Chapter 41

41

Varden addressed the coven from a table of other advisors and older esteemed. He’d wanted me to do it, but I was steadfast in my refusal to take more of a leadership role than needed until the coven chose one way or another.

“Tomorrow, we wage war with demons,” he said. “Tonight, we share the company of those we love and speak any words we need to before the battle begins. Tonight, we are a coven.”

He made to sit, but Ty leaned to whisper in his ear. Which meant only the nearest ring of tables heard what he said.

Varden gestured to the divination mentor.

Ty bowed his head to the coven. “Some time ago, the high esteemed asked me to journey back and find an echo of this coven’s past. Of a peaceful time. She asked me to find an example of what this coven used to be before demons started to work their magic on us.”

I’d forgotten.

“The task was a confusing one for me, and because I didn’t understand the difference she implied between this coven and that which our ancestors lived in, I didn’t immediately undertake the task. But the upset in the coven of late drove me to venture into the past, from curiosity more than anything. Perhaps I just wanted to understand how a magus not raised in this coven perceived the way we lived and what change was needed. So I started to look.” His rich brown gaze swept across those closest. “I’d expected to struggle in the task. To my surprise and… disappointment almost… the task was no struggle at all. As I walked the coven tunnels twenty years ago, then fifty, then one hundred and more, I came to understand exactly what Tempest had meant. The impossible task then became selecting one of the thousands of examples of coven unity from what was occurring before me. As I walked, however, I realized that the passage of time had been important in helping me to understand our current division, and so”—he waved a hand to the stone wall behind him—“I have strung together a series of coven echoes from across the ages. This isn’t designed to make anyone despair. It’s designed to motivate you to carve a better future once the war is won. We must do whatever it takes to return to what we once were, and if we’ve seen what that looks like, then the task becomes possible, if not easier.”

His meaning was clear to me, and his alteration to what we’d discussed weeks ago made perfect sense. I could tell the surrounding magus were taken aback or plain confused at what might be the ramblings of a divination affinity.

Ty’s voice took on a hypnotic edge. “We’ll begin ten years ago in a mission announcement.”

A scene flickered onto the stone wall, projected from Ty’s mind. He was walking there right now and playing what he saw to us in real time. An incredible feat of magic in the focus it would require.

Unfortunately for me, what the other magus were thinking and feeling was having a large effect on the thousands of threads in the room. The tendrils snapped and joined and snaked and glowed, obstructing my view of the projection almost entirely.

I was frozen in place as Ty moved to an echo of twenty years ago, then fifty and one hundred. The threads only glowed more furiously, and Wild leaned in to wrap my center in his iron-plated protection as Ty shifted the echo to one hundred and fifty years, then two hundred.

My breaths were coming fast. The threads were debilitating—just when I’d started to feeling cocky about shoving them aside.

I spread a hand on the table to steady myself as we got to three hundred years. “What’s going on?”

“They understand,” Wild said low. “They don’t know what to feel about it.”

The constant shifting of the threads may make me physically sick at this rate. I pressed a hand against my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut. Which… what was that going to do when the threads danced their merry dance inside my head?

“He’s stopped,” Wild said in my ear.

I couldn’t even manage a nod. How the hell would I fight tomorrow if this happened? I could be a liability, not to mention an easy target.

The fevered response in the eating chamber was dissipating. The magus still churned over what to feel if the whipping and ducking of the paths attached to them was any guide. But they were settling into the discomfort now instead of feeling more and more.

I took a deep inhale. “Shit. That was intense.”

I felt lightheaded.

“That packed a punch,” Sven said, scanning the room. “A big hit. Interesting to see what might happen after the fight.”

After the fight. So much confidence that we may win. Or was it desperate hope? Sven and Rooke were still here. They’d chosen not to run. I’d assumed they wouldn’t, but when faced with possible survival or assured survival, not everyone would have made the same choice.

“After the fight seems like a long way away,” Huxley said.

In the grimoire, I sensed a deep determination. He’d proved himself time and again as an advisor in my book, but I could understand that he’d drawn parallels between tomorrow’s battle and the first one where he was taken hostage. He would fight tooth and nail.

Corey was wearing jeans. Stains were harder to get out of linen. So I could assume he was down to get rough and dirty.

Rooke would probably enjoy tomorrow because she’d be able to poison demons without ramification. A Corentine was a Corentine after all.

Wild… I was his only worry, and from that alone, his mind spun at a thousand miles an hour, just like mine spun at the same speed while picking apart details and running through our game plan over and over.

“Supernaturals arrive tomorrow?” he murmured as the other tables of magus began to discuss what Ty just showed them.

I nodded. “After lunch.”

