Chapter 23
Non
Hours later, I was nursing one of the blackberry gins I swore I wasn't going to touch.
I had to give it to Addae's friends; it was delicious. And thankfully, it didn't seem to have the overwhelming effect that the spelled wine had on me.
Once the nomination part of the evening had concluded, the leaders had disappeared back into their pabell. Granny hadn't so much as looked at me as she made her way into the tent. The thought of having a conversation with her after today's events made me take a big gulp of gin.
As I traced my hands over the smooth log that I sat on, my fingers caught on the leather handle beside me.
I picked up the dagger and unsheathed it for the first time since Caerwyn had presented it to me hours earlier.
Although beautiful, the dagger was peculiar-looking.
Not that I had any experience with weapons, but the shape of this one was unusual.
The blade was wide and tapered to a point at the end, but it wasn't narrow enough to do much stabbing. I resheathed it and picked up my tankard, taking another long drink of the sweet liquor.
Just as I stood to go find Addae for a refill, Jazz slumped down in the seat next to me.
“Hi, stranger.”
Jazz let out a long sigh and ran their hand down their face.
“Today was a disaster.”
A laugh burst from my throat along with a hiccup. Jazz pinched the bridge of their nose and let out a long breath.
“I'm glad you find all of this so amusing. You do realise Bron will be foaming at the mouth the next time you meet with her, right?”
I bit back my smirk as I circled the dregs of alcohol around the bottom of my cup. “Addae told me about the bet you made over dinner. Fancy wagering on what my grandmother will flip her lid over first? My money is on the dress.”
Jazz shook their head. “She'll be the angriest about the Anoethau nomination. She specifically told you to stay clear of anything to do with it.”
“Remind me again how that's my fault? She should take that grievance up with the Pen Arwr.”
A handsome Central Wielder who was handing out the gin stumbled past us. I stuck my cup out for a refill, but he seemed to look to Jazz for confirmation before refilling my cup. He offered the bottle to Jazz, but they declined.
“You might not have signed yourself up, but she'll still rain hell on you for pulling Aeron's attention your way.”
I scoffed over my drink. “Again, not my fault.”
Jazz ran a hand through their hair and studied the burning Aelwyd in front of us. “No, you're right, it's not. But I can't see Bron owning her mistakes; trying to keep you a secret from Aeron backfired big time.”
I studied Jazz's face as they watched the fire burn. Their jaw worked with what seemed like words they wanted to say but couldn't quite form.
“What does Aeron gain by making me take part in these trials anyway?”
Jazz was quiet for a long moment; crowds of Wielders and Witches stumbled past us as they made their way to a maypole that was being erected.
“It hasn't always been like this, someone like Aeron ruling above the other Ledrs of the Covens. For as long as people can remember, each Coven ruled equally over its jurisdiction. When a collective decision needed to be made, each Ledr and Ail would come together and deal with it diplomatically. Not long after your grandfather passed, the attacks from Gwaun and his followers were becoming more frequent. Your grandmother had taken a temporary step back from ruling to cope with her grief. Needless to say, Aeron saw his opportunity and took it.”
“He just showed up one day and decided he was going to be in charge?”
Jazz shook their head. “No, he was more calculated than that.
Mum had just been selected as a Ledr, but she was young and inexperienced.
Bron had given her vote to Llew by proxy in her absence.
Aeron made sure to visit with the people of each Coven, spread discord by saying that the current Cyngor Blaen wasn't robust enough, and he heavily suggested that Gwaun's attacks were a result of weak leadership. People were scared, and eventually, enough people started to believe him. He called for a vote of no confidence on the grounds that not enough was being done to protect people against Gwaun, and he just so happened to have the perfect solution. One Ledr to oversee the others, then if and when leadership is divided, he gets the final say. The prick even had that stupid name prepared.”
“It's safe to assume you aren't a fan of his?”
Jazz scoffed as they picked up my new dagger, which sat between us, unsheathing it. They held it up to the light of the fire, and I noticed it had the same symbol that hung around my neck engraved at the centre of the blade.
