“Are we trusting our future to this slip of a girl who only recently rejoined our community?” Zephirin asks.
“Well, you made certain it wouldn’t be your lot once you opened your mouth, didn’t you?” Mémé snaps.
An older witch rises in the back. Her gray hair is slicked back and wound tightly in a bun that makes her slender, oval-shaped face almost gaunt. Her high cheekbones are dusted with blush, her thin lips have a touch of color, and her wide-set brown eyes are full of intensity. “She’s proven herself capable of navigating choppy waters. How many of us made foolish decisions growing up? Are we going to hold her to that forever?”
I finally place her. Tangela Bishop.
“I will question anyone who’s in charge of representing us as a whole. This entire thing should’ve been vetted through the council. We decide who’s worthy of such monumental tasks.”
“Here! Here!” The cry rises among his cronies.
Is that what this is about? His pride is wounded because the council was skipped over?
“May I remind everyone that this is Sebile’s call to make?” Meadow says.
I stand. “If you plan to insult my character and capabilities, you’ll damn well do it to my face. I did leave. I had soul searching to do. If you expect me to apologize for that, you’ll be waiting for eternity. I questioned what I believed in and why. I hope I’m always able to do that because there’s nothing worse than going through the motions simply for the sake of it. We must always explore, expand, and progress. That’s what my time away did for me. I returned because I was one-hundred percent sure it was where I belonged. I am dedicated to my family, our people, and my responsibilities. The Esçhetes have never let the magical community down when it counted. We won’t start with this generation.” How quickly people forget all we’ve sacrificed, and how hard we fought beside them.
“Soon we’ll see if all of this is more than lip service.” Zephirin sneers.
I stare him down. “You will.” I’m going to make you choke on every vile thing you’ve spewed here. With titles come the need to save face, be treated with respect, and stand your ground. I can no longer afford to live a turn-the-other-cheek lifestyle. If I’m honest, the fire in my belly is proof I no longer want to.
Chapter Twelve
Silence falls over our group as the final sand falls in the hourglass. Larkin, Marcellus, Percival, and Ada form a semi-protective circle around Sacha and I as we await our fate. With Fel acting as our eyes and ears with the council, we’re free to try to tackle the task at hand. The wards scream as Sebile demands entrance. I lower them. Snowfall announces her arrival. I watch, amazed as snowflakes form into a silhouette that becomes the Unseelie-born Faerie. Dressed in a white fur cape with a muff on her hands, all she needs is a sleigh to complete the look. Shiny strands of bone straight hair stand out against the blinding white of her outfit.
She removes the full hood obscuring a part of her face and surveys our group. “Prompt and ready. I like it. It’s never good to keep a queen waiting.” She eyes us critically. It’s a struggle not to squirm under her thorough inspection. Unsure what to take on a visit for an undetermined amount of time, we all packed one small suitcase. “Those rags will never do where we’re going.” Clucking her tongue, she waves her hands in the air, becoming our fairy godmother. Tingles run up my nerve endings as my chic black dress pants and blouse are transformed into a stunning velvet emerald gown that hugs my body, nips in at the waist, and bells down over old-fashioned, button-up, black boots with a slight heel. A dark brown fur cloak with a hood is wrapped around me.
Sacha has been dressed similarly in a velvet blue gown and a sable fur cape, and Ada in a soft rose-colored dress with a light brown cape. The men look like something out of a British period piece with dark pants, vests of various gray tones, mid-length coats, capes, and cravats. Their Victorian style reminds of a Jane Austen novel. Mix in their innate arrogance, and you’ve got dead ringers for Mr. Darcy.
“Better. You’re decent enough to enter my realm.” Careful you don’t compliment us too much, we’ll think you’re up to something. “Remember to mind your manners. You’re my guests, and while I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, there are rules you must abide by. Harm none, offend none, and be wary of tricks and deals.”
I open my mouth to ask her what kind of protection she is lending us when the bottom drops out of my stomach. Air rushes past my face. I close my eyes tightly to help with vertigo and keep my stomach from rebelling. The disorienting trip ends abruptly in the middle of a snowy clearing. Despite the depth of the snow, I don’t feel the cold or wetness on
my dress. Is the clothing charmed or is it their world? The sky above is a pearly gray with clouds fit to burst with snow at any moment. The snow-covered trees and hills are a postcard perfection. Plump red berries stand out on the branches. My mouth waters. I can imagine their sweet flavor melting onto my tongue.
“Careful, Lou.” Sacha touches my arm.
“Thank you.” I shake my head to clear it. The land comes with built-in temptations. There’s no telling what the berries would do to me. There are reasons humans who cross the barrier stay so long. In the distance, an elegant gray stone castle rises up toward the heavens. An icy pond rests to the far right, and a massive maze stands in front of the structure. The lush green walls lend a mysterious vibe to the building. A coach drawn by cream-colored Clydesdales with black roses wove into their magnificent manes, and feathered hairpieces, roll toward us.
The black coach is royalty ready with its gold filigree along the side, large golden wheels, and a golden crown of thrones rests in the dead center of the roof. As it gets closer, I see the galley along the edge of the roof is composed off intricately connected snowflakes. The horses whiny as the carriage comes to a halt, and a coachman in a black suit hops down. Long white hair tumbles down his back, framing his angular face. The pointed chin, thin pink lips, and large, bright purple eyes fringed with long white lashes give him an elfin appearance.
He bows. “My Queen.” Opening the carriage door, he offers his hand. She takes it and floats up and inside the coach. Seated on the blood-red cushioned bench, she’s every inch a royal ruler.
“Alston, gather their things.” He removes a stool from inside the carriage and begins to load our bags onto an invisible luggage rack. I can’t see the apparatus, but the suitcases are staying.
“Are you going to join me, or do you plan to walk to the manor?”
Her words spur us into motion. Larkin and Marcellus move into position, helping us up into the coach.
“There will be a feast to celebrate your arrival. Tomorrow I will take you to the hall of mirrors.”
I study the landscape as the horses plod along proudly. White rabbits dart along the hills. Fae magic vibrates on a much higher level. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. The powerful connection turns the surrounding environment into a sentient being. I can feel its awareness. I admire the woman across from us for being powerful enough to command it.
“You sense the magic, witch?” Sebile directs the question toward me.
“Yes.”
She hums. “You’re more powerful than I ever anticipated. I thought your line had seen the best of its day. Perhaps I judged too quickly.”