36. Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
Greya
Greya led them all to a house she’d been to many times before, especially in her youth. It was slightly rundown, and smaller, but homey nonetheless, with moss growing over its thatched roof and a beat-up wooden door with a small window.
“Whose fucking house is this?” Steig asked grumpily, looking around as if he was going to be attacked at any moment.
“A friend’s,” Perse answered for her.
Greya knocked on the door, and within seconds, a tall, blond man opened it.
“Greya?” Cris asked, his blue eyes going wide. “What are you doing here?” He looked around confusedly at her companions. “Where’s Ena? Is she okay?”
“Ena is fine, as far as I know,” Greya said hurriedly. “Please, can we come in?”
“Sure,” Cris said, stepping aside to let them all in.
Greya entered the room to find one of Cris’s brothers standing in the kitchen, stirring something in a large, black iron pot. He looked up, seeming shocked to see the matriarch of another Coven suddenly standing in his living room.
“It’s okay. Colyn knows everything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Cris explained, seeing her cautious look.
“Both of my brothers do now, and my brother’s wife.
You can speak freely.” Cris gestured for them all to sit down, his eyes darting to Steig, whom he didn’t recognize.
“I assume that’s what you’re all here to discuss? ”
“Yes, you assume correctly,” Greya said. “We—Perse, Steig, and I—just came from a meeting with Northe.”
“And Steig is…?” Cris asked, trying his best to politely get an introduction.
“A daemon,” Steig said gruffly. “And you would be?”
“He’s the Aquilo witch who helped break the bond,” Greya explained.
“Why is he here? Why are you all here, meeting with Northe?” Cris asked, his brow furrowed in concern.
Greya explained as quickly as she could about Ena and Ty’s imminent return with the stryx, their plans to overthrow the king, and their unsuccessful conversation to persuade Northe to help them.
“Damn,” Cris said, shaking his head. “I’d really hoped for better from Northe. She’s a good matriarch.”
“It’s hard to break old opinions, especially when it’s all she knows. I hoped bringing Steig would help, but…I think it backfired.”
Greya glanced over at the daemon in question, who still looked like he wanted to run, and couldn’t help but wish that she had been able to bring Turner, with his innocent baby face, instead.
But she did appreciate Steig greatly for keeping his cool and trying his best in the meeting with Northe.
It certainly wasn’t his fault that it hadn’t gone well.
“Well, why did you come to me then? What do you want me to do?” Cris asked.
“I was hoping you could speak to some of the others in your Coven, those who you think are amenable to a new way, like your brothers,” she said, looking towards Colyn in the kitchen.
“Maybe collectively, you could go to Northe, convince her that it is the best way forward for the Coven. She can’t break the fides oath, so if enough of you agree, she’ll have to do it. ”
“Okay,” Cris said, glancing over at his brother and nodding. “I think there are a few others who would be open to hearing about everything, but…I’m worried just telling them won’t be enough. They may not believe me unless I tell them…everything I’ve seen.”
Greya paused, understanding where he was going. “I didn’t tell Northe of your involvement in breaking the bond, Cris. I don’t want you to have to suffer the consequences of that if the Coven turns against you.”
Cris looked at her then, dead in the eyes, as if he’d been expecting this. “And if they do, would I be welcome in your Coven instead?”
“Of course,” Greya said without hesitation.
“No one except Perse knows of Ena’s involvement yet, but they know things have been hidden from them, and I’ve been slowly working to get them to see that an alliance with daemons is for the greater good.
If you were banished for your involvement in breaking the bond, I believe they would accept you, if it came to that. ”
She hoped it didn’t. She couldn’t imagine being banished by her own Coven—forced to leave her home and family. She hoped Northe and the other Aquilo witches would see reason, but she didn’t know for sure.
Cris nodded, considering that. “Then it’s no risk at all,” he said confidently.
“It’s time I come clean about everything—to Northe, and to the rest of the Coven, and let the cards play out.
I’ve been waiting for this. Since everything went down and I know it’s the right thing to do. The only thing.”
Greya had known Cris for a long time, but she’d never respected him more. She suppressed a small smile, thinking of how Thyla would react at hearing about Cris’s bravery when she returned. The witch had always had a crush on him, and she suspected this would only fan the flames for her.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “For everything, Cris.”
