Chapter Nineteen
“Iknew I’d see you soon,” Agatha crooned, her voice as creaky as the old hinges on the wooden cabinets in her little shop. Dark flasks and glass bottles lined their tops, covered in layers of dust and webs that had no doubt been accumulating for centuries.
“I couldn’t let such a gesture go without a personal thanks.”
I shifted her grimoire to one arm so I could move the stack of volumes from a small chair, then shoved aside a mess of papers, herbs, and glass jars strewn over the tabletop. When I sat, I settled the large tome on my lap.
“Find what you were looking for?” she asked.
With her back to me, she reached overhead to grab a handful of lavender from the bushel that hung from the ceiling. She tore the petals from the stem, and mixed them with the various herbs and oils in her mortar, then beat the pile into submission with the pestle.
Drumming my fingers on the book’s cover, I shook my head. “The more I dig, the more questions I come away with, it seems.”
“Ah, sounds like you’ve been keeping too many of ‘em to yourself then,” Agatha chastised in her matronly tone. “A witch can only get so far without the council of her sisters.”
Agatha had no way of knowing just how true her words were. I bartered with the empty guilt in the pit of my stomach, reassuring myself. All in due time. For now, I would put no one else in the king’s crosshairs if I could help it.
“I am inclined to believe that,” I said. “Which is why I’m here, hoping you could answer a few.”
She nodded, seeming enthused to both assist and to have her advice be heard. She filtered the concoction through a straining cloth into a small vial. It wasn’t until seeing the rose-colored glass and black label that I realized she was preparing the calming brew I’d been purchasing from her for the last two centuries.
Agatha hobbled across the groaning floor planks, set the vial on the table, then pointed her bony finger at me. “You know the drill,” she said. “Allow it to sit on the windowsill in direct sunlight for a few days before using. I have a feeling you haven’t been letting it rest long enough, and that’s why you’ve been running out so quickly. You know as well as anyone that mana works best when unhurried. You don’t force nature to do anything.”
Agatha was full of advice this morning. She wiped her hands on her dingy apron and gripped the table as an anchor to lower herself into the creaky chair with a sigh.
I nodded, unwilling to tell her I had run out because my life recently took on a whole new level of stress. Without fail, her special brew was my lifeline, keeping panic attacks at bay. My supply had depleted the same day Mira left. I’d been so worried I accidentally called a rather nasty thunderstorm that lasted the entire night and maybe even spread to a greater part of the surrounding area.
“So what questions can I help you with, High Witch?”
With a polite smile, I unfolded the book, flipping to the image drawn in the top corner featuring Vitany’s family name. Pointing with my long, dark-painted nail and tapping lightly, I said, “This here, written in the margin. Can you tell me about it?”
Agatha’s brow furrowed with suspicion. “That’s the quartz formation the Vitalis family used to commune with the gods.”
“Why would their family spell be in your grimoire?” I asked.
“They were the only ones who perfected it.”
Agatha pulled an old handkerchief from her pocket and plucked a dried yellow petal from its folds. After crumpling it into her pipe, she drew a long, boisterous inhale as though she could breathe properly for the first time in ages.
“Chrysanthemum.” Her mouth twisted into a small smirk, as if she told a private joke, then stuffed the kerchief into her pocket.
I pasted on a patient smile, waiting for her to continue.
“Each of the four original families, mine especially, tried to replicate it. My theory is that the formation is family-specific,” she said with an indifferent wave of her hand. “When Erezos last visited the earth, the Vitalis created this spell to communicate with him. Some claim with other gods as well. It’s how they rose to power in those early years.”
“How did they handle the emergence of soothsayers after the clans were established? They must have been bitter at having their livelihood become obsolete once Erezos blessed individuals with the gift of seeing.”
“If that were the case, they never said as much. Wouldn’t have been very smart of them to openly dispute Erezos himself, now, would it? Not with Vitany’s great-grandfather on the druid council at the time, and eventually, your mother offering her grandmother the position of high witch.”
Violet Vitalis, Vitany’s grandmother, had been one of the witches who had joined us on the day Annorah sacrificed herself. She was one of my mother’s dearest friends. When I tasked Saura with gathering two of her most trusted witches during our move to secede from the druids, Violet had been her first choice.
“So it was just forgotten about?”
“Seems that way. But what I’ve always wondered—why did Erezos feel the need to create soothsayers at all?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, scanning the small, dimly lit room with unseeing eyes. If I proceeded with more questions, Agatha would inevitably start interrogating me, and it was crucial nobody else found out the truth of Mira’s identity. Even the old witch, as tight-lipped as she was.
