Page 75 of Summer of Sacrifice

Careful not to jostle him, she sat up enough to confirm what she already knew—no one was there. Not anymore. Not after what she’d seen in the gazebo.

Grimm sat up on the edge of the bed, an intense paternal love coursing through the bond toward Agatha to the point she thought she would weep again. “Sweetheart, I promise it was only a dream.” His hand came up like he was cupping their daughter’s cheek.

Agatha couldn’t take it. She looked away and closed her eyes.

When another moment passed, Grimm laid back down and Agatha opened her eyes. As she set her hand on his chest, Grimm turned toward her, fully awake. A bare, peaceful smile lit his face and he leaned in to kiss her before turning over and going back to sleep.

GRIMM

Asteria’s eyes keep changing colours. It’s the most peculiar thing. Her name, too.

It’s silly, really. But she’s always loved driving me mad. This morning at breakfast, she went on and on about her plans with Athania, and by midday, she had eyes the colour of the ocean, where I found her sitting on a bench, reading a book in a different realm. The look on her face was as if she’d never seen me before, and, to be fair, it was as if I had laid eyes on her for the first time as well.

Then, by this evening, her eyes were the colour of honey, and she was storming about the top of a lighthouse, yelling at me about something or other. While, last night, she had the same fiery hair as always and those same honey eyes as in the lighthouse, but we were in a cottage I hadn’t seen in ages, and I was doing delicious things to her.

The way she’s using her magic to toy with me is quite inexplicable. It makes me curious what her name will be tomorrow. What colour her eyes will be. In what way she will hide from me, waiting to draw me in.

And, of course, she will. But I will always find my little witch.

Seleste, Then

SELESTE

She’d never been so happy in all her years.

Seleste spent the mornings teaching Elsie and Emeline everything she could, the girls ravenous to learn more. Afternoons were spent having luncheon with them and exploring the outdoors, or at the beach until teatime when she would meet Cal at his châlet.

Most of the time, they sat languidly in the shadows, avoiding the heat of the day and discussing every topic under the sun. But the nights…they were steamy and magnificent, slick with sweat and sweet as sin.

Cal would usually toss pebbles at her window until she came down and he would hardly wait until the edge of the house before he could no longer keep his hands off her. Sometimes, they only made it as far as the garden before they were tangled together, breathless under the moonlight. Other times, they made it as far as the bay or the sunflower field. Thrice, they made it all the way to his châlet, where she spent those nights wrapped in his arms.

Only once, the prior night to be exact, Cal had been too impatient to wait for her to come down, and he’d met her in the hall. They’d found the nearest closet, and Cal ravaged her against the wall next to linens and mop handles, while he covered her mouth so she wouldn’t be too loud.

“Shhh,” he’d whispered, writhing against her, that intoxicating smile on his face. “Someone will hear us.”

Seleste blew out a breath and fanned herself where she sat at the desk she taught from. Goddess. Perhaps she would do well not to think of Cal until lessons were over.

“Done!” Emeline shouted, slamming her graphite on her arithmetic parchment.

“Aw,” Elsie groaned. “Not fair!”

Seleste rose and walked to their table. “Lady Elsie, remember that you are younger than your sister. In addition, always remember”—she looked between the girls—“someone else’s success does not negate your own. As far as fair is concerned, you would do well to realise that fair is not everyone getting the same things. It is everyone getting what they need. In this case, doing what they need, at the pace they need to do it. Everyone is different.” She smiled at them to soften her slight censure. “Lady Emeline, you may read quietly while I check your work and you wait for your sister to finish.”

“But I don’t want to read!” Emeline whined while Elsie scratched away at her arithmetic.

Seleste said nothing, only tilted her head to the side, one eyebrow raised.

Emeline sighed. “I know, try that again.” They’d already learned Seleste’s common phrases she used with them. The girl took a deep breath, muttering to herself, “Unclench my fists. With a calm demeanour, disagree appropriately.” She looked up at her governess. “Mademoiselle Seleste, may I draw instead of read?”

Emeline struggled with reading. She was, however, an incredibly gifted artist—something Seleste would never dream of squashing. “Reading opens the entire realm to you, dear one. If you can read well, you can learn anything, do anything, be anything. You may read a short book of your choosing, and then you may draw.”

It wasn’t exactly what Emeline wanted, but neither was it a total loss. She nodded resolutely and went to the shelf to select a book without further argument. Seleste already knew that she would select one she had nearly memorised, but that was part of her plan—to give the young girl repetition while ensuring she would read and still feel a sense of accomplishment by finishing the book without too many hiccups.

Elsie’s little head lolled back then came down hard on her crossed arms as she grumbled, “Mademoiselle Seleeeeeste, I can’t!”

Seleste sat in Emeline’s vacated chair next to the girl. “Lady Elsie, you can do anything. What stops you is not that you don’t know the material, it’s that you don’t want to do it.”

Elsie was a brilliant little girl, but she wasn’t fond of arithmetic, in much the same way her sister didn’t enjoy reading. It was all about balance, and adding in a dash of fun.

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