Page 15 of First Ritual

Family.

Struggling to absorb that tidbit, I forced myself to smile at the huge line of novices. After the first fifty, my shoulders eased at the constant zing of my magic connecting with theirs. No one appeared embarrassed in the slightest. Maybe I was old-school on more than one count. Around two hundred magus touched my pedestal, and worry churned in my gut as the tether within me didn’t so much as twitch.

The novices walked to the outskirts of the meadow and linked hands to form a large outer circle. The proven lined up next, and as the first one reached me, none of them batted an eyelash at connecting with my magic either. The proven numbered half the novices. From those magus I’d met, there were energies I would describe as bland while some were mildly unpleasant. Otherwise, my power seemed to find joy in the experience of connecting with so many. My cheeks, on the other hand, hurt from smiling so much by the time the last proven arrived. And of course, the last magus in the line wore a black, hooded tunic and thick layers of amulets and pendants.

Wild.

None of the proven had elicited a response from the tether either. I inhaled sharply at the thought that Wild could belong on the other end of the very familial tether. Talk about awkward after our kiss. Yet if the tether didn’t respond to him, there were only a small number of esteemed magus left to test, all of them old.

I shifted on the stone. This exchange felt far too intimate with him anyway. The embarrassment I’d managed to temper thus far reared its head, and a refusal balanced on my lips.

“Your cheeks are pink,” he drawled.

A snort startled from me, and surprise glimmered in his gaze. Sue me. I just plain ol’ enjoyed when people behaved outside the box. “Touch the stone, Mr. Astar. Let me worry about my cheeks, both kinds, and the color of them.”

His gaze darkened more—if that were possible. The magus held up a hand, wiggling his musician’s fingers. Damn, this guy had some beautiful hands, though.

“Brace for impact,” he said. “My magic doesn’t play well with others.”

What did that mean?

I tensed as he touched the stone. A flood of warmth swept from my toes to the very ends of my hair like an unbroken sea wave. A soft sigh fell from my lips, and through the harmonious buzz in my ears, I wondered if a sigh had just fallen from him too.

The heat ebbed to center in my chest, and I raised my head as if in a dream to look at him. He looked back in silence. Did he feel that slight awe as well? The shock? The wariness? I couldn’t tell.

I croaked, “You’re not wrong about that.”

His magic just crept into my body and left a permanent mark. The feel of our connection hadn’t faded yet anyway. I shivered. Should’ve refused to let him touch the stone. Though that wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere. He had nothing to do with the tether.

Wild lowered his focus to the hand he’d touched to the stone.

I leaned down. “Psst. Hey.”

He jerked and looked up. “Huh?”

“Could you have your crisis elsewhere? The esteemed haven’t had their turn, and I’m starving.”

His gaze dropped to my lips, then my chest. He could likely see all the way to my belly button with me leaning forward like this. His scrutiny was too much with the lingering feeling of his magic within me.

I straightened, rubbing at my chest, as Wild flipped up his hood. He strode away to join the proven, who’d formed a second ring inside that of the novices.

I rubbed at my chest again. Why wouldn’t the stamp of his magic go away? I could feel it sitting there in my chest, like a weight. Is that what he’d meant about his magic not playing well with others? Was that payback for my earlier comments?

I did my best to put it out of mind as the esteemed came forward next. Thankfully they numbered far less, around thirty. Varden touched the pedestal last, then joined the innermost and third circle surrounding my pedestal.

Was it over? None of them belonged to the tether. How was that possible? I swallowed hard. I’d been so sure the person would be in this coven. Had I just broken my oath to mother for nothing?

My brow cleared as I recalled that the tether only appeared a month ago. I hadn’t met any children under the age of four or so. There were still toddlers and babies asleep within the caves. I blew out a breath. Relax, Tempest. My eyes sought the young woman with pastel-purple hair. The first magus I’d touched, and my cousin. She could have a child. A baby.

Coming here hadn’t been a mistake. I would figure this out.

I took a steadying breath, rubbing at my chest once again.

The esteemed began to chant. A minute passed before the middle ring of proven took up an accompanying chant—a deeper one that weaved through the steady melody of the esteemed. The novices took up a third rhythm, and tears stung my eyes at the sound. I couldn’t help rising to my feet to watch. A beaming grin spread across my face, and after a few rounds of the chant, I joined in with a fourth high-pitched melody.

There were gasps as thick rain fell from the clear sky.

My hair plastered against my face, my dress against my skin, and I spread my palms to feel the warm beads of rain bounce off.

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