Page 99 of First Ritual

Twelve hands rested on the table. With a glance at Winona first, Frond placed his hand on the table, too, to make thirteen. Wild’s parents had puppets in this council. Frond seemed the likeliest suspect. Barrow, potentially, but he may just have a big ol’ boner for joining the original coven. Winona might also be communicating with them, drawn in by Barrow or Frond.

Like rivers of lava, red magic trickled inward from their thirteen hands to the center to give rise to a small pedestal upon which a symbol blazed bright.

“Intention,” I said aloud.

Varden rose and adjusted his thick robes. “It is set. Miss Corentin, Mr. Astar, to the testing chamber if you will. The council shall remain outside of the chamber until the test is complete. Mr. Astar, you are versed?”

“I am, sir,” Wild replied. His dark eyes found mine.

I’d managed not to drown in them so far, but I had a feeling my time was up.

We walked from the council chamber and down a small tunnel. Rooms branched off. What appeared to be the medic wing, and a supply area. At the very end was a small chamber with two chairs.

Walking inside, I sat and tried not to moan in relief.

Wild sat opposite.

The door closed.

“They’ll be able to hear everything?” I asked.

Wild glanced at the door. “No. This is a sound-proofed room.” He chanted, then pressed his hands outward. “Now it’s extra sound- and look-proofed.”

I probed his work. “Nice job.”

“Barriers are a specialty.” He rubbed his forehead. “How are you? You don’t look so good.”

“Don’t feel so good either. I want to get this done and go to bed. I don’t even care if you portal in tonight.”

“Tempest—”

“Not that I’d notice. Just illustrating how tired I am. That I wouldn’t notice a sexy male sleeping beside me.”

Wild took my hand. “Tempest, you’re babbling.”

My shoulders sagged. “I know. My instincts are going off harder than Beyoncé’s crowd at Coachella.”

“When you speak human, I can’t decide if I should strangle you or let you live a moment longer because you intrigue me.”

“You’ll figure it out. I’ve settled on the strangling option for when you speak grimoire next.” I cracked my knuckles, then my neck. “Okay. Blast me.”

“That’s not how this works,” he murmured, taking my hands again.

I pulled them back, bunching them to fists. “This is feeling more and more like the journey with Rooke. I’m feeling a little caged.” Bursting upward, I paced around the room despite my exhaustion. “Last time you met my magic, things went belly-up. Whenever I open myself, something happens.” I stopped in front of him. “This isn’t a good idea. We’ll tell the council something.”

Wild waited for me to finish. “Where’s the woman who just stared down thirteen council members?”

“She’s doing the affinity test she didn’t want to do,” I snapped.

“You knew this was happening,” he replied. “You put the test on your terms. You worked esteemed like clay, some of them with motives that clashed with yours, and molded them into a bowl.” His lips curved. “Watching you do so was a pleasure. That can’t be taught.” A slight growl entered his voice.

I peered into his face. “I can’t decide if you have a boner about it or if you’re proud, Astar.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call me Tempest.”

“Tempest suits you,” he countered. “You are Tempest. Tell me why you prefer Bronte?”

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