Chapter 13
Callan
I’ve seen stars fall and comets pass. I’ve seen the reflection of a hot sun off the lake in the summer. I’ve seen flowers bloom, and I’ve seen rain blow across the rolling hills like shadows or smoke.
But I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as Lucina Van Reenan.
Every version of her. Angry, sad, scared, brave…she does it all so stunningly. I’ll never understand it.
“Alright,” she starts, breaking my stare to look around my coven—our coven. Lucina holds her hand out expectantly. “Someone cough up a Mender pill.”
When no one moves or speaks, she folds her arms over the beaded bodice of her dress and juts her hip out. “I’ll wait.”
Clearing my throat, I cross the space between us. “We can’t be late, and you won’t need it.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I ignore the insult and hold a hand out to her, rosemary and vanilla crashing into me like a rush of something intoxicating.
When she places a tentative hand in my own, it takes all I have not to pull her over my shoulder and take her right back inside.
I’d thoroughly enjoy ripping each of those beads off with my—
Lucina swats at my arm. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Believe it or not, I’m trying.” Just not very hard.
Lucina takes my hand, letting me help her to the bottom of the stairs, then she slides her arm through my own. She grips my sleeve, avoiding eye contact as we cross the grass and start on the path to the Yard.
I can tell she’s nervous, gaze bouncing from Easton and Nix, who walk ahead, to Hunter, Pax, and Devon who trail behind. It’s completely understandable—her unease—but I hate seeing it on her face. I hate sensing it in her body language.
We’re halfway to the Yard when I decide I’ve had enough of her silent panic. I could tell her not to worry, but she wouldn’t listen. Seeing as I can’t disclose anything about what she’s about to experience, the least I can do is try to take her mind off it.
“You know…” I start, and Lucina flinches as I break the silence. “That dress might have been made for you.”
Her gaze remains fixed on the path ahead.
Pulling her closer to my side, I lean down to whisper, “Will you let me take it off later?”
Lucina’s eyes dart up to mine, stunning and gold-flecked, the apples of her cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink. “I know what you’re doing,” she whispers back.
“Do you?” My gaze falls to her lips. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Lucina reverts her attention to the path ahead. “You’re trying to distract me, and I need to be on high alert not…” she searches for the right word, cheeks reddening further, “...pliant and flushed.”
My mouth splits into a wide grin. “Pliant and flushed?”
Lucina scowls at the tease in my tone and tugs against my hold. “I’m going to walk with Pax—"
“Don’t you dare take your hand off my arm.”
She has the nerve to laugh. It’s bitter and disbelieving. “What are you going to do?” she implores, “Drag me back by my hair?”
“Yes.” I keep my voice low. “I’ll take you all the way back to the cabin, rip through the stitching on that dress, tie the torn fabric around your eyes, and make you guess where I’m going to touch you next.”
Lucina trips over the toe of her boot, recovering in an instant, but now she’s thoroughly flushed, and judging by the scowl on her face, she’s not happy about it.
At least she isn’t nervous.
“Careful, Chaos,” I grin down at her, “the path is rocky here.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“You’re flushed,” I volley back. “And…pliant?”
“I’m going to be the reason you have a black eye if you don’t cut it out.”
Smile spreading, I tug her closer. “You’re so pretty when you threaten me.”
Lucina’s lips twist in frustration, her attention darting ahead, and when she notices that we’re approaching the Yard, her hand tightens on the sleeve of my jacket. Our previous conversation has been forgotten.
“Lucina,” I probe, trying to keep her distracted. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes,” she answers robotically, her focus locked on the setup of initiation peeking through the trees.
“Eyes, please.”
It takes her a second, but she eventually looks up at me. There’s fear in her stare, and all I want is to take it away.
I know it’s intimidating: the platform, the dais in the middle, the chairs set out around it. She hasn’t even seen the audience yet, but what she can see is enough to slow her steps. I’ve never seen her this nervous before—not even for Albatross.
“Did you hear what I said?” I ask her again.
Lucina swallows, wide eyes bouncing between me and the crowd as we enter the Yard. “That…I’m pretty when I threaten you?”
“Mhm,” I hum. “And when you hide daggers in your boots.”
That pulls her attention completely, hazel eyes flaring up at me. Panicked that I noticed the odd lump on the side of her boot. It’s cute that she thought I’d miss it.
“Which I’ll let you keep,” I tell her, sliding a hand behind her back as we ascend the three stairs to the top of the dais. Stopping her in the center, I turn her to face me and not the crowd. “But only because you won’t need them.”
The nervous edge to her stare softens a fraction of an inch.
But when the murmur of the crowd ceases, the panic comes rushing back in. Lucina becomes all too aware of the audience, turning slowly to face them.
Everyone’s dressed nicely, the setting sun making their Sol skin glow more than it already does.
Her Grace is here, sitting up front, flanked by Ceres and Laverna.
Aunt May is seated behind them, and Raphael, the leader of the Mender coven, sits beside her.
Pa is here too, sitting quietly in the back beside Sedona—head of Lakelets.
And then there’s Aster, who looks back at Lucina as if she’s never seen her before.
Typically, when memories are stolen or altered, there’s a big fuzzy spot where they used to be. It’s similar to forgetting the words to a song when the melody is on the tip of the tongue, or trying to remember a name someone gave in passing. It’s right there. But then it isn’t.
The blatant look of confusion on Aster’s face is almost impossible not to laugh at.
