Chapter 29

29

I didn’t go to breakfast.

I couldn’t face the coven. Not until I knew who was involved. I couldn’t lie by being in their company. Yet wasn’t I a lie as well? Wasn’t I doing that to them?

“Eat,” Rooke said, shoving an apple toward me.

I’d felt bereft since last night. I could reason that the quipu had been a lot of lengths of cord knotted and braids strung together, but the quipu was almost a person to me, a guiding light that had helped me through the toughest moments of my life.

The betrayal of having it burned ran deep.

I picked up the apple and started to eat.

“Talk to me, Tempest,” she said.

“Should I even be angry at the people who did this when I’m keeping a secret that would hurt them?”

My cousin didn’t immediately answer. I could tell through our bond that she didn’t like my admission. “Frond’s group went out of their way to hurt you, your magic, and a gift from the Mother. By contrast, Tempest, you were just born part demon. Since discovering that, you’ve made some very logical and reasoned assumptions about how the coven would react to knowledge of your heritage. You and Frond cannot be compared. Why do you put so much expectation on yourself? What you are may become general knowledge one day, yes, but it’s not up to you to make excuses or amends for being born. Your heart, your soul, and your magic—those are pure gold and that makes your intent to do good crystal clear. You’re here for this coven and part of it. Your privacy and fears will be respected as if you were an everyday coven member. We don’t get to peer at every part of you because you’re leading us. Against your wishes, I might add.”

My cousin’s words made some kind of sense. She felt deep anger on my behalf, and I’d wager that she wanted to unleash her most painful poisons on the quipu culprit before using her ghosts to torture the person in endless agony.

“Thank you for being on my side,” I told her.

“Thank you for being on mine, and on the side of people who I don’t believe deserve you. I swear, if I had it my way…”

Her eyes glazed over, and I was tempted to ask what terrible fates she was imagining upon Frond.

But they’d interfere with my own twisted fantasies.

A knock. The person didn’t barge in after, so it wasn’t someone I liked.

I groaned. Except Varden. He wouldn’t barge in. I waved a hand to open the door and stared at Spyne standing in the tunnel.

He drew himself tall. “High Esteemed, I’ve come to inform you that I’m requesting a transfer from this coven. I cannot abide by living under a leadership based on lies.”

“Then fill out the damn application, you ink-haired fuck,” Rooke snarled. Moving past me, she slammed the door in his face.

I started laughing as she turned to me, a furious expression on her face.

She folded her arms and cocked a brow. “Something funny?”

“Ink-haired fuck.” I snorted, then wiped tears of laughter from my eyes. Though they weren’t all from amusement. “Thanks for the defense.”

“I can’t believe we were so wrong about him.”

“We weren’t. He just feels alone and burdened with a truth that he’s torn over telling and keeping to himself. He’s lashing out in a way.”

“You’re too understanding of people.”

Or not understanding enough. “I wonder if he’ll really leave. Huxley will be gutted.”

“He will,” Rooke said in a hushed voice. “Maybe I shouldn’t have slammed the door in his face. He’s still with one of our friends.”

Just another complicated mess to add to the heap.

“I need to leave my room, but I don’t know if I can face the coven and keep up the charade that I’m okay.”

“The guests will be gone by now. Does that help?”

“Yes.” I hadn’t shown my face to thank them for coming, and I felt crappy about that too. “I’ll come to lunch.”

Rooke heard the tone of my voice and opened the door she’d slammed. “I’ll be there. Please don’t be too hard on yourself. You deserve a fucking break, whether that comes from you or someone else.”

Once she’d closed the door, I opened myself to my magic in a bid to center. There was a slight whoosh as the four relics joined me. I barely noticed their arrival these days, but today another thought occurred to me.

How had Ryzika felt in moments like these? Did she ever have them? Had coven members ever turned on her and attacked her magic? Had she sat on a couch in her quarters, cloaked in this robe, holding this dagger, and with a pendant around her neck? Had her other hand held this same gem?

