Page 131 of Summer of Sacrifice

Laurent raised his glass. “To all the witches, mages, Druids, and mortals who gave their lives to bring us to this moment.”

Seleste stood, walking regally to the front to stand on Tindle’s other side, his arm slinging around her waist. “To love and loss and every blessed, beautiful moment in between.”

“Hear, hear.” Grimm started it, and they all followed suit.

“Wait.” Sorscha flung her head back, groaning at the ceiling. They’d all been peppering Agatha and Grimm with questions, and it was safe to say everyone had the beginnings of delirium and a migraine. “Just wait a damned minute.”

“My goddess, Sorscha,” Winnie groaned, resting her forehead against Laurent’s shoulder. “They’ve explained it seventeen times.”

“And it still doesn’t make sense!” Sorscha clapped back at Sister Winter before turning to Agatha. “When you, Asteria, gave Athania magic as she gave up her place as Lady War—why was it any different than what you bestowed upon witches?”

“The difference,” Agatha answered patiently, because she, too, had struggled to grapple with the same question, “was that I gave her a portion of my Primordial power. The very essence of magic given to me by Hespa. What I bestowed upon witches was just a dipping from the well of magic, not a piece of the Source as I gave Athania.”

It was strange to finally begin to refer to herself as the Goddess of Magic. Grimm’s lips twitched to one side as if he might be thinking the same thing.

“Aggie,” Sorscha griped “That’s the same thing you’ve said a hundred times.”

“She gave of herself.” This from Seleste, and they all turned to look at Sister Summer. “Athania carries a piece of what belongs to Asteria.”

“Fuck,” Laurent muttered. Tindle and Eleanor both cursed as well.

All of Sorscha’s cynicism faded and her eyes welled up. “Aggie, why would you do that?”

Grimm felt the torrent of tears building in Agatha before they fell and laid a hand on her leg. She swallowed, a familiar, deep ache blooming in her chest until she had to rub uselessly at it with her palm.

“Because I loved her,” she finally said quietly. “I trusted her.”

Winnie rose and came to sit at Agatha’s side, opposite Grimm. “This tied you to her.”

Agatha nodded. “Yes. In a way. It should have been Primordial magic that lived within her, tied to her soul until she died as a mortal. Then, it would return to me. But—” She shook her head, curls falling in her face and Winnie pushed them back tenderly. “Not only has she not died, but Athania also twisted and warped magic within her. Her very soul blackened. It corrupted the pure portion of magic’s essence she has within her.”

“A rotted vein that would corrupt the whole,” Seleste put in.

Agatha nodded as many of the others shook their heads in dismay.

“That’s why her blood was slowly killing me,” Laurent mused, and Tindle let out a low whistle.

“The only way to protect magic was to bind her to us, to keep her alive,” Grimm said. “Now, we know how to set things right again.”

“Pardon,” Anne’s quiet voice broke in, and their attention all swung to look at her. She had not yet spoken since Emile’s death. “Excuse my naïveté, but why did Chresedia not find success with her plan when she took over the body of a Sister Solstice—twice?”

“Seleste?” Grimm deferred to Sister Summer. “Would you like to take this one?”

Seleste gave an appreciative nod. “I’d be delighted. Anne, I toyed with this very idea as well. Since magic is tied to the soul, it remains with it.” She inclined her head to Agatha. “Unless Aggie is present, if her restoring the magic to Grimm’s lost souls is any indicator. We also know from what Miriam told Grimm and Arielle in the Winter that Chresedia essentially causes a body to tarry between life and death, using animancy and blood magic to take over the body with her own soul and power, as the other leaves it.”

Anne’s eyes roved over the lush carpet beneath her feet as she contemplated what Seleste had said. “So, when she was in Ta—” The young woman paused and started again. “In Sybil’s body, she had no trace of Sybil’s magic as Sister Autumn.”

Agatha could have hugged Anne for her forethought to point their attention to Sybil’s possession rather than Talan’s. “That is correct. Which means she only ever had access to three of the Sisters at a time.”

“I need another drink,” Laurent mumbled.

It was a long, long time of trading information later that everyone was softly snoring.

Grimm snuck out of the room to finalise the plans to have his father transported to a place where he could have peace and the care he needed. Agatha kissed him before he left, hating any moment away from him now, but he needed to do this on his own.

She turned from the door to see Seleste smiling at her blearily from a chaise. “I’m surprised you let him out of your sight,” she teased, scooting over so Agatha could sit.

“I didn’t want to, believe me.” She plopped down with little grace, leaning her head against the back of the chair. “But he’s had plans in the works for a while to move the king somewhere safer—better for him.”

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