Adopting a stone-cold poker face, Wynter Dellavale struggled to process the disbelief that crawled over her skin. When she’d opened the door to find her Priestess on the doorstep while their coven lingered at the front gate, she’d thought maybe Esther was calling on her to join them all for a late-night ritual or something. Butthis… no, it couldn’t actually be happening. Nu-uh.
Planting her feet, Wynter folded her arms. “This is some kind of messed-up joke, right? Like, you know, humor but sort of … not?”
“This isn’t something I would ever joke about.” Esther clasped her hands in front of her, the image of elegance. “We have no choice. A new coven will be selected by one of the ruling Aeons in three days’ time. There is no chance of it being us if we have a weak link. For us, you are that.”
Anger bubbled up, hot and sharp. Wynter felt a cold smile slowly curve one side of her mouth.
The Priestess tensed. Well, Wynter wasn’t exactly known for being a placid, sweet, touchy-feely person. More of a bitey-scratchy girl, really. Her mother used to joke that Wynter came out of the womb flipping the finger and snarling at anyone who dared cuddle her.
“I can be described as a lot of things, but not weak,” said Wynter.
“In terms of power, no. But having a witch whose magick has been tainted … that is a weakness in the coven.”
Tainted.She hated that word. People had been tossing it at her for most of her life. “Wasn’t it you who always told me to rise above my limitations and make them work for me? That they’d only be an obstacle if I allowed it?” The woman’s advice had often carried a condescending note, but still.
“Yes, I believe in not permitting obstacles to block our path. And that is what you are, Wynter. An obstacle to this coven’s future prospects. You would have been forced to leave when you turned sixteen if our prior Priestess had not been your grandmother. Agnes could never bring herself to cast you out, but I must. When we moved to this town eighteen years ago, we did it for one reason only—we hoped to eventually serve the Aeons directly. If that means snipping off any weaknesses, so be it.”
The pitiless words were as sharp and cutting as any scalpel. Personally, Wynter didn’t see what would be so amazing about living among the primordial beings in the underground utopia beneath the picturesque town of Aeon. Oh sure, you’d be privy to their secrets and, given they were the first civilization—yeah, as in Adam and Eve—they no doubt had a whole lot of interesting knowledge to pass on. It was considered an honor to serve them, just as it was considered an honor to be chosen to descend to their subterranean city.
There were a few things Wynter wasn’t so comfortable with, though. Like how only the residents of said city were able to go down there and weren’t allowed to speak of it to those who lived in the town. Like how the Aeons demanded the respect and devotion that was worthy of deities.
Though they possessed a godly arrogance, they weren’t deities at all. They also weren’t human. Referred to as Aeons merely due to being long-term natives of this place, they were incredibly secretive immortals who wielded impressive power.
“This is not merelymywish,” Esther added. “I speak for the majority.”
Wynter scanned the swarm of coven members near the gate. Rafe, the mentor she had to thank for all the training she’d received over the years, was notably absent. As for the others … many averted their eyes or shifted uncomfortably. Others raised their chin or sniffed. And it was clear that none were going to speak up for her.
Hurt sliced her gut like a jagged blade. She hadn’t done a single thing to deserve them turning their backs on her. Not. One.
The coven wasn’t alone. A few mages were among them, and said mages glared daggers at her. They’d pestered Agnes to cast her out after ‘the incident’ when Wynter was ten. It didn’t matter that Wynter had been the true victim. Two teenage mages had died that night, and that wasallthey cared about.
Her coven had protected her from the angry families of those teenage boys over the years, but only because her grandmother had ordered it. With the exception of Agnes and Rafe, no one had comforted her after her ordeal, because they’d been too freaked out by the aftermath. They’d emotionally pulled away from her little by little over the years. And now they apparently wanted the Aeons to banish her just as they’d once banished her mother.
Wynter barely resisted snarling. “My magick might not be as ‘wholesome’ as yours, Esther, but I’ve proven my worth over and over.” She’d trained harder than anyone else, she’d mastered every skill necessary, she’d done everything expected of her.
Esther flicked her eyes upward in exasperation. “Wynter—”
“There isn’t one person more dedicated to this coven’s welfare than me.” Purely because it had been her mother’s greatest wish for the Moonstar coven to descend to the underground city; a dream Davina had given up in order to protect Wynter. In return, Wynter had vowed to herself that she would repay her mother by making that dream a reality.
It seemed like she might just have to break that vow.
Esther sighed. “Let us not drag this out. There is no point. My decision is final, I won’t change it. Once the banishment has been made official, Wagner will drive you to the border.” Her eyes briefly slid to the were-jackal who stepped out of the crowd—one of the town’s keepers.
He always looked so dignified. Always flashed gracious smiles. Always addressed people so politely. But there was a darkness in those pale-blue eyes. It made thatthinginside Wynter stir. A thing that had been her constant companion since she was just ten. A thing she’d kept secret purely to survive.
Wagner had come for Davina all those years ago when she’d been exiled. Back then, as he’d lingered on the sidelines, he’d made Wynter think of a hyena waiting to pounce on whatever scraps were left by other predators. He had that same look about him now.
Wynter flexed her fingers. “You get that this isn’t a small thing, Esther, right? It’s not just that I’ll have nowhere to go—that I’ll be out there alone with no family, or protection, or coven—I’ll also haveno memories. I won’t even know who I am.”
That was the thing about Aeon. If you ever left, your memories were taken from you—it was one of the prices to pay for the privilege of living in such a place of power and safety, though Wynter suspected that the Aeons simply didn’t want outsiders to know much about the town. If it hadn’t been for this ‘price,’ she’d have left years ago to reunite herself with her mother.
Wynter had begged Davina to take her with her when she was exiled, but her mother had insisted she stay—probably because she knew that Wagner was a big enough asshole to dump them in separate places so they’d each be alone, even if only to punish Davina for always rejecting his advances.
“Taking your memories would be a kindness,” said Esther. “Surely you would wish to forget some of the things that happened to you here.”
“Akindnesswould be for you to not make me suffer for something I have no control over.” It wasn’t like she’dwantedher magick to turn dark. Death always left a mark. And so her magick could no longer heal, calm, create or comfort. But it could all too easily kill, burn, infect, and destroy.
Esther let out a weary ‘you’re being dramatic’ sigh. “This is not about making you suffer. It’s not aboutyouat all. I am Priestess; I have to do what is best for this coven.”