Had she felt terribly alone in those times?

Another woman set apart from those around her had worn and held these relics. She’d formed them and didn’t gain her position from simply acquiring them as I had. She’d staked her claim and climbed to leadership.

Maybe there was a lesson in that.

I stood in the cloak and sheathed the dagger before placing the gem in the pocket of my black jeans. Time to leave.

Partway down the main tunnel, I spotted Wild striding toward me from the eating chamber.

“I felt you move.” He didn’t ask how I was, and I’d need to impart the new demon greeting of Are you ready for battle between us. There were times when that suited me better. “How are the gates?”

“No change, my love.”

Then this situation could be worse. I should take heart in that. “Thank you for handling everything last night.”

“Naturally. None of the sentries have spoken of it.”

That was also something to take heart in. The magus who’d witnessed the destruction of my magic were broken for me. They felt my pain. I had to remember that the actions of a few shouldn’t force me to hide away and expect the worst of everyone. “Please make sure to thank them for that.”

Wild held the back of my hand to his lips. “People shouldn’t be thanked for being decent to others. It lowers the bar and makes a person believe that’s the best of who they should be, not the minimum.”

We entered the eating hall, and there wasn’t any drop in volume. I could see some subdued faces and vaguely recognized a few sentries from last night in the crowd. I couldn’t look at Frond’s table yet. I’d either cry or get super violent, and crying would be the worse fate for me.

I sat at our usual table next to Rooke. No one reached out to squeeze my hand or murmur a few words of sympathy. Because they knew me.

I lifted my gaze to Huxley’s. Did I need to warn him about Spyne’s transfer?

“I know,” he said simply. “Good riddance.”

My chest tightened like a vise. Spyne had hurt him. And Spyne was hurt. Everyone was hurt.

I didn’t tell Huxley I was sorry. I didn’t hug him.

Because I knew him too.

“Want anything to eat?” Wild asked hopefully.

“I ate an apple.” I couldn’t eat more until I had a few things off my chest. I felt sick to my stomach.

Just get it over with.

Rising, I added battle to my voice. “Your attention, please.”

The coven quietened; perhaps they could hear my sadness.

“I apologize for the interruption to your meal,” I continued. “I need to make you aware of an incident that occurred in this coven, and in my quarters, last night.”

Demons. I could see the fear on their faces. They knew a gate was in my room.

“There have been no further attacks from the demons; let me make that clear first and foremost. This attack occurred within the cave from one of our own.”

For the first time, I let my gaze settle on the two tables occupied by Frond’s group. There were fewer members there since the coven learned of my mating ritual, but the same original members all remained—Bedwyr included.

“Last night, during the sentry change and shortly after we’d completed our group healing at esbat, a coven member—or several of them—entered my quarters and set my quipu on fire.”

A wave of gasps filled the room. I saw horror. I saw confusion. I saw denial. The faces of Frond’s group ranged from smooth to defiant to smirking. I steeled myself against them, dreaming of their demise in my heart of hearts.

“That quipu was the work of many months. As you know by now, the quipu is the form my magic chooses to take. And when I say my magic, of course I mean the Mother’s magic. Like you, like all magus, I simply hold her gift for the timeframe she chooses.”

My words were too wooden. Anger vibrated in them for the coven to hear. They could hear that my heart had cracks in it after last night, and that, while a demon battle didn’t manage to hurt me, someone in this coven did.

I took a breath. “That quipu was close to providing this coven with a clearer plan on how to approach the threat of demons facing us. While I feel the loss of the quipu sorely for myself—and feel as though part of me burned with it—I feel the new uncertainty in our future just as sorely.” My voice cut off, and I sucked in the courage Wild was sending my way against the sea of sympathetic faces watching me.

“I never expected an attack from one of our own,” I admitted. “I can’t lie and say that I’m not filled with doubt in the wake of this hate-filled action.”

I glimpsed the jubilation on Frond’s face at the admission.