“We’ll have your back if we need to,” Perse chimed in. “You know how to reach us.”
Steig was silent as usual, but he did give Cris a nod of acknowledgment as the three of them stood to leave.
“We should go,” Greya said. “I don’t want to linger any longer than necessary, but I’ll be in touch. Soon.”
“Where are you all going next? Back to Auster?” Cris asked as he walked them to the door.
“No—worse. To Occidens.”
***
A week later, Greya, Perse, and Steig rode into Attax, the closest mortal village to Occidens.
It felt strange to cross over the treaty line willingly, knowing the potential consequences, and she hoped that this time would be more successful than the last time, when she’d come to rescue Ena, only for her sister to flee to the Underworld with Ty.
The village was bustling—busy with traders offloading their fall crops before the season ended—as the three of them made their way to the guesthouse.
They walked through the doorway of the well-built, two-story building, then weaved their way through the packed common room towards the recordkeeper.
“Fuck,” Steig exclaimed under his breath, turning around to hide his face behind Perse’s shoulder.
“What?” Greya asked, scanning the room to see what had triggered him.
“Unger and Jace—the daemons I was sent on the mission with—they’re here,” he said in a pissed-off whisper. “I ditched them outside Aquilo, but they must have made their way here without me.”
Greya peered over his shoulder into the back of the common room where, sure enough, two large, bulky men—onata tattoos just peeking out below their shirt cuffs—sat with two mugs of ale.
“Good Gaia,” Greya bemoaned, her mind thinking furiously.
“Okay, we’ll just have to camp in the woods outside the village instead.
” Internally, she groaned. She’d so been looking forward to a hot bath and a bed tonight, but it would cause infinitely more trouble if the daemons spotted Steig with them.
He’d have no plausible deniability to his whereabouts at all—Cole would find out for sure that he was in league with them.
The three of them turned on their heels, avoiding eye contact with anyone and everyone as they left the guesthouse once more and went to fetch their horses from the stables.
It wasn’t until they’d set up their camp in the woods on the outskirts of the village that she began to relax again. But it was short-lived, because just as Perse used his spellword to light a fire, Greya’s Knowing alerted her to a presence.
She heard movement in the darkening woods—sticks snapping and leaves rustling—and within seconds, several figures emerged, surrounding them.
And one of them she recognized instantly.
“I’m surprised you’d be so bold as to cross the treaty line without permission, Greya. You seemed like a smarter witch than that,” Syrelle said. Her hawkish eyes watched them, as did those of the four other witches who accompanied her.
Greya stood up, preparing for violence or conversation, she had no idea, but she readied herself nonetheless.
“Seize them,” Syrelle said directly.
“There’s no need for that,” Greya said, placing her hands up and speaking with all the authority of her position.
The witches around her froze, waiting.
“I apologize for breaking the treaty, but I’ve come here to discuss something with you, and I’ve brought you something, as a peace offering.” Greya kept up her hands, but indicated with her head that she wanted to get something from her bag.
“An offering, you say?” Syrelle asked, intrigued. “Well, by all means, show us before we let the ocean take you.”
Gaia, she hoped that was just bravado. She knew she had one, very delicate, chance at convincing Syrelle to join them, because the woman was well within her rights, according to the treaty, to punish them as she saw fit. And she’d already been lenient with an Auster witch once.
Slowly, Greya bent down, digging around in her personal pack, until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out the small wooden box and unlocked it with her spellword.
{Clavis}
The interior mechanism clicked, and she swung the lid up. Turning it around, she presented its contents to the Occidens matriarch.
“I’m returning what was stolen from you, as promised,” she said. “And I hope, in exchange, you’ll hear what I have to say.”
The dark-purple amethyst glowed in the firelight, the symbols etched in its silver setting dancing as they reflected the light.
Greya felt the witches before her take a sudden breath—she didn’t know if any of them, besides maybe Syrelle, had ever seen the amulet.
There was, and always had been, an undeniable power about it.
One that drew you in and mesmerized you, as dangerous as it was.
Through the dark, another figure emerged, as if they’d been watching from afar. A small, slight one, with large eyes and short brown hair.
“You should hear her out, Syrelle,” Mel insisted, their voice calm and clear as it cut through the tension.