The Black City, Chapter 3: Root and Stone
The more Theresa tries to push forward, the more her past reaches out to pull her back.
As Theresa eats, she surveys the smiling, chattering, round-cheeked faces around her. Cullen can’t get a single bite in thanks to the rapidfire interrogation Theo is subjecting him to, while Rosalie is half-twisted in her seat, continuing her conversation with Ilrith. Cal is at Cullen’s feet, happily chewing through a bone the cook must have given him. The children tear into their servings without care for their frocks and shirts. Some need the help of bigger, stronger hands, some pick at it with noses wrinkled in distaste. One boy, just on the cusp of adolescence, decides to put it to better use decorating the face of his neighbour, who promptly starts crying, earning him a stern lecture from one of the carers, who sends him out of the room with his plate to eat in the hall alone. One of the young mages tries to cool her food, only to encase it in ice instead, causing a round of teasing from her peers. Theresa watches, heart in her throat, as Mama Ollie approaches to investigate, but she only sends for another plate and kneels to wipe the child’s tears dry. Only then does Theresa exhale. Templars would have been much harsher – had been much harsher – over far less. This is a peaceful place, she repeats to herself, like a refrain. A peaceful place. And something in her settles. They are happy. They are safe. Mage and mundane alike, sitting side by side. There’s no fear here, no judgement or suspicion. No hiding, and no solitude. There’s no grate covering the courtyard, no moat except one of dirt and stone. Divine Victoria’s edicts are still new. There will be resistance, to be sure – change always brings opposition from those who’d benefited most from the status quo. But no matter who speaks against it, these children will grow up with these memories of sitting side by side, together, without fear. And they will carry that with them into the future.
