Chapter 36 Non
Non
Since walking away from the first trial not only alive but also the winner, I'd felt more anxious than ever.
Which was odd because you'd think both of those things would have made me feel a lot more confident.
But the win had just put a bigger target on my back for the rest of the competitors to throw things at.
And a second dance with death at the end of the first trial meant the next one would surely be my end.
All things come in threes, as they say.
After exerting so much energy the day before, I woke up ravenous. Jazz had left a note in the condensation from the shower on the bathroom mirror like a serial killer.
Breakfast, dining hall, me you and coffee. See you in an hour.
Coffee sounded divine, but I hesitated. I thought about all the people that would be there and how much they all liked to stare. But some stuck-up geriatric wasn't going to keep me from a good breakfast. So, I got dressed and made my way to my brunch date.
As it had when I first arrived at Llwyn Onn, which seemed like a lifetime ago, the dining room fell silent when I walked in.
Three people dressed in red were huddled around a circular table towards the back of the room. Addae stood from the table when he saw me and was at my side in an instant.
“Coming through, coming through! Favourite to win this year's Anoethau needs to pass by. Try and keep your gawking to a minimum.”
I swatted at his shoulder, but he continued his ridiculous act of bodyguard while I piled my plate with fruit and pastries. He only gave up his ridiculous act once we sat down.
Jazz gave me a heart-stopping grin, and it was good to see some colour back in their face again. “Sleep well?”
“Like the dead.”
Addae's elbow jabbed me in the ribs. I looked at him, and he pointed his knife towards Alaw, who sat opposite him. Her face was red and splotchy as tears ran down her cheeks.
Fuck, I'd forgotten the other Southern Coven Wielder hadn't made it. “I'm so sorry, Alaw, I didn't mean—”
Jazz stopped me with a raised hand.
“Non, it's fine. I've been trying to tell Alaw all morning that Carys wasn’t who she thought she was. Alaw hardly knew her, but she spent some time training to be a High Healer here at Llwyn Onn in the summer, and we were...” Jazz shifted in their seat.
“Well-acquainted, you could say. Given the chance, she would have shot an arrow into your chest, Alaw.”
Alaw let out a sob. “But we made a pact that we'd look out for each other.”
Addae leaned forward. “Just think of it this way, Als: it’s one less person to pick off in the next trial.”
This only made Alaw sob even harder, and Jazz shot Addae a scathing look.
I busied myself by stuffing my face with food. Eventually Alaw calmed down as talk turned to the next trial.
“Can we give it at least a week before we start speculating what the next one is? I've barely recovered from yesterday,” I said as I popped a blackberry in my mouth.
Addae crinkled his brow in confusion. “Do you know when the next trial is?”
The piece of pancake that was speared on my fork fell off. “No idea, but I guess in a couple of weeks.” I took a sip of my coffee.
“Nope. It's tomorrow.”
Punching my chest to clear the coffee I had just choked on, I turned to Jazz in disbelief.
“You know how much I hate saying Addae is right, but Addae is right. Once the Anoethau begin, they happen in quick succession. Only a day separates each trial.”
Gods, they didn't want to make this easy, did they?
We all continued eating in silence after that.
As I lifted the carafe of coffee to pour myself another cup, a familiar-looking man in a Northern habit approached our table.
“Apologies for the intrusion, but Ledr Bronwen has requested an audience with her granddaughter.”
“Sure, tell her I'll be with her shortly. I'm just finishing my breakfast.”
The Wielder stepped closer to the table and dropped his voice so others around couldn't hear. “Ledr Bronwen insisted your presence is needed immediately.”
Groaning, I filled my cup and stood from the table. The Wielder started to insist I leave my coffee behind, but I interjected. “Did Ledr Bronwen specifically say I wasn't allowed to bring coffee to the meeting?”
His lips thinned. “No, she didn't.”
“Then lead the way.”
The man walked at breakneck speed, and I struggled to keep up with him, coffee spilling from my cup as I trotted behind.
“You were the person who used their power that day in my grandmother's library. Cadoc, right?”
Cadoc only confirmed it was him with a tight nod. Clearly, he wasn't one for small talk, but I persisted.
“How have you been holding up since then? Granny told me about your niece, Ffion. I'm sorry for your loss. Seeing those two Central Coven women who'd been killed must have—”
Cadoc rounded on me, his face so red it looked like he might overheat.
