20 #2
I sink onto the blanket, and she takes a spot on the opposite side, tucking her legs beneath her. I’m sorely tempted to reach over and tug her closer.
Patience.
I need to have patience.
I’m here to woo my witch, not muck things up by getting overeager and ahead of myself.
So instead of getting her right up next to me like all my instincts are hollering at me to do, I start in on the spread. I give Soleil a bit of everything—roasted meats, bread, even a bit of fresh fish someone caught earlier in the river, and a salad of greens foraged from the woods.
We both dig in with gusto. She tells me about the work they concluded today, and for a delightful hour I delude myself into thinking everything could be just as simple as this.
A night beneath the stars with my mate, a lovely meal shared between us. Nothing more we need to worry about than what diversions we’ll occupy ourselves with when we return to court.
But reality intrudes, like it always does, and as we finish our meal and start in on a couple of pastries and fresh berries for dessert, Soleil lounges back on the blanket, tips her head toward the night sky above and sighs.
“A berry for your thoughts?” I ask, holding out the ripest, juiciest hearthberry from my bowl.
She gives me a half-smile as she reaches out to take it, though I’d much sooner feed it to her myself.
“I was just thinking I never have nights like this in the human realm.”
“No?” I tease. “No nights on the mountain with the threat of drakon fire hanging over your head?”
She rolls her eyes. “I meant, no nights with a handsome demon and the best picnic I’ve ever had. Though the drakons make it all that much more exciting.”
“There could be more of these nights,” I say, because I can’t help myself. “Maybe not always a picnic, but I can promise the handsome demon wouldn’t mind it if you stuck around.”
She laughs softly. “Always a flirt, aren’t you?”
“Just the way the Goddess made me.”
Soleil gives her head a rueful shake, and her eyes slide away from me. They drift to the small fire, which pops and crackles and casts its golden light over us both.
For a few long moments, neither of us say anything.
Have I just ruined the moment?
Probably.
Whatever’s weighing on my witch’s mind, she’s obviously holding it close to her chest. Perhaps it’s not something she’s ready to tell me, but I’ve always been a hasty, impatient creature, so I can’t resist trying one more time.
“Unless that’s not something you want?”
The soft question puts a furrow on her brow, a little crinkle of concern I’d like to lean over and kiss away.
“I’ve been struggling with it,” she admits, still not meeting my gaze. “The whole mates thing and what it means for me. For us.”
I take her hand again and rub soothing strokes over her palm with my thumb. “There’s no hurry to figure it out. It’s alright to take the time you need to.”
“It’s not. It’s… I don’t know how to…” she trails off, breath coming out of her in a frustrated huff. She looks out over the field of stellarin blooms, eyes unfocused as if she’s not seeing them at all. “I’m supposed to Ascend soon. On Samhain.”
I tilt my head, trying to get a better look at her. “Ascend?”
“It’s a coven thing. Very few witches ever have a chance to do it, and it’s an… it’s an honor, really. Something I’m very grateful for. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be—”
“Hey,” I say softly, squeezing her hand and stopping her runaway thoughts. “Breathe. And back up a little. What is Ascending, exactly?”
She does as I ask and takes a deep breath, gathers herself before she continues. “It’s a pledge we make to the coven. A binding. It makes us members of the Crescent Coven Council, connecting our magick to all our sister witches.”
“What else does it mean?” There’s something she’s not saying, but I can’t quite figure out what.
“It means the coven is my life. I’ll sit on the council. I’ll be responsible for educating the generations of witches who follow me, for strengthening our community, deepening our magick, making sure we continue on into the future. My duty as a priestess will come before everything else.”
Ah, now I understand.
A whole life, tied to her coven.
It doesn’t leave room for much else, does it?
Despite my growing certainty, I have to let myself believe I’m wrong, have to ask her anyway.
“And witches who go through this Ascension, they don’t have mates?”
Soleil shakes her head. “Well, mates aren’t really a thing for most humans, but husbands? Spouses? No, witches who’ve Ascended don’t have that. They might have lovers, or other types of informal partners, but their first and last allegiance is to the coven.”
“Sounds like a lonely life,” I murmur.
“Sure, it might seem that way. But it’s also…
important. The Ascension ritual ties our magick to the coven.
It strengthens us all, helps us stay safe.
The Crescent Coven has existed in one form or another for nearly a millenia, mainly on the strength of the witches who’ve dedicated their lives to ensuring it endures. ”
The words don’t sound like they belong to her entirely.
Not that I’d accuse her of falsehood, but something about the way she says them sounds like she’s reciting a lesson, not speaking from her own heart.
But what do I know about it?
Her life is a mystery to me; her coven and her relationship to it are complicated and very obviously important to her.
“And this is the path you’ve chosen?”
“I…” Again, she hesitates, trails off, shakes her head to clear whatever worries plague her. “It’s a path I’ve been on since I was a child.”
It’s still only half an answer, and it fills me with an icy whisper of dread.
Where does that leave her? Where does that leave us? Perhaps she’d always intended to live this way: no bonds, no marriage, only a sliver of room at the edge of her life for someone to care for her.
A lover. A partner of some sort.
But not a husband.
And certainly not a true mate.
The commitment mates make to one another in the light of the Goddess would surely not be allowed if simple marriage is not.
“You don’t have to decide anything right now, at least not where I’m concerned,” I tell her, though the words don’t sit quite right even as I say them.
Could I be alright with an arrangement like that?
A half-life between us, instead of the bond I might imagine if I let my own desires run away from me?
I barely know Soleil, but still, it feels like a loss.
The idea that a full life with my mate might be out of reach puts an ache squarely in the center of my chest.
But isn’t that always the way with me?
Never fully committed to anything, one foot perpetually out the door. Why would the Goddess, in all her infinite wisdom, think I was worthy of anything more?
The idea of not having Soleil at all is a thousand times worse than the idea of trying to find some sort of middle ground, though, so I make myself push all that self-pitying nonsense aside.
“We can take our time,” I continue, and though she looks at me like she’s not quite convinced, she nods slowly. “And while we do…”
Soleil meets my gaze, and magick blooms to life in my chest.
Goddess, those eyes.
I’ll never get over them.
“While we do?” she prompts.
“While we do, all I would like is to spend some more time with you.”
“I’d like to spend some more time with you, too.”
I hold my arms out to her, and she scoots across the blanket until she’s in my embrace. Her back to my chest, settled between my thighs, knees bent in front of her as she gets comfortable.
The feel of her soft, curvy body against mine is heaven.
So is the scent of her.
Her magick, powerful copper and earth.
The perfume of stellarin blooms still clinging to her skin, a bit of campfire smoke, the bracing mountain air.
All of it is so appealing that I can’t help but lean down and get some more straight from the source. Soleil giggles softly at my excess, at the way I breathe her in and rumble my approval in my chest.