Chapter 31

31

“Is it a bad time?” Varden asked, nevertheless stepping into the advisory chamber.

“Yes, go away.” I dotted an I on the last outstanding letter. Well, second to last letter. I’d saved one. I banished the letters to Postman Barrow. “That took a while.”

The old esteemed sat a few seats away. “This means good support?”

“More support.” We were up to twenty covens, and half of those had offered magus. With their help with ingredients, Rooke believed we could change our approach and release her antidote in an enormous dome over the smoke-filled ravines. “These caves get busier each week.”

Foreign magus were becoming a constant. If the Vissimo and Luthers weren’t training here, then a force of our magus was training in their vicinities for the day.

“Things are coming together,” he noted.

“Feels like bits are everywhere, but we’re in a better place than we were two and a half weeks ago.”

His face softened. “Just think where this coven will be in another two and a half weeks, High Esteemed.”

“Just Tempest when we’re alone, sir.”

“Tempest,” Varden echoed. “So young to deal with so much. You’re doing a spectacular job, and I am deeply sorry the coven cannot always see that, and sorry Frond attacked your magic. I hope that you never doubt that this coven is worth fighting for.”

“One person doesn’t symbolize an entire group. Frond will get what’s coming to him eventually, whether it’s from me, the coven, or the Mother.”

The crease between Varden’s brow cleared. “You are wise and bold.”

“You believed that I would turn my back on the coven?”

“Not believed, no.” He paused, then said, “Worry has a way of not being grounded in logic. I’ve always rather detested it for that reason. Yet worry I have had over how much adversity our fierce leader would choose to accept.”

Ah. This linked into his sadness that the coven hadn’t united after the ending of Caves. “Like I said a few days ago, I will wear these relics until the coven decides I shouldn’t.”

“I’m not sure they get in the choice of relics, but you refer to that which you sit upon.”

This hard fucking authority. “I do.”

“It is your seat, Tempest. No one else deserves to sit there. Do not place the choice in the hands of magus under the influence of demon magic, nor those who cling to what has been out of fear of change or attack.”

True anger tainted his last words, and I could’ve expected that the views of the likes of Serene and Sage who wanted a return of Caves would inspire strong frustration in him. “I don’t seek to rule as a demon king does, sir. Not even a Vissimo or Luther. The community here will have a voice, even in times of sickness and war. I will never take that from anyone who has the best interest of the coven as their motivation.”

“Then what will you do with Frond? His numbers have grown.”

I witnessed as much this morning. “Why is that, do you suppose? The coven seems more peaceful in general.”

Yet Frond had filled another table of supporters.

Varden tapped his ear. “You have more than one person with ears on the coven. Use them.”

Rooke. Sven. “My friends grow weary of bringing me only bad news.”

“Understandable. I feel the same way. A person should not have to keep taking this treatment just because they can weather it.”

“You’re in knots about the future of this coven, sir,” I said after a beat.

He shifted his blue eyes from mine. “My concerns have nothing to do with your leadership. My frustrations center around the coven not seeing the gift that has been bestowed upon them. I struggle not to act in bitterness, especially when I hear talk of Caves resuming in any way, shape, or form. Please tell me you will not allow that to happen.”

I countered with a smile. “You have no concerns over my leadership, right?”

A sigh left him before long. “I do not, you are right. And I understand that my role is to seal the divide in this coven however I can.” His voice lowered. “There is much to do.”

“You can only take so much upon yourself. Magus are responsible for their own actions when all is said and done.”

“Yes, but the old become very aware of the time they have to undo the damage they never saw until too late—the damage that they were part of dealing out. I will do all that I can.”

I preferred his determination to frustration, worry, and bitterness, even if I wished he was content to let things naturally unfold. Perhaps I shouldn’t deter my esteemed cheerleader from his work. Varden was well respected, and I couldn’t take everything upon myself. “I’m glad for your help. Please don’t exhaust yourself in the process.”

He didn’t seem as exhausted as when he’d first moved to new quarters, but there was a heavy hang to his shoulders. Then again, he was in turmoil. My own shoulders had hung that way since my quipu burned.

“Have you seen Serene again?” I asked.

“Yes, I see her regularly for treatment and to change the dressings on my wounds.”

