Page 46

(He Got What He Deserved)

Secession Studios, Greg Dombrowski

“How could we have assumed that Grace Blair would be the one to fulfill the prophecy?”

The old woman with the big nose, whom I didn't even know because the High Council of the Councils rarely made an appearance, had initiated a discussion with this statement.

“Amara Blair assumed it,” interjected the gray-blonde woman in her forties who seemed to be new to the Councils. A Councillor. Another stranger to me.

“How could they make her the Domini?!” the old woman snapped back, and I watched anger spread across her wrinkled face as if it were a disease.

“She is Domini by birthright,” a third woman interjected.

“And those rules have long since fallen out of step with the times. Where is the change?” the gray-blonde one continued.

“Change brings with it unpredictable dangers!” hissed the old High Councillor, and other Quatura in their gray robes behind her nodded in agreement.

Suddenly, a young woman raised her finger warningly in my direction. “This girl is dangerous if she really is his daughter!”

Immediately, all eyes were on me. At least thirty Council members inspected me with suspicion as I stood in front of them in the middle of the white stone underground Council Hall and waited to see what decision they would make about my fate.

I was dressed in the white, silver-embroidered robe with the diamond-shaped Ventus symbols – typical of the Air Quatura – that I had never worn before. The fine fabric was even brighter than Gloria’s silver-gray one.

The Julie of a few weeks ago would have had trouble concentrating, would have become nervous and started playing with her fingers in the sleeves of her robe, which were much too long. The current Julie felt nothing, not even fear. Salma gave her power over her emotions.

Even though Gloria would be here soon, I was still calm and regulated inside. Or rather: my walls had grown thicker. The serum had certainly contributed to this, but my attitude had changed dramatically over the last three weeks as well.

How could I ever have been afraid of these Quatura? Of this one Quatura?

If I wanted to, I could disappear from here whenever I wanted. My element was uncontrolled, but not weak. If they came too close to me, I could fatally injure every single one of them.

“Councillor Harlow,” announced the Clamator, as was customary only in the Council Hall, because the Councils wanted to strictly enforce their hierarchical system down there.

“We should be glad that the gods sent her to us now,” came a firm voice from the huge, massive stone double door that slowly opened, and I watched as Rebecca Harlow – dressed in one of the light gray robes – strutted past me through the ancient Council temple as the door closed again.

Her robe was also decorated with diamond-shaped, three-part silver embroidery, indicating that she belonged to the third of three Ventus ranks within the Circle, and thus to the Oraculi rank.

She wore her wavy red hair loose under the large robe hood, and I noticed that, for once, she wasn't wearing those strange glasses she wore at Vanderwood and everywhere else, which made her look prettier.

“But why now?” asked another Air Quatura with black curls.

Anbelle had recently become part of the Oraculi rank, as Gloria wanted to see more Air Quatura in the higher ranks. But here, among the other Councillors, Anbelle was definitely new.

No one made a secret of that either. Many Air Quatura from the Circle had joined the Councils, and now the tension in Moenia seemed to be visibly increasing, which upset Amara a little more every evening.

And even though my aunt would never admit it, she blamed me for it.

“Why is she pregnant? How could you let that happen?”

Margot had been unable to respond.

“She takes after you. Except that you came to me back then and didn't put yourself on display at a pompous ball for the whole town to find out!”

Amara had rarely been so upset.

It filled me with shame that she had once again compared me to Margot, who had given birth to me at seventeen. It was unpleasant to be compared to that woman. I didn't look like her, and I had never been like her.

Knowing where I came from, it made me all the more proud that I had started to change. I had assumed it would take a long time and that the weight of this task would overwhelm me. But that hadn't happened.