When I entered Scarlett’s office the next day, rain sluiced down the windows and humidity burdened the damp air with the sweet scent of wet earth.
Hiddleston sat behind a desk off to the right. He inclined his head as I stepped inside. Dreadlocks spilled onto his shoulder, then rolled off with every little movement. Leda stood directly opposite Hiddleston and peered anxiously at me. I sent her a questioning look. She returned it with a faint smile.
The door closed behind me. Scarlett looked up from where she sat behind the desk, acknowledged me with a nod, then stood. Seeing her in command of what used to be Papa’s office lent a bizarre slant to the moment.
She’d softened the room with gentle touches, starting with a pot of tiny pink flowers at the edge of her desk. A knitted quilt lay across the back of a divan near the fireplace, which added a splash of color to the otherwise gray room.
Papa had accumulated weapons and left space to swing swords and throw axes while he thought through issues, while Scarlett had created a cozy escape to host meetings and welcome other witches.
Probably what this office should have been all along.
“High Priestess.”
“It’s good to see you, Bianca. Please, have a seat.”
Leda gathered several scrolls in her arms and headed for the door. Her bolstering smile reassured me, despite a hint of concern beneath it. Hiddleston followed her out. The moment they left, Scarlett sighed, dropped her shoulders, and paced back and forth behind her desk. She let out her breath in a giant whoosh.
Amused to see Scarlett unraveled in the slightest, I waited for her to speak first. Her reddish-orange dress shone in rising sunlight from the window. Morning unfurled, along with the twitter of birds and a wall of humidity.
A minute passed. She chewed on her bottom lip and stared at the floor.
“Your Highness?” I ventured carefully.
Scarlett held up a hand, paced two more times, then halted. She carried a Network on her shoulders. While other Network leaders squabbled about semantics, she found solutions. Her new High Priest didn’t know what to do with himself, yet she carried confidence and aplomb.
Only a general sense of fatigue lingered in the creases near her eyes. Papa used to have those same creases, but on him they had been the precursor to debilitating exhaustion. Scarlett hadn’t faced that sort of tiredness.
Not yet, anyway.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, then gestured me into a chair in front of her desk. She remained on her feet.
So did I.
“Aren’t you going to sit down?” she asked.
“Yes, if you do.”
A startled expression crossed her face, riddled with amusement. “Really?”
“You’re more nervous than a cat, Scarlett.”
A delighted chuckle spilled out of her, but quickly faded. The somber air returned to the room as she sank into her chair.
“Thank you, I think. I intentionally didn’t connect with you one-to-one before the Council Meeting, and it’s been rabidly busy since then.” A tinge of color rose on her cheeks. “I’m embarrassed that it’s taken me this long to call you in here after the meeting. I apologize. I have been tracking your health otherwise.”
“Don’t be. I had a lot of recovery ahead of me.”
“Your exoneration is appreciated, but I wish it wasn’t needed. You’re feeling better?”
“Back to myself, High Priestess.”
“Running through the trees, as usual?”
“The moment I could.”
Sometimes faster than before, I added silently. No god magic remained within me, but an expansion of goddess magic had taken its place, and then some. Scarlett pulled me from my thoughts.
“I’m happy to hear that. Before we talk about the Sisterhood and your plans with it, may I inquire about something regarding your forest?”
The words your forest gave me a silent thrill. You are mine, I said to the trees.
Their distant keening filled my mind.
You belong to us.
With a mental shake, I brought myself back to Scarlett’s office. “Of course. You can ask me anything.”
“What can Letum Wood do?”
“Do?”
“You’ve mentioned voices from the trees when we’ve spoken about it. There have been allusions to magical systems at work and . . . possibly more. Sentience, perhaps? Knowledge? Is there magic in the forest?”
“Loads of it.”
She tapped a finger against her chin. “What can this magic do?”
My reply stalled with my thoughts. An initial response of what can’t it do? rose. Goddess magic had constraints and limitations because it was reliant on spells and logic.
Was the same true for the forest?
Deasylva’s direct connection to her trees was obvious, yet the intricacies eluded my understanding.
“I’m not sure of the depths of magic in the forest,” I said carefully. “It can transport me from place to place. The trees speak with me. As individuals sometimes, but mostly collectively. I’ve always assumed they’re connected through the root system, but I’m not sure.”
“What creatures are you aware of?”
“Many.”
