6. Fox #2
I pause and wait for Mariana to speak to her sister directly, but after a moment with no intervention, I answer, “Your concerns will be discussed. The four of us will take to our archives for an answer, but until we are able to come to a concrete conclusion, we ask that you conserve your precious energy. We know that our coven has relied upon our gifts for hundreds of years, but it’s time to look ahead to our future and the generations who may be robbed of that same power if we were to use it frivolously. ”
A few heads nod, a reluctant agreement to heed my warning.
My eyes focus back on my father, who is staring daggers into the back of Alric’s head.
Their constant rivalry has only weathered James Proctor over the years, while Alric has decades of seniority to his advantage.
Alric’s hate had started long before my father was even conceived.
If intent could kill, Alric would have long since smashed our thrones to rubble with his own two hands so he could forge one for himself.
“We’d like to close on this matter and move on to distributing magical stores in the next few days. Hawthorne will reach out to your family leaders when it’s time.” I hold my hands up, relinquishing my time to Mariana.
She closes the meeting with the words used in every ceremony since I was a small child: “Beneficia multorum.”
The dull reverb back to me fills the room before the buzz of conversation starts as council members move to the hallway leading to the front door. Mariana turns to the two of us, and we bow our heads.
Her dark eyes widen and ping between us.
“It’s imperative that, as the wardens of our ancestors’ magic, you find a way to unstopper whatever force is constraining the harvests.
” Mariana is smiling, but her words hold no warmth.
“Time is running short, and if the coven is to make it through the next cycle, you will need to find a way to augment the yield.”
Annoyance bubbles in my chest.
The dwindling magic potency has been a mystery for many legacy cycles, which last for as long as legacies can perform their duties, until they are paired off to procreate to whichever sacrifices are chosen for them by the coven.
Those cycles have been getting shorter and shorter as the need to replenish the harvest with new blood has become greater.
It’s thought that with the right combination of bloodlines, the old gods would permit magic to flow freely once again.
But that’s a tale older than Alric with the same amount of reliability.
Asher and I say together, “Yes, Mariana,” and she leaves us with one last, icy glare.
Edmund and Emilie Morey linger at the back of the room with my father.
The two retired legacies stand vigil, bidding council members safe travels.
Emilie keeps her watchful eyes on me and Asher until Mariana leads the last council members out of the house.
The fire of a mother’s protection isn’t as foreign to me as one might think.
While my own mother never stood with me during my crowning achievements, Emilie and Patricia Bishop have never let my side grow cold.
When only my father and Alric remain, Alric turns his way. “Your boy sure carries the spark of his mother, James. Couldn’t quite stomp out that stubbornness, could you?”
Heat in my blood rises and a hand clutches the back of my blazer to keep me from taking a step I would regret.
My father tilts his head, his eyes panning over Alric slowly before he answers, “Love from beyond the veil comes in many forms. A strong-willed progeny that mirrors his mother is most certainly a love I wouldn’t stomp out.
But I don’t expect you to know anything about love or loss with a soul so hollow and rotted. ”
Alric’s jaw tenses, but like all verbal sparring matches I’ve seen him instigate with the regal James Proctor, he knows when he’s bested.
My heart pounds in my chest and fists clench as I wait for the defeat to manifest into something more deadly than the curse in Alric’s eyes.
His fingers twitch at his sides, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by any man in the room.
“The meeting is over,” Asher warns, the low rumble of a threat tingling up my spine to the magic ramping up in my gut. Our gifts vary greatly, but Asher’s is the most visceral when provoked.
Both men stand their ground. Asher has tenfold the strength compared to either of them and would only need a fraction to lay Alric out flat.
“No need to get upset.” Alric turns his head so we can see his profile, a nasty grin drawing up into his cheek. “What’s a little friendly fire between friends, eh, James?”
Though he doesn’t meet Alric’s ego again, my father agrees and exits the room. It isn’t until his footsteps out in the hall have faded that Asher retracts his threat on Alric’s well-being.
“Such a good and protective legacy,” Alric states as he starts toward the doorway. “Long live the kings.”
With his last bit of consideration, he departs.
“Fucking hate that asshole,” Asher grumbles.
“Maybe we’ll find the cure to his ailment while we’re searching for a solution to our issue.”
And with that, we make our way to the archives at the legacy manor.
Home.