Page 98 of Summer of Sacrifice

The Druid troupe had met with all of Grimm’s rebellion leaders, informing them of their expected duties. Some would head toward Eridon and await the eclipse in secret, while others would head toward the capital cities across Midlerea—in case they failed to stop Chresedia.

Asa was headed from Araignée toward Eridon with many of his warriors and other mages. There, they would scope out the area, keep watch, and prepare for the others to arrive.

The eclipse was to take place in just over a fortnight, leaving little wiggle room for those of them in Merveille to make it on foot. The Sisters and Grimm could translate there, but their troops could not, and neither could most of the Druids.

An astounding number of witches had come forward when Emile drew upon their ranks, but it was yet unclear where they stood as far as the eclipse and Chresedia were concerned.

“I’m excited for this fair,” Sorscha said as she hung half upside down from Seleste’s bed.

Winnie hummed her half-hearted agreement. The fair was their last-ditch effort to sow stability into Seagovia before they all left. To Winnie, it felt like a living memorial. Perhaps she would feel better when Aggie and Grimm had rejoined them.

“What do you see?” Sorscha directed the question to Seleste, but her eye was glazed over, and she did not hear her. “Seleste,” Sorscha tried again.

“Oh!” Sister Summer shook her head as if dislodging something. “Apologies. What did you say?”

“I saiddd, what do you see? You’ve been staring at that thing since I arrived yesterday, and if we’re late to help set up the booths, Tindle is going to skin us alive.”

“Just more woods and River Vide. But…” Seleste trailed off, brows furrowed. “I would swear she’s nearing Drifthollow.”

Winnie stood, coming to look over Seleste’s shoulder. “That doesn’t sound right. That’s too far Nord.”

Seleste worried her lip between her teeth. “I agree. Could you have Laurent meet me here before his rehearsal? I’m worried we missed something.”

Sorscha popped up, slipping on a pair of sandals. “I’ll tell him. Eleanor wanted to show me her act before I help Dulci with her pâtisserie stall.”

Winnie did not argue. She was too busy watching Seleste with concern. Sorscha bopped out of the room and Winnie forced Seleste to face her. “Is this all that’s bothering you?”

“Isn’t it enough?” Seleste snapped uncharacteristically, immediately deflating. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m concerned something is amiss.”

“However…” Winnie started for her, earning her a baleful wince from Seleste.

“However…” She broke free of Winnie’s hold on her arms, and walked to the window. “This is a difficult moon for me each year, I’m afraid. It’s distracting me, and now I’m worried we’ve sent all the rebellion troops in the wrong direction.”

Seleste, Then

SELESTE

“Watch me, Mademoiselle Seleste!” Elsie twirled in the grass, her pink dress fanning out around her and her face upturned to the sun. The little girl positively glowed, her soul just as bright as her blonde hair.

Seleste chuckled from where she sat on a blanket, book in her lap. “Wonderful, Elsie! Now, spin the other way so you don’t get too dizzy.”

“But dizzy is—” The girl tumbled to the ground, giggling. “Half the fun!”

“Bet I can beat you in a race to the garden and back,” Emeline broke in, challenging her sister.

“You’re on!” But Elsie was still off-balance, lilting to the side as she shouted and ran after Emeline toward the garden.

Laughing at the girls’ antics and grateful for the distraction they embodied, Seleste tried to return to her book, but she couldn’t concentrate. She hadn’t retained a single word since she’d opened the thing. A shadow passed, just to her right, and she looked up to see Cal headed her way. Her heart thundered in her ears. It had been nearly a week since she’d given him the potion. Six days of awaiting the worst.

He had an easy smile on his face, his attention darting from his wild sisters to Seleste and back. His shoulders were loose, his hair neatly combed and his waistcoat perfectly in place. There was no tension in his gait or his jaw. When he approached her, she looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun. For all she knew, the potion was slowly eating away at his insides, like maggots in a corpse. Or it had eaten away at his love for her. It could have made him corrupted, meanspirited…

“Bonne aprés-midi, belle,” he said, his voice low, and her heart rate began to slow.

Too late, she realised she should be standing in his presence and jumped up, smoothing her boring grey dress. “Bonne aprés-midi, monsieur.”

“I’ve missed you terribly,” he whispered. The deep roll of his voice sent heat coursing up her chest. “I suppose you’ve been roped into helping with the extra duties to prepare for Lord Townsend and his family’s arrival.”

Yes and no. Mostly, she’d been avoiding him. “They will be here by week’s end, and Madame Riley asked for my assistance.”

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