“Dragons, of course.” A flippant hand dismissed those. “Reports of trolls are mostly legend, which is a relief. Forest lions, beluas, mortegas, almost thirty packs of different fairies . . .”
“Don’t forget the gnomes,” I said wryly.
“Gnomes, of course. Over twenty different, individual species. But what of others? Any more . . . nefarious animals?”
“I would imagine there are many we haven’t discovered.”
“A daunting thought.”
“Why do you ask?”
Several beats of silence passed before she leaned forward, “I wondered . . . if Letum Wood had magic that we could use, perhaps it might be an advantage to us against the demigods?”
“The forest?”
She nodded.
“You want the forest to fight?”
“One could call it fighting, but I see it more as grappling for one's existence. Witches aren’t the only ones that will lose their homes as the gods advance. Baxter has informed me of Gelas’ opinion about Tontes and Ventis’ plans and I’m . . . attempting to think outside our usual routines. The Network delegations will be meeting soon to form a rudimentary, initial plan-of-attack, should the gods descend unexpectedly.”
My heart inflamed yet again with the thought of Letum Wood in danger. Scarlett’s question created immediate discord that only made it worse. Letum Wood in danger was one thing, but expecting the forest to fight?
By sheer willpower, I kept my shout of not a chance trapped inside, though not easily.
Several moments passed while I comprehended the full extent of the question, and all the little details that lay behind it.
Nightmares of fire-torched trees, illuminated like out-of-control candles, recalled in my mind. Screaming saplings intruded next. I shoved them away. While in Alaysia, Tontes had threatened me with such ideas to frighten me. It worked; nightmares haunted me. I swallowed back a rise of fear that had become a little too ordinary.
“If we’re discussing tactics that would be unexpected,” Scarlett said gently, “then a fighting forest would be one of them. There’s no historical precedent that Hiddleston can find in the paths thus far, so I may be entirely wrong in my hope. Such a thing would certainly give us an advantage.”
“You want trees to fight demigods?”
“You yourself said that, during the War of the Networks, the trees had some level of involvement. They aided you, at least.”
“Vines and branches and a few things here and there are hardly a war effort,” I countered just as quickly. “Yes, the trees help and respond to me, but . . . what you’re asking is for more than that.”
“I know what I’m asking,” she said quietly.
“I don’t think you do.”
We stared at each other in an impasse.
“Letum Wood is not a weapon,” I stated a little too forcefully.
“No, of course not. It’s a presence. A place. A . . . magic. An unconventional one at that,” she murmured, “one can’t deny it. Whether it’s feasible to use Letum Wood or not, we obviously can’t be certain yet. I was curious about your thoughts on it and have no definitive plans thus far.”
The only words I could find stumbled out of me like a drunken old man. “I’ll consider it, High Priestess.”
“Thank you, that would be appreciated. Now, shall we talk about the Sisterhood? Council Member Greyson—your only other political support outside of me—has taken up a new residence in Carcere in the Eastern Network, where he belongs. Such a reality poses a significant problem for the advancement of the Sisterhood.”
A peeved tone colored her voice. This conversation had been inevitable for weeks. I’d both welcomed and dreaded it. Without Greyson, the Sisterhood stood on tenuous political ground. Only one witch with political power believed that I could be a benefit to the Network. It happened to be Scarlett, the Highest Witch, but that lent no guarantees in these brutal times.
“I’m hopeful this doesn’t sound presumptuous, Your Highness, but I hoped that the Sisterhood could be of personal use to you, as we had discussed before Alaysia. I’d rather not work for, or with, the Council.”
“After all that has happened, you still desire to work directly for me?”
“More than ever.”
Her shoulders sagged back a little. “That’s good to hear. And Leda?”
“She’s interested in a supporting role, as long as it doesn’t interfere with her current job.”
A brief smile appeared on Scarlett’s lips. “I find no fault with continuing as we had planned before, but Greyson’s removal means that we have no leg to stand on with the Council. For now, that may be all right. Too much swirling around the question of the gods to worry about the Sisterhood.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry to say it.”
A sinking feeling dropped through my feet. “I understand. Definitions can be fluid, High Priestess. I’m here to serve you.”
Scarlett arched a high brow. “You’re willing to work in the shadows? To be an unknown figure?”
“Yes.”
“That’s very selfless of you.”
