Chapter Sixty-Four Ayleth #2
I startle at the voice, then turn to find Jacquetta standing a short distance away.
My stupid heart beats harder, both relieved and elated to see her.
But then my pride takes over. What is she doing here?
And what does she want from me after so long a silence?
I stand taller, not wanting her to see that I was anxious.
That I wanted her here—especially if she doesn’t want me.
“I didn’t think you were coming.”
“I was just finishing up some research,” she explains.
“Research,” I echo with a tight nod. “Is that what you’ve been doing for the past few weeks?”
“Actually, yes,” she replies, matter-of-factly. “I’ve been digging into that theory I showed you. About the lines of magic. That, and the substance we found coming out of the trees.”
Sullen as I am, my curiosity wins out. “How could those be related?”
“I think the substance was latent magic,” she says, joining me. “That the imbalance of power was bringing it to the surface. Killing everything.”
My brow furrows. “You think latent magic was inside the trees?”
“Why not?” she asks, shrugging. “After all, as we learned through Cassandra, everyone carries a bit of magic. Why not trees or lakes? In fact, my guess is that the lines of power described in the book are a form of latent magic as well. With the Veil, it all got stoppered here. Which is why it never spread past Riven.”
That…actually makes a fair bit of sense. And not just about the trees and lakes. I think of the statues come to life at the Remembrance Ball—the faint pulse of magic I sensed in its core. Perhaps it was power after all.
“Will that change now that we’ve restored the balance?”
“Maybe,” Jacquetta replies. “Around here, anyway. But I think there’s more to be done. Especially in the places where the magic was most concentrated. The old Coven fires, specifically. I suspect they may have been drawing power and holding it there.”
A thought strikes. When Mathilde died, she forbade me to burn her on the coven fire, instead insisting that she be buried in the forest. Was that how it was before the Veil?
Witches, and even mortals, returned to the earth—or the sea or sky—fueling the latent magic of the world?
Spreading the power out instead of hoarding it?
But I have a bigger question to worry about first.
“And I suppose you’ll want to investigate that theory?” I ask.
A crow calls in the distance.
“It’s the only way to test it,” Jacquetta reasons. “Sindony and the others have agreed to join me. We’ll split the Sanctums up between us. Repeat the ritual that we did here and see what comes of it.”
A plan that doesn’t sound like it includes me. I turn away, doing my best to hide the sting of her rejection. What else did I expect?
“When are you leaving?” I ask.
“That depends.” She pauses. “When can you join me?”
I freeze. “You want me to…”
Jacquetta moves even closer and I inhale the scent of juniper that clings to her skin. “Come with me, Ayleth. Let’s do this together—finally.”
It’s exactly what I’ve wanted her to say for so long, but some part of me still refuses to trust it. I shake my head.
“If this is what you wanted, then why didn’t you call for me? I’ve been waiting.”
She looks away. “I know. And I should have. But I was…sorting out my own feelings. You can’t blame me for needing time to do that.”
Maybe not. But still…
“And if you suddenly need time again?” I press. “If you decide that you can’t forgive the past? Can’t ignore what I am?”
Shadows drift toward us and weave around me. Jacquetta glances at them.
“I have no intention of ignoring you,” she says softly. “Ever again.”
Everything inside me reaches for her. For us. Still, I hold myself back.
“We’ve done this before,” is all I can reply. “It always ends—”
“I know what’s happened in the past,” she says. “But look at us. We keep trying to go our separate ways, and we keep being flung back together. Maybe we should stop resisting it. For good.”
For good? She can’t be suggesting…
“What? Like heartmates?”
A long moment passes.
“Yes,” she answers at last. “If you’d have me.”
Do not, that voice warns. You cannot trust her.
But perhaps, despite everything, Jacquetta is the one person I can trust. The one person who sees me for who I am.
She might have rejected me, made mistakes, but so have I.
And perhaps our love is stronger for all the times we’ve smashed it.
Perhaps, in the end, all that matters is that we’re still here. Choosing each other.
Choice is a magic in and of itself. Mathilde’s long-ago words float back to me.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I will have you.”
Jacquetta smiles, a mix of what might be relief and excitement softening her expression.
“Here,” she says, drawing a knife from her belt.
She passes me the blade, then holds her hand out to me, palm up.
In a heartmate ceremony, each witch cuts the other—it’s a show of trust and of willingness to bind their lives together.
My pulse speeds up as I cup Jacquetta’s hand in mine, then drag the tip of the knife across her skin as gently as I can.
A line of red blooms, but Jacquetta doesn’t wince.
She doesn’t even look—just keeps her eyes on mine, a silent promise.
When I’m done, she takes the knife from me and makes a matching cut on my palm, directly down my lifeline.
We press our hands together, hearts beating in unison.
Shadows dance around us as we speak the words of the vow.
A tendril of darkness wraps around our joined hands like a ribbon.
Jacquetta doesn’t flinch away from it. In fact, she smiles.
And then there’s something else—a curl of bright crimson.
Jacquetta’s magic, I realize. It twines and knots with my own, and I can feel it beating in my veins.
Feel her. And somehow I know that I always will, from this day on.
Every breath I take will be half hers, every beat of her heart resounding in my own chest. A shot of terror jolts through me, for I’ve never given myself like this to anyone.
Not even the shadows. But beneath the fear is an undeniable feeling of rightness.
That this is what I’ve been waiting for my entire life.
Jacquetta and I tip toward each other, lips meeting.
It is the kind of kiss Willa described in her stories, like a door is opening to another world.
I bound through it, reveling in the way sparks canter through my blood.
In the way Jacquetta’s pulse beats alongside mine, strong and sure.
We break away, foreheads resting together.
Our hands are still joined and the ribbons of shadow and crimson twist even tighter, until one is indistinguishable from the other.
And then they sink into our skin, into our very bones.
I let go, studying the mark on my palm. Not Rhea’s triangle, but a bright, golden line—one that matches Jacquetta’s.
“It’s beautiful,” is all I can think to say.
The wind picks up around us, stirring the leaves in the garden. But this one isn’t laced with the cold bite of winter. Instead, I think I detect the scent of honeysuckle.
“Ayleth,” Jacquetta breathes, looking out into the night. “There.”
A shadow shimmers in the distance. Another. Fear grips me, worried that it’s Shade or one of the shadow creatures returned to the palace. But then the figures glide closer. The triangle on my palm burns as their features begin to solidify.
“Rhea,” I murmur. And she’s not alone.
Mother is with her, the two of them hardly more than wisps of shadow. But it’s them. I can feel it. They don’t speak, but Rhea’s green eyes glimmer in the moonlight and I can just glimpse the white slash of her smile. Mother lifts her hand, as if she’s wishing us well.
And then, the two of them drift back into the darkness.
Together. Until the three of us can be united again.