The Black Witch

I swallow, not believing this is happening. It has to be a dream. “All right,” I say, nodding dumbly.

He grins widely and reaches up to play with my hair. “We should be getting back,” he says ruefully. “Your aunt will be wondering what became of you.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, drawn in by his languid touch. “She seemed pretty happy to see us leave together.”

Overjoyed, actually.

“Yes, well...” he agrees, chuckling. He pulls away and offers me his arm. I thread my arm through his, part of me feeling oddly reckless, not wanting to leave, wanting to stay here alone with him, to feel the fire of his kiss light up the room.

When we reach the foyer, a group of young soldiers and military apprentices, Sylus amongst them, shout boisterously to Lukas. I look past them to see my brother Rafe approaching at a brisk pace, his eyes darting back and forth between Lukas and myself.

“Hey, Ren,” he greets me warmly.

I let go of Lukas’s arm and give my brother an affectionate hug.

“Where’s Trystan?” I ask, overjoyed to be with my brother again, but self-consciously aware of Lukas by my side.

“Trystan is staying with Gareth and his family,” Rafe tells me, smiling. “You know how much he loves large social gatherings.”

I laugh at this. “Where’s the harem that Trystan says you’re usually trailed by?” I tease.

He grins mischievously. “I just got here.” Rafe turns to Lukas, his smile becoming tight—less a friendly gesture, more a tiger bearing its teeth. “Giving my sister a tour, were you?”

“Something like that,” Lukas replies evenly.

Although Rafe is still smiling, his right arm clenches, his hand closing into a fist.

“How’s that bow arm of yours, Rafe?” Lukas asks pleasantly.

“Deadly accurate as ever, Lukas.”

Lukas turns to me, ignoring the sudden tension in the air. “I keep trying to get your brother to apprentice with the military. He could be very successful. Best tracker, best hunter...best Gardnerian archer I’ve ever seen. He’s a dangerous man, your brother.”

“Oh, now, I’m not all that dangerous, Lukas,” Rafe says, still smiling. “Not unless someone were to bother my little sister, that is.”

Lukas laughs at this. “I seriously doubt that she needs your protection, Rafe.”

Rafe’s eyes flicker toward me questioningly before lighting again on Lukas.

One of the soldiers calls out for Lukas to join them.

“I’ll let you two catch up with each other,” Lukas says. He takes my hand and leans to kiss the back of it, a smile on his lips. His touch sends a delicious chill down my spine and I struggle to maintain my composure. “Elloren, it’s been a pleasure meeting you,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. He straightens and turns to my brother. “Rafe,” he says as he tips his head to my brother in acknowledgment.

“Lukas,” my brother replies coolly.

We both watch as Lukas strides off in the direction of his fellow soldiers and makes his exit with them.

Rafe turns to me, visibly relaxing. “I hear you were quite the star tonight.” His face takes on a look of mock suspicion. “Who are you, and what have you done with my shy, reserved sister?”

“I’m her glamoured double,” I laugh.

The foyer is now mostly empty, except for the two of us. It seems the party is dying down, the buzz of conversation emanating from the ballroom quieter, the music now absent.

“Hey, Ren,” Rafe says, his voice uncharacteristically serious, “you know I wouldn’t tell you how to run your life, right?”

I look up at him curiously, wondering what’s prompted this comment.

He inhales deeply, as if wanting to choose his words carefully. “I know Aunt Vyvian wants you fasted, but...don’t jump into anything with Lukas Grey, all right?”

I feel myself flushing and shrug evasively. “I’m not.”

“I’ve known him a long time,” Rafe cautions me. “And I know you’re smart, but so is he. And he has more...experience in the world.”

I purse my lips in embarrassed annoyance, wanting to ignore this.

Rafe lets out a long sigh and rubs at the bridge of his nose. “Just be careful, all right?”

“I will,” I promise edgily.

Upon hearing this, Rafe seems to relax, and his usual easy expression returns. “All right, all right,” he says, holding up his hands in mock defeat. “This concludes the overprotective older brother part of the evening.”

“Good,” I say with relief, attempting to bury his warning in the back of my mind. I notice a group of nice-looking girls hovering near the door to the ballroom, giggling and looking at Rafe.

“Hey, Rafe,” I say, “have you ever met Aislinn Greer?”

