Page 38 of Demon's Bride

“Sorry,” I say again.

Vayla’s features don’t soften a bit as she takes a step away, bracing both her hands on one of the tables. “How is Emilia?”

The question catches me completely off-guard. “I… I don’t really know. She’s being taken care of by the coven elders, but I haven’t spoken to her.”

“Aren’t you from the Crescent Coven?”

“I am.”

“So why haven’t you spoken to her?”

“I really don’t know her all that well, and I don’t spend a lot of time with the coven.”

She looks at me like she’s expecting me to say more, but with as rude as she’s being, I have no intention of giving her my entire life history.

“Eren told me you and Emilia were working together to find some way to renew the magick of the bargain,” I say instead. “He wanted us to pick up where you left off.”

“How am I supposed to—” she breaks off, throwing me another hard look. “You barely have any magick.”

The silence of a tomb falls in the room and a cold, clammy sweat breaks out on my hands and the back of my neck.

If she can sense it, I wonder how many of the demons back in Eren’s throne room could. Are they talking about it, even now? Whispering what a shame it is to have another defective witch in their midst? If what Eren said last night is any indication, his people are probably already frightened, concerned for what comes next if the magick isn’t renewed.

How will they react, knowing what little power I possess?

It’s just another reminder that even though the Goddess might have chosen me to marry Eren and come to this realm, it doesn’t change how hopeless I am. No matter what I might feel about fate and being chosen and all the rest of it, the fact still stands I’m pretty much powerless. I always have been, and I always will be.

Part of me just wants to drown in this self-pity, let it have me entirely. It would be easy to give into it, to hide away somewhere in this vast underground palace and give up before I’ve even tried. Goddess knows that no one back in the human realm is expecting anything from me. They’re probably already hedging their bets on how long I take to return. Six months? No, that’s giving me too much credit. I’m not half the witch Emilia was… is.

It’s the thought of her that sends a small, determined spark of stubbornness through me.

The Goddess chose us both for some unknown reason. I can’t even pretend to understand it, but I can’t give up, not yet. Not for myself, not for her, and not for both our realms. Not even if I have a surly demon sorceress reminding me what an utterly hopeless case I am.

Drawing up as much courage as I can, I straighten my spine and meet Vayla’s judging stare head-on.

“I’m still the one the Goddess chose. And I’m here. I never expected to be, and I don’t know why it happened, but I’m willing to work with you if you’re willing to put aside whatever problem you seem to have with me.”

My words don’t seem to get any reaction from her, at least not right away. She stares at me for a few long moments before shaking her head and crossing to a small bookshelf near the door of the workshop. Grabbing a tome off the shelf, she brings it back to where I’m standing and sets it down on the table in front of me, flipping it open to a page near the middle.

“This is the last book Emilia and I were working on.”

Realizing she’s not going to offer any other explanation, I lean down and study the lines of neat, handwritten script.

“It’s the same language as that one,” I say, nodding back to the book she snapped shut a few minutes ago. “May I?”

I hover a hand over the page and she gives me a questioning look.

“May you what?”

“Touch it,” I say, and realize a moment later how strange that probably sounds. “My magick has to do with books and languages. I can sometimes sense things about a book by touching it.”

Vayla gives me another long, unreadable look. “A book witch. Never heard of that kind before.”

“Yeah, well,” I say, fully at the end of my patience for her attitude. “We don’t pick the gifts we’re born with.”

Not waiting any longer for her permission, I lay my hand on the page and close my eyes. At first, there’s nothing but the smooth, cool feel of the parchment beneath my fingers, and I’m about to draw away in disappointment when it hits me.

Magick, like I’ve never felt before.

---