I’ve got an arsenal of weapons at my disposal, but being able to wipe the memory of Lucina from people who don’t deserve it…that might be my new favorite.
Lucina is still taking in the audience as the last of the sun sets over the Yard, and Pax begins instructing everyone on the rules of being witness to initiation: No intervening, no talking, no assistance.
My attention falls to Lucina’s hands, flexing and fisting at her side, soft curls shifting over her shoulder as she moves her head on a swivel.
I can understand how Albatross might have influenced her to be on high alert, but initiation isn’t the kind of danger she can run from or prepare for—she’ll just need to get through it.
Stepping to her side, I brush my fingers across her fidgeting hand, ceasing the movement instantly. Her wide-eyed gaze travels up to my own, her chest rising and falling a bit faster than it was a few minutes ago.
“You’re going to be fine, okay? I promise.”
Lucina nods, but it’s weak.
“Chaos, do you believe that you’re capable?”
She hesitates, staring back at me for a long moment before she reaches some sort of decision within herself and nods. “Yes.”
“Good.” I gently take her hand. “And do you trust me?”
Lucina glances once more at the crowd, then decides with a stronger nod, “I do.”
“Good girl.”
As soon as Pax finishes, I pull on her hand, guiding her forward. All eyes shift to me, and I’m about to address the audience when my attention snags on some sort of movement in shrubbery that lines the Yard.
Kimber ducks down a second too late, and when Lucina’s friends realize they’ve been caught, Selene flips me off over the top of the hedge.
Gemma’s hand shoots up, trying desperately to swat Selene’s away, and when I look over at Cin, she’s staring down at her shoes, the ghost of a smile on her lips.
Deciding it’s a battle I’m in no mood to fight, I force out a deep breath and present Lucina to the audience. “Our initiate.” I swallow, glancing at Delia. “Lucina Van Reenan.”
A wave of shocked inhales crests over the crowd, and I feel Lucina’s eyes on me. They’re more angry than fearful, but I didn’t have a choice. We have to prove she’s of Disciple-born blood for her to be in this coven.
“I had to,” I tell her, watching as her anger shifts into apprehension. I’ve just shoved her under a microscope, and she has no idea what to do next. “It’s okay, Cin,” I promise with a squeeze of my hand as I nod to the crowd. “But they’re going to need proof.”
It takes her a second to realize what I’m asking.
Then another second for her to decide it’s okay.
That it doesn’t need to be her secret anymore.
Being a part of a coven is the safest place Lucina can be.
Anyone out there who has a problem with her ancestry would be making an enemy out of everyone standing on this stage.
The audience watches wide-eyed as Lucina takes a cautious step forward. Her shoulders rise with her breath, and on her exhale, she cracks the lid on her magic.
I feel it instantly.
A mighty wave of power spills over the platform, spreading across the dirt, and I watch May grab hold of Raphael’s arm. I see Sedona lean forward in her chair, chest lifted as if she’s prepared to stand to get a better view.
Lucina maintains her composure as a thin line of gold ink appears at her fingertips, snaking around her wrists and winging up her arms. The metallic mark shimmers as it circles her neck, and I exhale a shallow breath as it completes itself in a perfect crown of gold across her forehead.
No one in the audience speaks.
Granted, with the rules of initiation, they aren’t permitted to, but honestly, I think most of them are speechless.
The Dianic coven knew of Lucina’s heritage, and judging by the serene expression on Pa’s face, some Diviner glimpse into the future must have revealed it to him, but no one else knew. Raphael, Sedona, Aster, May even—they aren’t sure what to do with themselves.
Lucina, I can tell, is thankful for the silence. She exhales, locking her magic away with the breath, and the golden mark fades from her skin. At the straightening of her shoulders, I wonder how heavy it was for her to keep that kind of secret. I’m glad it’s no longer weighing her down.
The second this is over, news of her bloodline will burn through camp like a spark on a line of gasoline, but she’ll be an Ajax by then. A part of a coven. To get to her, you’d have to get through all six of us first. And me twice.
“Alright.” Taking her hand, I guide her to the dais, and when she sees the knife resting atop it, her stare snaps up to mine. “It’s fine,” I tell her, but my calm tone does nothing to soothe her. “Lucina, what you are about to experience is fake. But it will feel real. You must remember it isn’t.”
She glares back at me. “I really fucking hate you right now.”
“I know,” I exhale, relieved that she’s more angry than scared. I can deal with anger. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Turning from the dais, I nod to Easton. “You first.”
The way initiation works is simple. We’ve each chosen moments in our lives where we felt the most pain. Moments that shaped us, broke us, and sank us straight to the bottom. One by one, we will share that memory with Lucina, and we will relive it with her.
She will have to endure it with us, the way we remember it. She will experience every ounce of pain, every broken heart, and when she makes it through, we’ll endure her memory together. All of us.
The coven is your family. We share each other's pain. We’re bonded through our worst memories, our lowest points—a tether linking us to rock bottom as a reminder that we will never be there alone.
Easton approaches the dais and grabs the knife. Lucina’s throat bobs, and she watches wide-eyed as he pricks his thumb, waiting for a bead of blood to appear before he gently takes her hand. Easton releases a deep breath and smears his blood in the center of Lucina’s open palm.
Their bodies snap rod-straight, freezing in place, still staring at each other, but their expressions are lifeless. Their bodies are still here—on the platform—but their souls are not.