“Not formally.” He lifts one eyebrow in question.

“I just met her a while ago. I should introduce the two of you.”

He laughs. “You’re trying to set me up with her, aren’t you?”

“Okay, I realize you don’t need much help with that.” I glance over at the knot of giggling girls. I suspect they’ll converge around Rafe like a flock of geese as soon as I’m done talking to him. “Aislinn seems...different. She’s smart...nice...”

“I’ll tell you what,” he bargains, amused. “There’s a dance every Yule at University. You go with Gareth, and I’ll ask Aislinn Greer.”

“I can’t,” I say hesitantly, not wanting to displease my older brother. “I’ve already agreed to go with Lukas.”

“Elloren.” He reaches out to touch my arm, his voice once again serious. “I’m not kidding about Lukas Grey. Stay away from him. He’s incredibly powerful. You’re playing with fire there.”

Maybe I want to play with fire.

“Thanks for the warning,” I say, my tone completely and utterly noncommittal.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Wandfasting

“I received some correspondence this morning,” my aunt informs me as we sit in her breakfast alcove.

We’re surrounded on three sides by arching windows that overlook well-maintained gardens. A nearby display of blood-red roses pierces the gloomy, overcast day.

I can barely make out the sound of silverware on the gilded porcelain as my aunt neatly cuts into the omelete and spiced fruit before her. Her half-eaten scone sits pristinely on an adjacent plate. Everything she does—calligraphy, eating, dressing—is always so tidy. It’s easy to feel disheveled and bumbling next to her constant perfection. I glance down at my own half-eaten scone, a circle of fine crumbs orbiting the plate.

“Correspondence from whom?” I wonder as I try to clean up my stray crumbs with the tip of my finger.

“Lukas Grey’s parents.”

My finger freezes. I look up, my aunt taking her time with this news as she tranquilly sips at her tea.

“Are you friends with them, then?” I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.

My aunt shoots me a bemused smile. “Of course, dear. I’ve known Lachlan and Evelyn for years.”

I take a small bite from my scone, attempting to appear nonchalant.

“Apparently,” she continues, as she cradles her teacup, “Lukas indicated to them last night that he would agree to fast to you.”

I choke on the scone. “What?”

My aunt flashes a large, white smile at me, like a cat that has just eaten a canary. “It seems you made quite an impression.”

“He wants to wandfast to me?” I sputter, crumbs flying from my mouth.

She eyes me quizzically. “Why are you so surprised? You’re of age, Elloren. Most Gardnerian girls your age are already fasted, or are soon about to be...”

“But I’ve only just met him!”

“That’s of no consequence,” she says, waving her hand dismissively.

I stare at her, stunned. Of no consequence. Seriously?

“We should arrange for the two of you to be fasted as soon as possible,” Aunt Vyvian states decidedly. “Enith...”

My aunt turns to the blue-skinned Urisk girl who helped me with my music last night. She stands against the wall, silent and expressionless, like a statue.

“Yes, ma’am?” Enith responds.

“Send word to the Greys,” my aunt instructs. “Let them know that Elloren is very pleased to accept Lukas’s proposal and that we would like to arrange for the fasting to take place as soon as possible. Perhaps after tomorrow’s church service.”

“Wait...” I plead, interrupting her. “I can’t fast to Lukas.”

Aunt Vyvian holds her scone in suspended animation. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

Enith is glowering at me, wide-eyed and appalled, like I’ve just thrown a jar of preserves at both of them.

“I’ve known him exactly one day.” Sweet Ancient One, what could Lukas be thinking?

“Elloren,” my aunt breathes, setting her scone down, “this type of proposal, from a family such as this, from a young man such as Lukas Grey, does not come along every day.”

“I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “I can’t. I’ve only just met him. And...and I promised Uncle Edwin...”

“Promised him what?”

“That I’ll wait until I’m done with my education to fast to someone.”

My aunt’s mouth falls open. “But that’s at least two years from now!”

“I know.”

“Elloren,” she says, her voice low, “you’d be a fool to turn down this proposal.”

My resolve stiffens. “Perhaps if he likes me that much, he can court me first.”

Her eyes take on a hard glint. “Perhaps I should send word to the Greys that they should reconsider their initial plan.”

