11. Henry #2
She sips more wine and licks a drop from her lips.
“It’s a largely ceremonial position. It was designed to keep the common, unblessed people appeased, with the feeling that they voted for a leadership position.
Three years ago, my father lost the election.
He was the first Carrenwell ever not to be reelected his entire lifetime.
Every other head of our family has held both the real, magical rulership position of keeping the boundaries strong against the Drained, and the ceremonial position of listening to common folks’ concerns about things like sunstone light rations. ”
Bryce pours her more wine. “So Rafe is a bit of a thorn in your father’s side?”
It’s so smooth, I almost miss it, but he’s trying to keep her talking.
Harlow arches a brow at him. “Don’t get any ideas.
The man cannot be reasoned with and it would be silly to think you can outsmart him.
Rafe Mattingly is well-connected and the only master he serves is himself.
He has no honor. No morals. And no soul.
How do you think he managed to pull one over on my father?
” She waves a hand. “Say what you will about Harrick Carrenwell. He’s many awful things, but he takes his responsibility very seriously, and people take it for granted.
” She stops abruptly, her eyes go unfocused for a moment before clearing.
I wonder where she goes in those moments.
I know she’d bite my head off if I asked.
It’s clear she doesn’t have much love for her father, but she does have respect. That in itself is valuable information.
“So the people blame him?” Carter asks.
Harlow shrugs a shoulder. “We’ve been more isolated in recent years.
It takes more magic to maintain the boundaries.
The unblessed used to have to visit the Blood Well once a month, but now we ask them to go twice a month—only those well enough and old enough to do so, of course. There are no children or elderly.”
I frown, thinking of the old man we saw the city guards dragging into the square the other day. I wonder what they consider too old to bleed—or too young, for that matter.
“How does it work? The magic? The bleeding?” I ask .
She sips her wine slowly—stalling. “Have you been away so long that you forget? Surely you remember your own well ceremony?”
“Humor me.”
Harlow sighs and pours the last of the wine into her glass.
“Every new moon, all the one-month-old babies in the city are brought to the Blood Well, whether their families have magic or not. The Divine work in mysterious ways and no one knows how they choose to distribute their blessings. The children are submerged in the flowing waters at the bottom of the well, and they come out with magic or without. There is always a Carrenwell on site to record the glow of their aura color so we know which of the Divine they’ve been blessed by.
If the child has magic, they’re registered for a spot in the Divine Blessed School to learn how to wield it.
If they don’t have any, they continue their normal schooling and commence their bleeding days when they turn sixteen. ”
“How do you keep track of how the blessings present in each child?” Bryce asks.
Harlow shrugs a shoulder. “It’s largely reported by the parents.”
“They’re so forthcoming?” I ask. “I thought magic was a well-kept secret in the city.”
She cocks her head and looks at me like I’m a moron.
“Yes, but non-magical parents are usually terrified and eager to have help. They trade the secrecy for safety. And those from blessed families can either help guide their own if they have similar gifts, or they can request help from my family to place them with the appropriate tutor at school.”
Carter leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “It’s that simple.”
“It is,” Harlow says. “The complication is the increase in bleeding days, but with the growing attacks by the Drained, our families have needed to extend much more magic.” She pauses to sip her wine.
“They forget that the blood of their sacrifice is to please the Divine, not my family. Not everyone likes the changes, but it’s easy to be outraged when the danger feels far from you.
We’ve never had a breach penetrate beyond the B gates.
Considering the population of the Drained now, that’s impressive.
The darker winter months are always a challenge, and it takes tremendous resources to keep the walls strong.
If you never see the enemy at the gates, it’s easy to forget the danger. ”
We fall into contemplative silence. Carter, Bryce, and I all know well enough the threat the Drained pose. We also know the struggle of protecting people and the way they resent the very rules that keep them safe.
It’s one of the reasons we’ve risked crossing the stretch of Drained Wood to get here.
“That’s why the rebellion is stirring,” Harlow continues. “The non-magical folk believe my family is taking advantage of them, and I can understand how it might look that way if you don’t see how much work it is to maintain the nightly holy fire protection wall.”
“And Rochelli is stirring them up?” I ask.
Harlow waves a hand. “Yes, I suspect he’s more of an instigator than a true leader.”
