Chapter 2
Jessamine was practically vibrating by the time they made it back to the manor. No one spoke. The few times she tried to ask a question, both Elric and Sybil cast her a glance that said she needed to shut her mouth. But she didn’t understand why they weren’t speaking.
There was no one here. No one had come to the manor since she’d been here, nor for years before that. The last raid by the crown had made everyone quite certain there were no witches lingering in this house, thanks to Sybil. Surely no one would overhear them.
But no one said a word until they were inside.
She trailed along behind them toward the kitchen, which was odd on its own.
Elric preferred meeting in the tombs, or in the room with all of his siblings’ statues.
He rarely met with them in the kitchen because that was where Sybil was at her strongest. Knowing that he was leading them there?
Surely that wasn’t a good sign. He never gave Sybil the upper hand.
Which could only mean this was a conversation that she would not like.
Both she and Sybil filed past their god, each of them taking a seat at the island.
Elric stayed by the door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He wouldn’t even make eye contact with her; instead, he stared at the floor.
Sybil burst up from her seat and started pulling herbs down from where they hung on the ceiling, muttering to herself as she started cooking.
Opening her mouth to say something, Jessamine paused as Nyx bolted into the room. Her familiar had clearly been hunting. There were cobwebs hanging from the kitten’s whiskers. She didn’t slow her wild careening run, somehow making the leap onto the table and skidding to a stop on the counter.
Once there, the tiny black cat merely cleaned her paws and started removing the cobwebs. As though they couldn’t start talking until the familiar was with them.
Shaking her head, Jessamine focused on the witch, who was currently piling a plate high with vegetables and herbs.
“You only cook when you’re nervous,” Jessamine said. “Another witch is a good thing, isn’t it?”
“In a way,” Sybil muttered. “Another witch could mean many things. Perhaps she is one of our coven that I missed from the old days. That would probably not be a good thing, considering some of the other witches in the coven were more bloodthirsty than others.”
“They were all bloodthirsty,” Elric interjected. Jessamine noticed his hands were clenched into fists against his ribs. “That is the least of our worries. I remember them all, Sybil. This is not one of the originals.”
“Ah, well.” Sybil set a cutting board down hard on the island.
The sharp crack made Jessamine jump. “Might I suggest that with the Deathless One back in his physical form, more magic has been released into this world? Those who have a proclivity to magic may be feeling that power for the first time.”
“She knew the old words,” he said, the words almost sounding… sad. “She said them correctly. Someone trained her.”
“Then it is a witch we do not know who has decided to worship you after all this time.” Sybil appeared troubled. Her brows drew down in concentration as she placed a wrinkled green pepper and a mushy onion on the cutting board. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
Jessamine was having a hard time following. “I’d imagine it’s good? You two were so adamant that I should accept who I was as a gravesinger, so I find it hard to believe you’re uninterested in this new person.”
Neither of them spoke.
Jessamine looked between them. They were either hiding something from her or they were both thinking the same thing.
Elric was still looking at the floor, a frown on his face and those scarred brows creating furrows between his eyes.
Sybil stared at her cooking, chopping the vegetables a little too hard.
The knife in her hand left gouges in the cutting board, and the blade flashed unnaturally fast.
Neither of them spoke, clearly waiting for the other to say something. And here she was, in the dark, like she always seemed to be.
She leaned forward and braced her elbows on the kitchen island. “All right. Which one of you is going to explain this to me?”
Sybil flinched before cutting the green pepper so hard that the knife stuck in the cutting board.
She sighed before leaving the knife where it was.
“We wanted you to accept who you were as a gravesinger because you were the only person who could bring him back to life. A resurrection is done by a gravesinger and a gravesinger alone.”
“Yes, you’ve made it ever so clear that I am not the same as a regular witch.” A distinction that still stung a bit. “I don’t see how you’re fine with a gravesinger, but not a witch.”