“With doubt comes reflection,” I told them. “I have reflected that, unlike the last woman to wear this cloak and hold these relics, this coven never chose to have me here. On top of that, I never wanted to wear the relics in the first place. I will wear them for as long as this coven chooses to have me here. However, I want to hear from you now… What do you wish had been different about the last two weeks?”

Maybe I was opening a gigantic can of demon worms with the question. My question was born of despair, I knew. I was at a loss within myself.

“There will be no reprimand for those who speak,” I said in the silence. “Clearly someone in this coven loathes me enough to attack the Mother herself through me. While I am well aware of the external influences on some inside these walls, I would like to know if there’s anything else that eats at you—regrets or grudges or fears, or even a belief that I slipped into this position without your permission.”

The silence extended for so long that I nearly walked back to my seat.

“Caves just ended,” Serene said. She glanced at those who surrounded her. “Our way of life stopped.” She snapped her fingers.

Another Fertim player spoke, “We never know what to expect now. With caves, we always knew.”

Monday, mission announcement.

Tuesday and Wednesday, meetings.

Thursday, game day.

Saturday, make a move.

Gentri said, “The game ended overnight. Then there were demons. Then we all had to move rooms. Then more demons. Other covens coming. Vissimo and Luthers. A mating ritual. When does it all stop?”

“There’s a lot,” another Fertim member agreed.

And I was seeing a trend. No one from Vero had spoken. “Is there a bad feeling from the players who were in Fertim in general?” I asked.

Another silence. The telling kind.

“Caves was used by the demons to get to us,” Serene spoke again. “We understand that. Also, the way things ended doesn’t sit right. There was no end, and there’s only been uncertainty since. Not that you’re to blame for the demons attacking.”

“I hope this coven will feel more certain as we get a better grasp of our position against the demons. And if you’ve thought of a way to bring Fertim and Vero closure, then I’m open to ideas.”

“Start the game again,” Bedwyr called from Frond’s tables.

His suggestion was met with a dumbfounded outbreak of stares. Bedwyr colored, but someone else in the coven agreed.

“Not weekly like before, but maybe monthly,” a Vero member said this time.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. They wanted to play that fucking game again? Were they utter idiots?

“The game was a large part of who we were,” Sage called. “You feel like you’ve lost part of yourself since your quipu was burned. I feel that to a lesser extent from the loss of the game. I know not everyone does, and that some are relieved the game is over, but not all of us think that way. Caves was part of our identity, and I do feel a small bitterness that the game was taken from us without ending or our choice.”

I may not feel as they did about losing the game, but I could tell they felt what they did. I struggled to put my opinions aside as I said, “Considering the demons use the game to feast on us and grow stronger, aside from making the game less regular, what are the ideas on how to counter that effect?”

“Mix up the teams,” said Ruby.

There was an outcry at her words, though they made perfect sense to me.

She met the gazes of those around her. “If your argument is that you’ve lost the routine of Caves and therefore part of who you were, then the return of the game in any capacity should be enough. If you disagree with the teams being mixed, then you admit that it’s more than the game that you wish to have back. You want to go back to us versus them despite how it threatens the entire coven.”

Sage had a ready reply. “The closure of the game meant something to me too. I want to know who would’ve won.”

Vero, I wanted to say.

The volume increased as discussion truly opened, and I contemplated the two defined sides in the coven. Not Vero vs. Fertim, really. The new teams were game versus no game. Some magus wished to regain the semblance of normalcy without giving new normalcy a chance first. They wished to cling to the only life they’d ever known. There had been a lot of change, and the last two weeks had been hard on everyone. Yet to restart that which gave the demons more power? That was pure idiocy, and it wasn’t just me who felt that way.

The two opinions were on extreme ends of the spectrum. How to find a respectful solution for all that didn’t endanger us?

The back and forth between coven members came to a natural lull.