A strange feeling to be so certain about when demons were going to attack. I wanted to doubt what the threads told me, because despite knowing we had until this time tomorrow, I would’ve rested easier for not knowing what was ahead. When a person saw what little time they had left, there suddenly seemed a million things to do.

“Tempest,” Sage said. “I just wanted to let you know that the last of the strategies have been finalized, and we’ll hold a practice session for the magus involved tomorrow morning. They’ll be ready to go during the battle.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Sage. Please let Delta know. She’s the person in charge of that area.”

I was no longer leader, but it was an odd situation for the coven. They didn’t know who to consult with any longer. Many were coming to me to let me know this and that tasks were completed.

Sage colored at my reply. “Of course. I’ll tell Delta.”

“The strategies are looking great, Sage.” The lead strategist had struggled with her role since the beginning, though the position was so similar to that she’d held during Caves. She’d floundered through the last few weeks, and yet when our direction was Caves again, she’d miraculously regained her edge. She was the prime representative for those magus who had turned against my leadership simply because it was different to what they’d known.

Varden’s voice boomed through the eating chamber. “Your attention.”

Everyone quietened, including Sven and Corey, who’d been bickering over battle tactics.

“There are those of us more advanced in age that will start to find our beds soon.” He smiled. “And so I wanted to speak a few words on behalf of us all on this eve of uncertainty and fear and hope. It has been my honor to be part of this coven and community. I have cherished many friendships in these tunnels. I have found love in these tunnels. I have been nurtured and treasured and protected by this coven. Nothing is impossible to reclaim, and I have always held to that. I will hold to that until my last breath. Tonight, we promise each other never to reach this place again. I don’t speak of demons. I speak of the state with one another. Tomorrow, we may fight another race, but we fight for ourselves.” His voice cut off on the last word. Everyone could hear the tears clouding his throat, and Varden’s last words were a whisper. “We fight for this coven. I fight to the end for you all.”

He’d earned more than a few tears from those listening. For myself, I watched the old esteemed carefully. It wasn’t like Varden to grow so upset in front of everyone. He prided himself on using logic and appearing calm as an example for the younger magus.

“What are you up to, old man?” I hummed to myself.

Wild shot me a look. “You think something is up?”

I focused on the threads around Varden. All the threads wrapped tight around him. No idea what that meant. “Yes, he’s making plans. I’m unsure what.” The threads around him appeared remarkably like those around King Julius yesterday.

“Incoming,” Wild told me.

I glanced back as Winona, Barrow, and Opal approached.

“Before you turn in, Tempest,” Winona said. “We wondered if you would send out a message to the other covens.”

“What kind of message?” I asked. “The type of message a high esteemed would send?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “Many of the other covens won’t have heard from the original coven yet. If they have, a message delivered by yourself could confuse them enough to doubt what they’ve been told.”

“The message?” I asked.

“A call for aid,” she said as though discussing the weather. “There are those who could respond with support on a whim. We believe it’s worth exhausting all avenues. Two more magus on our side could save a life.”

I blinked as threads severed and reattached. “It is worth it,” I admitted. “I don’t see the issue with Barrow or Opal doing it, seeing as they negotiated with the other covens the entire time.”

“Then don’t do it as the high esteemed,” Barrow said. “Do it as the first mated woman of our kind.”

That was even worse.

“Do it as the wearer of Ryzika’s relics,” he tried next.

I snorted. “There’s a reason you were appointed as negotiator, Barrow.”

“I know.” The guy was smug.

“Fine. What do you want me to say?”

Winona passed over a scroll. “Just cast your magic over all the symbols in the advisory chamber to contact all the covens at once.”

I nodded and rose. Wild had entered the debate on battle tactics with his friends. This kind of discussion was how I’d first known the quad—as four sharp-minded men with unbreakable bonds. It was right that he spend time with them now. Tonight was a night to say the words we needed to say. This debate was the quad’s way of saying I love you and goodbye, brother.

“Can I come?” Rooke said to me.

I held out a hand to her. “Please do.”

Winona touched her fingertips to my elbow as I made to pass. “Tempest, I wanted you to know that it’s been my honor to know you and to wonder at all you are and will be. For what it’s worth, you are my high esteemed.”

I was left blinking back the sudden urge to cry. “The honor has been mine. Do you want to know something?” I leaned closer. “You were my pick for the job.”

Winona may not have four affinities or a mate or dancing threads in her mind, but in essence, I believed her to possess far more of the necessary leader qualities than I did. If the worst happened to me tomorrow, then I hoped against hope that the coven would recognize the value in the woman before me.

The older woman regarded me. “Thank you. But I would never accept the position. I decided against it long ago.”

“Why?”

“Because when I became a council member many years ago, I learned how much harder it was to achieve anything of value from a position of power. I got far more done as a simple coven member, when accountability and transparency and fulfilling expectations weren’t factors delaying me at every turn.”

