Page 106 of Potions and Proposals
“Asmallglass. We don’t want to be tipsy for the ritual,” Mum said, sitting down on the chaise. Lucy couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mum so at ease.
“I think I need it for my nerves,” she admitted.
“You look every bit the high priestess,” Mum beamed.
“You deserve the best after all we’ve put you through the past month. It’s my small way of welcoming you to the family,” Gwendoline said as Lucy brushed the glimmering, feather-light navy dress. She couldn’t help fidgeting.
“You do look everybit the Matherson,” Grams said, handing her granddaughter a glass of champagne, but Lucinda was too awestruck to drink it. Grams was right – with her dark hair pinned up and eyes darkened with liner, she could practically see Benedict by her side in the mirror. They fitted together perfectly; they’d just been the last ones to see it. In an hour she’d be standing with Benedict under the Blood Moon, reciting vows that would bind them in this life and the next.
“I wish your dad could see you. He’s so proud of you and Benedict,” Willa said, trying to blot away her tears so she wouldn’t ruin her make-up. “I’m sorry he can’t be here to support you.”
“It’s fine, Mum. He’s half-way across the world on a classified dig. It’s not like he can just slip away.” As much as she wanted her dad there, she’d accepted his responsibilities. In spite of her decision not to have a big reception, she did feel a little guilty that the town wouldn’t have a chance to celebrate with them, after they’d done so much to support her with gifts and congratulations.
“Thank you for letting me borrow this,” she said again to Gwendoline, taking a sip of champagne to steady her hands. Although she worried about spilling anything on the gown, she needed the liquid courage.
“Tsk, tsk. Like I said when you picked it, it’s yours. it’s been sitting in that dusty trunk for far too long,” Gwendoline said, wiping a stray tear from her eye. Lucy wanted to hug her again, but they weren’t quite there yet.
“I can’t thank you enough for giving her such a gift. It’s so precious.” Wilhelmina didn’t give her friend a choice before wrapping her in an embrace. Lucy hid a smile as Gwendoline froze a little.
“A dress is nothing to cry about,” she said tartly.
“Nonsense! I remember the day your mother wore the gown to her own binding. Beautiful woman. A real siren; could’ve had any man in town. I swear she could’ve taken your grandfather and I would’ve let him go,” Grams teased, placing a gold hair chain with dangling delicate stars around her low messy bun.
“She’d have wanted to see it passed on,” Gwendoline said, helping Lucy step into the matching shoes they’d enchanted to fit, since Lucy was a size bigger. The skirt was floor-length, and she wasn’t going to sit down and struggle with the velvet navy straps. “At one time, I didn’t think we’d have another generation to pass these things down to. Seeing you in it, seeing how happy you’ve made Benedict—” Gwendoline cleared her throat, struggling on her words. Lucy couldn’t find the words to reply, too choked up on the moment.
“Seems we were right to force them together,” Wilhelmina interrupted, taking Gwen’s hand. Her hooded silver cloak, the symbol of her position that would soon be Lucy’s, covered their joined hands.
“They weren’t going to get there on their own without destroying the town in the process,” Grams said, putting in her own pearl earrings before giving her granddaughter a quick squeeze.
“We wouldn’t have destroyed the town,” Lucy protested. “Not completely, anyway.”
Grams threw her hands up in dismay and followed her daughter out of the room, but not without taking another glass of champagne.
Gwendoline left her with a reassuring nod, and Lucy took a moment to herself. Taking a deep breath, she stared back at herself in the mirror. The day had come so fast, but the prospect of seeing Benedict waiting at the altar settled any remaining nerves. Following the women who’d watched over the town for the last thirty and more years, supporting one another, she smiled contently to herself as they climbed into the back of the black SUV. No matter what happened in the future, support and love would always surround her. Power and titles didn’t matter when she had everything she needed in her growing family.
Silvery moonlight bathed Benedict and Lucinda as High Priestess Wilhelmina recited the binding vows. Benedict’s gaze remained fixed on Lucinda, never straying from her mesmerising eyes. Despite the heat from the temple’s blazing candles, he felt a shiver run down her spine as he carefully draped the Matherson cloak over her bare shoulders.
Wrapped in the darkness of the cloak, Lucinda had never looked more exquisite. With the M crest over her heart, the drama about who would become the next coven leader seemed pointless. He wanted to sweep her off her feet and start the honeymoon early.
Grams stepped up onto the altar and handed Lucinda the cloak she was to place on his shoulders. He loved the small gasp that escaped her lips, painted red, as she let the cloak unfold. The Hawthorne crest turned her wide-eyed. Benedict could tellhow much she wanted toask, who, what, when?!,but she was forced to keep silent and continue with the ritual.
“With this cloak, I invite you into my family, my life and my heart. May my ancestors protect and keep you,” she recited, making him as much a Hawthorne as she was a Matherson. There were a few audible whispers from the coven members as they broke tradition, but it wasn’t the first time, and he knew it wouldn’t be their last.
In the hushed ambiance of the temple, Lucinda pricked Benedict’s finger, and he, in turn, contributed a few drops of his blood to the jewelled cup between them. He didn’t want to cause her pain, but they had agreed to follow the ritual to the letter as much as they could. Mist began to seep over the rim of the cup as their blood mingled with the potion, casting an enchanted veil over the vessel.
The temple was consumed by an anticipatory tension as everyone present held their breath, waiting for the mist to clear. The outcome of the ritual depended on the potion’s hue. If it turned a vibrant purple, it would signify that their binding had been sanctified by their ancestors. Lucinda chewed on her lips, and Benedict flexed his hands by his side impatiently. He focused all his attention on her, attempting to put aside the magnitude of what they were about to undertake.
“Ancestors, we stand before you, humble and true, and ask that you give your blessing to Lucinda Hawthorne and Benedict Matherson so that they may be bound in mind, body and spirit, in front of witnesses who sanctify this union with love and acceptance.” Wilhelmina recited the passage with utmost solemnity, holding the glowing cup beneath the moonlight before lowering it once more.
As the mist gradually dissipated, all that remained was the potion with their answer. The entire coven audibly exhaled in unison as their high priestess tipped her head in gratitude.
Benedict couldn’t stand the anticipation.
“The ancestors of the Matherson and Hawthorne families have given their blessing. Let us proceed with gratitude and humility,” the high priestess said.
Benedict smiled softly as relief blossomed in his heart, and Lucinda winked cheekily. However, getting their ancestors’ approval was only step one.
“Blessed be,” the coven said as one.
