Chapter 9
Jessamine only made it to dinner before Sybil cornered her. She was walking down the hall toward the exit of the main building when suddenly a dark hand grabbed her arm and yanked her into a closet.
She barely balanced the cup of thin broth in her hand. “Scalding-hot soup,” she hissed as the door closed behind her and they were both sent careening into darkness.
“You’re a witch.”
“I thought burning was something witches worried about,” she muttered.
Sybil lit a candle that cast shadows from beneath her face, sending her scowl into an even more dangerous-looking expression. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“It’s not.” Sybil gestured with the candle at her soup. “Put it down, then, we have work to do.”
“What work? I’m going to eat this and go to bed. I think I’ve done enough work.” Leaning forward, she blew out the candle in Sybil’s hand and then reached for the door.
But the handle was locked, likely by magic, and the candle immediately burst back into flames. The orange pillar stretched nearly six inches high before it died back down to a reasonable size, reflecting Sybil’s annoyance.
Sighing, Jessamine put the cup of soup down on a shelf.
They were surrounded by cleaning supplies.
Four brooms, buckets, glass containers filled with what she could only assume was birdseed considering all the animals Elissa had in this place.
She really had hoped to get away with not having to do all this tonight, but apparently she didn’t have much of a choice.
“Fine. What is it?”
“Elissa needs to be brought into the coven.”
“She already has. Elric cracked her chest open and gave her all the magic, remember? We both watched that.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean she’s part of the coven. Not yet, at least.” Sybil handed the candle over to Jessamine. “We need to find out what kind of witch she is.”
“So you’re going to beat her over the head with a black book like you did me? I think the poor thing has gone through enough lately.”
Another glare nearly leveled her. “You needed to be beaten over the head with a book. Elissa is delicate. She needs a lighter hand to prove that this is something she might want.”
“Why didn’t I get a lighter hand?”
She could answer that question for herself. But Sybil’s expression was very obvious on its own.
Jessamine rolled her eyes. “Fine. Why am I involved, though? I’m not part of the coven.”
“Oh, I apologize. I didn’t realize the princess needed her beauty rest and didn’t want to see the coven at work.” Sybil crossed her arms over her chest.
“By all the gods dead and alive, you are the worst friend I’ve ever had,” Jessamine muttered before grabbing the now-unlocked door and throwing it open. “Fine. What are we doing?”
“Lovely! I knew you’d be interested. Get Elissa and join me in the garden.”
Sybil waltzed away, clearly pleased that she had gotten her way. The ragged ends of her skirts flared around a corner, and then she was gone.
Muttering under her breath about witches with personalities that were too big for their own right, Jessamine made her way to Elissa’s room. A few knocks and the door swung open.
Elissa’s eyes were ringed with red. The hollows around them were filled with shadows, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in a week.
Probably hadn’t. The woman had gone through so much in the short amount of time since they’d burst into her home.
Jessamine wasn’t surprised in the slightest that she was exhausted.
“Would you come with me?” Jessamine asked.
“Why?”
“Sybil has something planned.”
Elissa started to close the door. “I think I’d like to be alone tonight.”
Well, that left her no choice. Jessamine caught her hand on the edge of the door and forced it to stay open or crush her fingers. “It’s not something scary. I promise. We’re just… finding out what kind of witch you’re going to be, apparently.”
“I still don’t know if I even want to be a witch.”
“And it’s still too late for you to be second-guessing all of this.” Jessamine smiled. “I know it’s a lot. But a walk in the moonlight with a couple witches isn’t going to kill you.”
“It sounds like something that definitely will get me killed.” But Elissa sighed, settling a silver wrap around her shoulders, and came out of her bedroom.
She was such a tiny little thing. The moonlight framed her lithe body beneath her pale nightgown as they both strolled toward the gardens in the back.
The night seemed to come alive around them.
Moonlight turned everything molten silver, with the trees’ leaves edged in a shimmering glow.
Fireflies had woken, each of them dancing around the petals of flowers that filled the air with the sweet scent of peonies.
It really was lovely back here on the meandering paths through a flower garden that rivaled any Jessamine had seen in her life.
And there, in the center of this small garden, sat Sybil in a circle of candles.
