A letter waited at my cottage the next day. Sticky with heat and sweat from a quick run with Merrick, I tapped the scroll on the edge. It rolled open as I dumped water on my face from a cup, allowing it to drip to my porch.
Blinking through the drips, I read the letter twice. A third time. For two minutes, I stared at it while water pattered the floor.
I read it again.
And again.
Bianca,
If you would be so kind, I would appreciate a twenty-minute audience with you at 11:30 tomorrow morning.
Sincerely,
Aldred
High Priest of the Central Network
Aldred?
What appeared to be a genuine signature accompanied it.
Double curious.
Goat bleated outside in plaintive sounds. My second goat, aptly named Other Goat, replied. His much lower voice distracted me as I attempted to wrap my mind around how to respond.
Yes? No?
Not a chance in Halla?
Why would Aldred want to speak with me, anyway? The fire, presumably. It had only happened yesterday, yet I’d successfully dodged missives from Chatterer journalists, a few Council Members, and a nosy witch complaining to me about the smoke. Why they would send complaints to me, I couldn’t fathom.
Shock compelled me to answer right away, though I was sorely tempted to ignore it. A pencil popped into the air. I snatched it, scrawled my response, and sent it back before I could refuse.
I’ll be there.
Curiosity drove me, more than anything. Assuming he wanted to talk about the fire, that letter should have been from Scarlett. I shook my head to break the thoughts apart. Well, I’d find out soon enough.
With a fresh towel, I headed toward the wall where a basin of cold water awaited. A new Chatterer scroll lay half-open on the table. Blinking headlines drew my gaze as I passed, stopping me.
Storm Rages Across East, into North. Thousands Flee.
Below it, another.
Two-Day Windstorm in West Buries Three Towns.
Fires in the Central Network, storms in the East and North, and sandstorms in the West. What about the South? In all the gathering tragedies and updates, only the Southern Network had been immune so far.
They tell us of searching and missing and remembrances and the god of Icelands and chill.
The head of the Sisterhood had reason to find out. I plucked a spare piece of parchment from a cupboard against the wall, wrote a quick note, and sent it to Alina. Hopefully, my connection with the Southern Network High Priestess still held some power.
Meanwhile, I had a meeting to prepare for.
* * *
My fingers tapped a nervous staccato against my leg as I waited outside Aldred’s door.
Guardians stood on opposite sides of the hall, near a twirling staircase that led to the Hall of Council Members. The elegant marble gleamed from a fresh washing. Paintings of previous Council Members cluttered the walls and quiet salon. Viveet lay against my hip with reassuring weight.
The office door swung open, welcoming me with the earthy smell of cigars.
Though High Priest for almost two months, Aldred still hadn’t transitioned into the new High Priest’s office. The spacious, open place would accommodate his work and meetings with greater comfort, but Aldred tolerated change at the speed of cold molasses.
He conducted his work from the Council Member hall, as if he couldn’t quite let go of who he used to be.
A vague fog lingered in the air over a desk, likely from a cigar. Several chairs clustered near the hearth, and a smaller desk was tucked into the corner. Thin windows streamed hazy light. Not a hint of clutter lingered in stacked papers, alternating vertical and horizontal placement, nor quills and ink bottles neatly arranged in lines and cubbies.
Aldred stood behind his desk, peering at me through half-sized spectacles. He peeled them off as I entered, dropped them onto a parchment held open by two stone weights, each black as pitch. The door closed behind me.
“Welcome, Miss Monroe.”
“High Priest.”
With a chubby hand, he waved me into a seat across from his desk, then lowered into his own. Reluctantly, I sat on the chair, poised at the edge. My feet were firm on the floor, ready to flee. We hadn’t spoken while I recovered from Alaysia and I didn’t look forward to it now.
Aldred folded his hands in front of him and fixed a concentrated stare on me. His eyes sagged into his cheeks, which hung from a small-boned frame gilded with too much weight. He wore a freshly-starched white shirt, an unbuttoned vest. Crumbs from lunch lingered near the left side of his desk.
