Demon’s Beauty (Crescent Coven #4)

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Soleil

Esme Hawthorn looks as pleased as I’ve ever seen her.

It’s still nowhere near happy or even content, but as the High Priestess leans back in her chair with her arms folded over her chest, her eyes sparkle with a satisfaction only a handful of witches ever get to see.

To have the Crescent Coven’s leader look at me like that should be a blessing. It should be all the confirmation I need that I’m on the right track. I’ve made the right decision.

Instead, I feel like I might puke.

My heart is in my throat, the sensation of falling and flying all at the same time.

Every muscle tense, waiting, barely able to stay in my seat as I wait for her to pass judgment.

I’m right on the edge of fleeing this room and never looking back.

I’ve got no idea where those thoughts are coming from, no idea what to do about them.

But I’ve got over two decades of practice hiding my feelings when I’m in the Crescent Coven hall, so I make myself smile. Not effusively, but with eyes downcast, demure, like all smart witches know to act in front of the High Priestess.

I should be grinning after the day I’ve had.

My final qualifying test with the coven’s potions master just concluded. Priestess Sonja is an exacting mentor with expectations and standards high enough to send other witches running toward a course of study less tedious to master.

But I passed her exam with flying colors.

Three days. I’ve spent three days babysitting the dreamsbane potion she set as my task to make. The finicky, devastatingly temperamental brew required me to give up nights of my own dreaming to check in on it around the clock.

And it came out perfectly.

Sonja tested it and spent last night lucid dreaming, walking through dreamlands that had her as close to beaming as I’ve ever seen her when she woke and cast her final judgment this morning.

I should be riding high, taking a victory lap, resting on my laurels, and ready to take the next step into the life I’ve been striving for since I was a child.

To become one of the exalted few Crescent Coven priestesses. To sit on the council and make decisions for the entire coven.

To finally have a real voice here after so many years following orders.

“I have no doubt your Ascension will go smoothly,” Esme says, and my heart sinks even further. “Just three weeks until Samhain, and you’ll take the place that’s always been waiting for you.”

“I hope the Goddess finds me worthy.”

Her smile sours a little, like that wasn’t the answer she was expecting, but I only get a glimpse before she schools her features back into neutrality.

“I’m sure she will.” The High Priestess gestures toward the door. “Now, I hear you’ve got a full day ahead. Priestess Marjorie told me about the problem you’re helping her with.”

My molars grind together, but I make myself nod and stand. “Yes. Goddess willing, we’ll get her all sorted out.”

Oh yes, Goddess willing.

I absolutely can’t wait to spend the day tinkering with an anti-wrinkle concoction that will meet her oh so high standards.

I’m almost to the door, still stewing in resentment about how I’ll have to spend my day instead of doing some useful, meaningful work, when Esme speaks again.

“Soleil.”

I turn back to face her.

Set against the backdrop of the High Priestess’s study, she really does cut an imposing figure. Especially when she stands, magick rolling off her in waves like it always does, a reminder of just what sort of witch it takes to hold the coven’s highest office.

“Yes?”

Esme looks me up and down, eyes narrowing. Like she can see the resentment I’m biting back. Like she can see my doubts, my misgivings, everything I’ve buried under the facade she and the other priestesses are so very good at teaching their protégés how to conceal themselves behind.

The one I’ll wear forever, when I Ascend.

“It would be good for you to spend these next few weeks meditating on the change you’re about to undergo,” Esme says.

Pleasant. Still so pleasant, though the sharp metallic tang of magick on the air serves as warning enough.

“It’s not to be taken lightly, and not for the faint of heart.

And after you make it, this coven is going to be your first, last, and only priority. Do you understand?”

Do I understand?

Of course I do. I’ve known the stakes my entire life. We all do.

My magick, tied to the coven. My allegiance, first and foremost and forevermore belonging to my fellow witches. Power, responsibility, sacrifice.

It’s what I’ve wanted since I knew what wanting meant.

What I thought my sister and I would have together, someday.

But Seren’s not here, so it’s up to me to face Esme on my own, put on that mask, and nod.

“Yes, High Priestess.”

“Good. Then that’s all, Soleil.”

Taking one step back, then another, never turning my back on her, I leave the room. I close the door with a soft thud, and stand in silence for a heartbeat, then two.

I can’t breathe.

