I frown. “I hope that she has something valuable for the price of that bottle.”
She purses her lips. “She said that she heard a few drunks in here last night, an hour or so after the attack, who let it slip that there’s a rebel meeting place at a bar near North Hold. That’s Rafe Mattingly’s territory. I loathe him and I also think there’s a strong chance that he’s Rochelli. It would be out of character for him to be so sloppy. So either he planted that information, or he’s bold enough to try to bait my family to do something.”
“Isn’t he the mayor?” Carter asks.
Harlow sighs. “Unfortunately.”
“I don’t understand your politics,” Carter says. “What does the mayor do?”
She sips more wine and licks a drop from her lips. “It’s a largely ceremonial position. It was designed to keep the common, unblessed people appeased, with the feeling that they voted for a leadership position. Three years ago, my father lost the election. He was the first Carrenwell ever not to be reelected his entire lifetime. Every other head of our family has held both the real, magical rulership position of keeping the boundaries strong against the Drained, and the ceremonial position of listening to common folks’ concerns about things like sunstone light rations.”
Bryce pours her more wine. “So Rafe is a bit of a thorn in your father’s side?”
It’s so smooth, I almost miss it, but he’s trying to keep her talking.
Harlow arches a brow at him. “Don’t get any ideas. The man cannot be reasoned with and it would be silly to think you can outsmart him. Rafe Mattingly is well-connected and the only master he serves is himself. He has no honor. No morals. And no soul. How do you think he managed to pull one over on my father?” She waves a hand. “Say what you will about Harrick Carrenwell. He’s many awful things, but he takes his responsibility very seriously, and people take it for granted.” She stops abruptly, her eyes go unfocused for a moment before clearing. I wonder where she goes in those moments. I know she’d bite my head off if I asked.
It’s clear she doesn’t have much love for her father, but she does have respect. That in itself is valuable information.
“So the people blame him?” Carter asks.
Harlow shrugs a shoulder. “We’ve been more isolated in recent years. It takes more magic to maintain the boundaries. The unblessed used to have to visit the Blood Well once a month, but now we ask them to go twice a month—only those well enough and old enough to do so, of course. There are no children or elderly.”
I frown, thinking of the old man we saw the city guards dragging into the square the other day. I wonder what they consider too old to bleed—or too young, for that matter.
“How does it work? The magic? The bleeding?” I ask.
She sips her wine slowly—stalling. “Have you been away so long that you forget? Surely you remember your own well ceremony?”
“Humor me.”
Harlow sighs and pours the last of the wine into her glass. “Every new moon, all the one-month-old babies in the city are brought to the Blood Well, whether their families have magic or not. The Divine work in mysterious ways and no one knows how they choose to distribute their blessings. The children are submerged in the flowing waters at the bottom of the well, and they come out with magic or without. There is always a Carrenwell on site to record the glow of their aura color so we know which of the Divine they’ve been blessed by. If the child has magic, they’re registered for a spot in the Divine Blessed School to learn how to wield it. If they don’t have any, they continue their normal schooling and commence their bleeding days when they turn sixteen.”
“How do you keep track of how the blessings present in each child?” Bryce asks.
Harlow shrugs a shoulder. “It’s largely reported by the parents.”
“They’re so forthcoming?” I ask. “I thought magic was a well-kept secret in the city.”
She cocks her head and looks at me like I’m a moron. “Yes, but non-magical parents are usually terrified and eager to have help. They trade the secrecy for safety. And those from blessed families can either help guide their own if they have similar gifts, or they can request help from my family to place them with the appropriate tutor at school.”
Carter leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “It’s that simple.”
“It is,” Harlow says. “The complication is the increase in bleeding days, but with the growing attacks by the Drained, our families have needed to extend much more magic.” She pauses to sip her wine. “They forget that the blood of their sacrifice is to please the Divine, not my family. Not everyone likes the changes, but it’s easy to be outraged when the danger feels far from you. We’ve never had a breach penetrate beyond the B gates. Considering the population of the Drained now, that’s impressive. The darker winter months are always a challenge, and it takes tremendous resources to keep the walls strong. If you never see the enemy at the gates, it’s easy to forget the danger.”
We fall into contemplative silence. Carter, Bryce, and I all know well enough the threat the Drained pose. We also know the struggle ofprotecting people and the way they resent the very rules that keep them safe.
It’s one of the reasons we’ve risked crossing the stretch of Drained Wood to get here.
“That’s why the rebellion is stirring,” Harlow continues. “The non-magical folk believe my family is taking advantage of them, and I can understand how it might look that way if you don’t see how much work it is to maintain the nightly holy fire protection wall.”
“And Rochelli is stirring them up?” I ask.
Harlow waves a hand. “Yes, I suspect he’s more of an instigator than a true leader.”
“And you think he’s the mayor? No other theories?” Bryce asks.
“I’ll admit I’m biased. Rafe’s just been chipping away at my father’s power for years now. My father thought marrying him off to my sister Aidia would be enough to rein him in.” Her face twists into a disgusted frown.