“And you think he’s the mayor? No other theories?” Bryce asks.
“I’ll admit I’m biased. Rafe’s just been chipping away at my father’s power for years now. My father thought marrying him off to my sister Aidia would be enough to rein him in.” Her face twists into a disgusted frown.
“It wasn’t?” I ask.
Harlow laughs bitterly and takes a long gulp of wine.
“But why attack during the engagement dinner?” I ask. “He was there. He danced with you right before the Divine-damned explosion.”
“Yes, but what better cover than that of a victim? And if memory serves, he wasn’t in the room when it happened.” She meets my eye. “Neither were your parents.”
“Neither was your brother Kellan.”
She rolls her eyes. “Point taken, but I noticed something curious. Only one person moved before the blast went off, and that person was you. How do I know that your family wasn’t responsible and just using the rebels as a convenient distraction?”
I’m impressed that she thought of this, but I’ve been dreading her bringing it up. If her stupid bodyguard hadn’t confirmed it after the fact, she might have let it go.
I shrug. “Wish I could have taken credit, but if I’d done it, I would have made sure I was farther from the windows. Just because I can heal quickly doesn’t mean it’s fun to take the brunt of all those glass shards.”
She purses her lips and offers only a mildly skeptical look. I’m desperate for a distraction, and Carter must read it because he leans forward .
“If you two are done bickering, I have a question about the well ceremony,” Carter says. “Could someone hide a baby’s aura?”
Harlow shakes her head. “There’s always a Carrenwell there to witness, and since we can see magic, we would also see any kind of glamour they used to hide it.
That’s how I know you have a blessing from Polm.
” She turns to Bryce and winks. “And you have a gift from Kennymyra. We don’t get many of those around these parts. ”
“How do you know?” Bryce asks, looking down at his body like he’ll be able to see his own magic.
She grins, twirling her wine glass on the table. “It’s the color in your aura. Yours is red. Must admit I’m very curious to know about your magic.”
Bryce leans toward her, a lazy smile on his face. “I’d be delighted to show you.”
I don’t like the way they’re eyeing each other. She doesn’t look like she’s just doing it to fuck with me anymore—she’s actually curious. Not that I care.
My head is spinning. I’m relieved that my parents have been wearing their cloaking rings. She’s offering a lot of information freely. So much that I don’t trust that it’s real, or that she doesn’t have some other motive for being so forthcoming.
I tap a knuckle on the table. “That hardly feels foolproof. I tricked you the night we met.”
Harlow scowls at me, the skin on her neck and cheeks darkening from pale to light gray. She’s blushing.
She clears her throat. “If I hadn’t been so distracted by my impending unwanted nuptials, I might have paid closer attention.”
“Yes, I’m sure it was that and not the fact that you were ready to let me fuck you through the bed,” I taunt.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I was annoyed my parents were selling me off again?—”
“Again?” Bryce interrupts. “You were married before?”
Harlow feigns a pout. “Did you think I was just an old spinster?”
Bryce leans forward and winks. “Of course not. It’s just that Henry tells us nothing.”
“Yes, I was married before. To a man named Marc Beckley. He passed,” she says .
We all look at her expectantly.
“May Divine Asher deliver his soul safely beyond the veil,” she says, a beat too late.
Bryce laughs. “You seem pretty broken up over it.”
“It’s been six months. I’ve had some time to adjust,” she says. “I had faith the Divine would bring me my true love, and here he is—” She gestures to me and pretends to swoon. “How fortunate I am.”
“You’re so sincere,” I say.
She leans back and takes a long drink of wine.
I watch for any sign that she’s sharing because she’s drunk, but she handles herself well.
I go back through my memory. She had at least half the bottle at the last bar, plus another glass and a half at the table.
She should be feeling it, but she looks unruffled.
“I think it’s fair to say that after thirty years I’m tired of being a pawn in my father’s games,” Harlow says.
“I don’t want to marry you any more than you do me, and it doesn’t do either of us a kindness to pretend otherwise.
It’s cleaner to call it what it is—a marriage of inconvenient necessity.
It’s a job, and we will approach it with mutual professionalism. ”
“Fine.” I lean back and eye her. “Your blessing is from Polm?”