“Don't you say her name. She'd still be here if it weren't for you! All these lives have been lost just to protect you. And what for? So you can wield the same dark magic as your father and cosy up with the Coven who supports him?”
I sucked in a gasp. Cadoc could say what he liked about me, and I could see he was hurting, but making such a statement about the West was awful. “The Western Coven has nothing to do with Gwaun. That's a very presumptuous statement.”
Cadoc scoffed. “Their power comes from the same Crewr, and they worship the same malevolent gods.
Of course they're all as evil as he is! Don't you think it's very convenient that the Orddu seems to know exactly where and when women who fit your profile will be patrolling?
Months can go by where none of the Covens will send young women out on patrol in fear they'll get attacked, but then as soon as one does go out, they're targeted! Who would have access to that information? The Ledr and the Ail of the West certainly would.”
His accusations were ridiculous, and I tried to tell Cadoc that Caerwyn and Dylan's relationship was far from close with any of the other leaders. But he took another step and jabbed his finger towards me.
“Did you know that when he attacks those women, he doesn't just kill them? He drains them of their power. And where does all that Witchfire end up? Ever wondered why the West has so many powerful Witches?” He let out a humourless laugh.
“After the massacre of Plas Ffynone, Ledr Caerwyn was the one who bore the responsibility. He wears those manacles that stunt his power as a reminder to everyone that the West were the ones who massacred their own people.”
Cadoc's eyes were wild as his chest rose and fell. He'd thrown so many accusations and so much information at me that my mind was in a scramble, and I didn't want to argue with him in the corridor any longer.
I pushed past him and made my way to the end of the corridor where the small black door that led to Granny's private dining room stood.
Things must have been bad if I was relieved to be having tea with my grandmother for once.
Granny let me sit down this time. Maybe winning the first trial had actually impressed her for once.
She sat at her usual place at the top of the table while I was seated at the opposite end, which felt miles away and yet not far enough.
Especially when she pinned me with her signature disdainful glare.
“Long time no see,” I said, breaking the silence.
She looked up from the cup of tea she was stirring and scoffed.
“I hear you've been keeping yourself busy with the Witches of the West.”
Was I surprised she'd found out about my late-night antics? Not really, but I was surprised that her first thing to scold me about wasn't the skiving.
I gave her a non-committal shrug in response.
“Is that why you summoned me here, Granny dearest? To quiz me on who I'm fucking and not fucking.”
She stopped stirring her tea and cocked a brow. “No, I summoned you here as you have a package and a letter from back home.”
Home.
That word seemed odd when said in reference to Caerglan. Not that it had ever really felt like home. Certainly not since Cat died.
But something in my gut told me home meant somewhere else now. I wasn't sure where, but images of Dylan flashed through my mind.
Granny snapped her fingers, and a box wrapped in brown butcher's paper appeared on the table along with a black envelope. She flicked her wrist, and the package and envelope skidded down the table towards me, stopping just before they fell off the end.
I lifted the box. “May I?”
She nodded and went back to stirring her tea as I ripped the box open.
Inside was a large jar of marmalade, the outside sticky from overspill. The handwritten label was a little smudged, but I could make out my name under the orange substance smeared over it.
I opened the letter next. It was handwritten in beautiful penmanship and was pages long. Only skimming the first page, it explained that Aunty Glad had sent the marmalade as she insisted I needed to keep my strength up.
I flicked to the final page and was shocked to see the letter was signed by my mother.
How in the world she had the energy to write such a thing, I'd never know.
When she was forced to handwrite anything, each letter would be shaky.
Writing anything longer than half a page would have wiped her out for a week.
“Seems the private in-home care is doing her wonders,” Granny mused.
“You can say that again.”
Granny went back to stirring her tea and I stood from my chair.
“Is that all?” I asked.
Granny pointed her claw-tipped finger downwards, gesturing for me to take my seat.
“Of course it fucking isn't,” I grumbled.
“Your punishment will resume as usual in between trials. However, this evening a celebration will take place known as Nos Calan Gaeaf. It involves those who have lost someone dear, honouring and remembering them. I understand this applies to you, so I have agreed with Pen Arwr Aeron that your night watch can be cut short so you may attend the celebrations.”