Elric’s foot shifted on the floor, and both women froze to look over at him. His shoulders had lifted in discomfort, just slightly. Enough that Jessamine noticed how uneasy he was.
His voice was raspy and low as he replied.
“Another coven member makes the coven stronger, that much is certain. But another witch brings about her own wants and desires. Needs we cannot control. Sacrifice makes me stronger and feeds into my power, but if I accept it, I must make another witch powerful in return.”
“And that is bad because?”
“Because a witch can ask for anything in return. A witch is unpredictable. We do not know this woman or what she will want. We only know that she worships me now, and that comes with its own chains.”
Looking at him, she finally understood where his fear came from.
More witches meant more people who might want to hurt him.
Another witch could bring up the idea of sacrificing him again, depending on what she wanted or what the kingdom needed.
Witches were selfish at the best of times.
But then, who wasn’t when they lived in a kingdom that was crumbling at their feet?
Sybil’s honeyed voice broke through the silence.
“Witches are stronger together. A coven is the most powerful group of women that has ever existed. We live and breathe for each other. Our magic comes from the Deathless One, yes. He gifts it to us as you have seen him gift it to me. He would need to bind himself in the same way to this new woman. He can give and take the magic that she has, and in return, the sacrifices we make in his name give him more power.”
Another woman. Another mind. She understood that things could be complicated, depending on who this woman was. But a particular phrase Sybil had said stuck with her above all else.
“Witches are stronger together,” Jessamine repeated.
She reached for Nyx, dragging the cat into her lap so she had something soft to pet.
“That’s what this all boils down to. It doesn’t matter what we think or want or fear.
We are stronger together, and in times like these, I think we need to look toward strength. ”
There was a flare of pride in Sybil’s eyes, and perhaps something a little greedy as well. Because the words that slipped out of the witch’s mouth were, “If we want to look toward power, gravesinger, then sacrifice is the only option.”
In a flash, Elric disappeared.
Not to the realm where he had once hidden, but somewhere else in the manor, most likely. He was no longer in the doorway, and Jessamine felt the absence of his presence so deeply. Even Nyx grumbled in her lap, the discontented sound of a cat who wanted to leave.
Sybil cursed. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. I should have known he would—”
“It’s all right,” Jessamine interrupted. “I’ll get him.”
“Jessamine.” Sybil grabbed her arm, forcing her to remain where she was.
“You’re right, you know. We need to build a coven if we’re going to continue to support you.
I know he believes a god can mold this world into his own image, but it will be easier for people to see you as a queen if you do not have a god king at your side. ”
The words echoed in her mind as she nodded and slipped out of the kitchen to find him.
First, she looked in the room where the statues of his family still stood.
But he wasn’t lurking in their shadows, as he so often was.
Nor was he in the great room with the chandelier still broken in the center of the floor.
She’d almost given up on finding him before she passed by the door to her bedroom and noticed that the curtain had been shifted.
Carefully moving it aside, she saw he was sitting on her bed. Back rounded, head in his hands, he looked like someone had left an old jacket there in a forgotten heap.
“Elric,” she murmured, stopping in front of him.
“Don’t,” he replied in that raspy tone. “I know what I have to do.”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“You heard what she said. A sacrifice is the next reasonable step.” He removed his hands from his face, looking up at her with dark rings around his eyes and the weight of the world on his shoulders.
She’d never seen him look so tired. Not sad or worried or plagued with fear. Just bone-deep tired.
Dragging her thumbs along the dark circles beneath his gaze, she stepped between his legs as he looped his arms around her hips. “Why are you sad?”
“They will beg you to sacrifice me soon enough. And one day you will see the reason in it. You will regret your vow to me, but a vow to a god cannot be broken.” His hands spasmed against her back.
“You will die trying to protect me, and there is no way to stop the future that barrels toward us. The coven is just the first step toward that end.”
“The coven will be what we make it,” she insisted. “You will be the god we serve and you will not have to die.”
“It is a pleasant dream.”