkets, a small tapestry on the wall, and a few paintings. Evelyn smiled to herself. Nothing had changed since she left. Steady, reliable May! Just being in her presence soothed Evelyn’s frazzled nerves.

“Have a seat,” May said, giving Evelyn her usual smile. A small scroll at her elbow closed and zipped past them, sliding under the door that led into May’s personal quarters. “Miss Celia just sent up the tea tray.”

Evelyn lowered herself into a wooden chair. A circular table held a gold-lined tea set. Steam rose from the spout, filling the air with the smell of warm vanilla and sugar. Tea sandwiches and rose-shaped meringues filled a silver tray next to the tea, almost too lovely to eat. May continued to write, so Evelyn arranged her skirts, folded her hands on her lap, and waited.

“Go ahead and pour,” May said, setting down the quill. “Tell me about things. Your letters have been so long lately that I haven’t been able to read all of them.”

May’s sympathetic tone melted all of Evelyn’s frail defenses. She hadn’t told May of her embarrassing incident with Porter, having been too mortified to admit the truth. But it had boiled up inside her for so long now that she simply had to tell her.

“Oh, May! I can’t even tell you, it’s all so embarrassing! It happened months ago, and it still feels so fresh.”

“Then you must tell me,” May said, rising from her desk chair and sitting in the chair across from Evelyn. “You may begin.”

Evelyn forgot the tea while recounting the humiliating situation with Porter and the staff, ending with indignant tears and an emphatic promise—not for the first time—to never forgive Nell.

“She just sat there and let him berate me,” Evelyn whispered. “Over a lazy servant who should have been doing her job. My life has been unbearable since then. I can’t ask any of the servants for help because they just ignore me. I hear them gossiping when they think I’m not listening, and Nell! Nell doesn’t trust me at all anymore.”

“That is a tough situation, Evie,” May said, finally pouring the tea herself. “But it was your fault.”

Evelyn gave May a wounded look. “It’s my fault that Nell sided with Porter?”

“You’re twenty years old and still haven’t gained control over your emotions,” May said in a chiding way, adopting a firm maternal glare. “What have we talked about before?”

Evelyn studied the lace work around her wrist, not wanting to see the truth in May’s daunting gaze. “The only way to win in a political game is subtlety,” she said from memory, recalling many days of May’s lectures in front of the attic fire.

“Indeed. Was it subtle to threaten to fire a servant when you didn’t have the proper authorization?”

“No. But in my defense, I thought I had that power! I’ve never been denied anything at Chatham Castle before.”

May ignored her outburst. “Do you see that it’s your fault for acting on rash emotions?”

Evelyn’s nostrils flared as she looked away, but her fury had no real strength. If May believed she’d been wrong, then that was simply the truth of it. She gave in with a resigned sigh. “Yes.”

“Good. Then what can we improve in the future so our plans are not jeopardized?”

“I shall control my thoughts,” Evelyn promised, contrite. “And my temper,” she amended when May opened her mouth, finally earning the coveted nod of approval.

Nell’s words that day had wounded Evelyn to the core. I’m very disappointed in you. It seems to be a recurring theme lately. Evelyn simply couldn’t bear it if she disappointed May, whom she looked up to more than anyone. It seemed that whenever she acted in a way that pleased May, she disappointed Nell. If she pleased Nell, she would disappoint May. It gave her a headache, and she pressed a hand to her head.

All I want is for them to be proud of me. Why is that so hard?

May studied her for a minute. “Let me comfort you, Evelyn. In the end, this incident won’t matter. You’re going to take over the Network and turn things around. Once you’ve gained a bit more trust and written a Network law that runs according to wealth and education, none of this shall happen again. Let’s think on this as a blessing.”

“A blessing!” Evelyn cried. “How is my humiliation in front of the entire castle a blessing?”

May shook her head. “You are an emotional trap, aren’t you? It’s like you feel something and never let it go. This incident proved to me that our cause is justified. The servants in the castle have too much freedom. If we don’t limit their liberties, they’ll take over, and we shall lose even more innocent witches than we already have.”

Evelyn thought it over. “Yes,” she whispered, surprised to find some comfort. “Perhaps you’re right.”

If it must be so painful, at least her cause was just. They must work harder to make the Network a better place. To keep other witches from the same pain. To protect them from themselves.

“You’ve learned a great deal as well,” May said. “We also know now that Porter will be an obstacle.”

“He’ll be the first to go,” Evelyn muttered. “I’ll not keep him a moment longer than I have to. Oh, I do hate him!”

“That’s a good girl,” May said, sitting back in her chair. “How is our plan coming along?”

Evelyn glanced up, pulled from her reveries of revenge. “Slow,” she admitted with hesitation. “There’s not much time outside of meetings and social events to plot the new law.”

“Or have you been spending too much time with Council Member Grant?”

Evelyn blushed, unable to meet May’s sharp gaze. “No! Well, I suppose I have spent a lot of time with him lately but in a professional regard.”

May frowned. “Have you clearly established our goals?”

“Yes, of course,” Evelyn said eagerly, grateful to have one right answer. “Together you and I shall establish me as Council Member and, finally, as High Priestess, where I shall remove education for the poor and increase funding to the struggling wealthy oppressed by the poor. Once Donovan dies, I shall destroy the Esmelda Scrolls and get rid of the current Network so I may institute our law.”

May’s arch look of disapproval stung. “Yes, but that’s old news. Have you created an actual plan yet?”

Evelyn swallowed. “Not beyond that, no,” she said, averting her eyes and fiddling with her tea cup, afraid to view May’s frightening displeasure.

“I see,” May murmured as she smoothed out a wrinkle in her organza dress. “Do I need to find someone more committed to improving our Network? I’m sure my granddaughter Mabel would love to—”

“No!” Evelyn cried. “No, please don’t take this opportunity away from me! I-I just got busy and forgot how much it all means to me. I’ll start writing up the plans immediately, I swear.”

“Very well,” May said with a low purr of her husky voice, like a contented cat. “I’ll give you one more chance.”

“How am I to start the plan?” Evelyn asked, swallowing. “I’m quite overwhelmed and—”

“I’ll leave that to you to figure out,” May said, as if they were discussing the weather. “But whatever you do, do it carefully. We don’t want Nell or Donovan finding out about our plans, do we?”

Evelyn, emotionally exhausted from her vent, and now uncertain how to please her favored mentor, leaned back in her seat. May’s demands never ended and often seemed unfair and heavy. But Evelyn didn’t dare admit it, for May did not appreciate weakness.

And Evelyn would not be weak.

“I shall try.”

“That’s all I ask,” May said, and they finished their tea in silence.