Chapter 3

ChapterThree

Thea tilted her face toward the silver rays above her and closed her eyes. She could almost feel the caress of the witch mother. Many witches called upon Hekate, so Thea rarely felt as though the goddess was with her. But tonight? She was certain the touch of the wind was Hekate smoothing her hair over her shoulders, so she looked perfect when they reached the altar.

She rubbed the embroidery along the hem of her sleeves. Her mother had spent months working on the tiny herbs and blue flowers that decorated all the edges of her fine white muslin. Calming spells were woven into every little detail covering her from head to toe. Thea didn’t feel the soothing effects that much. All she felt was love.

Their boat coasted over the river with no sails and no oars to make ripples. Standing at the bow with her arms held up toward the sky, her mother’s silhouette created a picture of magic and power that filled the air with electricity, as though lightning had struck nearby.

Thea’s mother was beautiful. Her dark hair coiled in tight ringlets all the way to the small of her back. Usually, she kept her hair tied away so she could work in their gardens, but tonight was special. Her mother let all those curls fly wild in the slight breeze.

Thea felt a swell of magic as her mother whispered an incantation. The lily pads surrounding the boat flipped over and gently pushed them forward again. The faint slaps of greenery against the wood were the only sounds this late at night. Even the seabirds had gone to sleep.

Then her mother turned, and Thea saw her future in the heart-shaped face that grinned at her.

“Are you ready?” her mother asked.

“I am, Máthair.” At least, she thought she was.

Thea had magic. She’d had magic her entire life. But this was the moment when she would become a real witch. She’d gain a familiar who would stay with her until the very end of her days. This creature would be like an extension of herself, and as such, it was very important for the goddesses to give her the right one.

When she was little, she thought her mother could see through her familiar’s eyes. The black cat had followed her everywhere as a toddler. Máthair might have that power, but she never admitted to it, even when they talked about the ceremony she’d undergo.

Smoothing her hair away from her face, Máthair removed the looser curls from sticking to her forehead. “Ceridwen is not as kind as Hekate, my daughter. You must be respectful and listen to what she has to say to you. No matter what familiar you are given, be grateful that you were given any at all.”

Thea had heard of another girl from the village who was denied a familiar. Apparently, Ceridwen had looked into her powers and thought she was not strong enough.

Reaching into her pocket, Thea pulled out a small sprig of lavender and set three buds on her tongue. Immediately, the calming magic of the flower soaked into her. She no longer felt her stomach rolling in her belly as though she might be sick. The tension in her chest eased, and her heartbeat slowed to a steady, lulling thump.

“I’ll be all right either way,” she said.

“I know you will, sweet girl.” Her mother turned her attention back to the front of the boat, but not fast enough to hide the worry on her face.

After all, if the gods thought anyone had a small gift, it was Thea.

She thumbed the handful of plants in her pocket and sighed. Vervain to ward off ill will, dill for good spirits, and pansy blooms for happy thoughts. The effects only lasted for a half hour or so. She’d yet to find every combination that would make her feel certain ways, but these she knew would be helpful.

It wasn’t much of a gift. Still, she appreciated having anything at all.

The boat hit the other side of the river with a dull crunch. Máthair leapt out and reached out her hand for Thea to take. “Come, little thistle. Shall we meet a goddess?”

Thea gulped but took her mother’s hand.

Together, they hauled the boat up onto the shore and followed the winding path which would lead them to Ceridwen’s altar.

The two goddesses had very different backgrounds, but they were intrinsically woven in the way of the witch. Hekate gave her daughters the powers they were born with, and Ceridwen decided what familiar would guide them through life. She hoped they would be kind to her, together. Thea had tried very hard to worship them correctly.

Reaching ahead of them, her mother brushed aside a large branch that had fallen over the path to the altar. “Here it is,” Máthair breathed; her words were reverent.

A spear of moonlight illuminated three large stones surrounding a flat pillar in the center of the clearing. The standing stones cast long shadows that crept toward her feet and stroked her bare toes with icy darkness. The fluffy clouds overhead seemed to glow with magic. She could feel it in her chest—an electric thrum, like the beat of a drum rocked through her body with each heartbeat.

She had a hard time brushing aside the stray thought that her power wasn’t strong enough to give her a familiar. She’d prepared for the nerves, though. Thea reached into her pocket for a strand of dill and chewed it. All that negative energy was banished by the burst of flavor.

