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“Steer clear of that line.” My mother said as we stepped back into her room through her chalk door portal. “Constance and her ilk are nothing but trouble. None of her witchlings ever made it to ascension, only her boy survived.” She said with little compassion for the gravity of her words. “What a pity to have your line reduced to a stud.” Her tone devoid of pity. “Who?” I ask, still trying to absorb all that has occurred. “Constance. The last one we were speaking to. Honestly, Ceres. How can I teach you if you do not pay attention?” She asks. Her tone is sharp and biting. “Kai— Anchises and his mother?” I correct myself. My mother laughs heartily. “You will learn soon we care little for men.” She says after several hearty laughs. “A coven is not a packhouse, men carry no power. Their value is in forming alliances and gaining power in marriage.” “Do you not bow to your alpha?” I snap back. Her smile fades. “I do what I must to protect what is mine.” An uncomfortable silen
Breakfast comes too quickly. I did not rest enough and I am sure it shows on my face. My mother, Marica, and I sit at a small table by the fire, as we did last night. The men find themselves at the long table of the night before as well. They are not in the same high spirits, a night filled with ale and the excitement of the tree branch clearly weighing on them this morning. I silently sip my coffee, hoping it will give me the energy I need to push through the day. A bowl of oat slop in front of me, completely unappealing and beige. After several heaps of honey, I force feed myself a few bites so I have some strength. “Captain Keegan.” My mother calls to the captain as she stirs her coffee. “Yes, Luna Osiris.” He responds by bowing at our table side. I have felt his eyes lingering upon me this morning. I’m unsure if it is the truth or paranoia, but I believe I have felt his eyes linger on me at every opportunity. Even now he looks toward me as he stands from his bow. “My lady’s
“Everything I have done has always been to keep you and your brother—“ My mother begins as I pack her room, as the horses are being prepared. “Don’t.” I say forcefully. “Just. Don’t.” I say almost pleading. “It doesn’t really matter right now.”“It matters! I am a good mother!” She exclaims. “To someone, maybe.” I respond coldly. “It seems to matter to you, you hold such a grudge against me!” She argues. “Your perception of reality is filtered through the lens of your guilt.” I say as if quoting scripture. “What did the Ancient Sisters say about the moon ceremony?” She asks directly. “That none of the coven should interfere.” I say pointedly. “Very well. Blessed be on your journey and claiming your destiny.” A wound had been inflicted but quickly buried with a detached smile. “You will be returning to the estate after the ceremony, correct?” She asks quietly. “Correct. I will come to retrieve my brother and meager belongings.” I confirm. “We may be able to figure something ou
Riding a horse is a boresome chore. The monotony of it all coupled with the discomfort make it a loathsome journey. The horse is amiable enough and is happy to follow behind Ethan. He slows his pace for my benefit, his stature on the horse much more natural than mine. We trot along on a small riding path, not large enough to be considered a road, but wide enough to accommodate a couple horses. Trees bend above the path, shading us from the oppressive heat of the sun, only small swaths of sunshine find their way through. While the ride itself is tedious, the feeling of freedom is tremendous. Out on a horse in the world, nothing holding me back. “How far is the ride to the inn, Ethan?” I ask, breaking the wall of silence between us. “Not too far, m’lady. We should find ourselves there by tea.” He says calling over his shoulder, his eyes trained on the roadsides. “Thank you.” I call back. Tea was at least two hours from now. If two hours was not too far, I shudder to think
“M’lady.” He says with a bow at the edge of my small table. “Would you care to join me?” I ask, offering the vacant chair tucked in neatly across from where I sit. A small smile tugs the corners of his mouth upward, only for a moment, before his unaffected expression settles back on his face. His eyes cold and steely, framed by thick lashes. The Gods always waste the best lashes on men. His eyes are shaped like almonds with a defined brow, making any expression he has both sultry and mysterious. He pulls the chair from the table and gracefully sits down. His movements are so fluid like a perfectly choreographed dance. “Ceres, how lovely to see you.” He greets as if we randomly bumped into each other at a spot we both frequented. “Yes, it is lovely to see you as well, Kai, and quite surprising.” I say and then gracefully lift my teacup and take a sip of tea. My eyes looking to him directly over the edge of my cup, as I try to make sense of this visit. “Don’t worry, none of the
The room is small but pleasant. A small window allows for some natural light to spill in. My luggage is neatly stacked upon the bed. I open the box with my gown. I pull a hanger from the wardrobe and unfold my gown from the box and hang it on the hangar. I cannot believe I possess something so magnificent. Am I to believe Kai and his premonition? Did he even have one or is this his attempting to manipulate me? “I wouldn’t put it past her.” Theia growls. “My mother hasn’t always been the best, but would she really interfere with my moon ceremony?” I ask, unwilling to believe it. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” My guardian says solemnly. “Her intentions may be good, she may be trying to help.” “I understand your need to defend fellow witches of your tribe, but let’s be real, she’s selfish.” Theia spits. “Maybe he is lying.” I offer. “Maybe.” My guardian says. “We don’t lie to our sisters of the coven though, but he is not a sister. Warlocks are always focu
I do not know what animal died for this meal to be made, but it did so in vain. Even as hungry as I am, I struggle to take a single bite. If you told me this was filet of old shoe, I would believe it. The viscous sauce is a muddy brown with a weird sheen to it. It smells mostly of salt and raw flour. Some sort of mush is on the side covered in the same viscous goo rendering it completely inedible. I poke at it as the sauce continues to congeal. “Everything all right?” The waitress asks. The expression on her face tells me she hopes I do not respond. I force a smile on my face. I hope it looks more like a polite smile than a grimace. “What is this?” I ask out of morbid curiosity. I could see a crack in her smiling expression. She was bracing herself for a torrent of complaints. “Venison back strap.” I frown. What a waste. “Roll?” She offers, pushing a basket towards me. Her smile overbearing and forced. “Sure.” I say and she promptly places the basket in front of me. “T
We all know we are going to die. Nothing is forever. You just do not expect death when it comes knocking on your door. The most important thing to do in any situation is to stay calm. Panic overrides all your senses. It paralyzes you. It turns you into easy prey. I scan the area around me. An open field is between me and the inn and the tree line is only a strip of grass and a small grove of pomegranate trees, their thorns threatening if you dare to venture too deeply, away from the woods. I sense danger but cannot see it. I make myself small, like a fox laying in grass, about to make a mad dash across the field to the inn. It was like a dream, the way the wolf walked from the trees, padded feet silently stalking me. My attention the other way, scanning the field before darting across it, him lurking like a spider who has already trapped their prey. I am slithering on my belly in the grass when I hear his growl. Flipping myself quickly, I realize it’s too late to dart to safety. I