The irritated cry of an offended chicken, followed by a bellow from a witch, drew my gaze down.
The alleys and byways of Chatham City moved below, like synchronous wheels. Bodies shuffled along too-narrow streets. Newsscroll hawkers called out headlines. Orphans darted around, hungry for someone to pickpocket.
Gritty, hot shingles lay beneath my sandals while I crouched on the roof of a tavern. Bawdy songs belted out from below, punctuated with the occasional trill of someone running scales on the piano.
I chewed on my bottom lip.
“Where are you?” I muttered.
No sign of demigods in Chatham City, at Chatham Castle, nor the Southern Network, Eastern Network, or Western Network. The Chatterer reported no further sightings.
I crinkled a message from Merrick that simply said, Neither Baxter, nor myself, have heard of any new reports of demigods. They’ve learned from the failed demigods.
I frowned.
How was I supposed to harvest amulets when they weren’t here? Gelas had promised that the demigods would come to me. If that was true, they weren’t doing it fast enough for my liking. Too much of the last year had involved me attempting to find demigods.
A second message popped into view. I tapped the edge of the small scroll, no wider than my thumb. It rolled open in front of me.
Dearest granddaughter,
I spoke to Scarlett this morning regarding your thoughts about the dragons and she wishes to hear more of your opinions today.
If you’re amenable, and to help her continue good graces toward the current Council, she requests your presence at the Council meeting, after lunch. I volunteered to write to you to ask, as she’s trapped in meetings with the other Network leaders until the Council meeting begins.
Will you come?
—Grandfather
I wrinkled my nose and read the letter one more time.
Visiting Grandfather at Chatham Castle was one thing, but a Council meeting was something else entirely. While I might miss proximity to Leda and Grandfather and Reeves, rarely did I want to return to the hustle and bustle of castle life.
My dramatic return from Alaysia created a wave of notoriety I desired to avoid. Did I want to talk to the entire Council about the idea to pull dragons into the fight?
No.
Also, yes.
If such an appearance would get Scarlett’s mind off of the forest and onto something else, then I’d do it, and gratefully.
I scrawled a reply.
I’ll be there. Thank you, Grandfather.
—B
* * *
When I arrived at the Council Meeting, a low-level hum of tension ran like gossamer threads through the air.
Aldred stood back from a sprawling table ringed by seated Council Members, a contemplative expression on his face. His arms were folded behind his back, his gaze fixed on a painting of the forest across the room.
His tempestuous reputation had cooled after he stepped into the office of High Priest. Whether the burden humbled him, or he realized it wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping for, wasn’t clear. Either way, he’d been less insufferable, more stressed, and wisely deferred to Scarlett when needed.
Scarlett sat at the top of the table in an honorary position. A crimson dress covered her strong shoulders, dropping to a skirt that faded to black. Her austere bun and placid expression revealed little as she studied a set of notes. Baxter would have been here if he didn’t have an amulet to search for.
The only witch I wanted to talk to today was her, yet, I had to do it through the sieve of the Council.
Not ideal, but I’d take it.
Disorganization since Greyson’s betrayal was obvious in uncertain Assistants, Council Members hissing commands, and darting looks.
Assistants punctuated the strained air with a rustle of parchment or hushed whispers. The smell of ink drifted by. So many witches in a smaller space created the general hum of political anxiety and subtle rushing, as if there was so much to do they couldn’t possibly achieve it all.
Sia, the new Council Member over the Western Covens, drew my gaze when she leaned over to speak with her Assistant. Her high flush indicated stress, not to mention the fast movement of her lips. Her wide-eyed Assistant nodded frantically.
A clear divide still existed between the Council. Aldred’s loyal following sat together on one side of the table, the rest scattered in various stages of stalwart independence. Each Council Member appeared eager, a bevy of hot-headed personalities ready to discuss issues and solutions. They carried a variegated array of opinions, but at least they weren’t so hostile. Scarlett had subdued their growing unrest by integrating them more deeply into the affairs of security, a concession I felt she shouldn’t have to make.