“And how?—”

Knock, knock.

Something I was realizing about leadership? There was far more knocking. That knocking usually preempted the words High Esteemed, could I have a moment?

Spyne stood in the doorway. “High Esteemed, could I have a moment?”

Ha! Some things could still entertain me.

I glanced at Varden, who was already rising. “I’ll see you at the meeting this afternoon.”

“Of course,” he replied, then bowed slightly. “High Esteemed, an honor as always.”

My smile was real, and that felt like a win in itself. “The honor is mine.”

Spyne lingered in the doorway, and I gestured him to a seat.

He walked across the room, and I noticed the parchment clutched in his grip. Once he’d sat, I waved a hand to close the door. His eyes widened.

“I’m not going to eat you, Spyne,” I told him. “I only eat small children.”

Spyne was a pale guy. He somehow lost more blood from his face.

Did I need to say the words? Apparently so. “I’m joking.” Man, maybe the red smoke from the demon king ulcerated this guy’s sense of humor. “How can I help?”

The grimoire laid the piece of parchment on the stone table. “I’ve filled out my transfer application, but I want to talk to you first.”

“About me being half demon or your future?”

He flinched. “My future. And the other part, too, maybe.”

This was the first time he’d dared approach me for open conversation. I wanted to be sarcastic and dismissive, but that was because Spyne had managed to hurt my feelings. He was also with Huxley. Did I want to recover easiness with this grimoire? Yes. Could I understand that he’d discovered something that put him in a tricky moral position?

Yes.

I’d store my sarcasm and dismissiveness for the person who really deserved them—Frond. “Then speak. What’s your decision regarding your transfer?”

Spyne took a breath. “I’d already spoken to you about the call I experienced to leave the coven for a time. When I discovered the extent of Huxley’s lies, that seemed like a clear sign to pursue the call.”

My lies, not Huxley’s, I silently corrected him.I didn’t interrupt, though. People liked to be listened to—including me.

“Transferring to another coven doesn’t feel right,” he continued. “It’s not magus I wish to study further—it’s other supernaturals. I wanted to speak with you about the possibility of a transfer to a Vissimo clan.”

My brows rose. “Sundulus?”

“Yes.”

“What would you do there?”

“I’d hope to have access or earn access to their archives in time. Barring that, I’d be happy to observe them in their environment and perhaps strengthen the bonds between our races.”

“Like an ambassador,” I supplied.

“I suppose so.”

“Yet you’ve acknowledged that you’re leaving the coven because of what I’ve kept from you. An ambassador is a representative of where they come from. Your feelings about the coven, its leader, and some of its members would be obvious to some of the Vissimo. If you seek to strengthen the bonds between our races, then your presence there while holding these feelings could ensure the reverse.”

Spyne could tell King Julius what I was. He could even reveal the truth without intending to. King Julius was clever and powerful. If he caught wind of something amiss, then I had no doubt that Spyne would find himself speaking words he’d never meant to.

“You wish to keep me here because you fear what I could say.” Spyne had seen to the truth of the matter.

I studied the magus, trying to decide how open to be. “Do you understand why I fear it?”

“Because you’re part demon.”

“That’s the instrument that would lead to what I fear, but not what I fear.” The words rang in me in a bizarre type of epiphany. I didn’t fear what I was. I feared what came of it. I accepted my demon, just not what may happen as a result.

The thoughts were those I’d had before, but I hadn’t heard them with clarity. I accepted who I was. I didn’t accept that there had to be war and pain and suffering due to that. “I fear the limits of others’ acceptance. I fear that they will choose the easy path of denial and mob mentality over the harder road of challenging the so-called truths they may have known. I have seen the world, Spyne, and I have seen that not many possess that ability. My concerns are real and based in experiences of how people react to fear and change and new concepts and challenge to what they’ve known.”

A hardness entered his dark eyes. “You fear that all that leads to danger for you.”

“If things became that dangerous from the coven, then I am confident in my ability to get free. No, I don’t fear danger directly. I fear not being in a position to do what’s needed for the survival and well-being of this coven. I feel the pressure of time and the threat of failure. I can hear their screams in my ears.”

“If they’re screaming because they were not able to accept what you are, then some may say that would be the consequence of their actions.”