“What plan?”

“Why, to have Lukas fasted to Fallon Bane, my dear.”

I freeze, completely thrown. “But,” I counter, “Lukas told me he’s not going to fast to Fallon.”

My aunt makes a sound of derision. “Really, Elloren. Do you honestly think he’ll wait for you forever?” Her gaze turns calculating. “I’m sure Fallon Bane would be happy to take your place.”

An unbidden image of Lukas kissing smug, perfect Fallon forms in my mind, his back to me as he clings to her passionately, her eyes open, glaring at me with malicious triumph. She wouldn’t hesitate to accept a wandfasting proposal from Lukas Grey.

But to fast to him after knowing him for only one day—that would be madness.

And Rafe has concerns. Enough to warn me off Lukas.

“Do you want to be alone all your life, Elloren?” my aunt coos, leaning forward. “Don’t you want to be fasted someday? To have a family? Do you know how unlikely that will be if you go unfasted for much longer?” She sits back. “Of course there will be a few choices left after you finish University. The young men that no one else wants. But is that what you really want?”

Her words get under my skin, and I momentarily wonder if I’m making a huge mistake.

A chill starts from deep within me, and it has nothing to do with the damp outside. I suddenly very much want my uncle.

“I... I just can’t,” I say weakly.

She narrows her eyes at me. “What, pray tell, am I to tell Lukas’s parents?”

“Tell them,” I begin, my throat becoming constricted, “that I am very thankful for their proposal and I will consider it, but I need time to get to know Lukas a little better.”

“It seems like you were getting to know him pretty well last night, my dear,” she snipes as she takes a sip of her tea.

My face goes hot.

“Don’t you think my servants tell me everything?” She purses her lips at me. “If you’re going to indulge in that type of behavior, Elloren, you need to fast to the young man, and quickly.”

I’m completely mortified.

“If you assume I’m going to sit idly by and watch while you go off to University unfasted and potentially disgrace your entire extended family by falling in with the wrong man, like Sage Gaffney did, you certainly don’t know me very well.” She sets down her tea and leans forward. “You forget, Elloren, that not only will I refuse to pay your University tithe while you are unfasted, I know and am on very close terms with the University’s High Chancellor, in addition to most of the Gardnerian professors and the Lodging Mistress. If I need to, I can make things very unpleasant for you there.” She collects herself and lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’m only doing this for your own good, Elloren. And for the good of our family. You do realize you can avoid all sorts of unpleasantness if you simply agree to fast to Lukas Grey.”

It hurts that she would threaten me—like a sharp slap. “I’m not saying I won’t consider it,” I counter, thrown. “I just can’t fast to him so quickly. I’d like to get to know him a little first.”

If Uncle Edwin was here, he’d take my side.

“Honestly, Elloren,” she says coldly, “you are making this very difficult for me.”

My anger flares. “Then maybe it’s lucky for you that you’re not my official guardian.”

Silence. The Urisk girl freezes, her eyes gone wide with shock.

Aunt Vyvian’s gaze narrows. “My brother doesn’t always have the firmest grasp on reality, my dear. I would never have allowed him to take you in if I had known...” She breaks off, her eyes angrily brimming with some unspoken thought.

“Known what?” I press, stung by her easy dismissal of my uncle.

She leans forward, teeth bared. “That you would grow up to turn down a fasting proposal that every girl in Gardneria would give her eyeteeth for!”

Her expression turns venomous and I shrink back, shocked by the frightening change in her demeanor.

My aunt quickly collects herself, regaining her careful sheen of control, like thick curtains being drawn around her true feelings.

“I shall simply have to find a way to help you change your mind,” she states, her voice once again tranquil. She lightly taps her teacup.

The Urisk girl springs forward to fill it, as if her life depends on it.

My aunt takes her time, mixing some cream into her tea. “I have found that everyone can be persuaded to do the right thing if the right kind of pressure is applied.”

I stare at her with a new wariness, watching as she lifts the porcelain cup with long, graceful fingers.

“Everyone has a breaking point, Elloren. Everyone.” She regards me levelly. “Don’t force me to find yours.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Icarals

The next morning our ride to church is uncomfortably silent, our carriage surrounded by Aunt Vyvian’s personal guard. Dark clouds loom above Valgard and threaten a storm. I peer up at them, my cheek pressed against the cool glass of the carriage’s window, wishing I was with my brothers and Gareth.

