Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

SELESTE

" L ike this," Winnie said, gently taking the syringe from Seleste. With the pad of her thumb, she felt for the most prominent vein in the crook of Laurent's arm. "Just here, push in the needle."

"Pardon," Laurent uttered, "but do I really have to be the test subject for Seleste to learn these things?"

"Oh, don't be an infant," Winnie ordered. "Besides, she knows how to draw your blood, it's only been a while."

Seleste chuckled, taking the syringe in one hand and Laurent's arm in the other. "A couple hundred years," she mused.

Laurent looked from his outstretched arm on the table up to Seleste. "That's clear by the four times you've missed."

He wasn't wrong. There were three bruises blooming, and a fourth would meet them soon. "Hold still."

The needle slipped into Laurent's vein at just the right angle, Winnie murmuring her praise. Seleste pulled at the other end of the syringe, a suction drawing out a nice measure of Laurent's blood. She wouldn't need much. Satisfied she'd taken plenty, she carefully slid the needle free, and Winnie moved to dab a bit of clean cloth against the infinitesimal wound.

"Keep it there for a few moments," Winnie instructed, bending Lau's arm to ensure the cloth stayed tucked in place, putting pressure on the incision.

"What exactly do you plan to do with that?" Laurent tipped his head toward the vial in Seleste's hand, filled with his lifeblood and, in a way, Chresedia's.

She held it up in the bright light streaming in from the open tent flap, studying the colour. Looking for any sign of a fallen goddess. Of course, there were none to the naked eye, only a deep crimson glowing brighter by the light of the sun. Cork in place, she sent the vial to her rooms in Castle Merveille by magic. Taking her time to answer Laurent's question, Seleste strode over to the wash basin, dipping her hands in. Wiping them on a nearby linen, she finally answered. "I have some ideas. But I would like to consider them more thoroughly before I perform the spell."

"Wasn't there something else you came here to discuss?" Winnie asked, gesturing to the notes and star map Seleste had discarded on a side table.

"Yes." Retrieving them, she spread the pages out in front of both Lau and Winnie. "This constellation here, it eerily resembles one of the Druid symbols you couldn't quite decipher. Do you have the relic?"

Laurent rose from his seat, the chair protesting so loudly that Seleste worried it would break. He opened a drawer in his desk, and she vaguely wondered how they travelled all across Midlerea with that giant oak monstrosity in tow. Magic, she presumed. She'd like to see how that worked…

"Here you are." Laurent handed the contraption to Seleste, both he and Winnie peering over her shoulder.

Spinning the carved, wooden layers, Seleste chewed on the inside of her cheek. "I can't help but think that perhaps these symbols might line up to make—" Her words broke off as she spun the pieces into the bottom half of the same symbol cluster on the map.

Her heart began to beat a little faster, and she spun the relic's discs again, trying to fit it to create the top portion. "Aha!" she shouted, causing Winnie to jump. "There it is!"

Winnie snatched up the star map Sorscha and Gaius had found under the painting of La Femme Déchue , holding it next to the relic. "What does it mean?"

Seleste took mental notes of the star map, the relic, and the peculiar constellation made up of symbols, and darted for her notebook. Murmuring as she flipped the pages, she found it. "There!" She slammed her finger down on a crude drawing of Midlerea. "If Asa, Laurent, and I are all correct, Chresedia is planning to leave our realm from?—"

"Eridon," Winnie breathed.

"Yes!" Seleste beamed. They were one step closer. Flashes of information flooded her from her cunning, almost too quickly to grasp. "Oh, gods…"

"What is it?" Laurent put a hand to her shoulder. "Are you all right? Do you need a glass of water?"

"No, no. That's not it. The door."

Laurent and Winnie looked at one another, bewildered.

"The door the Grimoire had Sorscha open in Eldritch Alley. It's how she comes here from the Liminal Place, right? At least one of the ways. If she has more entry points, we don't know about them." Seleste's hands moved wildly as she spoke, piecing things together. "It makes sense that she would place it there. Have one of the Sisters Solstice, born of godly bloodlines, to open it there."

"And that reason is…" Laurent prompted.