I hadn’t expected such coldness from the grimoire. “We aren’t talking of a consequence where someone stubs their toe or loses a trinket. The consequence here is death and slavery. I couldn’t stand by and let that happen, no matter what mistakes the coven had made. We’re creatures of the Mother, Spyne, and while I’ll never understand that a person can choose to bury their head in the sand as though the outside world isn’t real and happening, I can choose to accept that they’re there, and that they are. That perhaps there are reasons I can fathom as to why such a mentality needs to exist.”

“And so you fight for people who don’t deserve to be fought for,” Spyne said with a curious edge to his voice.

“I fight for this coven, even those who may turn on me, because I know what I can live with. I could allow myself to be disappointed by others’ choices over and over again. Far better to decide what I will do. Better to rejoice in those who have the strength to ask questions and open their eyes to something new or hard. Better to live and die in a way that befits who I am and what I believe in.”

Spyne sat watching me in the wake of my words.

The thoughts were mine, yet I’d never vocalized them in such a way. I could see that Varden had triggered the deeper thoughts during a conversation months prior. My answer then was different.

For how can we trust, he’d said, when we are unsure of a being’s capacity for kindness and decency? Once we become aware that one’s capacity for kindness is different to ours, is there any going back to what those two people might have been? Or do those two people merely trust each other in things up to that place where their decency and kindness differ? If so, is there any point in maintaining a trust with such a person or shall we abandon that relationship to seek out people with a closer capacity to ours?

I’d answered that I’d rather experience full trust with a handful of people. Varden had wished me luck—he’d known two such people in his life.

Existing in a community was a tricky, complex business. An existence I could choose to reject.

Now I chose not to.

Yet I couldn’t allow disappointment and bitterness and guilt to overtake me in time. I wanted to truly honor the need for diversity of thought and action in this coven and be free of cynicism. That meant my self-validation had to become a potent elixir against the limitations of people because they were people.

What Idid had to mean most to my well-being, far more than the actions—or lack of action—of others. That didn’t mean that I wouldn’t have a select few that I depended upon on a deeper level, and who I would treasure in the knowledge and hope they treasured me too. But if I wanted a community—a coven—then my mindset had to shift, or I’d be the one left hurt and lonely.

I smiled, and for the first time in months, since discovering what I was, I felt the hard casing of guilt around my heart crack and start to crumble.

I was a demon, and my heart was true.

“I don’t have an issue with what you are,” Spyne said, breaking into my soul-deep thoughts.

I pulled myself out of my head. “That’s a surprise given your reaction.”

“My issue,” he said carefully, “is that I thought I knew you, only to find you’d shown me one part. My issue isn’t that you haven’t got your heart in the right place; it’s that I disagree with the subterfuge. In saying that, I’ve been on the receiving end of these people you describe. As has the man I was with. If you don’t feel able to trust me or others with what you are, then perhaps that’s our failing and not yours. Or perhaps you’re guilty of the limitations you accuse others of by assuming this coven would react in a certain way to what you are. Regardless, the issue remains that you’re concealing something that, given your position and what we face, I believe there’s a duty to disclose. Not just for the health of the coven, but for your health and continued participation in this community.”

Rooke gave me a different outlook the other day—one that suggested people didn’t get to see every bit of my life because of the position I held. Spyne disagreed.

“I wonder,” I mused, “if I was not a demon, would there be another part of me that people felt I should disclose? If not that, then another. At what point would I cease to be a person and become an object?”

“You’re a servant of this coven. More so than anyone else,” he countered.

“A servant, yes. A slave, never. The difference being that I retain the right of choice over my fate.”

“You made the choice to become leader of this coven.”

“Yes, but not at the loss of all other choices. Did you decide to date Huxley at the loss of all of your other choices?”

Rather than provoke anger, I sensed we’d provoked deeper thought in each other.

“For what it’s worth,” the grimoire said, “I’m sorry your position is a tricky one. I’m sorry that someone attacked your magic. I’m guessing it was Frond and his group.”

Spyne had been privy to our thoughts on Frond while with Huxley.

“I wish things were easier too. I’m sorry that you found out about my heritage in a way that left you feeling betrayed, and also that this seems to have secured your decision about a break in your relationship with Huxley.”