“First order of business.” His hands spread, as if to encompass the room. “This is old news but . . . I am now High Priest and you aren’t happy about it.”
He paused.
I gave a hesitant nod when I realized he expected a response.
“I accept the fact that we may never see eye-to-eye, Miss Monroe, and I do so with gratitude. My opposition against your father was rooted in concern. There were witches in power that would follow him anywhere and trust him blindly. Greyson is a perfect reminder of why we must be vigilant.”
I suppressed a flinch. To his credit, he lacked his usual cloying disregard. The directness and sincerity in his tone gave him some advantage. I couldn’t help but respect a witch that drove right to the point.
“Ah . . . thank you.”
“Secondly, thank you for your work in Alaysia. You provided information that will be critical to our safety and success. I wish you further improvement of health. You appear hale and hearty again. I am honestly glad to see it.”
I leaned back in the chair.
Was this a ploy?
He held up both hands. “I seek nothing but to clear the air. There is no political motivation that could drive me to ask you here, you must see that.”
He hesitated, fumbling for a second with his thumbs.
“Bearing the mantle of High Priest has been more significant a weight than I ever imagined. I respect Derek now more than before. My only regret is not that I opposed him, but that I didn’t speak more frankly with him one-on-one.”
Unable to form a reply, I simply nodded.
Aldred straightened. “Finally, to my main point. Scarlett asked me to speak with you about the fire in Letum Wood yesterday.”
He paused again.
I said nothing.
With a sigh, he continued. “Scarlett didn’t want to subject you to another Council interrogation again. Not after . . . ”
He left the delicate implication that such a meeting wouldn’t go so well a second time hanging in the air. The lift of his thin eyebrows told me all I needed to know—he didn’t agree with Scarlett saving me from the Council. Arguably, he wanted me to face them.
My silence continued.
“I agreed to get your report of the event.” Aldred leaned back. “Scarlett is dealing with refugees from the Western and Eastern Networks, as well as the allocation of help and resources during disasters like these that are happening all across Alkarra. In the meantime, she continues to plan for an attack from the gods with hopes of a united Alkarra.”
“Are other Networks participating in said plans?”
“Most. With that behind her, I can happily take such a report off her plate.”
“It’s more than a report, Your Highness. It was an act of war from the god of wind.”
“We are aware.”
“Are you?”
He nodded, unbothered by my tone. “Very aware. To be frank, Miss Monroe, I have a feeling you don’t want to discuss the fire with me either.”
“You would be correct.”
Surprise crossed his expression. Relief, too. He must take any interaction on my part as a good sign.
“What questions do you have?” I asked.
“Many. Before we get to the intricacies of the fire, might I interject some business of my own?”
The hair on the back of my neck lifted. I tilted my head to the side, gaze tapered. Sweat popped out on his forehead under my consideration. If he read my suspicion, he gave no sign, only a neutral expression, almost impossible to evaluate.
Jikes, had I underestimated Aldred all this time? Perhaps he played a better political game than I expected.
With a wave, I indicated he should continue.
“First, it’s of no benefit to the Network or the Council if I were to support you publicly at this juncture, but allow me to say, from the privacy of my office, that I think you’re onto something with the dragon idea.”
Shock rendered me momentarily speechless.
“Oh?”
A noncommittal shrug removed any true support such a volatile statement would have lent. I had a feeling he meant to throw me off balance. To encourage, but not fully support. He wanted me to stay on the path of the dragons, but didn’t want to say it in front of the Council.
Snake.
Aldred couldn’t afford to churn the water much more than he already had. For such a leader to champion an idea of mine would upend the Council. In a glance, I understood this meeting for what it was.
A nudge and a judgment.
My curiosity spiked.
Aldred leaned forward, chair creaking under his weight. A finger lifted in the air. “But,” he drawled, “I think you’re focusing on the wrong place. You said something interesting in the last meeting about the forest speaking to you. I’d like to discuss that more before I take your report on the fire.”
My entire body clenched. He lifted an eyebrow, and I cursed myself for being too transparent. Aldred hadn’t asked a question, so I had no answer to give. He waited for me, then realizing I had no intention of speaking, rolled his eyes.