"River Vide runs directly to the heart of Eridon and up into Prilemea, where all the mage bodies were originally found. It goes all the way to Praeval, skirting the city before it dumps into the sea near Helsvar. It's the perfect route to travel easily."

"Eridon is only even a kingdom because of the Grimoire Ordering Aggie to make it one over a century ago," Winnie added.

A deep sound rumbled in Laurent's chest. "And it is tied to Seagovia's throne through the blood of Fleurina."

"Gods," Seleste murmured. "She has had this planned for so long…"

SORSCHA

She squealed and went airborne, launching herself onto the bed and landing on her stomach.

"Asaaaaa," she crooned. "Wake up!"

Asa grunted. "I'm already awake," he said without opening his eyes. "Thanks to your screeching and body slamming. "

Sorscha waved a handful of rolled parchments in his face. "The sketches from Tindle are here! Aggie's raven just brought them. Thank you, by the way, for modifying my mother's spell to let him in." She bent to kiss his stubbled cheek.

"Mm," he grunted. "Modifying spellwork done by someone as powerful as your mother is a pain in the arse."

"But you did it." She rolled over onto one side, resting her head in her hand and running the other along Asa's chest in little taps like tiny sprite footsteps. "You let in a courier raven, for me."

He snorted. "It's a bird. I don't have qualms with birds."

Ever so slowly, Sorscha let the trail of her fingers dip lower and lower until she was below Asa's navel. One of his eyes popped open.

"Show me those sketches before I regret letting you sleep in my room." The other eye popped open, and he stood up, scrambling to back away from her. "Gods Almighty, would you put some clothes on? How many times do I have to tell you that you can't be naked in my room!"

Sorscha preened. "Why? Too tempting?"

"Don't be an idiot. If I didn't want to fuck you to The Void and back I wouldn't find it so important to wait, now would I?"

She flipped over onto her stomach again, crossing her ankles and resting her head in her hands. It would have been hard to miss the way his gaze slid slowly down her back and over the curve of her arse. "Are you sure?"

Asa cleared his throat. "Sure of what?" He shook his head, long hair swaying in a way that made her want to drive her fingers through it. "Doesn't matter. I'm sure of all my choices, or I wouldn't make them."

Pouting, she rose with far too much bounce to tease him further.

"Dammit, Sorscha," Asa muttered as he stomped off to the lavatory, adjusting himself.

She giggled and donned a chemise. then a red dress with a plunging neckline. It was a lovely thing, but a far cry from what she'd asked Tindle to design for the Araignée residents. She wanted Asa to agree to the designs, after all. While she waited for him to return, she unfurled the parchments one by one, using her many potted sproutlings to hold down the edges.

Asa claimed to be as irritated with her plant children in his room as he was with her, but she knew better. If she was away from him for more than half a day, he was searching her out, claiming some excuse as to why he needed to see her, when she knew quite well by now he just missed having her around. It was lovely, to be missed and sought after, even when she was being her most vexing self.

Only Aggie had ever done that—missed seeing Sorscha, despite being forbidden to do so. Sure, Gaius cared about her in a way that rivalled her Sisters, but his annoyance with her was true, and sometimes bone-deep. Even Rosemary had often said that Sorscha was too much .

Asa might growl at her and argue with her ceaselessly, but he'd never thought her too much, of that she was certain. At least, she thought she was…

He came out of the lavatory with his hair wet and a fresh sarong, and she watched him closely. "Do you think I'm too much?" she asked quietly, uncharacteristic vulnerability lacing her words.

Something akin to pain crossed Asa's features, tightening his jaw. He stalked forward and snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him with such force that a woosh of air left her lungs. Looking down into her eyes, he said in a low rumble, "Why would you ask me that?"

"Because I am, sometimes. Too much."

He brought a finger up and tucked her hair behind her ear without releasing his hold on her. "Nonsense. You are a pretty little nightmare, but you're my pretty little nightmare. Never too much." He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Unless…" His lips moved to her ear. "Of course you mean…" He moved to her neck. "The perfect amount for me is too much ."

He didn't let her answer, bringing his lips to hers instead. Kissing her with fervour, he leaned into her so much that he had to brace both hands on the table as he pushed against her. Sorscha threw her arms around his neck, pushing forward into him harder, their hips colliding and a need so intense that she'd never felt anything like it began to build low in her belly.