Spyne swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

I held up his application. “I’ll give this some thought. An interspecies transfer has never been done, and that doesn’t make things impossible. It just means we’ll need to navigate new ground with the other supernaturals to ensure you and this coven will be safe.”

Another quiet, “Thank you,”followed, and soon I was alone again. The conversations with Spyne andVarden had left me unsettled. I could feel the revelations they’d invoked churning inside, and I understood that those had to be latched onto and nurtured to help me in time. I had some self-doubts and beliefs to break through. That never felt comfortable.

First though, I set Spyne’s application aside and picked up the letter I’d set aside earlier.

Advisors flocked in the open doorway, and I blinked at them.

“It’s that time already?” I asked.

Huxley slid a tray of food in front of me. “This is the last tray of food I’ll ever get you.”

He was a liar. Trays of food were our thing. “Thank you, Esteemed Advisor Leif.”

Bit of flattering never went astray with Huxley.

He forced a smile, but the grimoire was currently minus the man he’d pined over for years, and a grimness sat upon the firm press of his mouth and the bruised areas under his eyes. Instead of lashing out or being loud about his anger, the quad member had turned inward.

That was real pain right there.

I picked up a ham and cheese sandwich off the tray and took a bite. Around the mouthful, I said, “You’re just in time for the fun part.”

I slid the letter to Ruby. “Could you do the honors while I eat?”

She turned the message over. “It’s from the original coven.” When I didn’t say anything more, Ruby broke the seal and spread the single page of parchment flat.

“High Esteemed Corentine,” Ruby read aloud.

Wild entered the room and took his seat, casting me a searching look. I smiled and nodded toward Ruby.

She kept reading. “We are troubled beyond measure to hear of the upset within the Buried Knoll coven of late that is a response to the way you have chosen to lead. Our upset originates not only from this reported turmoil and division but also over the vicious attack on your magic. It is no wonder you and our son made the decision to hide your mating from your coven and the wider magus community, only revealing this when backed into a corner by those who should be nearest and dearest to you but are not.”

Ruby’s nostrils flared, and she looked at me.

My smile widened. “Keep reading, please.”

She did so, clear anger in her voice. “Perhaps most troubling of all is the threat from demonkind that the Buried Knolls coven faces largely alone and without support from our loving and fierce magus network. That you have chosen to align with baser supernaturals speaks of your awareness of the direness of the coven’s defensive position, of their impaired ability to fight back, and—apologies if this appears coldly critical—your awareness of the grievous errors you have made during your very brief reign as leader. We are not all meant for this role, as I am sure you can now attest.”

Ruby dropped the letter. “I can’t read more of that shit.”

Huxley snatched it up. I should’ve given the job to the grimoire in the first place, knowing curiosity would overwhelm his other feelings.

He read rapidly, “The original coven feels, as the homeplace of the originals of our race, a particular fatherly duty toward caring for the flock of magus covens as a whole. We have a Mother, but our coven operates to fill the paternal role and offer a complete, nurturing upbringing to maguskind.”

“That is fucking sick,” Winona said.

Winona just swore! That made up for a lot of things in life.

I grinned.

Huxley said, “As such, recognizing a child in need, we extend help to you despite the great risk to ourselves from the state of your coven and the threat of demon attack. Though we believe your alliance with the lesser supernatural races to be disrespectful to the Mother’s grand design, we accept that such contracts cannot be easily dissolved, and will uphold any dealings you have embroiled the coven in already. In return for the full aid of the original coven and any sister and brother covens loyal to us—numbering seventy-seven at the time of this letter—we would require you to step down from the authority immediately, to renounce your leadership and ill-begotten relics, and to agree that the Buried Knoll coven would henceforth be known as a long-distance extension of the original coven itself. The coven will thrive under our experienced and cherished rule—as the length of occupation of our authority can serve as a witness. Furthermore, we acknowledge that distance does complicate matters, and as such we agree to appoint a regent to act in our stead. This regent will act in accordance with our laws and ways in full effect. Appointing a regent will be at our discretion, and while our son may appear to be the natural choice here, his relationship and mating with yourself has tainted him by association. Therefore, rest easy that he will not be offered the position of regency. Better yet, we are happy, despite mistreatment from yourself in the past, to reopen our doors to you and our son and to offer a fresh start from the mistakes you have made. You might still be able to attain a semblance of respect in the magus world if you can see this for the gift it is.” Huxley lifted his head. “It’s signed by the Astars.”