The leaves beyond the altar shifted, and strangely, a man walked out. Thea thought, for a moment, that this was part of the ritual until her mother squared her shoulders. The curls along the sides of her head lifted with static anger.

“Balthazar,” her mother practically hissed. “What are you doing here?”

The man was... strange. That was the only way Thea could think of him. Creamy blonde hair was slicked back to his skull, and his clothing was so fine she wondered why he’d walked through the woods in it. His pressed black suit jacket looked like it could stand on its own, and the pale-colored vest beneath it appeared more suitable for a wedding.

Three other men stepped out behind him. Two looked exactly like their father, with matching scowls on their faces and hands raised as though they were ready to let spells fly. The third, the youngest, looked nothing like the rest. His blonde hair was burnished gold and red with smatters of orange streaks that flopped over his face in unruly locks. Freckles dotted over his cheeks. She could see them from across the entire altar space, and his bright green eyes were like a meadow in direct sunlight.

“Fenna Earthshaker,” the older man replied. His voice sounded too smooth, unlike any human she’d ever heard. “You are interrupting our ceremony.”

“Your ceremony? It is my daughter’s birthday after her first blood. We are here to get her familiar.” Her mother crossed her arms over her chest, immovable as a mountain. “You will have to wait.”

“I don’t think it will take long for my son to be given the powerful familiar as he is due.” Balthazar snapped his fingers at his son, who stepped forward hesitantly before being shoved toward the altar. “I’m sure it will take Ceridwen hours to decide what paltry familiar to give your daughter. She has a small gift, doesn’t she? Hardly worth a familiar at all.”

“How dare you?” Máthair shoved Thea’s shoulders, sending her careening toward the altar as well. “She will go first, as we arrived before your family.”

Thea’s eyes widened with every word as the two parents suddenly stalked toward each other with raised voices, pointing fingers, and more anger than she’d ever seen up close. Her mother had never mentioned knowing anyone from this side of the river, but Wildecliff and Waterdown had never gotten along.

Her heart skipped a few beats, then thudded so hard against her ribs she thought it might stop. Thea pressed a hand against her chest and willed the thumps to slow. They didn’t. She sighed and reached into her pocket. Again. Another few lavender buds should do the trick, otherwise, she’d have to eat the pansy.

Her mother could handle herself, so she turned away from their parents to get a good look at the altar. Then her eyes were so arrested with emeralds looking back at her that Thea forgot to breathe.

Oh, but he did have such pretty eyes.

The young man in front of her cleared his throat and held out a hand. “Alistair.”

Scrunching her nose, she wondered if she should ignore him, considering the fight going on behind her. Still, he seemed harmless enough. She shook his hand and forced a smile. “Thea.”

“I’m sorry for my, uh, my father.” He stuttered over the words. “He can be a little entitled.”

“My mother can be quite loud.” She winced at a high-pitched shriek. “It’s just because they love us.”

His face went so pale that she could count the freckles like stars on his face. “Maybe yours does.”

What did he mean by that?

A clawed hand clamped onto her shoulder and dragged her away from the altar. Thea angrily hissed out a long breath, grappling with whoever tried to manhandle her until she was tossed toward her mother.

“Wait your turn, girl,” Balthazar snarled. Then he snapped those horrible fingers at his son again. “Get on with it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Her heart broke for the young man, who shook while he did his best to cast the summoning circle. She wanted to watch and see what he did. Every family’s spell was unique, but her mother cupped her cheeks and forced Thea’s eyes away.

“Don’t you take an ounce of interest in Orbweaver magic,” Máthair said. Her words were intense, and Thea could feel her hands trembling. “They are not a family you are ever to emulate. Do you understand me?”

“Of course I do.”

But the young man didn’t seem all that bad. Alistair had meadow eyes and a tentative smile that never really reached past the very edges of his lips. She wondered how long it had taken him to get those freckles or if he’d been born with them. She didn’t have any freckles, and she spent hours in the sun every day.

Alistair finished quickly. His father stood right next to the altar with his arms crossed over his chest until a horrible scream filled the clearing. A raven flew overhead and then landed on the altar next to Alistair’s hand. It hopped a few times, turning its head to meet the young man’s gaze.

The raven didn’t have only feathers, as most corvids did. This one had thorns down its spine and around its head like a lion’s mane. The sharp edges glinted in the moonlight like the spikes of some macabre knives had been thrust into the poor beast’s hide.