"Yours?" she asked breathlessly as Asa's hands gripped her hips, lifting her up and onto the table in one smooth motion.

" Mine ," he growled, pushing her knees apart, his lips meeting hers again until the whole table rocked.

More than one plant crashed to the floor, pottery and soil skidding across the stone. Ignoring the mess completely, Asa slid his hand up her skirt, hot on her thigh as he trailed a line down the low cut of her bodice with his lips. Tipping her head back, Sorscha let out an involuntary whimper. The sound snapped Asa's attention to her face. When his gaze met hers, his eyes were beyond hungry. Ravenous. She grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled his lips to hers.

His fingers crawled up her thigh until she thought she'd scream. Asa moved his lips from her mouth to the tops of her breasts. When her head tipped back again, Sorscha had to lean back on her hands to steady herself. He clasped the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, and Sorscha gasped at the gentle pull, sliding backwards on the slipping papers.

A tearing sound broke the spell in a sudden rip. Parchment ripping.

They separated, gasping for breath. "Holy gods," Sorscha spouted, touching her lips.

They were going to burn the fucking mountains down when Asa finally gave in. She pushed him away from her, hopping down and turning to assess what they had ripped. Thankfully, it was only a small corner of Tindle's note that had accompanied the sketches.

Asa strode as far away as he could get from her, his bare, inked chest still heaving and his eyes glazed. Pouring two glasses of water, he asked, "What does it say?"

Sorscha held it aloft, scanning the contents quickly. "There are several sassy remarks about needing the public of Araignée to know he designed the outfits," she laughed. "And he suggests that we open a small shop. La Petit Maison de Tindle , like his La Maison de Tindle , only smaller."

Asa snorted and she chewed on her thumbnail as she read on.

"Hm. This idea isn't half-bad. He liked your idea to have the residents make the clothing as a form of therapeutic healing, but he also suggested setting the clothing up in a way that they can purchase the items—to give them a sense of returning to society prior to being able to do so." She looked at Asa, who appeared to actually be listening to the idea. "A trial of sorts for them, so they're ready to leave once they're rehabilitated."

"Not everyone wants to leave here," he argued, leaning against a bookshelf carved into the stone.

"But some do. And those that do remain here might want a way to shop . It's important."

"All their needs are met. We've worked tirelessly to ensure that. When basic needs are filled, people can live and truly enjoy their lives rather than toiling for a roof over their heads or food in their stomachs. They can select a trade of their choosing to put their hand to. Something that inspires them, rather than working at something that is only a means to an end."

"I completely agree." Sorscha began walking in a small circle, the thrill of a lively debate setting her blood on fire as much as Asa's hands had. "But I also think it's important to have choices."

With a dancer's grace, she spun on her toes to face him, splaying her hands to drive her point home. "When their magic grows stronger, they can conjure anything they'd like, right? But there is something special about not having to, yet also being able to choose something as simple as a meal or a dress. Do you see what I'm saying?"

Asa only stared at her, a look on his face she couldn't remotely read.

"Asa?" He wasn't even blinking. " Asa! Are you listening to me?"

"I love you," he whispered .

Sorscha baulked so hard she took a step backwards, knocking into the table, another potted plant babe falling to the ground. "What? We were talking about dre?—"

He walked forward and cupped her face in his hands, silencing her. "I love every tiny thing about you. The way you think, the way you move, the way you argue and live . It means everything to me that you care so much about the people here. Our people."

Tears filled her eyes in a rush, one spilling over to meet Asa's hand.

"I just needed you to know that. You are not too much. You're everything." He kissed her gently and dropped his hands, stepping back. "Now, show me these sketches. We should do whatever you think is best."

SELESTE

Popping a grape into her mouth and relishing the flavour that burst across her tongue, Seleste poured over the notes and spellbooks in front of her. Across the long table within the council's meeting chamber, Emile worked silently on his carefully planned integration of those with magic and those without.

"Emile?" Anne said delicately from her place next to Seleste, causing everyone, Dulci and Tindle included, to look in her direction. "Are you not going to eat?"