Near the fireplace lurked a darker presence.
Matthais.
Seeing him made my molars grind together. Did Matthais still believe me to be a pretentious young upstart? A witch with big dreams and ideas, but no way to execute them? I didn’t have the courage to ask. Since I’d returned from Alaysia, we’d fallen into the habit of cordial nods and bland smiles, then hurrying out of each other’s presence.
Near him stood Talmund, the Head of Guardians. A sleek, thin, but scrappy man with a fresh-shaven face and hints of gray in his blond hair. He kept one hand on his sword hilt, a distant look on his face.
A clearing of the throat from Aldred silenced various murmurs. He lifted a hand, drew the Council’s attention, and motioned toward me with a flick of his fingers.
“Gentlewitches, may we begin? Miss Monroe has come by invitation from the High Priestess to discuss an idea that might be useful for Network defense. We will begin with this initial topic before diving into other matters.”
Ripples of surprise followed. I braced myself. Aldred’s musing tone—or the lack of annoyance in it—indicated that Grandfather hadn’t extrapolated on my idea much. If it all. The Council wouldn’t be likely to agree with me.
Aldred’s leading presence in this meeting reminded me too much of standing before all Network delegations to answer for my time in Alaysia. It had become a tempestuous meeting, with unexpected arrivals and difficult questions.
Hopefully, today would be far more gentle.
At a nod from Aldred, I stood. A hush fell over the room. More than twenty witches stared at me. Most of their expressions held brittle expectation, as if all of them had to brace themselves to deal with me again.
“Thank you, Council, for seeing me. To get right to the heart of the matter, I believe that the forest dragons pose a unique opportunity for Network defense.”
Aldred blinked.
Martha’s eyes widened. Her pinched lips parted, then closed again.
Halifax’s folded hands tightened.
When Council Member Massimo from the Eastern Covens cleared his throat, the interruption of shocked quiet caused a wave of change, like a breath. Several voices piped up at the same time.
“The dragons?”
“You want the dragons to fight for us?”
“An odd idea . . .”
Before they could quarrel amongst themselves, I quickly relayed my observations on the demigods’ attempts to cut down trees and the subsequent attack from the forest dragons. Astonishment faded into perplexed frowns.
“As you can see, something must be done. If we don’t protect Letum Wood, then we don’t protect Alkarra. The forest dragons could be a designated battalion to keep the forest safe, as well as witches. The dragons have protected Chatham City before.”
Rosanna growled. “What a pain in our neck the demigods have become!”
“Hear, hear!” came a reply.
Discussion unfurled. The various threads unwound like balls of yarn from a teeming pile.
“. . . never wanted to help us before.”
“The ancient agreement forced them to help with Almorran magic. They’re not likely to contribute again.”
“Can’t say it’s half bad, if we can control them.”
“Would this be a Guardian duty?”
“Not enough Protectors for this!”
Scarlett’s lips pressed together as the ruckus expanded. She glanced at Aldred, then back to the table in a pointed, silent command. He nodded ever-so-slightly. With a lifted hand, he called, “Please, may we be productive in our discussion?”
The Council quieted.
Suddenly, I understood.
Scarlett’s decision to call Aldred to the position of High Priest had been suspect for some witches. Sure, he had political aspiration in spades, but that didn’t make him a great candidate. That’s not why Scarlett selected Aldred.
She’d chosen him because he would be an unofficial intermediary between the Highest Witch and the Council. He had engrained himself in the majority of the Council as trustworthy. At the least, a witch to remain on good terms with. That bought Scarlett instant bargaining power Papa didn’t have before. Given full reign, Aldred actually made an impact here.
Clever move.
To this role, he was oddly suited, I had to admit. The more difficult personalities on the Council, like Martha, Massimo, and Rafe, trusted him. A penchant for the Council to listen to his directions led to a far more mollified meeting than those Papa had conducted.
Scarlett’s attempts to include them into matters that weren’t technically their business must have appeased them. Wise High Priestess, infuriating process.
