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According to the Councils, it was no great loss, since the Water Quatura back then, in their water form, had been dangerous deep-sea predators who had made it difficult for the society to remain undetected and were even said to have killed and eaten humans as well as their own people.
Amara sat down again, her gaze lingering on the two empty wine glasses standing on the edge of her desk.
She began to chew on her lower lip before quickly looking away, then back at me.
“Add to that your powers. And the fact that you’re Gloria’s granddaughter.”
She hesitated, as if she wanted to add something.
And it was as if another veil were falling from my eyes, revealing a truth that could not have been more tangible.
“Gloria’s greatest rival is Vera Hendrix, who is currently in the process of marrying her daughter to Edward Salem, the last male Fire Quatura. Two powerful houses that could produce an heir within the next few months,” I began, and Amara stared at me. “I could be descended from any of the powerful Quatura houses in the world. I could be the daughter of two ungifted Quatura. It wouldn’t matter.”
Amara’s face looked paler than usual, though perhaps it was just due to the faint winter daylight that penetrated the high-set basement windows of the first underground level – covered by Victorian steel grilles – and overpowered the many flickering candles.
“You would always find reasons to turn this baby inside me into your weapon,” I continued, stepping toward Amara’s desk. “The real reason I’m the mother from the prophecy isn’t the gods. It’s politics.”
She knew I was right. She knew how Quatura Society worked. Everyone down here knew it, but no one said it out loud. Not even her. And maybe that was exactly why nothing would change until it was too late.
Amara broke eye contact, took a deep breath, closed a few more files on her desk, and looked up again.
“You should never disrespect the gods. I raised you better than that, Julie.”
Unable to say anything in response, I watched as Amara stood up and carried the wine glasses over to the cabinet where she kept countless old bottles of wine.
She hastily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before turning back to me with a slight smile, as if this conversation hadn’t just taken place.
“Anyway… The reason I wanted to talk to you…”
I stared after her in disbelief.
She was putting on an act. Something I wasn’t capable of.
But why was she doing that? Why didn’t she just state the facts?
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I fought them back, for with them, a wave of cold threatened to travel down my arms to my icy fingers.
Only now did I realize that I had clenched the hem of my sleeve and frozen it solid. More ice crystals formed on my sleeve and crept upward.
I quickly let go.
“Well…” Amara stepped back behind her desk, turned to face me, seeking my gaze, and it was as if I could feel a new tension in the room, without being able to identify its source. “There is a ritual performed on expectant Quatura mothers carrying male Quatura babies. Agnitio a Deis.”
No…
My whole body stiffened.
No… This couldn’t really be happening…
Chapter 19
Bayla
Larghetto – Piano, Celesta, Strings
“Kendall’s Return”
Nicholas Britell
