Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

WINNIE

" C ouldn't stay away?" Laurent's velvety rumble seeped into Winnie's bones as she materialised in their tent. He came up behind her, sliding his hands across her stomach, slowly lowering them to her hips.

Opening the tent flap to take stock of their troupe, she hummed, attempting to ignore the kisses he was trailing along her neck. Winnie turned around to find his bare chest slick with sweat, and she pressed a finger against his taut abdomen. "Pray tell, why the troupe is out there in the scorching sun training while you're in here?"

"I only came to retrieve my bow. Cillian's broke."

He leaned past her in a way that caused heat to pool low in her belly and made a great show of picking up the bow, waggling it in her face. When he was met with her glower, he sighed, a smile still tipping his lips up on one side. But Lau was very seldomly not smiling these days. He was such a light in their realm. A light in her.

" Bábóg ." He kissed her cheek. "The troupe has grown used to their heavy schedule and burden. Battle training in the morning, cirque rehearsal in the afternoon. I assure you, should you walk out there and ask any of them if they wished for a break, they would say no." He set the bow down and took her shoulders in his hands. "Wendy, this is their fight, too."

Winnie sagged, letting out a rush of air that trembled past her lips. Laurent took notice—of course. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he rested one of his palms against her breastbone, the weight of it instantly easing her anxiety.

"Just breathe," he said softly, mimicking the words that Aggie had whispered to her in her lowest moment, teaching Winnie to ride the wave of panic.

After a few deep breaths, she was marginally steadier. "Asa believes the eclipse is set to happen on the Autumnal Equinox."

"We have a specific date, then. That's good."

She covered his hand with hers, focusing on the feel of him. On the dark hairs of his tanned, muscular forearm, every part of him more familiar than her own body. "The Equinox is Aggie's Day of Birth. As if she hasn't endured enough."

"She is stronger than any of you give her credit for."

Scowling, she looked up at him. "I know that. It just feels like impending doom."

Laurent's lips quirked. "Everything feels like impending doom to you." He pulled her in close until her ear was pressed against his heart, and he kissed the top of her head. "Look at it as an impending new beginning . "

When she didn't answer, he pulled her back to look at her again. "Do we know where we're headed?"

"Not yet. We unlocked the catacombs of Araignée, and Grimm found some thing for you to look at." She flicked her wrist, and the contraption floated in front of Laurent. "Hopefully," she continued as he plucked it from the air and studied it, "that will give us some answers. We're all to convene again for supper. I only stopped in to ensure you weren't slowly murdering our troupe, but I need to get back."

Laurent took her chin in his fingers, lifted it, and kissed her until she was breathless. "Best be off with you, then," he whispered against her lips.

Lydia burst into the tent then, skidding to a halt. "Oh my. Didn't mean to interrupt anything." She tossed a thumb toward the field outside. "I think Curtis might be having a heat stroke."

Winnie frowned at Laurent. "Perhaps it's better if I stay here."

AGATHA

"Reaper," Agatha warned as she closed the door to their room carved out of one of Araignée's mountains. "I know what you're thinking, and we don't have time for—" She turned around, and he cut her off with his lips on hers, pressing her against the door until the wood protested.

Pulling back, his gaze stayed on her mouth, his breathing ragged. "I was apart from you for half of the time we've been together in this life, and you expect me to keep my hands off you anytime that we're alone?" He pressed her harder against the door, his fingers digging into her hips. "Open the roof."

"What? It's solid rock."

" Open the damned roof ," he growled, a heady euphoria seeping into her when she saw his intention in their entanglement.

Agatha's magic shot up above their heads, a black, glittering web spidering out and weaving until a large hole appeared in the rock. The sky's zenith had just begun to darken, the rest of it bordering on an Autumnally-hued ochre.

She caught the curiosity and challenge within Grimm just before he grabbed her by the waist. "Hang on tight."

His mortal body fell away until she was wrapped in his skeletal arms and a swath of smoke and gloom. He pulled her breasts flush against his ribcage, and they floated into the air. Looking up at the sky, then back down at her reaper, Agatha laughed—the most carefree she'd felt since learning of Fleurina's death. Soon, they were hovering atop a mountain beneath the stars, who were contemplating peeking out at the sun as it began to hide itself away.

