Page 50 of Made

It was abundantly clear that Araxinthe’s decisions weren’t questioned often, if ever. She continued as if she’d heard nothing that Esme said.

“We’re going to call you Fritjof. It’s your true name in the Book of Principle. It means concord, peace, and harmony.”

Esmerelda barked out a single laugh. “Concord? Peace?Andharmony? In addition to being spectacularly misguided, that ridiculous ‘name’ is chock full of redundancy.”

Araxinthe sniffed, “Teatime has passed. Let us proceed with our work.” With a glance at the tea service worthy of New York’s Pierre Hotel, Araxinthe waved all trace into a state of non-existence.

“Work?” Esme looked around. “Think of me as being on strike. I have only one demand. Send me back.”

Araxinthe’s mouth formed a smile that looked more bitter than pleased. “It seems you’re well-acquainted with redundancy.”

“It seems you’re well-acquainted with sarcasm.”

“Getting your way is more important to you than harmony, isn’t it, Fritjof?”

“Bloody well right.”

The Cardinal overseer opened her mouth, but seemed to think better of saying out loud what had first come to mind.

“Your predilection seems to be related to weaving. Not the same as the occupation at which your mother excelled. But with a small shuffle of personnel, we should be able to accommodate your particular talents and preferences.”

“I ask for only one accommodation. Send me home.”

“Home? My dear, Fritjof.Thisis your home. The sooner you accept that you are here to stay, the sooner you will settle into doing your part to balance Earth’s governing laws. You will be one of the weavers of fate and make sure creatures have an opportunity to learn the lessons necessary for spiritual growth.”

Esme bit her tongue to stifle her argumentative impulse and digest what had just been said. Wherever she was, whatever these creatures were doing, it was not where she was supposed to be, and she knew it to the depths of her soul. Once again, her mind formed an image of Kagan holding enough flowers to stock Lily’s shop for a day.

She reasoned that perhaps it was time to start using her head. Stop, look, and listen instead of popping off. Since they weren’t going to send her back because of her protests, she might need to start planning an escape. That thought wasimmediately chased by the realization that they could come for her as easily as before, as many times as they desired.

And there would be nothing she could do to stop them.

“Since I don’t seem to be getting anywhere with my pleas to be put back where I belong, how about a compromise? Like a trial basis? I’ll give you a day. I’ll check out the fate-weaving gig and, to be fair, I’ll try to keep an open mind. However, if after a day, my mind isn’t changed, you’ll send me back.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You have no leverage, Fritjof. You must begin adjusting to your new life. Here.”

Araxinthe waved, and two women dressed in saffron robes appeared on either side of Esme. Without gripping her physically, she was pulled to a standing position and made to walk, by some unseen force, in between the two. Like a puppet. Attempting to gain control of her body proved useless. When that became irrevocably clear, she stopped fighting and decided to use the experience to look around and gain information. She hoped the two Saffrons would be more open to communication than Scarlet had been.

“Hello. I’m Esmerelda. By whom do I have the displeasure of being frog-marched?” There was no indication that either of them heard or understood. “Helloooooo,” Esme sang out. “No speakey the English?”

No reaction. Esme sighed and turned her attention to her surroundings.

As they were exiting the pavilion, the clouds momentarily dissipated long enough for Esme to see that it served as the hub from which a dozen immense hallways extended like the spokes of a wheel to what might’ve been infinity for all she knew. When her two escorts steppedinto the hallway of choice with Esme in tow, the pavilion disappeared behind them.

As fascinating as all of that was, Esme was preoccupied with imagining what Kagan must be thinking. And feeling.

She looked at her captors, first one, then the other. “Is there a way I can at least get a message to my friends letting them know I’m alive?” Nothing. Neither of them gave any indication of having heard her. They simply kept moving, eyes straight ahead. “Can I call my solicitor?” It was useless. For all she knew, they might be robots. “I don’t even get a phone call? How about reading me my rights?”

A slight but recognizable pop let me know some representative of magic kind was arriving instead of departing. I looked over to see Keir give John David a tiny shove away from him as the two arrived in the foyer. John David looked as discombobulated as I felt, but before I could see if he was okay, my attention was seized by the sight of Keir being grabbed by Kagan.

“THEY TOOK HER!” he told Keir.

“Who took whom where?” Keir asked with a frown.

“ESME!”Kagan shouted.

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