Page 4 of By the Orchid and the Owl
“How about some syrup?” Don sent the glistening bottle of syrup toward my pancakes and tipped it so that a drizzle cascaded down. “And a sprinkle of cinnamon, of course,” he added, nodding at our cinnamon shaker, which lifted itself up with a jolt and tilted sideways over my pancakes.
“Okay, okay, thank you.” I whisked up a fork and shoveled a few bites in my mouth, then took a swig from my mug of coffee. “I’m going to go check my hair one more time.”
I raced to my room, where a mirror leaned lopsidedly against the wall opposite my bed. I smoothed out the creases in my tunic and tried to pat down the flyaways in my ponytail. I’d meant to braid it into a swirling crown for today, but I’d slept in—typical for me to do so on such an important morning. Raking a comb through it now would just puff up all my curls like a hornet swarm.
Maybe if the Branding gives me Shape Shifting, I’ll be able to change my hair a little bit. Make it straighter and glossier, like Quinn’s.
The knock on our front door made me flinch.
I made it back to the living room just as Fabian opened the door.
The man in our threshold, probably in his forties and with neat sideburns, wore a cloak clipped together with silver buttons, though a single circle of sheer fabric allowed me to see the brand on his left shoulder: the same as Fabian’s and Don’s, but with a red dot of ink in the center to indicate that he worked for the Good Council.
I blinked at it as I stepped between Fabian and Don to face him. How strange, that this man flaunted his burnt skin when it was usually so frowned upon to do so in public. Even magic itself was limited to the home or council-sanctioned jobs, never anything casually performed on the streets for fun.
Apparently, members of the Good Council could show off their power rather than keep it restricted like they demanded of the other islanders.
“Greetings.” The man had pulled a script from an inner pocket of his cloak and now stepped forward, filling the doorway. “Are you Ms. Rayna Drey?”
“That’s me.” I tried to hold my chin up high.
“And you are” —The man cocked an eyebrow at my hair— “ready to go?”
“I…” I turned to face my fathers one last time. They would follow me out to the square and watch our departure, of course, but this was the last moment I’d get to share with them in this cottage, where we’d cooked and danced and bickered together for the last eighteen years. I blew out a deep breath and stepped forward to let them both gather me into a final hug.
“We’ll see you in five years, Rayna,” Fabian murmured.
“Don’t eat any funny mushrooms, kid,” Don sniffed, and I knew that was his way of telling me he loved me.
“I love you, too,” I told him. “Both of you.”
Before they could say anything else to make that knot in my throat grow even bigger, I ripped myself away and hurried to gather my bags on the sofa.
The Good Council elite nodded once, pivoted on a heel, and led the way outside. I stumbled after him. Neighbors lifted their heads from their gardens as we trooped past, Fabian and Don following closely behind. The elderly Mr. Toko poked his face out his front door to wave with a gnarled hand. Village kids pressed their noses against their windows to gawk, and from the shadows of an alley, I saw Wilder watch me pass, his mouth clenched.
How many times had I done the same? Peeked through shutters to watch the eligible inductees of the year march off with these strangers from Bascite Mountain? And now I was the one being marched off.
When we finally reached the village square, where Quinn and Lander were already waiting with their own bags and a second Good Council elite, I stopped to rake my stare over the carriage sitting primly in the center of it all. Topped with diamond-tipped spires, it sat on wheels with spokes that glittered gold in the sun.
Quinn swiveled toward me, her well-oiled hair flying over her shoulder.
“There you are! I’m glad you made it in time. I thought you might have died.”
“Good morning to you, too, Quinn. Hey, Lander.”
Lander, in a white tunic that contrasted strikingly with his ebony skin, passed a gentle glance my way, smiling in that quiet way of his.
“Hey, Rayna. How are you feeling?”
I glanced at the Good Council elite as he took my bags from me. “Great.”
A lie, but he knew that, and so did Quinn. As Fabian and Don caught up, she drawled, “I think we’re all going to get the same magic. I really do.”
Another lie, to keep the ground steady beneath our feet. Because as much as I hated to leave Fabian and Don behind, I really, really hated the idea of being separated from Quinn and Lander at the Institute. If only she was right, and our Branding activated the same magic in each of us so that we could stick together….
“Okay, all loaded,” the second Good Council elite called, hooking a silver belt around his waist and clipping it to the reins of the carriage. After the one who’d fetched me did the same, they both pressed assessing stares onto Quinn, Lander, and me.
“In you three get!” they called. “It’s time.”