Grimm set her down, morphing back into his mortal flesh, but he did not relinquish his hold on her. His lips found hers again like a man starved. Agatha drove her fingers into his hair, the wind whipping hers wildly around them both. Grimm's hands roved over her backside with fervour, pulling up her skirts. She could feel the hardness of him against her hip, but when she reached for him, he pulled away.

"Wait," he rasped. "Come here."

He took her by the hand and led her, slipping and giggling, partially down the mountain until they reached a cave. She looked at him curiously, and he shrugged, an impish grin unfurling. "Echos."

"Echos?" she mimicked. "Mm. Let's see what you can make echo , then, reaper."

Grimm's eyes flashed, and he pulled her inside the cave. With his lips on hers, he unbuttoned his pants and removed his shirt, all the while walking her backwards until she was against a stone wall.

"You do realise," she said breathlessly when he moved his lips to her neck, "that our room was also a cave, yes?"

He murmured his disagreement, pulling the bodice of her dress down, and sucking a breath through his teeth when she was bare. His lips found her breasts, one hand caressing them and the other moving to meet the heat between her legs. When he began stroking her there, she lost all sense of time or any practicality, her fingers digging into his back. Without removing her dress, he pressed himself into her, holding her up by the waist as she melted onto him, almost whimpering with pleasure.

Grimm spent a long time coaxing echoing sounds from her until they both collapsed on a blanket she'd barely had the wherewithal to summon.

They lay on the cave floor, just at its mouth, looking at the stars. "You once told me your favourite time of day was twilight," he mused, kissing her shoulder.

"Ah, whilst playing three inquiries with my loathed betrothed."

Grimm snorted. "Look at you rhyming."

"I have many gifts." She made to rise, but he pulled her back down .

"No. Stay right where you are." She smiled at him, his lips still swollen and smudged by her lip stain.

"Unfortunately, my Sister has been trying to summon me for the better part of our rendezvous."

Grimm feigned a gasp, scandalised. "And you ignored her summons? Naughty, little witch."

Agatha tipped her head back and laughed, grateful for snippets of light in their dark life. She tried again to rise, but Grimm grasped her waist and pulled her closer, kissing the tops of her breasts.

"I'll make you a deal," she said, shoving him back, but he only growled at her dismissal. "Keep your hands to yourself, and I'll go see what Sorscha wants. Then, when we get to Achlys, you can remind me of every place we ever… anointed."

Grimm's eyes sparked, and he slid down her body until he was planting kisses up and down the inside of her thighs. "You do understand," he said between feather-soft presses of his lips against her skin, "that we were in Achlys for ages and ages."

"I do realise that. And we had four children to show for it, so I expect to be thoroughly ravaged." From between her legs, he grinned up at her wickedly, and she used her magic to transport herself outside the cave before she gave in to temptation. "I'll return before supper. Now, Prince Thackery Peridot, Thanasim, God of Night, and Heir to the Throne of Achlys, put your pants on ."

She just caught his deep rumble of laughter as she conjured a plum gown and let her magic find her Sister Spring.

To her surprise, Sorscha was in a heated debate with Seleste of all people, the two of them encased in a stifling greenhouse.

Both of them ignored Agatha's arrival.

"It doesn't coincide with what we already know, Sorscha." Seleste's arms were crossed, a sunflower tucked into her many braids.

"We know next to nothing." Sorscha fiddled with a pink blossom of creeping thyme that dangled from the glass ceiling. "You're only seeing what you want to."

The hint of a scowl crossed Seleste's brow but did not fully form. She simply regarded their Sister Spring coolly, though Agatha could only see her clouded eye from where she stood. "Surely you know by now that I do not base my deductions on personal preference."

"What is going on here?" Aggie cut in, fanning herself against the suffocating humidity. She was likely to have a damned river of sweat between her breasts before this conversation was over, and it made her want to rage at both her Sisters for that fact alone. She was not built for heat.

