Page 50 of Foresyth Conservatory
In the center of the room stood a circular stone table, adorned with Nordic symbols that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy. Eight shadowy figures encircled it, their features obscured by deep hoods, exuding an aura of ceremonial sacredness.
Seated among them was a woman of commanding presence. Her scarlet cape spilled around her like a river of blood, a stark contrast to her dark complexion. Her gaze was unrelenting—piercing through me, peeling back my defenses as if to unearth every secret I’d ever tried to bury.
I shuddered. She was certainly the woman that Leone had mentioned.
Approaching the table, my heart pounded with trepidation, yet I refused to yield to fear. I had come too far now. I stared back at her with an equally intense gaze.The chamber was cloaked in perpetual twilight, the darkness pressing in from all sides. A solitary raven perched on the table before the woman in red, its ebony feathers ruffling as it cocked its head. Its eyes traced my every movement.
The Meister followed behind, motioning for me to take a seat at the stone table. With a resolve born of necessity, I took my place, meeting the woman’s stare with determination. I was going to get that deck from them, and I was going to get answers.
“Councilmen, Al-Ahmar.Sub rosa,” the Meister hummed. He said the woman’s name with an air of discomfort.
The group spoke the Latin words back in unison. “Thank you for allowing this intrusion.”
“It is no intrusion,” the head Councilman spoke. “You are always welcome, Renate,” he bowed, and the others followed the gesture.
The subtle deference to the Meister pricked the hairs on my arm. Perhaps he was more politically powerful than I had assumed. And I had just all but yelled at him an hour ago.
“Thank you, Gerald. I would like to present to you and the Council body Foresyth’s newest addition, Dahlia Blackburne. She is lineage to Daniel Blackburne—hisdaughter, in fact,” he said, turning to me.
My heart sank into my chest at the mention of my father’s name.
My father wasn’t just investigating this place—he had been a student here.My cheeks burned. I stole a glance at the Meister who nodded me on. I faced the Council, trying not to trip on my words.
“Thank you for allowing me at your meeting,” I said, raising my chin higher. “I’m here to submit a research proposal and request access to an item from the archives.”
One by one, the hoods of the Councilmen fell back, revealing a sea of faces. I swept my gaze across the room, meeting each of their eyes in turn. They were of varying ages—the youngest, seated at the far end of the table, could have been only a few years my senior. Only one figure remained cloaked: the woman in the scarlet cape. She alone kept her hood drawn.
“I know who you are, daughter of Blackburne,” one of the older men said. “Yes, I recognized those eyes. Your father was quite the pupil.”
My stomach lurched. Not only had my father also been a student here, but he’d left an impression on a Council member.
“Yes, it was quite disappointing when he didn’t stay on to become an Advisor. But, given the circumstances, it was best for him to leave,” he said, looking up to the red woman. Her features, still shrouded by the cape, remained unknown to me. Did she know my father, too?
“You’ve come to request the deck, have you?” the young man on the edge asked. He had a slight nasally tone that reminded me of Leone.
“Yes, I’ve come to request the Skorn deck. For my research project this term,” I said.And for investigating Julian’s death.
“It’s the middle of the academic year—the Symposium is mere months away. I don’t see the point in starting a new project now. It would be quite a waste of time,” said another man near the middle. I swallowed hard.
“The body at Foresyth has discussed it in Circle, and we have concluded that the timeline would be adequate for Ms. Blackburne’s project. She intends to do a first-principle’s study on the origins of its power,” the Meister interjected. I sent him an appreciative nod.
“I am a knowledgeable reader—I have much previous expertise to rely on for this study. I will have plenty of time to complete the study by the Spring Symposium,” I said.
“I’ve heard of your reputation back at Greenwich,” the voice under the red cloak said. It was smooth and low, like a purr. “You’ve been acting as an Advisor without training, have you?”
The woman in red lowered her hood slowly, so now I could see her face. She was ageless—she could be my age, or someone twenty years older. I had no way of telling. Her cheeks had the supple curvature of youth, but her eyes were deep-set and framed by shadows, as if they had seen many stories unfold. She stepped away from her seat and took the three steps down to the circular round table at which I sat.
Something about her tone told me that I wouldn’t be getting answers from her or the Council members tonight. At least, not the answers I was interested in.
“I am not concerned whether or not you have theknowledgeto use the artifact appropriately. I question whether or not you have magickalconnectionto tap into its powers,” she said. I sensed the undercurrent of judgement in her words as they rippled through me.
I thought quickly. How was I going to prove my connection to magick? How could she even tell if there was one? I swallowed, an idea emerging. It was risky, but itmight be the only way to prove to her that I believed in magick.
“I can do a reading for you,” I said. “With the cards.”
Some of the Councilmen gasped, others let out a chuckle, but most fell silent. I recalled something that Aspen had mentioned on my first night at Foresyth about magick being an intimate affair. Not something you offered across the dinner table.
Only the red woman did not make any noise. She smiled instead.