I hoped she would have the answer to casting this communion spell without the need to consult Vitany. I needed to speak to the god by any means necessary, even if it meant dredging up an incantation that hadn’t been used in well over nine centuries. Erezos was the only one who would truly have the answers to unlocking Mira’s power, but Vitany posed a risk I didn’t take lightly. She hadn’t been my first choice for High Witch of Black Sand Calms, a sentiment I’m sure was read in my absence from the Honing, despite that not being the reason.
With her grandmother dead, I had no way of knowing if she shared the truth of Annorah’s sacrifice with Vitany. If she had, and I asked her to help me reach Erezos, would she? Or would she go to the council? Would I be handing a potential enemy a dagger to end me with?
“Thank you, Agatha.” I stood, placing the grimoire on the seat, then turned to leave.
“Take it with you, High Witch. I don’t know what you’re up to, but it might come in handy.”
With a small, grateful smile, I retrieved it from the chair. I paused at the threshold when Agatha called out again.
“Oh, about that human girl of yours–”
My heart clenched.
“Bring her around more often. I’ll teach her a thing or two. She was as lost as a fawn in a herd of night-mares when she wandered in—but she’s got wit. I like her.”
“Will do.”
The bell on the rickety doorframe chimed its worn, lazy soundas I left.
I stormed up the front stoop and through the green wooden door, slamming it harder than I meant to. The glass sconces on the entryway walls clanged in protest. I set my calming brew on the windowsill and stalked into the sitting room, tossing the day’s messages from the courier onto the writing desk, then ventured out back to the gardens.
As I passed the spot where I introduced Mira to Eiresh, painful thoughts clawed into the recesses of my mind. I forced them away and quickened my pace toward the tranquil shallow pool of blue-green water, formed from the waterfall’s runoff. I had to think, and this was the perfect spot for it.
Lily pads large enough for me to skip across, topped with fragrant white blossoms, lined the shore. A small frog leapt from one, rippling the water, while dragonflies buzzed haphazardly in all directions. I sat on a rock near the water’s edge and let my feet dangle in it as it lapped lazily against the stone. It was peaceful, beautiful, but it did little to ease the turbulence in my soul.
My eyes stung with bitter frustration at my compounding troubles. What would I do if Balis failed to return with Mira? Or if the council moved against the king before Erezos answered my pleas?
“Rough day?”
My heart almost escaped my chest at the unexpected voice. “By the mountain, Eurok.”
He laughed, continuing his approach down the small hill to sit beside me. His presence effortlessly offered a sense of comfort to my clenching chest and clouding thoughts.
“When did you get back?” I asked.
“Just now. I saw you step out here while I was coming up. You looked upset.”
“Yes, well–”
“I take it Mira and Balis haven’t returned yet?”
My lips pressed tight as I shook my head, afraid that speaking would reveal my dissatisfaction. I assured Eurok I trusted his decision when he suggested sending the warrior after her—even dared to be hopeful after doing so. Still, the lack of communication was maddening. It’d been three days since Mira left. On Eiresh, she could’ve reached the border in two.
“He’ll find her. You and I both know she didn’t actually want to leave. She thought she was doing it for us.”
“Yes, well, I gifted her the horse because I believed as much, so relying on that shred of hope alone seems to have only made things worse.”
He moved behind me, wrapping those impossibly strong arms around my middle. I smiled, letting my head rest against his shoulder as he swayed us from side to side.
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I’m a seer, Eurok. I should have known.” A sigh escaped as I shook my head. “She’s such an enigma to me. Like trying to see to the bottom of a raging river. The image is always obscured, always changing.”
We grew quiet for a few moments, enjoying each other’s presence. I savored the sturdy warmth of him against my back, but my mind wouldn’t give me a moment’s peace. As soon as I forced aside one intrusive thought, another was there, like a queue of disturbances holding my sanity hostage.
Amidst everything, I’d forgotten to tell Eurok of Greggor’s death, and a violent eruption of self-disgust coated my insides. Mira, the girl he swore to protect and train for me, took his best friend’s life. How could I have overlooked his tie to the smuggler? I doubted he’d believe it was an accident and not a deliberate manipulation tactic.
I drew in a deep, steadying breath and stirred under his arms, praying the stillness of the moment might quell his anger. He pushed himself back, allowing me room to face him from my seat between his thick thighs.
“Eurok,” I said, the tone of apology already heavy in my voice, “I’m afraid I have something to tell you.”