Sorscha opened her mouth, but Seleste's attention snapped to her, the look on her face silencing Sister Spring. "Sorscha seems to believe since Mother had the only remaining goddess quill to pen these journals"—she held Sorscha's worn copy aloft—"that she might also be responsible for meddling with the Grimoire and, subsequently, our Orders."

"Think about it, Aggie." Sorscha cut a scathing look at Seleste as she spoke. "Mother wanted the Sisters Solstice erased from History. She spent her life trying to do just that. She never told us what we were and stuck her head in the sand, pretending we weren't truly the Sisters. What if she worked with Chresedia? "

"She told me what we were." It was not meant to sound proud, and Agatha softened her tone to make that evident but hurt still flashed across Sorscha's face. "There had to be a reason she only told me, and I'm coming to believe that reason, and the reason she had us erased from History, was simply that she knew much more than we ever thought possible."

"I agree with that assessment," Seleste stated plainly. Sorscha began muttering curses. "Winnie should be here for this."

A moment later, Winnie stood before them, frowning in a remarkable, ice-blue nightgown.

"Goddess." Sorscha whistled appreciatively. "Aren't you a seductive vision? Thought you had to return to the Druids to rescue them from Laurent."

Winnie raised one brow. "And how did you expect me to distract him so thoroughly?"

Sorscha howled. Seleste and Agatha couldn't help but laugh as well.

"In truth, one of the troupe members passed out from the heat, and that effectively shut everything down. Vera ended up doing the healing for me and Laurent wanted to mess with that"—she moved her hand in a dismissive wave—"apparatus thing Seleste gave him, so I took a nap. What's all this about?"

Seleste quickly filled Winnie in before Agatha posed her opinion on the matter.

"It had to be Chresedia using the goddess quill to manipulate our Orders. Look at how everything has lined up for us. Those awful Orders written for us by Talan have perfectly placed…everything. For Chresedia . "

Seleste's lips quirked sadly. "Aggie, most of your Orders lined things up for her. For all of us, really. We've done some dreadful things, but they weren't all bad, even the worst of our tasks. Grimm wouldn't even be king if it weren't for your Orders."

Agatha watched her Sister Summer carefully, something was off. She shook the thought loose. "True. What was your Order from Talan, Seleste? It was that year with your Summer boy, right?"

She could have sworn Seleste blinked too many times, but Winnie interrupted, looking at each of them. "Wait. Am I the only one who received Orders from all four Sisters?"

Sorscha exaggerated a perplexed frown. "Uhhh… Yes?"

"The three of us had only one from Talan each."

Winnie shook her head, silvery-blonde hair sliding over her shoulders. "My Orders to cease contact with the Druids and to give up Lilette were both in Talan's hand, but I had many other Orders from her, as well as Hissa, Monarch, and Belfry."

Bewildered, the four Sisters regarded each other, lost in thought for several moments before Sorscha groaned.

"None of this settles anything! It could have been Mother doing all of this."

"How could Mother know all the proper details?" Seleste asked logically. "Athania, however, has a connection to The Primordial."

"And we saw Winnie's memory." Agatha gestured widely to Sister Winter, growing increasingly more impatient with the stifling heat and their debate. "She heard Father say that the woman— What was her name? "

She'd directed the question at Winnie, but Seleste answered. "Nadja."

"Nadja. In the vision, Father said she did not make it out —we don't know out of where— with the quill . Only the journals. And we know she died from the injuries she sustained after bringing them to Father. We have to assume it was Chresedia from whom Nadja took them since we know that The Order is the one who stole them in the first place."

Letting out a garbled screech of frustration, Sorscha stood from her stool. "Winnie was a child. She could be misremembering, or it could have been a different quill they were discussing, or Asa's mother could have been lying?—"

"Wait," Agatha cut in. "Asa's mother? What does that have to do with anything?" Realisation struck. " Nadja was Asa's mother?"

Sorscha nodded. "The woman who retrieved the journals was Asa and Lena's mother. Nadja Rashad."

A gasp tore from Seleste, and they all spun to look at her.

"Seleste?" Winnie asked. "You look as if you've seen a ghost. Are you all r?—"

"I–I'm sorry. I have to go."