“I see two very different opinions from magus here,” I told them. “I feel we can find a solution that’s fair to both sides, but it will take thought. While I intend to explore solutions with my advisors as a matter of importance, I wish to be clear that there’s an immediate threat this coven faces that comes above any desire to restart Caves. In time, once we feel prepared—which I hope comes sooner rather than later—we’ll revisit this topic.”

That might give those clinging to old routine incentive to relax into our new ways. Maybe those feelings of uncertainty would fade enough for them to see the dangers of the game.

The coven mostly seemed accepting of my words.

“Thank you for your honesty,” I said, hit with a sudden pang of guilt again at my lengthy list of secrets.

Berry shot to her feet. “High Esteemed?”

“Yes, Berry.”

“I’m sorry about your quipu. No one in this coven, no magus, had the right to do that to you.”

I nearly did the very thing I’d managed to avoid thus far. I nearly cried. My voice was hoarse. “Thank you. Your shared sorrow means a lot.”

Wild was waiting as I joined him again.

He sent me a querying pulse, but I shook my head against leaving the eating chamber, instead opting to sit down and go through the motions of eating. Being here would be difficult until the culprit was caught. I couldn’t starve myself in the meantime, nor hide away.

“Mmm,” Wild said suddenly.

Sven glanced at him. “Yes, Wild?”

Wild blinked at him. “What?”

“You’re looking at Tempest like she’s food.”

His lips curved, and I dared him with my eyes to make some comment about eating me. Wild’s lips curved further as he met my challenging look.

“You are looking at her like she’s delectable,” Rooke said.

Wild looped an arm around my shoulders. “Because she is. And she bared her soul for all to see.”

“That turns you on?” I sipped at a mango smoothie he’d procured for me during my chat with the coven.

“Yes, but I’m happier now it’s tucked away. No one else should get to see your soul but me.”

Corey murmured, “Sounds healthy.”

Huxley looked between us. “Next step in the mating ritual?”

Oh. I looked at Wild. “What’s the urge?”

“To peel back your metaphorical skin and magic and see what’s underneath so I can trap it to enjoy at my leisure and for mypleasure,” he purred the last words.

I pursed my lips, then nodded. “That has a mating ritual ring to it. Must be the last step.”

“Last?” Wild was staring at my stomach—at the area under my ribs.

“Yeah, apparently. And the most important.” If the peeling of skin was involved, then things had escalated slightly. “What do you think is under there?”

“Your soul?” Huxley offered.

Sven shook his head. “She and Wild don’t have those.”

The others laughed.

Did the last step of the ritual involve souls, though? “Well, keep the skin peeling under control,” I told Wild, who was now staring at the middle of my forehead. Mother be, did my soul move around my body like a worm?

The way this worked, I was sure to feel some of what Wild felt by tomorrow or the next day. Now he’d voiced his urge, I could connect that I’d felt a surge of lust every time he spoke his emotions and desires and fears aloud. I wanted to possess them in a different way to how I’d chomped up his magic. I wanted to wrap his soul to mine in chains. What did Wild say about enjoying it at his leisure and for his pleasure?

Same here.

Super healthy.Nothing toxic about this situation.

I tucked my hand into Wild’s. “My soul’s in my ass now?”

He blinked twice. “I can’t quite tell.”

“Bet it is,” Huxley muttered. “That would explain her shitty attitude.” The others laughed again, and I rolled my eyes. But I was happy that Huxley felt okay enough to have some fun, even if his heart wasn’t in it.

“That’s my cue to leave,” I said. “I have letters to answer and battles to prepare for.”

Wild’s gaze shot up to my boobs, then between my thighs. He was like a cat tracking a red laser. “I’ll come,” Wild said breathlessly.

No doubt he would too. “I’d like to join you in that, but not today.”

The sentry pendant around my neck warmed, and I glanced at Wild as he listened intently, his focus shifting off my body for the first time.

His jaw clenched, and he glanced up to where I stood ready to leave.

The alarms hadn’t gone off.

No sooner had the thought struck me than a high-pitched noise pierced the eating chamber.

“They’re here,” Wild said quickly. “Demons are through the gates.”