And of course—because this male couldn’t help but be absolutely perfect in every way—he placed a warm, reassuring hand against my cheek, drawing my downcast eyes to meet his.
The rustle of cicadas and songbirds stirred behind the low measure of his voice. “I think I know.”
Guilt threatened to take me under like a riptide, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shh,” he hushed. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
That wasn’t true. I had an endless supply of regrets where Eurok was concerned.
He leaned back to brace his weight on his arms, his hands splaying in the thick grass, and I couldn’t ignore the flawless picture of his muscles flexing with the movement. He was absolute perfection. Sensitive, protective, trustworthy—a calm to my wild that no being ever compared to.
“You deserved to hear it from me, though,” I said. “Eurok, I’m so sorry. I–” My words faltered, part of me not wanting to mar the moment with useless excuses.
He sat in silence, waiting for me to finish tormenting myself for what he never dreamed of punishing me for. Then he pulled me into him, wrapping me in an iron-tight embrace.
I used to think that if I held out long enough, he’d move on—find a nice female, have children. That he could find the life he deserved while leaving me to my work. I thought that was what I wanted all these years.
But now, the idea laced my gut with an ill, green sensation. I didn’t want to think of another female in what had come to feel like my place. My place was at the center of that admiration-filled stare of his.
Even now, when I’d fallen so far. Poachers breathed down our peoples’ necks. The druid council plotted behind my back. And, with Mira gone, no future existed where Atreus wouldn’t retaliate once he learned of my deception. Yet, here was Eurok. Just as he’d always been and always would be.
Each fleeting respite from this never-ending worry had been in his presence. He’d become my shelter from the storm, my unsinkable ship on turbulent seas, and I needed him in a way I never let myself admit before.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, love.”
My stomach fluttered, and I licked my lips, preparing to say the one thing he waited to hear for the last three centuries. “If I’d only been honest with myself from the beginning,” I said, “then I wouldn’t have denied us so much time.”
Over and over, I played our past moments like a fluid dream. Every cool, appraising look from the sparing fields to the painful, longing glances we shared in later years when we parted. I ignored them all, alongside the cold, surging emptiness that never eased until we were together again.
A glimmer of elation creased the edges of his golden eyes, while a hint of sadness pinched his brow. He cupped my chin in his palms. “Sidelle, no. You haven’t denied us anything.”
His understanding nature never ceased to surprise me.
“You have been a constant embodiment of what our people need. I wouldn’t have followed you, wouldn’t have loved you any other way.”
My heart surged.
“The Sidelle who led druid females from their subjugation and gave witches their name, the Sidelle that bore a burden so heavy no one could possibly understand—that is who you are, who I choose to love. I love you, Sidelle. No matter how long I have to wait for you, I will always love you.”
Say it.
Just. Say. It.
“I love you too, Eurok.” A single hot tear slipped past the weak boundaries of my eyes.
A small gasp escaped me as a flood of heat and strength consumed me. My body angled toward his as he eased me down to the soft grass. My silver hair fanned the ground as his kiss traveled the hollow of my neck, landing on my collarbone. His mouth felt so good against my skin—every press seared straight to my heart.
He pulled away too soon, a flicker of that wicked humor in his grin. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
The brilliance of my smile reflected in his eyes as I nodded. To my surprise, he rocked on his heels and stood, pulling me up with him. He dipped, pressing another kiss to my lips, then stepped back. His excitement was contagious—a reprieve I so desperately needed that he never failed to supply.
Then he offered me his arm
My mouth fell open, but I snapped it shut. A happy laugh escaped me as I realized what was happening. I locked eyes with the handsome warrior, my handsome warrior, and trailed my touch down his upturned forearm. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as our fingertips met in the customary way. After three hundred years, we finally chose each other.
Our mana swirled around us in shimmering gold and lavender smoke. It entwined our arms as Eurok closed his hand around my wrist, pulling me into his embrace. He pressed soft kisses to my forehead, my closed eyes, my cheeks. The scent of warm, sun-kissed skin engulfed me, and I inhaled deeply, aching for this as much as he did. The shimmer of our mana dissipated on the calm breeze as the final breath of it left us with a sigh, linking us as a union. Forever bonded.
My eyes fluttered open at the brush of something unfamiliar over my body. Soothing, like being wrapped in a sun-soaked towel. It enveloped me, drew me in, offering warmth to my very soul. Eurok’s energy.
A wide smile broke out across his handsome tan face in response to the elation on my own. He leaned close, ready to press that first bonded kiss to my waiting lips–
A shattering explosion fractured the air overhead.
