A Girl in Black and White (Alyria 2)

“That’s ridiculous. Alis is the best match in the city. Besides you must take a pledged on All Sister’s Day.”

Frustration seeped into my chest. I knew I had a short time to figure out what I would do as that day crept closer and closer, each step putting more pressure on my lungs.

“I wish to marry someone normal,” I said stubbornly. “Like a blacksmith.”

It was true. I didn’t want a man with magic after my little adventure. I just wanted someone human, most definitely.

My mother snorted. “Thankfully I have the last say in it, then.”

There were rules to the Sisterhood; most importantly that to keep the peace between us and our male equivalent—Druids—we each had to marry one. There were occasions when that was overlooked for a man in a higher position of power or simply someone who the Sisterhood thought would be an ally. But the worst part was that my mother had the last say in who I married completely. I thought she had a lot to make up for, though, and wouldn’t be forcing me to marry someone I didn’t approve of.

“A blacksmith?” my mother muttered. “You’re either in your cups or Mother has accomplished her goal in brainwashing you.”

Ironically enough, a blacksmith was who my grandmother had wanted me to marry in the first place. But no, her insistence didn’t brainwash me. I

just knew what a man with magic was like now. Sounded nice, until you had one pushing you around, telling you what to do . . .

I smiled all teeth. “Well, at least she taught me something, particularly like how not to abandon one’s daughter for a good twenty years.”

She pursed her lips, sighing, “And that’s my cue to leave.” She walked down a couple of steps, before stopping to say, “I heard forgiveness is really good for the soul.”

“I imagine so is having a mother to raise you. I wouldn’t know, though,” I added, feigning disappointment.

Ignoring that jab, she made her way to the foyer. “What is she thinking?” she muttered to herself. “A man without magic is weak.”

“And so is Clinton for sending you so often to question me about my training.”

She opened the wooden door. “It’s been a pleasure, daughter. Let’s do it again some time.”

“I’m anxious already,” I replied dryly as she shut the door behind her.

It was safe to say my relationship with my mother was rocky. Interesting. But rocky as hell.

“If you look at the maps in front of you, the Sisterhood houses are all marked with a star. The big star being the Main House in Grover, near the Marshlands,” Agnes said as all us girls were in the upstairs drawing room, away from any debauchery that would be happening downstairs.

“That’s near Latent!” Juliana said from her seat at the wooden table. “I’ve always wondered what it was like being with one.”

“I heard it’s magnificent,” Sinsara replied with a sigh.

“Who told you that?” Farah asked in disbelief. She was ever the cynic, but with her curly mane of hair, dark brown skin, tawny eyes, and the smoothest complexion you’d ever see, she always captured everyone’s attention.

“My older sister,” Sinsara answered. “She’s seen the entire country.”

“Slept with it too, it seems,” Farah countered.

Laughter swept around the room.

“Ladies,” Agnes chastised.

“What does gre . . . gar-ious mean?” Sarai asked from her seat at the end of the table, a gossip rag in front of her face. She was the youngest here at sixteen and was always stuck in a book of some kind. Most commonly gossip.

“Sociable,” Agnes supplied, “but you shouldn’t be reading that right now, Sarai.”

“Wait,” Magdalena said. “I thought that Latents kill you afterward? How could your sister have been with one?”

Sinsara sighed like that was ridiculous. “They don’t kill you. They just take a lot of your energy, that dying is a possibility. It’s just their way.” She shrugged.

Some “Hmms” went around the table like that made it more interesting.