The girl squeezed Seleste's heart at every turn. She was so meek to most, but Seleste saw only a person much stronger inwardly than many of them were. Where they had fought and clawed and even killed at the behest of someone else or out of fear and hurt, Anne had looked that grief in the face and found a friend. Not in the way Aggie had befriended her grief. No, Anne had found the true person behind her pain, both in herself and in Emile.

Granted, if he had truly been guilty of his crimes, acting of his own volition and not at the bidding of a mind-addling draught, Anne likely would not have taken the precise route she had. Yet, she'd faced him regardless and accepted the truth, never once playing the victim to Emile, The Order, or her lot in life. They might all be victims in some way or other, but Anne never made it her identity. A trait that took great courage and strength.

"Thank you, Anne, for reminding me." Emile smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and plucked a piece of cheese from the tray Dulci had brought in earlier. "Time slips away from me. These edicts and events need to be just right."

Dulci placed a slice of wildberry clafoutis on a gold-rimmed plate and slid it across the table to him. "Perfection is not our aim. You're doing just fine."

"I feel the Summer fair will be just what the people need." Emile took a bite of the clafoutis, a little puff of powdered sugar blooming into the air. Around a mouthful, he continued, "What with the different stalls of wares, potions, and goods from all different walks of life, be it magical, socioeconomic, locational…"

"It will be a smashing success." Anne beamed, her quill still poised over the stack of requests—those interested in setting up a stall at the fair. They only had a fortnight to prepare for the event, and it was chaos .

Emile offered Anne a nod of thanks, the quiet moment punctured by Tindle's shout of triumph.

"Aha! There we have it." He slammed his charcoal onto the table and took his spectacles off to rub at his face.

"I thought you sent the sketches out to Araignée yesterday," Seleste commented with a chuckle, though she'd known full well he had been creating another at the end of the table rather than what he was supposed to be doing.

"Yes, well, I had an epiphany last night." He rolled it up, securing it with a piece of twine. "There we have it. Now, Anne, be a dear and hand me that stack of vendor approvals."

Dulci shook her head at their friend, and Seleste hid a smile. It was a beautiful thing, to work collectively with these people. Even when they were all quietly working on their own tasks, there was still a camaraderie. It was difficult for Seleste, as she knew what each of them was doing, working on, muttering, eating…at any given moment. Still, she was growing used to the internal noise of their outwardly quiet companionship.

"How is your task coming, ma choupette ?" Dulci broke into Seleste's thoughts. "Have you deciphered the location for the eclipse?"

She'd not told the others of Laurent's blood, or what she planned to do with it. It wasn't so much that she wanted to keep it a secret, so much as she hadn't yet decided exactly which spell she would use, and wasn't prepared to face the inevitable disapproval. Blood magic was decidedly forbidden amongst witches. And the spellbook she had been most looking into was decidedly…controversial.

Sister Summer looked down at all her scribbles, particularly the one she'd absently doodled in the corner as she was deep in thought. The initials she always drew when she was lost within her mind, poring over complicated matters.

Blinking to clear the memories before they could come, she turned to Dulci with a smile. "I think I almost have it. I've been cross-checking it with the star map, and I've narrowed the location down to Eridon. It's a small country, but plenty large enough to need a more precise location. I'll need to keep working."

Something was still gnawing at Seleste about the location, though. She couldn't quite put her finger on what.

Augustus came up behind Anne, momentarily abandoning his post at the door to snag a bite of cheese and peck his lover on her forehead. Anne smiled, her cheeks blushing prettily, and Augustus addressed the group at large. "Wish I could've seen the catacombs…" His boyish grin warmed Seleste's heart as much as Anne's girlish one did. "All those old relics? What a treasure trove. Have they proven to be anything special?"

Everyone looked to Seleste, who shook her head. "Asa and Lena have scoured the catacombs with Arielle using her gift, but nothing seems to be overly significant. We think my mother was simply collecting belongings of mages who passed on, most likely at Chresedia's hand."

The group soon began to chat animatedly about Arielle's remarkable ability to sense fragments of people in objects. Seleste listened quietly, idly running her finger over the initials etched into the corner of her parchment.