Our eyes shot to the sky.
No. Not the sky. Our barrier spell.
It disintegrated with a crackling flare, like burning flash powder rippling through the air. The once-muted roar of the waterfalls was deafening, but it wasn’t the only sound assaulting my senses.
Screams.
We were at the main gate a few hurried moments later. The bombardment of crunching wood and thundering rhythmic slams sent citizens scooping up loved ones and fleeing to the smaller western gate. The guards used various tactics to reinforce the failing wooden doors. Some braced thick beams, while others used a shield of wind to cushion each brutal blow.
“What is it?” The hellacious cacophony of noise drowned my words, but, by some miracle, Eurok heard me.
His earlier tenderness was all but tucked away beneath a druid captain’s demeanor. “Drakboar.”
My gut twisted.
“Get to the west gate,” he said. “Make sure everyone’s safe.”
One more devastating ram, and the gate’s center crushed inward with splintering force. A gleaming, enormous tusk penetrated through. Chunks of debris the size of wagon wheels crashed below as the guards lurched back.
“Go.” He guided me back by the waist.
Nodding, I took a step to reassure him I was indeed leaving.
He turned and drew his ax, shouting orders. “Fall back! Prepare the tethers!”
I spun away, letting my paragon wolf break free for the first time in months.
Adrenaline surged as I raced toward the western gate. My four legs effortlessly outpaced the limitations of my usual two. Once there, I was relieved to see the majority of the village made it safely.
Whirling back into my druid form, I grabbed Morica’s arm. “Take them west. I’ll send for you when this is over.”
She nodded and hurried off to spread the news. She came to Raven Ridge from a western mountain clan. Morica knew those lands. She’d keep them safe.
I glanced back at the village. The drakboar forced its tight fleshed body through, cramming itself between the jagged jaws of the gate. Splintered wood tore into its flank, soaking the dirt with blood as the druids fought to tether the foul beast with their vines. Its shrill squeals and ear-splitting grunts threatened to shatter my bones as it reared its disgusting, tusked head and thrashed.
After a few more bursts of violent rage, it severed all its binds except a tangled few that hung loosely at his back. This was by far the largest drakboar I’d ever seen, and to my horror, as it forced its way in, a mass of skittering adraknids followed it inside our tumbling wall. My mouth went dry at the sight.
A flicker of movement near the village square caught my eye. Two females exited a small shop on the corner, doing their best to hurry, if not for one’s hobbling state. A frigid, chill spider-walked down my spine.
Agatha and Belle.
I phased mid-air as I leapt into action, fleeing down the cobblestone path with little regard for my safety. The massive mutant animal charged down the streets in the center of town like an enraged bull. As it surged forward, it left a trail of destruction—our shops, plaza, and homes crumbling.
With all my strength, I pushed myself to move faster until I rounded the last corner, putting the witches in my direct line of sight. Belle struggled beneath Agatha’s weight, unwilling to leave her mentor. Terror painted their faces as the beast headed straight for them, nose down, lethal focus in its milky, soulless gaze. Like battering rams, its tusks destroyed everything in its path.
The pads of my feet tore across the cobblestones, and I threw myself between them and the hybrid. The ground trembled, rattling stones and shattering terracotta planters as the drakboar neared.
A shout drew my attention behind the beast.
Eurok.
He shoved an attacking adraknid back. His ax connected with the mutated animal’s gnarled head, dropping it at his feet. He spun, and in that fleeting moment, our eyes met.
I rallied my mana, and the force of it pulsed through every vein in my body. My heart hammered in time with the beast’s vast strides. Closer—closer.
As the hot moisture of the drakboar’s rancid breath reached us, I pushed a massive burst of flame and wind down the hybrid’s throat.
I spun and curled around the two witches, securing a shield around us as it reared backward in a frenzy, screaming and bucking. Its hind legs collided with the front of Agatha’s shop, glass and stone raining into the street, spraying my shield.
It thrashed its enormous head, reeling from the scalding flames. Its squealing shrieks cut short as a spike of earth protruded from the ground, skewering the beast’s middle.
My gaze snapped toward Eurok, anticipating he caused the creature’s demise–
Balis. With a stony expression, he acknowledged me with a single nod before redirecting his attention to the last of the adraknids.
Long raven hair caught my eye. Mira yanked her blade free of another fallen hybrid. Balis ran to her, tapped her on the shoulder, then pointed my way. The roar of the falls and the sputtering screeches of dying demons consumed all sound as she locked eyes with me across the field of rubble—her blade dripping with fresh onyx blood.
She’s back.