I licked crumbs off my fingers. “That truly exceeded my every expectation. Bravo to them. Bravo.”

Wild was simmering in fury across the table and didn’t trust himself to say a single word. He loathed his parents. There was no question of that.

“I can’t believe the level of manipulation in that letter.” Ruby was plain ol’ shocked. “I can’t believe the way they’re tearing you down to get what they want, and acting like they’re doing you a favor too.”

“If I accept, they want me to be aware that I’ll be crawling to them for help,” I said. “They want this to be personal.”

Like me, Varden appeared amused. “Ill-begotten relics.”

I laughed. “That was my favorite part too.”

Delta appeared grim. “They want this coven, the alliance with Vissimo and Luthers, and the first mated magus couple in their home. They want all those things badly despite how they’ve turned all that into an offer.”

That was about the size of it. “They don’t wish to lose their self-appointed father image to the other covens. They have to appear to help us, but they want the same as the demons, really. In essence, but using different strategy.”

Winona’s face twisted. “The audacity to place themselves as equals to the Mother.”

“They don’t see themselves as her equals,” Wild told her. “They see themselves above her.”

That earned a horrified silence from the others.

Wild ran a hand through his hair. “Tempest, I’m so sorry.”

As though their actions were his fault. “They don’t want to appoint you as regent because they need you to rule their coven,” I said drily.

“And they hope to break you into the mold of a proper wife in the meantime,” he said.

Opal and Barrow shot him a look but didn’t comment.

I lifted a shoulder. “They would be unpleasantly surprised in that regard.”

I didn’t just refer to what my general reaction to that would be. The Astars had invited a magus-demon to stand by their heir’s side one day and rule their coven. I almost wanted to take them up on the offer only to whisper the truth to them on their death beds. “Don’t beat yourself up about the decisions of your parents. Being so perfect yourself was always going to mean your family were egomaniacal rulers. Life doesn’t come without downsides.”

His mouth quirked up in a wry smile.

My words appeared to have melted Ruby and Opal’s hearts.

“Please tell me you aren’t considering this,” Winona said. “Their offer is misplaced to the extreme, and this coven won’t accept their high-handed decision of who should rule us, nor their written attack on your self-esteem.”

She was pissed. I wanted her to swear again. “I’m not considering it. I’ve expected the letter since admitting the quipu attack hurt me. Frond’s expression as I spoke those words was akin to the joy a mother experiences welcoming her baby into the world.”

Winona’s eyes narrowed. “Frond.”

There was a general grumble from the other advisors. Pure murder shined from Wild’s dark gaze. I was feeling quite partial to Frond on the other hand. He’d made my damn day by triggering this message. “Frond indeed. Wild, you mentioned setting a trap for our favorite coven member. I would imagine Frond is very eager to know my response to this letter. I also know that his group takes turns watching me.”

“They spy on you?” Ruby said in outrage.

“They do.”

Opal snorted. “You’re suggesting a ploy?”

Like in Caves… I hadn’t thought of it that way. “A ploy, yes. The tricky part would be figuring out how to witness anything he conveys to the original coven.”

A calculating gleam had entered Wild’s eyes. “Leave it with me, High Esteemed.”

I would. “Then we’ll delay my response for now. However, a symbolic response is needed for those in this chamber.”

I summoned a stone bowl, then some tinder. Next, sticks and a bag of fluffy, cloudlike candies.

“What are these?” Huxley picked up the bag. “What’s this slippery material over the top?”

“That’s plastic. You’re better off without it. Inside is a human treat called marshmallows.”

I set the Astars’ letter alight with my magic, lowering the flaming letter into the stone bowl to set the tinder on fire. I opened the bag of marshmallows, then picked up a stick and slid the soft candy onto the end.

I gestured to the bag and other sticks as I hovered the marshmallow over the dancing flames. “Go for it. You’ll only be missing out. Toasted marshmallows are a human custom we definitely need to acquire here.”

And marshmallows toasted over the burning remains of the Astars’ cold-blooded excuse of an offer would be tastier still.