Aldred drew me back to the present.
“Bianca, do you have further insights into how we could harness the dragons to our benefit? It’s one thing to assume they would help us. Enacting such help is another matter entirely.”
I spoke to Scarlett because they didn’t hold the decision-making power over Network protection. The Highest Witch would decide.
“Nicholas and Michelle.”
Scarlett’s brow lifted in silent question.
“Nicholas and Michelle are foresters that have an established relationship with the dragons. If you—I mean, the Network—were to speak with them, I believe they’d be able to help with a strategy to engage the dragons’ interest and work with them. Perhaps in conjunction with our Guardian force?”
Talmund’s nose wrinkled. Matthais held his stony expression, hands folded in front of him.
“The dragons are likely to be motivated to protect the forest because they live in it. It’s not the same thing as asking them to defend witches, though . . . maybe some dragons would be amenable to that,” I added.
Halifax, a wheezy old man with a bristling white mustache, lifted an arm. He spoke into the quiet, shattering it.
“Have any other such demigod parties appeared since that one?”
“No.”
“Any before?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
His gaze tapered under his bushy eyebrows. “And you say that the forest took you there?”
Incredulousness stained his tone, which sent a wave of hesitation through me. It was one thing to have Merrick and Papa and Leda and Grandfather understand my connection with Letum Wood, and another one to have the Council privy to it. Could they use it against me?
Probably.
Would they?
Definitely.
“Yes.” I lifted my chin. “The forest took me there.”
“Hmm . . .”
A flutter of surprise moved through his gaze, then out.
“It’s not really our business to protect the forest,” Martha squeaked. “Can you imagine trying? The sheer amount of land it covers makes it nearly impossible. Frankly, this isn’t our responsibility.”
“Isn’t it?” I countered. “Doesn’t Letum Wood cover most of the Network?”
Martha frowned. Her knuckles turned white as she clutched her handkerchief more tightly.
“Support from the Council should be mandatory for such a drastic measure to move forward,” said a rich female voice.
Attention shuffled to the left where Georgette, Council Member over the Chatham Covens, sat next to Massimo. Hair piled on top of her head in an elegant, dark knot. She wore a luxurious dress fashioned out of layers of rare linea fabric in shades of blue-gray, just like my eyes. Her subtle, but elegant, style made me think of Stella. The sharpness in her snapping, green-eyed gaze made me think of Mabel.
“If such a plan were to happen at all,” Georgette continued. “Dragons as a fighting force sounds like a tactical and logistical nightmare. The potential for endangerment of the general populace is high, particularly in Chatham City, Ashleigh, and smaller communities. This would need to have heavy consideration, not to mention testing, before such a thing moved forward.”
“If Nicholas and Michelle helped, much of that could happen very quickly. The dragons are intelligent creatures. It’s a matter of communication, more than anything.”
“One witch and a few dragons against an untold number of demigods?” she scoffed. “You of all witches should see the fallacy in that. Please, tell me I’m not the only one.”
Georgette spoke with a slicing tone aimed at Scarlett, as if she expected a fight. Leda’s already pinched face hardened. Scarlett gave a vague head tilt to the challenging tone, a gentle acknowledgement, but non-answer.
“The dragons don’t like witches,” I said over a rising tide of objections similar to Georgette. “Dragons don’t pose a threat to us, and we’d only use them when the gods come.”
Across the table, Halifax winced. The Chatterer newsscroll, and nearly all Council Members, still used the phrase if the demigods return. My stronger verbiage made many of them uncomfortable.
“If!” called Council Member Rafe, of the Middle Covens. “We’re still working with conjecture. We have demigods, but have yet to see the gods arise in Alkarra.”
“You shouldn’t be talking to us, Miss Monroe,” Clare, Council Member over the Western Covens, stated. She held up two hands in a stopping gesture. “This conversation has nothing to do with the Council, and everything to do with the Highest Witch, the Head of Guardians, and the Head of Protectors. Take it to them.”
