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Thirty-Two

The afternoon of the solstice, Sybil requested Lydia’s company for an early dinner.

Lydia selected a dress from the wardrobe: a black, floor-length gown with long sleeves and a heart-shaped neckline, fashioned from silk that fell over her skin like water.

She curled and pinned her hair, and fixed her makeup, rouging her cheeks and painting her lips a deep claret red.

Funny, she thought. Already she’d become accustomed to the look of her face without the benefit of a glamour. In a way, she almost preferred it.

Just before leaving, Lydia took the ivory letter opener from the writing desk.

Working quickly, she slipped it inside the hem of her gray wool skirt, tearing the stitches to reveal a tidy row of waxed paper packets, each stuffed with a thimbleful of herbs.

She searched, holding them up to the light one by one, until she found what she was looking for.

Lydia took the packet and slipped it inside her brassiere.

It was the first time she had been outside of her room since arriving in Bavaria, and the sensation as the binding magic lifted from her shoulders made her head swim. Lydia followed the girl called Eva as she silently led the way to Sybil’s chambers.

Sybil embraced her when she arrived. “Wine?”

“Yes, please.”

The room was much like Lydia’s own, with tall windows and paneled wood walls, although she noticed that these walls were carved with an ordinary vine-work pattern, rather than the intricate binding sigil from her own bedroom.

A table and chairs sat in the center of the room, with china and crystal for two.

The furniture was richly upholstered in shades of mauve, just like Sybil’s study at the academy.

Sybil poured two glasses of wine, leaving the decanter on the table between them.

“You look lovely.” Sybil sipped her wine. “I told you this gown was prettier than the other one. Wasn’t I right?”

Lydia smiled. “As always. The other was far too severe.”

Sybil had visited daily since Lydia’s change of heart, drinking tea and expounding on everything from her own idyllic childhood in Surrey, to which frock Lydia should wear for her initiation.

Lydia had spent every second of those visits biting her tongue until she tasted blood, and praying to the Mother that her deception would hold.

“How are you feeling?” Sybil asked.

Terrified , Lydia thought.

“I feel well. I’m ready.” She gazed at her wine. “Only…”

Sybil reached across the table. “What is it, darling?”

Lydia sighed. “It’s my own fault. I’m still afraid the rest of the coven won’t ever trust me, even after I’ve been initiated. It makes sense, really—”

“Nonsense. In a few hours, you will be one of us. After that, you will lead us all in the Unmaking ritual, and win the war for Germany. You will be a sister to them. You’ll see.”

Lydia gave Sybil’s hand a squeeze, then pulled back, grazing Sybil’s glass with her fingers. The glass toppled, spilling its contents and smashing on the floor.

“Oh, damn,” Lydia said. “Did I spill any on your dress? I’m sorry, I guess I’m more nervous than I thought.”

“No apologies! It’s just a glass. We have others.” Sybil stood. “Wait here.”

Sybil walked to the door and said a few words to Eva, standing guard in the hallway.

As she did, Lydia reached inside her dress and produced the waxed paper packet.

She opened it with trembling hands, then hastily emptied the packet into the decanter, swirling it once before placing it back on the table. The powder dissolved to nothing.

Sybil returned with a fresh glass. “They’ll clean up the rest once we’ve finished our meal.”

Lydia refilled Sybil’s glass. Sybil took a sip and smiled.

Dinner was stuffed pheasant served with wild mushrooms, and glazed pears for dessert. Lydia ate little and said nothing when Sybil poured them each a second glass of wine.

Just as they were finishing the meal, a knock came at the door. It was Ursula, already dressed for the evening’s ritual in a black silk blouse and wide satin trousers, which gave the illusion of a voluminous skirt.

“Grand Mistress.” Ursula’s gaze landed on Lydia, then flicked away.

Lydia forced a smile. “Ursula, you look very nice.”

Ursula did not return the compliment. “My apologies, Grand Mistress. I didn’t realize you had company.” She turned to leave.

“Stay!” cried Sybil. “We still have time before the initiation. Sit. Have a drink with us.” She called for another chair, as well as a glass. Ursula scowled, but sat when the chair and the glass arrived. “Lydia and I were just discussing arrangements for this evening.”

Lydia looked on in dismay as Ursula reached for the decanter and filled her glass with wine.

She held the liquid to her nose and inhaled.

Then she brought the glass to her lips and frowned.

A small, wine-soaked fleck of dust clung to the edge of the glass.

She looked at Lydia over the rim, holding her in her icy blue stare.

Sybil glanced at Ursula. “Everything all right, dear?”

Lydia felt herself flush under Ursula’s gaze. With as much ease as she could muster, she reached for the decanter, refilled her own glass, and drank. She smiled at Ursula.

“Fine, Grand Mistress.” Ursula drank her wine and said nothing.

Sybil cleared her throat. “As I was saying, after her initiation, Lydia will lead the coven in the Unmaking ritual. A fine beginning, don’t you think?”

Ursula paused. “I was under the impression you would be the one to lead us, Grand Mistress.”

“I’m afraid there is no other option,” Lydia said. “Since the Grimorium Bellum is bound to me, no one else can touch it, let alone read it.”

Ursula looked at her, the disdain barely hidden on her face. She knows , Lydia thought. I can fool Sybil, but not her.

Just then, Eva entered the room without knocking. She looked pale and skittish as she walked to Sybil’s side and whispered something in her ear. Sybil’s face grew serious.

“Thank you, Eva,” she said quietly. The girl saw herself out, closing the door behind her.

Sybil looked at Ursula. “I’m afraid we’ve lost track of two of our guests.”

It took Lydia a moment to realize what she meant. “Henry and Rebecca?”

Sybil nodded. “Johanna went to check on them earlier this evening. It seems they’ve gone missing.”

Lydia could feel Ursula’s eyes on her. “Where could they have gone?”

“Nowhere far. My worry is that they may create some disruption during the ceremony.”

Ursula stood. “I’ll find them.”

Sybil frowned. “You’ll miss Lydia’s initiation.”

“A small price to pay.”

Sybil sipped her wine. “Agreed. Be back by sunset. You must be present for the Unmaking ritual.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. As you said, they couldn’t have gone far.” She gave Lydia one last withering glance and took her leave. Lydia tried to appear relaxed, even as a tangled panic snarled inside her breast .

Run , she thought. Both of you, run as fast as you can, and don’t stop.