She almost forgot how anxious she was about the testing. Almost.
Brent strode into the room and took a deep, suspicious whiff of the air. Where before Brent had been downright jovial with her, his demeanor had lost all sense of levity. His quick stride and taut frame were all business.
“The testers are ready for you. I am to escort you.”
“How many?” Becka cringed at the tremble evident in her voice. She wasn’t easily intimidated and hated appearing weak over something most fae considered a simple rite of passage.
“Two. Shall we?” Brent motioned to the door.
“Give me a moment, wolf,” Becka said, heading into her bathroom to visit the toilet. “I’m sure things will be more pleasant for everyone if I brush my teeth.”
A few minutes later Becka emerged from the bathroom. “I’m ready,” she said with a nod to Brent.
He ushered her out the door on what rightfully felt like a death march. How bad would the testers findings turn out to be?
“You can remain here,” Brent said to Quinn, baring his teeth at the fae. “Or go home. Or, really, anywhere else but the House of Mirrors.”
“My orders have not changed, so I am on this ride until I hear otherwise,” Quinn replied.
“Fine, have it your way.”
The guards fell in behind them as they marched down the hall to hear Becka’s fate.
Memory had a funny way of etching the most painful memories with excruciating detail while leaving other lazy and relaxing moments comparatively fuzzy and indistinct.
Becka’s memory of the testing chamber was as clear as the crystalline artifact she’d shattered earlier that day. As she ventured into the room, her heart lurched in her chest. This place had always felt uncomfortable from the first time she’d stepped foot inside over a decade earlier. She suspected her discomfort went beyond the failed expectations and the loss of her hopes and dreams.
The space felt antiseptic. Cold. The room itself was spacious and lined with a ghostly limestone with so few inclusions it could be mistaken for glass. The limestone obscured the sheet-thin layer of iron encasing the room: the one element known to block all fae powers. The iron served to prevent outside interference in the testing and also contained all surfaced magic within these walls. There were windows along two walls and there a not so delicate lattice work of iron was exposed. Although it did not prevent the light from streaming in, the sun did little to bring warmth to the sterile space.
Eyeing the limestone slab pedestal in the center of the room, she shivered.
Located along the left wall was a small changing room with a private shower, which Becka entered grudgingly. Sets of white linen tanks and shorts hung at the ready, and Becka quickly changed, leaving her drapey black yoga clothes in a heap on a chair.
Re-entering the coldness of the room, Becka tried to ignore the handful of people sitting beyond a viewing window along the right-hand wall, as she traversed to the central slab. Testings were traditionally attended by eager members of the guild, hopeful to learn of the talents of their youth. When Becka had first been brought at the age of fourteen she’d feared nothing, eager as any to learn of her abilities. The second time, having evidenced no typical fae magic, she’d dreaded the fate she felt was sure.
This, her fourth time, filled her with a mix of anxiety and contempt. Either she’d endure the process again to learn there was no hex or curse. Or perhaps they’d uncover something and she’d have to manage the cure or living with a hex, depending on what treatment options were available. Regardless, she had no choice but to endure the testing and subsequent consequences.
Standing at the head of the slab, Becka glanced to the viewing chamber, separated from the room by another lattice of iron and glass. It had the usual cast of characters talking amongst themselves. Maura. Vott. Her accusers, Aunt Astrid and Calder. Sigfrid and Ingrid. Quinn. Brent, for some reason. Alain too had joined the fray, which didn’t make much sense. What investment could he have in the outcome?
She recognized the tester who’d proclaimed her magic-free at sixteen. Berak, who looked remarkably ageless from the last time she’d seen him. An older woman stood next to him; Becka assumed she was the other tester. The lady must have been here in attendance for the funerary rites, otherwise they’d never be able to have pulled this together so quickly. Houses rarely had more than one tester in residence, sometimes even having to borrow one from another guild. It was a rare gift, and so the guilds often afforded them great luxuries and accommodations.
“Let us begin,” Berak announced.
He and the other tester exited the viewing room dragging along heavy trunks which Becka remembered well. They would be filled with bottles of oils, unguents, paints, and who knows what other liquids and powders. No one helped them carry the trunks. To preserve the integrity of the testing, no one else was allowed in the testing chamber during an evaluation.
The others took their seats in the viewing chamber. Becka could see them talking amongst themselves but couldn’t hear their words.
“I am Saana, and I will be running the tests today along with Berak here, whom I understand you already know.” Saana and Berak shuffled across the room, their black robes displaying a form of unity. They hoisted their cases up on top of the central pedestal, moving as a coordinated team.
Becka appreciated Saana’s kind and informal demeanor. It helped calm her nerves a fraction.
An acrid smell hit the air as they opened the cases and laid out their wares.
“And I am Berak, but I assume you remember that.” His attention was lost in the organizing and sorting of rows of jars. He didn’t wait for a reply.