Ignis, god of fire, had censured my need for approval while in Alaysia. Your Sisterhood will do an admirable job of proving your worth, he had said, since that is what you strive to do. Worth must be proven, right? The attachment to other witches approving who you are is . . . strength personified, don’t you agree? But I expect nothing else so foolish from a witch.
His words replayed back through my mind often. A gentle cadence.
A reminder.
I dropped my gaze to my hands.
“Not really,” I said. “I’m not selfless.”
“Oh?”
“My father taught me.” I shrugged. “It’s what I know. The Sisterhood was never going to be easy. Besides, this isn’t about accolades. This is about Letum Wood.”
“You want to protect your forest?”
“With everything in me.”
She regarded me in deepening thought for a long time. I held her gaze, hopeful she could see the sincerity in my eyes.
Finally, she nodded.
“Let’s focus on saving Letum Wood and Alkarra, shall we? Definitions and details for the Sisterhood will easily come once we’ve secured our land again. Thank you for coming, Bianca. I hope to see you again soon.”
* * *
One moment I darted through the forest, the next moment, a pile of rough hewn logs blocked my path. I skidded to a stop, panting. The forest had whisked me away, mid stride, and deposited me . . .
. . . here.
A witch with sweaty dark hair straddled a log as tall as my waist. Papa. The damp air gave a slight curl to his hair, twisting it at his temple. Such boyish charm made me smile.
Dust and twigs and dirt coated his shirt with great detail. Rags wrapped both hands, which gripped the ends of a sharp piece of metal, like a sword with no hilt. He reached forward, pressed the edge of the metal into the bark, and jerked it toward him. A long shaving appeared, whittled from the top. He grunted, edged it closer, until a chunk of bark three paces long, and one wide, gave way.
He broke it with a crack, inspected it, and tossed it onto a pile. Without looking my way, he called, “Good to see you, B. How did you find me?”
“The forest brought me.”
“Tell it to bring you more.”
I laughed.
He grunted, braced his hands on the fallen tree, and dug the knife into the trunk for another shaving on a different part. While the process repeated itself, I twirled around.
“New place?” I asked.
“That’s the plan.”
“I can’t say I’ve been to this part of Letum Wood before.”
“Good to hear. I’d rather not be easy to find.”
Letum Wood shifted daily. Magic. Vines. Trees. The landscape changed too much to commit it to memory, though individual trees could be recognized. In general, I had to clue in to different observations to figure out my place in the greater scheme. The age of the trees, and depth of sunlight, hinted at general locations.
The older parts of Letum Wood, central to the forest, hid the circle of the ancients—the most gargantuan trees in the tightest canopy. As the forest crawled toward the edges of the Central Network, it would often thin, or the types of trees would change. More sunlight, less clutter, varying tree types. The wood had patches, like a bunch of forests quilted together. Here it was less cluttered and more open.
Papa tossed an arm ahead of him, indicating a patch of cleared earth.
“I like this spot for a house.”
He’d cleared several hundred paces square. Fallen trees littered the ground. Several of them stacked in a rectangle to map out a house, no doubt. Wood shavings, knives, hammers, and sundry items littered a bench made out of a fallen stump.
“It’s beautiful, Papa.”
He nodded behind the place. “There’s a stream back there, for easy water access. The banks are pitched high enough that it shouldn’t flood, unless we had an extraordinary amount of water, which seems unlikely.”
“How long have you had it picked out?”
“Weeks. I don’t get a lot of time to work on it, but I had a few hours today. Thought I’d warm up and chip away at it for a bit.” He chuckled. “Literally.”
“Warm up? It’s blazing hot.”
“Don’t ask.”
I opened my mouth to do just that, but closed it again. He had been elusive about where he’d been passing his time when I asked last time. He’d tell me when he was ready. Auburn curls and wary green eyes came to mind, but I ushered thoughts of Regina back out to turn my attention to matters at hand.
“Well, it will be a cozy place.”
“Quiet,” he countered.
“Same thing.”
“Is it?”
He reached up with a forearm and wiped the sweat off his forehead, then climbed off the tree. He propped the metal shaver against the trunk as a pouch of water appeared in his hand. He drank deeply, then braced his hands on his hips.
I spread my hands. “Well? Give me the grand tour.”
He snorted, then pointed to the far corner. “Bedroom. Fireplace. Table. Another bedroom. Attic.”
“So complicated and intricate.”
He snorted. “Not too big, I think. About twice the size of your cottage, with two rooms, partitioned off.”
“An attic?”
“Why not?”