Agatha blinked, and their Sister Summer was gone.

SORSCHA

All right. Maybe— maybe Asa had been correct. The scent of roasted chicken smacked her upside the face upon entering the mess hall, making her stomach ache in hunger. Ostara, wound around Sorscha's forearm, darted out her tongue as if to say she took Asa's side.

"You stop it," she hissed at the snake.

Sorscha nodded and traded short pleasantries with the other residents, making a point to stop off at Sophia's table to ensure she was feeling all right. The transition off Sugar had been difficult for those they'd rescued from the brothel in Bowery. Not to mention, their magic was still mostly depleted. However, Gaius' concoctions and the abbey healers' gifts had done wonders in the last fortnight especially. Sophia had even begun casting spells, and Bethany had summoned an apple just the day before.

The mages were such a peculiar lot. They were nowhere near as powerful as witches, as if their magic was diluted. A curiosity she hoped Aggie would be able to clear up as Lady Magic. She was, after all, the mother of all magic, gifted from Hespa. Was she not? Even Arielle had sensed it in her, with all that ‘kernel of aboriginal magic' mess. Primordial .

Damn, if it wasn't all too confusing. And her Sisters so insufferable.

Fine . Asa had definitely been right. She needed a rest. And a fucking drink.

Either way, Arielle had hit the nail on the head with that blasted journal. The broken, the hurt— those were her people. She'd always done everything to protect the wounded, to offer them hope and the life they deserved. But there was no way their mother could have guessed that, right? No. How could she have?

But that line of logic lent credence to Seleste's insistence their mother couldn't have had the foreknowledge to tamper with the Grimoire .

Fuck .

Yes….she definitely needed that drink.

"Thought you could use this," Asa said as she approached their table, holding up a massive goblet of wine.

"Bless you." She took a deep swill, eying him over the rim. "You ought to stop looking at me like that unless you want to make good on your promise."

Asa scoffed. "My promise was to keep you waiting."

"Semantics." She took another liberal gulp. "Just to be an arse?"

He shrugged his burly, inked shoulder. "Someone needed to show you that you're worth the wait."

He might as well have smacked her. "Worth the wait? What in Hades does that mean?"

Filling a plate of food, Asa took his sweet time answering, sliding the meal in front of her before speaking. "You're afraid everyone will either leave or be taken from you." He refilled her wine, too. "It's time you realised that I won't, on either count." When he handed her the cup, his gaze had a stranglehold on her throat.

"What has gotten into you?" she mused, taking the goblet and eyeing him as if he'd gone mad.

"Nothing has gotten into me but you. It's time I verbalised a few things." The fire in his eyes could have singed as his attention bore into her. "I didn't choose you for sex, Sorscha, even though you sometimes think that's all you're good for."

She blinked at him, thoroughly shaken. Was she that transparent? Damn him. She hadn't even admitted that to herself…

Clearing her throat, Sorscha threw her shoulders back. "Gods, you think you know everything, don't you?" Tipping her goblet, she drained it in three swallows, watching him simmer. All right, so waiting was a little fun. Slamming her empty goblet on the table, she licked her lips and said, "That creepy cult leader thing is hard to get over, isn't it?"

A wide smile stretched across his tanned face, and her heart flipped. He only ever smiled like that for her, and it was enough to make her feel like she could climb to the moon.

"Mmm, sure," he said, resting a large, hot hand on her thigh for the span of an admittedly jagged breath. "That must be it."

She'd been so wrong about him when she'd arrived in Araignée. Wrong about Lena and the purpose of their coven. But she was right about many things. "Speaking of…" She raised her brows conspiratorially. "Have you thought any more about what I said?"

Asa sighed heavily, returning to his meal. "I'm mulling."

"Oh please, all you do is mull. The residents need less rigidity for their rehabilitation."

"Structure is important for recovering addicts, Sorscha," he shot back without pause.

"Nobody said anything about not being structured. I'm only saying they need more freedom. There's a fine line between rehabilitation and imprisonment. There is something vital about being able to choose one's clothing or jewellery or shoes."