Aunt Vyvian is studying me icily, perhaps considering how best to bend my will. She’s been trying to convince me to wandfast for every one of the fifteen days we’ve been together, and that pressure, after yesterday’s wandfasting offer, has now turned markedly oppressive. She’s keeping me with her until the last possible moment, desperate to have me buckle and wandfast to Lukas Grey before going off to University.

We’re to arrive at Valgard’s Grand Cathedral hours before morning service so that Aunt Vyvian can discuss some government business with Priest Vogel. Then she’s insisting I attend service with her—where, I suspect, we’ll conveniently run into Lukas and his family. I flush uncomfortably at the thought of seeing him again.

Later, after the service, I’m to make the carriage journey to University alone. Rafe, Trystan and Gareth are long gone, having left together early this morning on horseback.

I long to be with them. I don’t want to be in these fancy, restrictive clothes that necessitate slower carriage travel anymore. And I long to break free of Aunt Vyvian’s unforgiving watch. I want to be on horseback with my brothers and Gareth, riding to Verpacia and the bustling University.

Soon, I remind myself. You’ll be out of here soon enough.

The dark forest of buildings ahead gives way to an expansive, circular plaza, a larger-than-life marble statue of my grandmother dominating its middle. I focus right in on it, wondering if I’ll be able to make out my own features in the marble face, but it’s too far away.

Approaching the plaza, we make a sharp turn to the right, and I almost gasp as Valgard’s Cathedral bursts into view, even grander than I remembered it.

* * *

Broad, sweeping columns rise skyward, eventually coalescing to form one, narrowing spire that supports a silver Erthia sphere at its zenith. The whole structure is wrought from Ironwood the color of wet earth. A mammoth central arch with two smaller, adjacent arches frames the entrance, the huge front doors richly carved with images from The Book of the Ancients.

The carriage halts just in front of the cathedral, and I almost trip down its steps as I disembark, my gaze riveted on the immense, vertigo-inducing structure. I crane my neck to take it all in, the silver sphere highlighted by the darkening sky.

My aunt ushers me into the cathedral and toward one of the countless, intricately carved pews.

“Sit here,” she directs sternly.

I obey as her heels click down an aisle that leads to the broad dais and altar. Two priests in dark, flowing robes circle the altar, lighting candles and waving incense, the white bird symbol of the Ancient One emblazoned on their chests. Above the altar hangs another Erthia sphere.

My aunt approaches the priests, then launches into hushed conversation with them. They take turns surreptitiously glaring in my direction as my stomach twists itself into uncomfortable knots. And then they’re gone, having exited together through a side door, leaving me all alone in the vast space.

I am bereft, my palms flat on the wood of my seat.

But soon the wood of the cathedral begins to lull me into a calmer state. Numerous columns, some straight, some diagonal and curving, rise toward an irregular ceiling covered with crisscrossing arches. It’s like being underneath the root system of an enormous, otherworldly tree.

I close my eyes, slide my palms against the wood and breathe in its amber scent.

Soothed, I open my eyes to find a copy of The Book of the Ancients sitting beside me.

I pick up the black, leather-bound tome and run my finger along its gilded title. I know this book well. Unbeknownst to my uncle, who seems to disapprove of religion in general, I keep my grandmother’s old copy under my pillow, the gilded holy book passed down to me by Aunt Vyvian when I was a small child. Sometimes, in the dark of night, when sadness comes, when the void left by my parents’ deaths seems too painful to bear, The Book’s many prayers for strength in times of hardship and sorrow are of great comfort to me.

Just as the first rumble of thunder sounds in the distance, I open to the first page and read.

The Creation

In the beginning, there was only the Ancient One. The universe was vast and empty. And out of the great, unfathomable nothingness, the Ancient One brought forth the planets and the stars, the sun and the moon and Erthia, the Great Sphere.

And on this Great Sphere, the Ancient One separated the land from the water and brought forth all manner of living things: the green plants, the birds of the air, the beasts of the field and forest and water.

And the Ancient One looked down upon it all and was pleased.

