Page 18 of Wooing the Wiccan
I shrug and snort. “No, except that she sometimes gets bored. I’ve had to rescue the ritual candles from her a few times, and once she tried to eat the flowers I’d laid on the altar. It was just easier to start leaving her outside it.”
His chuckle as I open the door is a warm contrast to the cold air that meets us. “She and I will just keep cuddling, then.” He follows me outside and looks around. It’s dark, but I installed dozens of small solar lights that give the courtyard a warm glow and provide enough light to see by. There’s a floodlight, too, but I don’t like to use it that much. “This is lovely, Jared. So tranquil.”
My cheeks get hot, but it doesn’t stop my grin. I’ve worked hard to make this garden what I need it to be—my own oasis. “Thank you. Over this way.” I gesture past the herb planters I use for the more invasive plants—things like mint, which are lovely to have around, but tend to take over and choke out their neighbors. I’ve utilized almost every inch of space in this garden, but there’s a narrow path of paving stones that a neighbor gave me when she landscaped her front yard. They were cracked and broken, so she was replacing them, but using the cracks to reshape them and laying them as stepping stones rather than as a solid path has given them a new lease on life. They’re the most gorgeous dark gray streaky granite—I couldn’t let them go to landfill.
The path takes us past the herb garden to the space under my one full-sized tree, a stately old oak. Its branches are bare right now, but in summer it provides lovely shade for the bench I’vepositioned under it. This part of the garden is dedicated to my “pleasure plants,” the ones purely for joy, though most of them are dormant at this time of year.
There is a clear space, however, and this is where I have my circle. I’ve planted out a five-foot diameter of space with clover, giving me a tiny lawn of sorts, and bordered it with sage, giving the circle a permanent physical presence in my garden.
“Oh,” Raðulfr says, his surprise clear. “It’s an actual circle.”
I set down the plastic tub with my things in it and turn to face him. “Yes. It doesn’t have to be, of course. This”—I wave to my clover-and-sage patch—“is just planting. I like this spot, and it seemed sensible to set it up the way that suits me best.”
“I agree. I especially like that you’ve used clover and not grass. Much better for the bees and other pollinators, especially in such a busy garden.” He looks around again in the cozy glow of the lights. “It really is special. I hope one day you’ll invite me to see it by daylight.”
Maybe tomorrow morning. I blush. That wasn’t… I didn’t invite him here intending for him to stay over. He needs to stop being so amazing.
“I will,” I manage. “Um, you can sit over there, if you like. Or you can stand wherever. Obviously you can tell where the circle is, so…” I trail off and decide to move on. It’s nearly time, and Raðulfr doesn’t need to guess how nervous I am to have him watch me.
It’s good nervous, though.
I move the container into the circle and crouch to take everything out, laying the items in the clover until the tub is empty and I can turn it upside down to use as my altar. Straightening, I consider whether I want to use my athame to cast the circle tonight. I don’t need it, but if I’m putting on a show…
That thought makes up my mind. Tonight isn’t about showiness—I genuinely want Raðulfr to see how the magic I’m learning works with my religion. I don’t usually use the athame to cast the circle anymore, not unless I need help with focus. He’ll be able to see me use it for other things in the future.
Standing, I take two steps to the northernmost point of the circle, exhale deeply, and let myself feel nature’s energy flowing through me. It’s so much easier now than it was when I first started. When the ebb and flow of power is a thrum in every part of my being, I lift my hand and point to the sage border. Energy spills from me, fixing to the earth, and I slowly walk the circle clockwise, trailing the energy with me until I reach the starting point and the circle has been drawn. Next, I close my eyes and visualize the energy stretching into the air above me and the earth below, until a perfect sphere has formed.
The circle is complete.
With the solid hum of it surrounding me, empowering me, I turn to the north again and call upon fire. To the east for air. South for earth, and finally west for water, sealing the circle.
I risk a quick glance at Raðulfr as I return to my altar. Fascination is all over his face as he sits on the bench mere feet away, Marge still in his arms, studying my circle. I can tell he sees it by the way his gaze tracks up over the dome above me. I guess this is another benefit of being with a magic user—he won’t think I’m making up this part of my practice. I’ve had past partners who were supportive of my paganism, but lost patience when I talked about the magic elements of it.
Kneeling, I lay the white cloth over the container, then set out candles for the god and goddess—gold and silver, respectively, tonight, to amplify my ambition and intuition. My goals are to bring an energy boost to my new relationship and my new magic skills. Every little detail matters.
CHAPTER TEN
Raðulfr
I watch eagerlyas Jared lays out the tools for his ritual. His circle is beautiful, strong and thrumming with the essence of the life force, perfectly formed. This is clearly something he’s done many times, but it’s not just that. The life force has a fondness for him. It’s not rare for that to happen, but not common either. My experience is that those people are usually good ones.
As if to confirm my thoughts, the life force wraps itself around me in a happy little dance. It’s been a part of my life like this for so long that I honestly don’t know what I’ll do when the time comes for it to move on to the next king or queen… although there are a lot of possibilities, things that my position has held me back from.
My eyes linger on Jared. Things like relationships. Ásta and I had been together for more than two thousand years, and married half that, when I was invested as king. It was a surprise to us both, but she rallied and was my helpmeet in every way for thousands of years of leading the elves. Until she wasn’t.
Since then, things haven’t aligned to give me that kind of love again. Perhaps I’m being presumptuous to think?—
The life force surrounds me again with a distinct sensation of disagreement, and I tamp down the excitement that results. Thefuture will work itself out—for now, I’ll focus on the present and the delightful man before me, who’s asked me to observe a very personal ritual.
Jared draws on the life force and gracefully lights both candles and then a short stick of incense, his control of the flame perfect. He places a pear, three dates, and two dried figs in a shallow bowl, then bows his head and breathes steadily, purposefully, as one would in meditation. He’s centering himself, and I follow his lead and do the same. One can never have too much of a connection with nature and the world that surrounds us. I let my breathing fall into an even rhythm, tuning in to the sounds of the winter night around me, the soft sensation of Marge’s fur beneath my fingers. Even the cold air that nips at my cheeks and seeps inside my coat is another link to the energy that makes up existence. Power, both my own innate source and that of the life force, sings around me, through me, but I let it flow without disturbance, merely enjoying its presence and the life it represents.
A few minutes later, Jared begins to speak softly. He’s quiet enough that he likely believes I can’t hear him, but in the still of the evening and with my better-than-human hearing, every word is as clear as if he were right beside me.
“In the dark of the time between,
I beseech thee, blessed goddess,
bring forth new light and new beginnings.