Her hands moved untamed as she spoke. These people sparked something in her. She wanted to move mountains for them. "I know I'd prefer to be nude all of the time, and that's true, but if we must walk around in something , it should be what we select ourselves. Otherwise, the people here who are re-learning who they are, are denied a simple freedom that servants are denied. It sends the wrong message."

"It alleviates them of a burden to have to make a choice over clothing when they have larger, more important decisions to make," Asa argued, albeit with no bite in his tone any longer. "There is no hierarchy or classism here." He sliced his hands through the air, signalling an empty set. "It is an even field. A change like this could cause cliques and in-fighting, judgement and hubris."

"Have a little more faith in them than that, Asa. And in the beautiful things you and Lena are teaching them here. They're healing the foundation of themselves, not becoming aristocratic animals."

Asa looked away, his jaw tight. Finally, he nodded once.

She put a hand on his arm. "You're doing a good thing here. I'm only saying that this idea can help. It's such a simple change, but selecting what you put on reminds you who you are as an individual. It—it's art you wear around on your body, proudly displaying part of yourself. They need to remember who they were before addiction, before Chresedia, before life dealt them a shite hand. And this is a simple way to begin that."

Asa huffed a laugh, one side of his mouth tipped up. "You have other ideas, too, then?"

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously."

He looked at her, scowling, for so long she thought he'd catch fire. "Fine." The word sounded like it had almost choked him. "I'll send some people out to procure some fabric. Maybe—" He looked pained, shaking his head and screwing up his face as if he'd smelled sour milk. "Maybe some residents would enjoy making the clothing, too. It could be good for them."

Sorscha gasped. "Are you being serious?" He nodded reluctantly, and she squealed, launching forward to smack him on the chest. "That is an amazing idea! I don't have the fashion skills of Aggie by any means, and I couldn't sew to save my godsdamned life, but?—"

She let out another gasp, and Asa barely suppressed a smile. "Maybe Tindle—Aggie's dressmaker, the one on her council—maybe he could send some sketches!" She stood with a bounce. "This is brilliant! I have to tell Aggie right now." A thought struck, and her excitement was replaced with confusion as she looked around. "Wait. Where is everyone? Weren't we meeting for supper?"

"Wendolyn claimed she had to return to the Druids, didn't she?" Asa said around a bite of chicken. "She took that wooden mechanism we found in the catacombs. I assume Grimm is doing what any man in his right mind would be doing after a lengthy separation from his wife." He ripped another bite of chicken off the bone like a savage, speaking around the mouthful, "No idea about the rest of them."

Just then, Seleste glided in, all smiles. "Apologies for my tardiness. This spread looks delicious."

Sorscha sat back down, watching her Sister Summer for any signs of her earlier strangeness, but found none. Whatever had bothered her, she must have brushed it off.

"I saw Arielle and Gaius as I was coming in. It appears they stopped off to speak to your sister, Asa."

Sorscha began serving a plate for Seleste. "They do good work here, the two of them."

That sunny, loving smile of Seleste's left a warmth in Sorscha's chest, only deepened by the words that followed it. "From what I can tell, you do as well, Sister."

Sorscha snorted at Seleste's attempt to make up for their earlier argument.

"She does," Asa confirmed, surprising her.

"Sorry we're late." They turned to find Aggie, flushed and glowing, and Grimm standing there. "Winnie already left again," she said as they sat. "Unfortunately, we need to eat and run as well."

"I've returned." Winnie materialised next to Aggie on the bench, no small amount of mages with weakened magic taking notice with presumed envy. "Just for a moment." She handed Seleste a rolled parchment. "Laurent knew several of the symbols and jotted their meanings down for you. He wanted to hold onto the apparatus for now. There were a few he still wanted to look at."

Seleste took the scroll with barely-disguised glee. Lifting her goblet, she said, "We all have important matters to tend to. But first, a toast. To reuniting the Four Factions of The Order."

They all raised their goblets, and Sorscha snorted. "By accident."

"By design," Agatha corrected.

But Seleste's smile had faltered. Sorscha followed her line of sight to see Grimm wincing at Aggie's words just before their goblets clinked together.