“You see?” Balthazar opened his arms wide and laughed. “I told you my boy would get a strong one. It’s hardly even from this mortal realm!”

Thea held her breath, waiting for the young man to move. Would he leave the bird on its own and join his family? Victorious that his power had been confirmed?

No. Alistair wasn’t like them. He moved his hand slowly and brushed the soft feathers on the raven’s chest. That slight brush of comfort to an innocent creature told her everything she needed to know.

He was a good person. Somehow.

Her mother nudged her forward, and Thea gulped as she realized Balthazar and his children were staying to watch her cast her own summoning circle. As she passed Alistair, he whispered, “Good luck.”

Those freckles were bright against his pale skin again. She wondered if he was nervous, and her hand moved of its own accord. Thea reached into her pocket and handed him a small sprig of her remaining lavender.

“You can chew it, and it eases the nerves.” She shook her head, remembering that not everyone was like her. “Or smell it. I suppose most people might find it a little bitter.”

As he walked by, he gave her a strange look, and the raven left the altar to perch upon his shoulder.

Now it was her turn. Thea stared down at the ancient stone and reminded herself that she’d practiced this for hours. Witches did this every month of every year, and so few of them had been turned away by the goddess. A small gift didn’t matter. Her heart did.

She lifted her hand toward the right side of the altar, palm flat to the stone. “Spirits of fire, I call upon thee. Seek out the bravery in my heart and see the steadfast desire there to do right by this world.” A small flame burst to life on the altar and remained there like she’d lit a candle.

Thea turned and flipped her hand, so her palm was to the sky. “Spirits of air, I ask thee to feel the adventurous heart that beats in my chest. Guide Ceridwen to know I seek a familiar who will stand beside me in all adventures now and to come.” A small funnel of air swirled near the top of her hand.

Flicking her fingers over the top of the stone, she pressed her thumb and forefinger together. “Spirits of earth, I honor you. My feet remain solid on the ground and I wish you to help me walk a just path.” The stone shuddered under the slight pressure of her magic.

And the last, the spot in the middle of the altar. Thea had saved water until the end of her spell because she had always felt connected to it. She curled her fingers as though beckoning something forth from the stone. “Spirits of water, I ask of you to give me a familiar. One worthy of my heart, my soul, and my magic.” Water bubbled out of the pillar and fell onto the ground in loud plops.

Long moments passed. Only silence answered her spell. Thea’s stomach twisted into a tight knot with each moment until she couldn’t breathe.

One of the older boys behind her snickered, and her cheeks burned at the sound. Would she have to suffer such an injustice? In front of them?

But then she heard it. Everyone did. The loud croak startled her so much that all her magic disappeared, weak as it was. Thea looked down at her feet and saw a toad larger than a dinner plate staring up at her. He was a lovely mottled yellow color, with moss growing on his back and tiny fireflies floating above him.

“Oh,” Thea whispered, trying her best not to scare him. “Are you here for me?”

It croaked, and that was the first moment she knew what love felt like for something outside of her family. Delighted, she hauled the toad into her arms and stood with him as though she had been given a human baby.

The toad let out another loud croak, likely at the men behind her, and Thea could not be happier. He was handsome. Rather girthy, but they’d work on that. And his back was soft with spongy moss that tickled the palm of her hand as she petted him.

Ceridwen hadn’t forgotten her at all. Instead, the goddess had given her a gift of unimaginable wonder.

“Thank you,” she whispered reverently to the altar, knowing Ceridwen listened. “This is more than I hoped for.”

The man who had snickered behind her burst into laughter. “More than you hoped for? You realize that’s a toad, right?”

She turned around with her new familiar in her arms. “Of course I do. He’s quite handsome.”

The two older brothers held onto each other as they laughed. Even Balthazar had a small smile on his face.

He covered that smile, wiping it clear of his expression before he replied, “A toad is a grotesque animal. But I suppose I expected nothing more from a daughter of Fenna.”

All the men filed out of the clearing, but Alistair remained a few moments longer. He petted the soft feathers of his raven’s chest, and it almost looked like he wanted to say something. Then he turned and disappeared into the forest with his family.

“Oh, Thea.” Her mother wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Toads have been witches’ familiars for centuries. It is a good familiar. Don’t let them ruin tonight.”

“I won’t.”

And she didn’t. She held her toad a little tighter and walked with her mother back to the boat. Her mind, however, remained on the young boy with bright green eyes and a hundred freckles she hadn’t counted yet.