“Not in the slightest. You've probably already guessed from the slippery gazes he's been giving you, but the man is a pig.
That, coupled with the fact that he is a zealot when it comes to the gods, is a recipe for disaster.
Bron hates him, by the way. And deep down, I think Aeron is terrified of her.
For all her flaws, your grandmother is one of the strongest Wielders in the last century.
She's held the title of Ledr since she was in her mid-twenties, and the North has thrived under her rule.
Aeron making you compete is just one big power play.
Imagine how good it looks to the Covens when the great Pen Arwr Aeron puts the daughter of the Orddu in a series of trials that she likely won't walk out of alive? And he gets to punish Bron for keeping you a secret in the process. Aeron comes out on top.” Jazz stabbed the end of my dagger into the wood we sat on. “He always does.”
The cup of gin I'd been nursing slipped from my grip and bounced off the floor.
Jazz swiped it up and apologised, noticing the panic that had overtaken me from hearing the words trials that she likely won't walk out of alive.
Sweat trickled down my spine, and the fire in front of us felt like it was drawing nearer and nearer.
I needed to get away from this conversation immediately.
I ignored Jazz's pleas for forgiveness as I disappeared into the throng of revellers.
After shoving countless sweaty bodies out of the way, I came across the familiar faces of Addae and Alaw, although Alaw's face was buried in the neck of the Wielder who had been handing out gin while she perched on his lap.
As Addae's eyes met my own, they seemed to flash with relief that I'd come to save him from third wheeling.
I could hardly hear myself think over the voices and music, and I found myself having to shout just so Addae could hear me.
“Dance with me!” I demanded, pulling him to his feet.
Addae didn't protest as we made our way to the centre of the makeshift dancefloor.
We hopped from foot to foot more than danced.
I probably looked like an idiot with two left feet, but in the moment, I couldn't have cared less.
I needed to forget about the conversation I'd just had with Jazz and the pressures piling up on my shoulders.
At some point, I managed to acquire a whole bottle of blackberry gin.
After a few meek sips, I eventually let my demons win and glugged the syrupy liquid as it trickled down my chin.
Eventually, the evening became a blur of bodies and laughter, and soon my feet felt like they were going to fall off from dancing so much.
I staggered back in the direction of the log I had been sitting on earlier to see Jazz now deep in conversation with the short, dark-haired Central Wielder who was nominated alongside Mared. Brychan, I think his name was?
Jazz's arms waved in the air as they shouted something in frustration. Eventually, they gave up screaming at the Central Wielder and turned to walk away from the conversation.
Brychan grabbed Jazz's arm and pulled them back with so much force they nearly lost their footing, his meaty fingers digging into their sleeve.
I couldn't hear exactly what was being said between the two from where I stood, but the sneer in Brychan's face told me it wasn't a pleasant exchange.
In the next breath, Brychan grabbed the collar of Jazz's jacket and lifted them a few inches off the floor.
Jazz didn't fight back, didn't even try to use their power to wallop the fucker.
They just grinned as Brychan grew more irate by the second.
I didn't even notice I was moving until I was close enough to the two of them to hear Brychan's snarl of disgust when his eyes met my own. His focus dropped to my hand; I followed his gaze and saw my dagger in my palm, though I had no recollection of picking it up.
My chest felt tight, too fucking tight. That familiar rage had amassed in an instant, and I had no control over my limbs.
Brychan had enough sense to drop Jazz on their feet when he saw my weapon, but he kept his hand fisted in their collar.
“What the fuck do you want?”
For the first time since the night I'd blown up The Pig, the voice that wasn't my own spoke when I replied to Brychan.
“I want you to take your hands off my friend.” I smiled. “Otherwise, I'll remove them for you.”
Brychan hacked a laugh, but his eyes went wide when I unsheathed Carnwennan and angled the edge towards the hand that still gripped Jazz.
Jazz's equally shocked eyes met my own, and they shook their head, clearly not wanting me to interfere. I wished I could have stepped down in that moment, but my power had other plans for me.
Once we remove his meaty little trotters, maybe we can hang them on the wall as a reminder to those who try to touch what's ours next time.