There were more chains in leadership positions. There were good reasons for those chains being there too. “Why didn’t you bow out of the council job then?”

Her eyes twinkled. “I liked the bigger room.”

I snorted in response, then Rooke and I moved on alone down the empty halls. Some doors were open, revealing small groups inside who were hugging or crying or just spending what could be their last moments in each other’s company.

I couldn’t wait to cut the demon king’s head off tomorrow.

“What are you thinking about?” Rooke asked.

“Cutting off the demon king’s head. You?”

“Anticipating the mass effects of poison on demons.”

Yep, we were Corentines.

Rooke slid me a look. “You seem set on decapitation, but what about plunging poisonous needles into the demon king’s back?”

“I mean, if that was an option…”

“I’ll get you the prototypes. They’re filled with your stuff.”

Your stuff. My brow cleared. Oh, my blood. “It stores well, then?”

“Sure does. He won’t know what hit him. He’ll be in agony.”

My lips curved. “Do you ever wonder if we’re related?”

She grinned. “I’ve gotten worse since you came here. I used to keep my bloodthirsty side tucked away.”

“That’s when twistedness becomes creepy. You should thank me.”

We entered the advisory chamber.

“I don’t know. Sometimes people don’t know what to make of me these days.”

“Want to hear a secret?”

“Well, seeing as I don’t want to possibly die tomorrow wondering what the secret is, yes.”

I flashed her a smile, then said, “People always think I’m joking when I say twisted stuff I fully wish or intend to do. I could talk about the delight of sinking a blade under someone’s ribs, and those around me would laugh. It’s a defensive thing, I’ve decided. But the ones who don’t laugh? They’re twisted fuckers too. Those are the ones to trust.”

Rooke didn’t laugh, proving my point. “Good to know.”

I faced the wall and waved a hand to reveal the coven symbols there. “How did I get landed with this job?”

“Because everyone’s trying but failing to pretend like they haven’t already made the choice to plant your ass on the authority again. Even if they’re determined to bring the matter to vote, they’re still treating you as our leader. Because that’s what you are and will always be because you’re just you. I shudder to think of you returning to a mere coven member.”

I glanced at her. “I make a great normal person.”

We laughed.

And as the utter lie of my words sank in for real, we laughed harder.

Normal, I was not.

Neither was my cousin, though. She’d just perfected my mother’s art of flying under the radar. How different life could be if Grandmother hadn’t shoved her loud genetics my way.

“Okay, settle the fuck down,” I told her. “I probably shouldn’t laugh while I do this.”

Mother be, that just made me want to laugh more.

I could die tomorrow.

Rooke could die.

We might never have another ridiculous and delirious conversation like this.

I laughed again. There was something wrong with me.

“Okay, message time.” I scanned the contents of the letter from Winona. It was a well-thought-out plea to the other covens to aid us. It outlined what maguskind might lose—the first mated couple—and highlighted the number of children in our midst.

“They’re being evacuated to High Esteemed Nightlock’s coven,” I murmured. “They want me to send a message about losing me.” Gross.

Rooke backed up. “You’re going off-script.”

“Yes, I am.”

I washed my magic over the symbols on the wall until they were all aglow. I took a breath. “This is Tempest Bronte Corentine, daughter of Hazeluna Corentine, and granddaughter of Rowaness Corentine. The Buried Knolls will be attacked by the demon king and his army tomorrow night at sundown. This is an urgent call to all of the Mother’s children to join us in the fight for our coven and lives. We accept any help with open arms. And for those who chose not to come to our aid.” I frowned at the wall. “We wish you and your covens happiness and health in the centuries ahead.”

I severed the connection, not waiting for replies, then joined Rooke at the table.

“I think you meant that.” She was squinting at me.

“I think I did,” I told her. “Not the original coven, but the others… I know what I’d do in their shoes, but they’re not me.”

“See what I mean about being a leader, even when you’re not a leader?”

I grimaced. “That’s the last leadery job I’m doing unless the coven decides I’m the woman for the job.”

“Part of you hopes they don’t?” Rooke asked.

I pursed my lips. When the relics first chose me, I would’ve taken nearly any excuse not to accept the role of high esteemed. Now… “I am the best person to sit on the authority, but if they can’t see my value, then what I offer is without value. That’s my seat, and it must be given to me all the same.”

Rooke dipped her head.

“What I hope for,” I continued, “is a perfect drink to share with my cousin before I go make the most of the rest of the evening with my mate.”

My cousin waved a hand, and a gunpowder gimlet appeared before me. A dark beer appeared before her. I’d never seen her drink the stuff. As good a time as any to try something new, I supposed.

I lifted my glass to her bottle. “I am so very fucking glad I met you, cousin.”

She clinked her glass against mine. “The fucking gladness is all mine.”