The elderly witch had spread her colorful skirts around her, and somehow those gave her an aura of wisdom.
Each of the white pillars burned merrily, and the air was filled with magic.
Jessamine could feel it dancing over her, like little bubbles of fizzling power popping all along her skin.
“Welcome, witches,” Sybil said, her voice carrying through the garden with purpose. “We gather together to welcome a new witch into the coven, and to discover what power you might have.”
Elissa looked at Jessamine, then back at the other witch. “Me?”
“You,” Jessamine replied with a soft chuckle. She nudged her forward. “Step into the circle with Sybil.”
As much as Jessamine wanted to join them, she knew she couldn’t.
Some part of her still could not fully be part of this coven.
Someday, she would have to return to being a princess.
She had other responsibilities and so much more to worry about.
Joining the coven felt like a promise she wasn’t all that certain she could keep.
For now, she was a gravesinger, and that was enough.
So she stepped back, sitting on a small bench near the circle and leaning forward to brace her elbows on her knees.
Sybil extended her hands for Elissa to take, gently guiding the other woman onto the soft ground. They knelt together, a picture of two opposites. One pale woman with ghostly hair in the moonlight, the other all shadows and darkness.
“Do not be afraid,” Sybil said. “There is nothing scary about finding your own power.”
“It feels terrifying,” Elissa replied. “I don’t know who I am anymore. One moment, I was just a woman who bred birds, and now? Now what am I?”
“A witch, darling.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It is what you make it.” Sybil’s hands tightened on hers, drawing Elissa’s fingers to open, palms up. “Being a witch is a wondrous thing. Do you remember the kind of magic your great-great-grandmother had?”
“She controlled bodies.”
Well, that was ominous. Jessamine frowned and tried to decipher the expression that crossed Sybil’s face. Was that a bad thing? They could certainly use someone that powerful in their coven, but also, what did that even mean?
Sybil revealed no emotion, however. “That is a rare gift. You fear it?”
“My family was known to do terrible things with that power. My mother was the first to go against that dark magic, and she died for it. I don’t want to do what they did, but I don’t want to die either.
” Elissa cleared her throat. “I’m not sure I’d be very good at any magic, though. Look at what I did to… to…”
Jessamine couldn’t help herself. “My power has gotten out of control before as well. It’s not the same, I suppose, because it isn’t really my magic.
I take it directly from Elric and turn it into something else.
But I know what it feels like to have the intent to do one thing and then somehow end up doing it wrong. ”
A flashing memory of Benji choking to death in front of her turned her palms sweaty. She wiped them on the knees of her pants before leaning forward again. She met Elissa’s startled gaze with a soft smile.
The young woman’s throat bobbed in a harsh swallow. “I’m terrified that it will happen again.”
“It happens. We learn and we move on. Living in our mistakes is like walking with ghosts. Why cling to them?”
“Walking with ghosts,” Elissa muttered. “I suppose you’re right.
I feel like I’ve done that my entire life.
My family line has always held on to that bottle of power with far too much reverence.
It was the last bit of power we had left from your god, but we wouldn’t use it even in the most dire of circumstances.
My mother taught me the old spells, but she never even let me hold that vial of power.
She told me I wasn’t good enough to use that magic yet.
I wasn’t mature enough. And even after she’d passed, I couldn’t make myself touch it. Not even to save Sarah.”
“Familial ties run deep,” Sybil said, shifting in front of her to draw the attention back to the circle.
“But now is not about the women who came before you. It is about you, dear Elissa. Joining the coven with an open mind and also perhaps with the intent to learn what it is that you can do. By yourself. Not with anyone else watching you.”
Jessamine watched the young witch draw her strength into herself.
Perhaps it was the stillness of the garden and the magic that now soaked even the flower petals with drips of power.
Or perhaps it was merely that she was ready for this.
After all those years of carrying the expectations of her family tree, now she could finally do something with herself.
“Are you ready?” Sybil asked.
Elissa nodded.
“Breathe with, me then, witch. Together we draw the magic from your chest. It is a process, and you should not fear it. Fighting me will only hinder us.”
Perhaps Elissa’s face was a little paler than before, but she did nod. “I won’t fight you.”