“You’re going to be a grumpy old man living alone in a forest while you build your own house.”
“Exactly my goal.”
My laughter bounced off the trees. The saplings responded with similar sounds of delight. One leaned toward me, branches brushing my shoulder. My fingers trailed along it in a quick acknowledgment. Suffuse blue light responded, rippling through the leaves.
Papa said with satisfaction, “This is the place, B. My new home.” He pointed to me. “Yours too, if you want it. I’m building a room for you, or you can take the attic. Or the chicken coop.”
“Thanks, Papa,” I muttered wryly. “Do you need any help? I have several million friends that might know where to find fallen trees. To avoid killing the saplings, you know. They’re . . . emotional and sensitive.”
Amusement flitted through him. “Are they?”
“Would you want to be murdered with an ax?”
“Fair point. I’ll take whatever help I can get. Hiddleston has sourced nails for me, and a few other things from a blacksmith.” He kicked the shaving tool with a foot. “Like this. Right now, I’m collecting wood to prep it for stacking. The straighter, the better.”
You belong to us.
We serve her joy.
“Well,” I murmured, “prepare yourself.”
“For what?”
I grinned. “Help.”
A giant thud rang behind us, followed by the clatter of rolling timbers. I whirled around to find fallen trees piling on top of each other, just outside the boundary he marked for his living space. They rolled over themselves until they settled into silence. Papa’s eyes widened.
“The good gods,” he whispered.
Delight coursed through me. Would the forest never cease to amaze me? Did it always have nuances to discover?
I hoped so.
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
Papa laughed. “I will, thank you, B. I mean, Letum Wood.” He tilted his head back. “Thank you!”
A nearby sapling shook, leaves shivering like clattering coins.
Papa stepped closer, then hooked an arm around my neck and pulled me into his side. I wrapped my arms around his waist, grateful for the quick, steady connection.
“I’m glad you’re going to be so close, Papa.”
“Me too.”
“I never dreamed . . .”
A note of emotion touched his voice. “Me either.”
The moment trailed away into a companionable silence. The gift of such freedom seemed like too much to ask for. A liberated Papa. He could craft and live an existence of his own making. How he’d managed to pull off the impossible yet again, I’d never understand.
“Do you need somewhere to eat dinner tonight?” I asked. “I can’t promise it will be the most delicious meal, but I have bread at home. Assuming the gnomes haven’t gotten to it yet. A few mushrooms are just starting to emerge, too.”
“Sounds delightful.”
“Great! See you then.”
He grimaced. “But I can’t.”
“Why not?”
A rigidness in his jaw gave him away. Before he said the words, I knew what would come out.
“I’m . . . eating with Regina tonight. We have a . . . thing that we’re doing.”
By force of will, I managed to say, “Oh,” before the silence consumed the affable air, leaving an awkward, wrung out space. He kicked at a rock. It pattered away, settling in leaves.
“Regina is someone we need to talk about, B.”
He met my gaze, but it cost him. The strange expression of his face, half uncertainty, half insecurity, startled me.
Papa nervous?
“All right,” I drawled.
“I suppose now is as good a time as any. I know I haven’t been around that much. Most of my time has been spent helping her with . . . a few things. She’s catching up on some sleep after a long night and taking a break and then we’ll be back at it.”
“Don’t you need sleep?”
He shrugged. “I had plenty and I like working with my hands. It . . . helps me sort out the thoughts in my head. Anyway.” He drew in a deep breath and drove a hand through his hair. “I . . . uh . . . the gods. This isn’t easy to say.”
Deeper concern filled me, but I stayed silent. Frozen, like a statue, unable to comprehend what could possibly put him in a state like this.
“Papa?”
“I have feelings for Regina.”
The words burst out of him. I blinked. He winced. The words looped through my mind again, merging into memories. The way Papa and Regina stood close in his office, only to break apart when I arrived. The fondness in his voice that he couldn’t quite hide. His time with her the last several weeks. Though he only spoke of Regina in a professional manner, I’d sensed something underneath it.
The good gods.
He did feel for her.
“Say words, B.”
“I don’t know what to say, Papa.”
“What’s in your head?”
My attempt to remain lighthearted flopped like a gutted fish. “Thanks for telling me. I’m sure you’ll have fun with Regina tonight. Merry part!”
His hand flashed out, capturing me before I could transport away. His stare narrowed and my stomach dropped. Oh, I’d seen that face before.
