Recalling something her grandmother had said to her on her deathbed, Wynter couldn’t help wondering if Agnes had seen this coming …
Home isn’t really a house, you know, Wynter. It is a place where we feel safe and accepted and content—it could be a building, a piece of land, a group of people, or at a particular person’s side. You’ll find your home eventually, I promise.
Wynter understood why her grandmother wouldn’t have forewarned her that the coven might pull this shit. Agnes had liked to see the best in people, liked to hope that they would make the right decision in the end—even her bitchy successor.
Wynter shook her head at Esther. “You’re making a huge mistake.”
The Priestess blinked. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a fact.” There were things that Esther didn’t know. Things that only Wynter and Davina had known. Things that Agnes had guessed at but hadn’t shared with others.
Esther rolled her eyes. “If you say so. Now have some dignity and endure this without causing a scene. Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be.”
What, like Wynter was overreacting by not being breezy about havingher memory wiped? It wouldn’t be so bad if she was only being forced to leave, but she’d essentially also have her identity taken from her, because she wouldn’t even remember her own damn name.
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and find your mother,” Wagner chipped in. “Of course … you won’tknowshe’s your mother, just as she would not recognize you. Very sad, really.” He sounded so sincere, but she heard the subtle taunt there.
Wynter sniffed at him. “Try to be quiet, Wagner; the adults are talking right now.”
There was a snort of laughter from someone in the crowd.
His face went red, and his eyes glittered with a promise of retribution. “You won’t be feeling so cocky when Lailah arrives. She’s on her way.”
Wynter’s insides seized. If an Aeon was ready to make the banishment official, it meant that the decision had already been okayed by that oh-so mysterious race. As such, appealing to them to overturn the Moonstar coven’s decision would get her nowhere.
The crowd stirred as a familiar male witch shoved his way to the front. “What the hell is going on here?” Rafe took in the scene, and realization dawned on him fast. He cast Esther a hard look. “Tell me you’re not—”
“Do not interfere,” she ordered, her tone clipped. “This has to be done.”
His mouth set into a flat line. “You said you wouldn’t do this. You assured Agnes that you wouldn’t do this.”
“I told a dying woman what she needed to hear in order to pass peacefully,” said Esther. “That is all.”
As the two witches began to argue, Wagner leaned into Wynter and said, “Such a shame that you will have to leave. The mages don’t think so. In fact, they have promised me many things in return for sending a … message to you once we’ve left the boundaries of Aeon. They want you to pay for what you did to those boys. Understandable, I suppose.”
Wynter’s eyes slammed on him, her stomach twisting at the cruel intent there. She didn’t fear him. No, she could handle this motherfucker in her sleep. But after Lailah was done with her, there’d be a short period of time in which Wynter would be utterly vulnerable. Maybe he’d take advantage of that, or maybe he only meant to scare her. Hopefully it was the latter, because he wouldn’t hesitate to oblige the mages.
A sudden silence fell, and Wynter looked to see none other than Lailah elegantly strolling toward the house. There were five generations of Aeons. They’d mysteriously ceased procreating after that, and they’d never shared why … just as they hadn’t shared why they rarely left their city during daytime hours, or how they could put themselves in a state of Rest that could last centuries.
Lailah was part of the second generation. The tall, beautiful brunette also ruled Aeon alongside Adam, her consort Abel—yeah, it turned out that he hadn’t been killed by Cain after all—and her brother Saul. They were a council of sorts.
She was very powerful. Very detached. Veryother.
All of the Aeons who Wynter had come across were like that, really. They weren’t old-fashioned as one might expect, but nor were theyin the now.As if, having seen so many eras come and go, they’d somehow become removed from the flow of time.
Lailah lifted a brow at Esther. “Has it been done?”
“I have cast her out of the coven, yes,” the bitch replied.
Rafe turned to Lailah. “Please don’t do this—”
“Quiet.” The Aeon’s voice lashed him like a whip … just as Abel’s had lashed Wynter when she’d begged him not to exile her mother. Lailah turned to her, a cool smile touching her mouth. “Hello, Whitney.”
Jesus Christ.“It’s Wynter.” But the Aeons … it was as if they didn’t reallyseepeople. They might glance at you. Might even glare at you. But, to them, you were no more unremarkable than any other mortal.
Wynter supposed it was a little like if a wasp got into your house. You might curse at it, you might want it gone, you might even be wary of it, but you wouldn’t look at it as an individual with its own wants, needs, and motivations—it was just a wasp, the same as any other wasp.
“Wynter, then,” said Lailah, not looking even a little sheepish. “It matters not. You will need to choose a new name soon, since you will not remember your own. Trust me, this won’t hurt. I will simply take your memories, place you into a peaceful sleep, and then Wagner will drive you to the border.”