“Allow me to ask some questions?” he muttered.
A thrill sprinted through me at his annoyance.
I smiled.
He frowned, shifted in his chair. A handkerchief appeared in one hand, blotting at the accumulating sweat on his brow. “You speak with the trees?”
“Yes.”
“And they respond?”
“Most conversations, they start.”
The lines along his cheek deepened. “Interesting. They’re sentient, then?”
I nodded.
“Scarlett wondered if the forest could fight. I believe she posed such a question to you?”
“Yes.”
“You said no.”
“Correct.”
Aldred tilted his head to the side. “Allow me to review something else from a slightly different angle.” He tapped a finger on his desk. “You were born in Letum Wood, correct?”
I nodded.
“You lived there until . . . well, you still do?”
Another nod.
He tapped at a different spot on his desk, as if drawing an invisible timeline. “And when you returned from Alaysia, you died, for all intents and purposes. Then you were brought back to life when the forest came into the castle and restored your breath. Also correct?”
Anxiety built in my chest. However he meant to draw all these questions together, I couldn’t see just yet. Like a trap closing overhead, I could feel air escaping. Safety fleeing. Yet I couldn’t walk away.
A bare whisper replied. “Yes, Letum Wood used magic to heal me beyond what an Apothecary could have done.”
Aldred hummed under his breath. He leaned back and peered at the ceiling, as if in deep thought. His fingers rested on his belly, twirling around each other. The room had become oppressively hot in the last several minutes.
“Interesting,” he murmured. “Considering that the forest speaks to you. One could almost say that you have a . . . connection to Letum Wood. A clear and obvious one. I mean, it saved your life. Also correct?”
I stared at him.
Undaunted, Aldred pressed on. He leaned his forearms into his desk. His voice remained mild, light, as if he reviewed notes from a meeting that didn’t really matter instead of facts from my life that I strove to keep private.
Ignis, all over again.
“What makes this doubly interesting is your insistence that the forest cannot fight. Your protective stance against a magical entity that might, when you consider size, power, and general reputation, win a war for us.”
“You think I lied?”
“No. I think you’re scared.”
I tensed.
Aldred smiled, and it reminded me of a cat. “I think you’re a young woman attempting to prove herself by protecting Letum Wood. That’s what I think. I also think that you protecting the forest will lead to the demise of our very world.”
“Our world?”
“Scarlett trusts you wholeheartedly. You know this. You said the forest wouldn’t fight, and she took it in good faith. Her mind has turned to other ideas now. However, I do not agree because I do not trust you wholeheartedly. Again, we come back to my point about your father—it is never wise to have full faith in a single leader.”
My fingers curled into my palms, itchy with heat. Magic zipped under my skin, reminding me of the volatile days after I lost Mama. When the magic had consumed me with feral abandon. When I could barely think because the emotions and power were too much, too strong.
Those days had passed.
With a breath, and the wisdom of knowing that such things weren’t bigger than me, I calmed myself. A full ten seconds slid by before I found my voice again.
“You’re entitled to your opinion, High Priest.”
“As are you. In this case, I think your opinion is based on emotions, not facts. And I think it’s wrong. As the self-declared Head of a Sisterhood that doesn’t exactly exist, I wanted you to face the appropriate level of critical advice. The good gods know you’ll receive plenty more of it in the future, should the Sisterhood ever actualize.”
“Noted twice.”
He laughed. “Come, Bianca. You can be as angry as you want—I anticipated your wrath. You dole it out freely enough. But you’ve never been a fool. Allow me to respect you, at least, for that.”
The sneaky, underhanded compliment wasn’t lost on me. I could only blink at him, trapped between the desire to rake my nails across his face and then see what he had to say. Only the reputation of the Sisterhood saved me.
“Please,” I muttered between gritted teeth, “explain your opinion.”
Yellowed teeth flashed in a momentary grin. He relaxed, arms resting on the chair at his side.