Unlike sleek Georgette, Clare was a subtle woman with manicured clothes, her hair tucked in curls around her head, and an intelligent gaze. A traditional, conservative counterpart to Georgette’s more progressive, non-traditional ways.
Matthais’ gaze bore into me. I met it, saw no invitation to do as Clare mentioned. Talmund adjusted his weight, the leather of his boots creaking. Neither disagreed, nor volunteered. A damning quiet, all the same.
Replies to Clare’s declaration parried back and forth: disputes, agreements, and questions. They bandied amongst themselves and utterly ignored me.
“Firmly not in our power to protect.”
“Let the forest take care of itself.”
Not a single conversation agreed upon more than one point before opinions spiraled into other paths. I held my silence, transfixed by the flapping tongues and utter lack of anything concrete.
After several minutes, Aldred’s voice rang across the room, easing the cacophony.
“There are other ideas to present while our Head of Guardian and Head of Protectors are here, so let us wrap this up. I call for a vote for who on the Council shall support the idea of using dragons to fight in our battles against the demigods. You have two minutes to discuss before I call for a vote and we move on.”
A sharp look from Scarlett compelled him to quickly tack on, “With full understanding that our High Priestess has final say regarding Network security, of course.”
Satisfied, she leaned back in her chair.
Aldred blithely avoided direct eye contact with me as Council Members leaned closer, speaking quietly. Assistants fluttered to their sides. Quills scratched notes. Papers rustled. My hands relaxed in a blatant lie against my own thrumming tension.
If they opposed the idea, Scarlett would be unlikely to approach the dragons. If she did draw the dragons into the fight—or attempt to—tension would form within the Council. To avoid such a thing, her focus might rivet back to the forest, which put the trees in greater danger.
Exactly what I didn’t want.
In what seemed to be an interminable time later, Aldred consulted a pocket watch, cleaned the face of it off with a handkerchief, and slammed it shut with a loud click.
“Deliberation has finished. Indicate your support of yay or nay so the High Priestess can make her determination with information gleaned from the Council.”
He pointed to Rosanna. She shook her head.
No surprise there.
Georgette, another no.
Massimo leaned back and said, “Undecided.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Better than no, though not by much.
Aldred canvassed the Council while I tallied the results in my head. Meanwhile, Scarlett observed with a contemplative expression on her face. Every now and then, Leda leaned forward to pass a message to Scarlett, or Scarlett would spin to ask her something.
When the tally settled, I felt no surprise.
Four against.
Four ambivalent.
Two yes.
Aldred met my gaze with a bland stare.
“Thank you for presenting your idea, Miss Monroe. We will continue discussions from here and let you know if we have any questions.”
Frustration rippled through me as Aldred’s Assistant stepped forward to escort me out. I glared at his outstretched hand before he touched me, which he quickly dropped to his side.
“Wait!” I held up a hand. “One question, please?”
Reluctantly, Aldred nodded. Rafe lifted his eyebrows in vexed irritation. Georgette stared, face inscrutably blank.
“If not the dragons, then what will you do?” I asked. “If the demigods have plans to destroy Letum Wood, you can bet the gods are behind it. Whether you like it or not, they are coming. Wisdom dictates that Ventis and Tontes are preparing. The scouting party of demigods at least supports that. We need to be ready to defend the forest, and so defend Alkarra.”
Silence.
Georgette’s voice rippled through the tomb-like air. “You seem to have a special connection with the forest, Miss Monroe. Perhaps you can do something about its safety? Meanwhile, we have witches to protect.”
My body hardened at her dismissive tone. Life breathed back through the room. Papers shuffled as witches moved on, ignoring me. My curled fingers, cramping from their tight clutch in a fist, opened.
Aldred nodded once, face implacably calm, then spun to face the rest of the room. “Now, requests from the Eastern Network have come for Guardians to build retaining walls against the surging storms. Unrelenting hurricanes plague their borders.”
As I spun to go, Georgette’s voice rang through my mind.
Perhaps you can do something about its safety?
Oh, I would.