Page 12 of Home Is Where the Witch Is
“He’s smart,” Maggie interrupted in that uncanny way she had as she passed Gabe en-route, placing the bowl of mashed potatoes in the middle of the table.
“How d’you figure?” Rosie said, her interest piqued as she filled everyone’s water glasses.
“He’s brave and strategic while showing his people he’s serious about taking on the responsibility of looking out for them,” Maggie pointed out with a shrug before taking her place at the table. “Wouldn’t you vote for a guy like that?”
“She’s right,” Declan said, a note of pride in his tone. “Aata might have just won himself an election.”
“Except for all the Aussies who are annoyed he doesn’t want anything to do with them,” Gabe countered. “It’s a tough one to call.”
“So what happens next?” Maggie asked, as everyone else settled in for dinner and began serving themselves.
Declan grabbed some fried chicken and a large heap of potatoes before reaching for the green beans. “Well the campaigning’s all out of the way for the most part,” he explained. “The candidates will now go through the Arcane Ordeals—a series of tests that will see how fit they are to be the new leaders of their lines.”
“How many Ordeals are there?” Maggie was looking at Declan in rapt attention.
“Five, usually.”
Rosie quirked a brow. “Why ‘usually’?”
“Sometimes the voters don’t need five in order to have made up their minds,” Declan explained, ticking reason number one off on his index finger. “Sometimes a candidate withdraws. Sometimes elections run for a longer time after the Ordeals…”
“Ugh,” was Rosie’s only response.
“Surely most people’ll already have an idea of who they want to vote for?” Gabe asked, frowning at the bureaucracy of it all. “Isn’t the extra guff all a waste of time?”
“The last election went for forty-two years,” Rosie informed her stepson, feeling sick at the thought of it. “I don’t think they’re worried about hurrying this stuff up, somehow.”
“That would mean I could be…” Maggie mentally added up the numbers in her head, “fifty-five years old before the end of this thing?! Are you for real?”
“Tell me about it,” Rosie agreed.
The family ate and chatted about the kids’ school days, and the progress on the cottage and Kwik Kleen.
Rosie didn’t know if it was just that her body was tired or the baby was fed up—or both. She could think of better things to do with her time other than spending all those years locked into a power-struggle.
How on earth had her ancestor Violet found the patience? But then, hadn’t it all worked out or the best? Her family had been responsible for the North American line ever since, and she could work on making a real difference for the witches and wizards she represented.
But as they prepared to put the dinner dishes into the sink to soak, she questioned herself.
Wasn’t all that worth fighting for?
Maybe Aata was right, even if his timing sucked.
The morning dawned brightlywith all the promise of a productive day, but once Rosie and Declan arrived at the sugar mill she knew it had all been lies. The witches who had elected to stay in the camp-grounds all looked a little the worse for wear, as though they’d been up late partying. Those popping into the place from other places seemed shrewd and ready for a full day of Council Election stuff; a clear difference between the two making Rosie think they were more likely to experience arguments today rather than progress.
“This somebullshit,” Hella snarled under her breath, joining Rosie and Declan.
“What’s going on?”
Hella raised a brow and rolled her eyes. The expression was so comical that Rosie nearly smiled, but the tension in the air told her this was no laughing matter.
“Aata’s lodged a vote of no confidence in the Council on account of us denying New Zealand a seat.”
Rosie felt her stomach do a backflip as her prediction about Aata causing trouble already proving to be accurate.
“What?” Declan asked, unimpressed.
Rosie looked between her husband and her friend. “What does that even mean?”