But the Ancient One was not finished. The breath of life was sent out over the Great Sphere, and from the seeds of the sacred Ironwood Tree sprang the First Children, who were to dwell on the Great Sphere; and the Angelic Ones, who were to dwell in the Heavens.

At first, all dwelled in harmony.

All of creation joined together to worship, glorify and obey the Ancient One.

But it came to pass that the Angelic Ones, winged as they were, began to feel that they did not need to obey. They began to feel that they were better than the Ancient One, and that they owned the Heavens.

And it came to pass that the Angelic Ones flew down to the First Children and pleaded with them to turn away from the Ancient One and to worship them instead. The First Children were angered by this betrayal and refused. The First Children told the Angelic Ones that they would worship and glorify none other than the Ancient One. The Angelic Ones, angered in turn by the refusal of the First Children, brought down a host of evil upon them: the shapeshifters who preyed upon them at night, the wyverns who attacked from above, the sorceresses who sought to mislead them and all manner of dark creatures and tricksters, thus scattering the First Children and sending them into disarray.

And it came to pass that the Ancient One looked down and saw the sufferings of the First Children, and that the Angelic Ones had become Evil Ones in their betrayal. In great fury and righteousness, the Ancient One smote the Angelic Ones and sent them hurtling down to the surface of the Great Sphere. And then the Ancient One spoke to the Angelic Ones, who were now Evil Ones, saying unto them:

“From now on, you shall no longer be counted among my children and will be known as Icarals, the most despised of all creatures. You will wander the surface of my Great Sphere without a home. My True Children, My First Children, will join together to smite you and to break your wings.”

And thus it came to pass that the True Children once again joined together from all corners of the Great Sphere to smite the Evil Ones and to worship, glorify and obey the Ancient One.

So ends the first book of Creation.

I glance up at the stained-glass windows that shine between the columns as I remember the stories in the sacred text associated with each image, the normally vivid colors of the scenes strangely darkened by the stormy skies.

The first window depicts the Ancient One symbolized by a graceful, white bird, sending down rays of light to Erthia below. I take in a deep breath as the familiar, protective image fills me with warmth.

The images continue, all around: the reluctant prophetess, Galliana, astride a giant fire raven, leading our people from slavery, White Wand in hand; the First Children receiving the deep blue Ironflowers as a symbol of the Ancient One’s promise to keep them free from oppression, the flowers offering magical protection from demon fire.

I briefly glance down at the familiar Ironflower trim worked into the hem of my sleeve, comforted by the flowers’ symbolic promise of safety.

Next comes images of terrible battles: First Children slaying winged Icaral demons as the demons shoot fire from their palms; First Children soldiers combating bloodthirsty shapeshifters—wolf-shifters, fox-shifters and even a wyvern-shifter with slits for eyes and a forked tongue hanging from its mouth.

Above all these images, the Ancient One’s light shines down.

As I ponder the religious teachings of my youth, movement near the stained-glass wyvern-shifter catches my eye.

Just above its reptilian head is a clear portion of glass, and I can make out two small eyes watching me through it. The eyes flick up and out of view, revealing a strong silver beak and then...nothing.

A Watcher.

Curious, I get up, walk toward the back of the church and exit through the mammoth front doors.

As the doors swing shut behind me, I’m instantly aware of a strange current in the air. I stare down over the empty plaza, searching everywhere for the bird.

There, in the plaza’s center, stands the huge stone statue of my grandmother. The plaza is eerily quiet, the normally raucous seagulls absent. The odd colors of the sky shift slightly, and I hear another small, far-off murmur of thunder. I look up to see dark clouds slowly lumbering toward the church.

Halfway down the cathedral stairs, I see it. The white bird. It flies across the wide plaza and lands just behind my grandmother’s statue.

I reach the statue of my grandmother and circle slowly around it, searching for the bird. Soon the huge marble monument completely blocks the cathedral from view. I pause in its shadow, riveted by it.

The soft rumbling of thunder jostles the silence like a faint drumroll.

My grandmother stands, larger than life, my identical features finely wrought by a master’s chisel, every fold of her billowing robes perfectly rendered, so lifelike it seems as if I could reach up and move the fabric. Her left arm is raised in a graceful arc above her head, her wand arm pointing straight down at an Icaral that lies prostrate at her feet, his face a contorted mask of agony.