“Glad you asked. Shall we dive into historical precedence first? Let’s discuss more recent history. The War of the Networks. I don’t need to tell you all the ways the forest participated in the battle for Chatham Castle and—”
“One instance,” I snapped, “doesn’t make the forest ready to fight a god.”
He held up two fingers.
“The Dragonmaster massacre.”
“The dragons were massacred.”
You twit, I silently added.
His chin wobbled as he shook his head. “Ah, but did you know that historical records indicate the forest attempted to prevent it? The lost diaries of the Dragonmasters have been found. They state these facts implicitly.”
My mouth dropped. “What diaries?”
He waved a hand. “Found in the Great Library of Burke, if you look hard enough. We haven’t even discussed the defense of Council Member Katarina Belgonne, when a pack of forest lions tried to kill her. A classic example of trees intervening to murderous effect. Or do you remember the five day war during the reign of Marcella? Letum Wood surrounded and protected an entire village from fire, curses, and dark magic. That doesn’t even describe the near-death experience of Antoinne, High Priest centuries ago, saved by vines when a murderer wanted to hack him to death with an ax. The historical implications are there, believe me. Ask Hiddleston, if you like.”
“I don’t need to,” I muttered, agitated by the lack of knowing who he spoke about. Antoinne? Marcella? How could Aldred know more about the forest than me?
More importantly—did I need to know this?
“I think you do need to ask Hiddleston, because I can still sense your skepticism. Would you like more precedents?”
“No. Make your point, High Priest.”
Aldred regarded me through narrowed eyes, completely unbothered by my challenge.
“Accuse me of whatever you like, Miss Monroe,” he said quietly. “Taking the throne from your father, bamboozling Scarlett. You may call me a weasel, an old man. Whatever you say, I don’t care. The one thing that holds true through my entire life is my love of our Network. There are few things about this land that I don’t know, and you can challenge me on that. My antagonization of your father came from a place of historical footing. Adoration of rulers can lead to absolute power, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
Not for the first time, I had no idea what to say. I turned away to gather my thoughts back together. The urge to stand and pace distracted me. I opened my clenched hands, rubbed the moisture on my pants. My poorly-concealed agitation kept his attention.
Ugly as it was, Aldred had completely unseated me.
Mostly because I had little defense to give. Perhaps his words struck so deep because they rang so true.
“You want me to turn Letum Wood into an army?” I asked. “Is that what you brought me here for? Your own motivations are suspect, High Priest.”
“I can accept that. Willingly, in fact. I should be questioned as much as anyone else. I brought you here to provide a different perspective. The Council isn’t blind, Miss Monroe. We see the advancing gods. The fire, the dust storms, the hurricane growing across the entirety of the Eastern Network when it should be fading. Events beyond what science and belief dictates possible are upon us. Alkarra is in uproar and we need Letum Wood to fight.
“Meanwhile, you’re being selfish. Scared. A coward. If there’s anything that the supposed Head of the Sisterhood should never tolerate, it’s those three traits. You pride yourself on cleverness, but I see only fear. I’m concerned you have no one else that will tell you these things, which is why I readily volunteered to call you in today. That’s all I have to say on this matter.”
Aldred returned to his bored expression. Two quills popped in the air, parchments appeared beneath them.
“Please, state your review of the event in Letum Wood.” His gaze flickered up to mine. “Remember to be thorough. A Head of some Sisterhood would be called to many such reports in the future. Details mean everything.”
Grateful to focus on something else, I recited what I’d already been practicing in my head, though I had no idea such a thing would be required. Something about organizing it in my brain had held vast appeal. Aldred didn’t look at me once. His lack of attention helped me warm into the flow of it.
When I finished, I stood. The quills lowered back to the desk. The scroll came together. Without a word, I turned to leave. Aldred stopped me at the door.
“Oh, and Miss Monroe?”
I hesitated, but didn’t turn around.
“I assume that you haven’t approached the dragons yet?”
My teeth grated when I muttered, “No.”
“May I make a suggestion?” He waited until I gave a bare nod. “Tread carefully. Whatever you are, Miss Monroe, it is not a leader of dragons.”