No way I’d get out of this now.
“B, we need to talk about this.”
I tried to wrench my arm free. “Not today, thanks.”
“We do.”
“Papa, you’re free to live your life.” I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I get it, and . . .”
Grasses rustled beneath his feet as he stepped closer. “This must feel weird to you. It feels weird to me, too.”
He released me.
“I’m not exactly sure when it all happened,” he said, a hand waving in front of him. “Slowly or all at once or both. I realized it when we worked together to out Greyson. She’s . . . capable and bright, and she understands me. I love to be around her, and when I’m with her, I feel . . . happy.”
He stopped, agony in his features.
“I’ve torn myself up over the memory of Marie, over how I feel about Regina. In some ways, I feel like I’m cheating on Marie. I shouldn’t feel like this about another witch that isn’t your Mama.”
A long, low breath escaped him. I attempted to absorb his words, to understand the rotating emotions that thickened everything he said, but I couldn’t. Everything was locked up inside, dammed together, and terrified.
“I can’t even say that I feel the same way about Regina as I did about your mother. In truth, B, I’ll never feel about anyone the way I felt for Marie. By the gods, though, Regina is special and I feel deeply for her.”
In an attempt to buy a few more seconds of processing time, I licked my lips and murmured, “I see.”
“Years and life stretch ahead of me now,” he said in a whisper that sounded like a finish. “And I want Regina to be in them.”
An insinuation that he had thoughts to organize lingered, unsaid, in his words. Papa hadn’t exactly stated that he and Regina were courting, but it had been more than apparent. With Regina exiled from the North, and Papa no longer the High Priest, both of them had reasons to hide.
Papa.
Regina.
Courting.
Sure, it wasn’t too great of a surprise, yet it . . . was. Papa had been skirting around their relationship for awhile and I’d let him. I didn’t really want to talk about Regina. Or Mama. Papa interested in another woman that wasn’t Mama set me on a strange, dark highway of puzzlement.
Disquieted emotions overwhelmed me with frustration. Despair. A sense of all not being right with the world if Papa was with anyone but Mama. Caught in the tangle of things, I shook my head to clear them.
His heart held in his eyes as he waited for my response. I reached out, touched his arm.
“I’m not upset, Papa.”
Relief weakened his tension like a wave. He narrowed one eye.
“Truly?”
“I’m confused, but I’m not angry. Mama is gone. I’ve accepted that. You have a life that you want to create. I’m happy for you. I will just need time to think through it and see how I feel.”
Something else emanated from him. Desperation, perhaps. A lost soul searching for himself. A low-level melancholy hummed in his eyes.
Was Papa . . . afraid?
“Papa, are you all right? I mean, you left the throne, the Brotherhood—”
“Not the Brotherhood.”
“Are you still working as a Protector?”
He met my gaze straight on. “Of a sort.”
“All right,” I drawled. “Anyway, you’re building a house by hand, doing something mysterious with Regina. You went from the busiest witch in the Network to . . . not-so-busy. I’m worried about you.”
“I know.”
“Should I be?”
He gazed out. The contemplative expression that followed reassured me he wouldn’t give platitudes.
“Not yet. When Regina and I find success with what I’m helping her with, I’ll be better. And when we settle the demigod issue. And I have a place to live. And when I figure out how to not worry about problems that aren’t mine anymore.” His voice bleakened considerably. “There’s just a few things to get settled, I suppose.”
Unable to help myself, I giggled.
Papa chuckled. “Stark, isn’t it?”
“Definitely.”
These concerns and more cluttered my mind, but the press of worry faded a little with Papa’s words. Alkarran troubles mixed in my mind with Regina and Mama and fears I’d rather not tackle right then.
My response came out like a plea. “Give me time, Papa?”
He softened. “Of course, B. Yes, of course. Whatever you need. I just . . . I wanted you to know. I’m not hiding it, because I’d never do that. I’m . . . figuring it out. I love you more than anyone, and that will always be the case. No matter what I feel for any other witch, you will always be the best thing that ever happened to me.”
He swamped me with his arms, holding me so tight my ribs ached. I returned the fraught embrace, hopeful to soothe his agitation.
“I love you, Papa.”
His voice thickened. “Not as much as I love you.”
The reassurance calmed a screaming girl inside that I hadn’t known existed until this exact moment. Until I knew what that frightened part of me wanted to say, I silenced her until later.
Much later.