“I’m sure you’ve all heard by now that Sister Cora passed away last night.” Inez pauses, and the girls around me cast their faces down. “I make no pretense that Cora and I were friends. We did not agree on how to lead the Sisterhood forward, and I thought her overly cautious.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gretchen bristling. Inez holds up a hand, the silver ring of the Sisterhood glinting in the early-morning light. “Nonetheless, Cora devoted her life to the Sisterhood, and that is worthy of our respect. Her funeral will take place tomorrow morning at Richmond Cathedral. I expect all of you to attend.
“In accordance with the plan of succession, as the eldest witch capable of mind-magic, I am your new headmistress.” Inez’s dark eyes meet mine. “The Sisterhood has been divided for years, but I hope you will soon see that I have your best interests at heart. We all have the same aims now, don’t we? And the same enemies?”
My fork falls out of my hand and lands on the china plate with a dull clink, and I choke on my indignation. I know who my enemies are.
Inez gives a dry chuckle like the crack of an old twig. “Cora put great stock in the prophecy that one of the Cahill sisters would lead us into the next century. She believed that Cate was likeliest to be the oracle. However, it has come to my attention—”
I bite my lip. Is Inez going to cast her support for Maura? There’s no more evidence of Maura being an oracle than of me being one.
“It has come to my attention,” Inez repeats, relishing the way we all hang on her words, “that it’s not Cate who has been blessed by Persephone with visions of the future. It’s little Tess. Isn’t that right, Tess?”
Everyone swivels in her seat to look at Tess. Except me. I stare at Maura, who gazes down at her lap, her fingers fiddling with the lace tablecloth. I never dreamed she’d tell Inez.
Even now, I give her too much credit.
Tess lifts her pointy chin. “Yes, ma’am.”
“How marvelous,” Inez practically purrs. “There’s never been an oracle who was also a witch, much less a witch capable of mind-magic. I assume you are capable of that?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tess flushes from all the attention. I half expect her to squirm and sink in her chair, but she does not; she sits tall and straight, and I feel a swell of pride.
“I see. Well, it wasn’t very nice of you to keep it all to yourself.” Inez shakes her head, tsking as though she’s scolding a child for stealing a penny candy. “But I understand why you might hesitate to steal the limelight from your sister—”
“It wasn’t that,” Tess interrupts. “It was a matter of my own safety.”
Which has now been thoroughly compromised. Tess is the oracle prophesied to gain the people’s favor and bring about a new golden age of magic—or, if she falls into the Brothers’ hands, a second Terror. The Brothers have been murdering girls on just the suspicion of having visions. And now it’s gone from three of us knowing about Tess’s prophecies—Tess, Mei, and me—to the entire convent: fifty-odd students, a dozen teachers, and a dozen more governesses. What is Inez playing at?
Inez clasps her hands earnestly to her bosom. “Your secret is safe with us. We are your sisters. We would protect you with our lives!”
Would they really? Is it reasonable to expect them to? What is Tess to the people in this room? She’s well liked, certainly, but it’s no small thing to sacrifice one’s life.
“In any case, I’m delighted to have such a powerful student,” Inez says, and comprehension floods through me at the way she stresses the word. “Tess is gifted, yes, but she is still a child. A twelve-year-old cannot lead the Sisterhood, particularly not during these troubled times. She’ll require guidance, and I am happy to provide it—to rule in her stead, as a sort of regent, until she comes of age and we see if there is any truth to the prophecy.”
Tess rakes a hand through her blond curls. I can read her frustration in the way she grinds her jaw, in the tightness of her shoulders. She won’t challenge Inez publicly, she’s too clever for that, but oh, she loathes being patronized.
“Thank you,” she mutters. “I appreciate your support.”
“You’re quite welcome.” Inez prowls down the aisle. “I have one more announcement. Between the Harwood breakout and the strike on the Head Council, the Brotherhood will be up in arms. It is important that, should we be apprehended, we are able to free ourselves, be it through animation or illusion work. Miss Auclair, if you were in a crowd and the Brothers called you out as a witch, what would you do?”
Alice smiles. In the blink of an eye, she becomes a girl with black curls and brown skin and a red plaid dress. “Or, better yet,” she murmurs, and a moment later, she’s transformed into a stocky Chinese boy with a shock of black hair and a denim shirt.
“Brava, Miss Auclair!” Inez claps. Alice has always been her prize pupil. Rilla is even better at illusions, but she’s not half so obsequious. “We do not know how the Brothers will retaliate, girls, but I feel sure that they will. It will be increasingly difficult to avoid their notice. I am changing your schedules to double up on illusions and animation classes. Art, music, botany, and other electives will be postponed until further notice.”
Rilla flings a hand into the air. “Will you continue as illusions teacher as well as headmistress?”
“I shall teach the advanced classes in the mornings. Miss Auclair will teach the introductory ones in the afternoons.” Inez lays a bony hand on Alice’s shoulder, and Alice—transforming back into her pretty blond self—preens.
I glance at the table behind me. Rebekah Reed looks as though she’s swallowed a lemon, and Lucy is cringing. Alice is a bully, and the younger girls already get the worst of it.
“Why Alice?” Mei demands. “Why not Rilla?”
“Rilla would make a wonderful teacher! She’s the best in our class!” Pearl adds.
“That’s a matter of opinion, isn’t it?” Inez snaps. “I am under no obligation to explain staffing decisions to students. However, Miss Auclair will turn seventeen in March and has already announced her intention to become a full member of the Sisterhood. Miss Stephenson’s birthday is not until September, and she has made no such guarantee. What good is it to me to train a teacher, only to have her run off and get married?”
Rilla flushes behind her freckles. She’s a romantic, yes, but she doesn’t have a beau. None of the girls at the convent have. There are not many opportunities to meet boys when one masquerades as a nun in training.
“Now, if there are no further interruptions”—Inez glares at Mei and Pearl—“we are already behind schedule for the day. Miss Kapoor, Miss Price, I would like to see you in my office after morning classes, if you’re feeling up to it.”
The room explodes into whispers as she turns away, her heels tap-tap-tapping into the hall.
Rilla reaches for the jam. “What does she want with Parvati and Livvy?”
I hand her the sticky jar. “They can do mind-magic.” Most of the girls we rescued from Harwood aren’t witches, so they’re being shepherded to one of three safe houses in the countryside. Grace, Caroline, and Angela are here only by virtue of their connections with students or staff. Parvati and Livvy are here because I found their files in the National Archives and realized how powerful they are. Mind-magic is terribly rare; only my sisters, Alice, Elena, Inez, and I are capable of it.