Page 107 of A Resistance of Witches

“And Kitty?”

A single tear fell onto Sybil’s cheek, and as it did, a fresh fury rose up inside of Lydia. She lunged forward, forcing Sybil back.

“Don’t.Don’t you dare weep for them. Don’t you ever let me see you do that, youfilthyhypocrite, I will kill you myself, do you understand? I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

“Lydia—”

“Why?” Now Lydia was the one weeping, hot tears streaming down her face as she raged. “Why did you do it? So you could take her place? So you could be grand mistress?”

“No! Not me. Of course not me.You.” Sybil looked astonished. “I nominated you myself, you silly thing. I never wanted to be grand mistress of the academy. It was always supposed to be you.”

“They named you—”

“Youleft. You ran off, traipsing all over France in search of that damned book. They were going to elect Vivian, Mother help us all. You left me no choice but to step in. But it was always supposed to be you.”

“I didn’t want it!” Lydia shouted. “I never asked for it!”

“Which is exactly why you were meant for it. Isadora was a powerful woman, but she was calculating. Ambitious. Her ambition drove the academy into a war, something we had never done in our history, and for what? To be forced back into the shadows once we were no longer needed?”

“To defeat Hitler. To prevent him from murdering millions of innocent people. You’ve aligned yourself with a monster, Sybil.”

Sybil looked as if she were disappointed, as if Lydia’s reasoning were simple, childlike. “Darling—” Lydia took a warning step forward, and Sybil flinched. “Lydia.Can we sit? Please?”

Lydia wanted to draw on the power of theGrimorium Bellumand cast a pestilence down on Sybil’s head. She wanted to fill her lying mouth with boils and sores before silencing her forever, but she knew it was futile. Lydia could cast no magic here. She took a seat. Sybil followed, letting the silence grow between them before Lydia finally spoke.

“Where are we?”

“Bavaria.” A ray of sunlight fell on Sybil’s face.

“And my friends?”

“They’re here. They’re safe.”

“Bring me to them.”

“No. Not until we understand one another.”

“I don’t see what there is to understand. You’re a Nazi and a traitor.”

Sybil’s face colored. “I am your grand mistress.”

“Isadora was my grand mistress.”

The warmth in Sybil’s blue eyes chilled.Now, Lydia thought. Nowshe could see it. The mask Sybil wore, and the face underneath it. Not a glamour. Something far more insidious.

Sybil looked out the window, fidgeting with one of her rings.

“My grandmother was from here, you know,” she said. “Well, strictly speaking she was from the Black Forest. Beautiful country. My mother was born there as well, although you wouldn’t know it from meeting her. She came to England as a child, no trace of an accent. Extraordinary witches, they were. Projectionists, both of them. Like me, I suppose, but they were more than that as well. Natural talent, nothing like what they teach at the academy. I used to think there wasn’t anything they couldn’t do. My grandmother could heal any wound, cure madness, call down the rain. When my mother was a girl, a local boy violated her behind his father’s butcher shop. My grandmother turned the boy into a goat, then took him to his own father to be slaughtered and sold for stew. She was atruewitch, like in the stories. My mother had a portion of her talent, not nearly as strong, and me, even less so.

“I always wondered why I wasn’t more like my grandmother. Where had all the true witches gone? My grandmother assured me that her homeland had been full of powerful witches, just like her. But when I came and saw for myself, I found that the witches of Germany were no different than the witches of England. Their magic was small.Tame. And just like the witches of England, they’d all gone into hiding—in plain sight, that is. They’d made themselves ordinary in exchange for their safety.”

Sybil reached out and pressed her fingers to the frozen windowpane and watched as the frost melted under her fingertips.

“My grandmother was never ordinary a day in her life. Everyone knew what she was. She could be strange, terrifying even, but oh, she waspowerful. I began to wonder, Was it our secrecy that made our magic small? Magic is about actualization, after all, about changing whatisn’tinto whatis, using only the power of your will. How much power could a person really wield, pretending to be something she’s not?”

“But that’s exactly what you did.You lied. To me, and everyone else.” Lydia felt sick at her own stupidity.

Sybil frowned. “I didn’t. I withheld things, but I never lied. Not to you.”

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