Somewhere, in a detached, rational corner of my mind, I wonder if I’m going into some sort of anaphylactic shock. Maybe an allergic reaction. Or a pulmonary embolism. Because I’m not getting any air into my lungs, and there certainly must be a good reason for it.

Of course there’s a reason.

There’s always a reason.

All Crescent witches joke that the High Priestess must get some kind of all-knowing clairvoyance upon her Ascension to the coven’s highest office. Some kind of power to see all our transgressions, our lies, our faults.

A joke, but one that’s always rung more than a little true to me.

Esme knows.

She must know.

There’s no way she doesn’t know I saw Seren before she went back into the demon realm, that I helped her, gave her medicines crafted from my own stores—from the coven’s stores—to keep her safe on her travels.

Once a witch goes apostate—turning her back on the coven entirely—offering that sort of help is strictly forbidden.

When you’re out of the coven, you’re out of the coven. All on your own in the world.

It doesn’t matter if you left behind friends, if you spent your whole life building relationships that are ended overnight.

It doesn’t matter if you left behind your sister. Your twin.

Seren made her choice.

I made mine.

I stayed, and for a long time I was so angry Seren couldn’t see why. I was so angry she threw all her years of training back in Esme’s face, abandoned our plan to Ascend together, the silly little fantasy we had that maybe one day we could be High Priestesses, running the coven together.

I felt so righteous, so right, so hurt that she threw me away, too.

And now…

Descending the main stairs back to the coven hall’s entrance chamber in half a trance, I almost don’t notice the witch standing at the front door until I nearly run into her.

“Whoa,” Allie says, hand on my shoulder as I careen out of her way. “You alright?”

“I… yeah. Fine. I’m fine.”

Little furrows of concern show on her forehead as she studies me, then nods toward the floor above. “Just come from Esme’s office?”

I huff a small, tense laugh. “Yes.”

“Sorry about that.”

Another laugh, and I run a hand through my hair, still a rumpled mess from the days I’ve spent brewing.

“At least I caught her between meetings,” Allie says with a sigh. “What kind of mood is she in today?”

“She’s… well. In a very High Priestess mood.”

Allie snorts. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

“You’re meeting with her?” I’m desperate for a change of subject. Some small talk. Anything to get my mind off my own problems.

“You could call it that. ‘Meeting’ sort of implies it’ll be a two-way conversation though, you know?”

“At least you’ve got another realm to go back to when you’re finished. That’s gotta count for something.”

She gives me a searching look before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I suppose that’s true.”

Goddess, that sounds good. A trip through the Veil to another world. One without High Priestesses or inter-coven politics or a future I’d do just about anything to put off right now.

It sounds so good my whole body aches.

So good that I open my mouth and start talking before my brain has caught up to what it is I’m going to say.

“Would you take me with you?”

Now where the hell did that come from?

Allie doesn’t owe me anything; she certainly doesn’t owe it to me to take me back with her. She’s got an entire freaking realm to rule. Sure, we’ve crossed paths in the past, notably when she brought me over to help cure Joan’s poisoning, but we’re not exactly friends.

She arches an eyebrow. “Where? To the demon realm?”

“Yes.” I nod, a shaky plan forming at the edges of my mind.

An escape.

“Vayla… she… the last time I was in the demon realm, she asked for my help in working through some of the potions recipes in Ariana’s grimoire,” I say, not really knowing where I’m going with this, but determined to make it up along the way.

“We didn’t have the chance to get started before I had to come back here and start preparing for my Ascension, so… ”

“So you… want to go back and help her?”

“Yes.”

That eyebrow’s nearly touching her hairline now. “Isn’t your Rite in like… a couple of weeks? On Samhain?”

“Yes.”

Allie’s gaze darts back and forth over my face, understanding dawning in her expression.

Of course she would understand.

Who would know better how very, very badly someone could need an escape from this place than Esme Hawthorn’s daughter?

“Yeah,” she says, nodding toward the door. “Yeah, I can take you back with me. Is there anything you need to grab?”

The bottom drops out of my stomach as I think of my little room in the dormitory wing, my workshop down in the cellar, mind racing as I try to come up with a list of things I can’t bear to leave behind.

Stop. I need to stop. I can’t think like that.

This is just… a short trip.

A vacation to clear my mind. Some time away to work on an interesting project with Vayla and get some distance and perspective.

I’m sure once I do, I’ll realize all this angst over my Ascension is just an overreaction on my part.