Page 70 of The Coven of Ruin
“What have you done, sister?” Irisi asked from far away.
The view dissolved into shadow, and pale green light expanded in her vision once more. The mage who had lowered her into the water reached for her. No time had passed, just as the Somner had said. Tristaknewthat was not what the elder witch had been referring to. That had been her generational magic that had allowed her to see the past. With one last glance at the Mothers, she took the mage’s proffered hands and stepped out of the water.
The next moments were a blur. Two of Prince Roan’s chosen witches dried Trista’s legs off, and the mage sat her slippers down for her to step back into. Another step and Demurielle and another veiled witch threw soft petals to dance through the air. Trista looked at the sun witch and couldn’t read her expression behind her veil. Another step and seeds were spread out before her by the remaining two veiled witches. Trista was handed a goblet of sweet-smelling wine from someone she didn’t see before the mage escorted her around the expanded crowd.
The witches who had already walked through the pool were now dispersed throughout. Though dressed in similar sparkling garb, the mages and non-participants wore the deep colors of the night. With the soft silver of their shorter gowns, the witches were stars among their sky.
Trista looked around, having a much better view of the cavern from this new vantage point. She was close to Maja Anya from The Coven of Marsh and Flame, whose head was turned to watch Prince Roan. Trista hadn’t even noticed the prince when she passed by after leaving the water. He witnessed the proceedings, his hands folded in front of his body, the picture of regality.
Pavon, dressed in the same night colors as the rest, approached him. Facing the prince, he leaned to whisper something in his ear. Prince Roan scanned the crowd, his lips barely moving with his response. A foreboding chill ran through her as he patted Pavon on the shoulder before the consiliario departed again.
Time floated by, lost in the echoing sound of water. Prince Roan stepped forward when the last witch had waded through and joined the crowd. When the prince and princess chose partners to share their magic with for the next part of the ceremony, it would signal the rest of the attendants to find their own partners. In the royals’ case, their choice implied their betrothal. Sharing magic was an intimate act. The process was meant to be a conjoining at this ceremony. Though a celebration of their life and magic, it would be an opportune moment for those trying to express their desire for a deeper connection.
The princess peered out into the crowd, which parted to let someone pass through. Prince Roan’s back was to them, and Trista couldn’t see him anymore as bodies pushed further toward her. Maja Anya tensed at whatever was occurring.
Trista could only witness Prince Nero approaching the princess, his stance rigid. She raised her veil, her chin slightly tilted as if attempting to be brave. Or defiant.
“Join us,” the Witch King’s voice called out, and Trista’s goblet disappeared from her hand.
All at once, everyone was moving, and Trista took a step back toward the cavern wall. A cacophony arose as witches and mages alike searched for their partners. She was meant to find Zyana, but they hadn’t known where they would be placed in the crowd. Standing on tiptoes, she searched the passing silver gowns for her. But it wasn’t Zyana who found her. It was Ares, looking like a Lord of the Night, his eyes simmering meteors.
She shook her head at him. She refused to share her magic with him.Anyone but him.
A chime sounded once. They were supposed to have found their partner by now. Trista desperately searched the crowd behind Ares, but he was already taking her hand, thankfully leaving space between their bodies.
She leveled a fiery glare at him. “Don’t,” she whispered to him, attempting to convey with her entire body exactly how much she didn’t want to share her magic with him.
“You’re infuriating,” he breathed.
The second chime sounded, and magic seeped through the cavern.
He took her other hand in his, his dwarfing hers as he interlaced their fingers. His palm was rough but warm.
“Me? So areyou,“ she ground out. All she could envision was him standing in the entryway of the dining hall, on the threshold of changing their entire history, covered in blood.
He smirked as if he couldn’t deny it. “You don’t trust me anymore.”
The way he said it took her aback. “No, I don’t. But I never did.” The lie came out in a rasp.
“That night in your room, what were you going to ask me? What was the second condition?”
Magic surrounded them, heating the air. The ceremony was meant as a rebirth. To be renewed and restored. To reclaim lost power. An end, beginning, andbecoming. So instead of answering, she let her magic loose, leaving him to answer the call or be consumed by it.
Her magic expanded through her, building in her palms pressed against his. First, it asked for entry, seeking invitation and union. It was meant to be a partnership, after all. But she demanded more of it only to be met with cold steel walls. His power lay far beyond those fortifications, somewhere in his depths.
He held his back, even as their palms glowed and heated with violet. Leaning in more, she thought she might just kill herself during this attempt.
Violet against steel. His barriers warmed and softened, even as she thought she might need to back off. His eyes reflected her light, and finally, when she could feel the walls yearning to let her in as if all they needed was an introduction, his jaw clenched.
“Let me in, Ares,” she challenged, not caring that she had named him.
And just as his steel fortifications melted in radiance and wildfire rushed to meet her, he tore his hands away from her grasp. The cavern and crowd came back into focus. Ares’ chest moved with quick breaths as he studied his hands. When his eyes met hers again, they were still full of dying violet light. Turning on her heel, it took effort to step away from him. She, for once, felt like she had unarmed him, had taken a piece of his armor with her.
But she wasn’t sure she cared much for the feeling.
Chapter XXX
Searchingthroughhertrunkfor the third time, she knew it was gone. Trista had wrapped it in a cloak and stowed it away when Grae had handed it to her just the night before.Ares. He had it before he approached her at the ceremony. He had come into her room and taken it.
