Page 115 of Last Gift: Supernatural Battle

I groaned. Except Varden. He wouldn’t barge in. I waved a hand to open the door and stared at Spyne standing in the tunnel.

He drew himself tall. “High Esteemed, I’ve come to inform you that I’m requesting a transfer from this coven. I cannot abide by living under a leadership based on lies.”

“Then fill out the damn application, you ink-haired fuck,” Rooke snarled. Moving past me, she slammed the door in his face.

I started laughing as she turned to me, a furious expression on her face.

She folded her arms and cocked a brow. “Something funny?”

“Ink-haired fuck.” I snorted, then wiped tears of laughter from my eyes. Though they weren’t all from amusement. “Thanks for the defense.”

“I can’t believe we were so wrong about him.”

“We weren’t. He just feels alone and burdened with a truth that he’s torn over telling and keeping to himself. He’s lashing out in a way.”

“You’re too understanding of people.”

Or not understanding enough. “I wonder if he’ll really leave. Huxley will be gutted.”

“He will,” Rooke said in a hushed voice. “Maybe I shouldn’t have slammed the door in his face. He’s still with one of our friends.”

Just another complicated mess to add to the heap.

“I need to leave my room, but I don’t know if I can face the coven and keep up the charade that I’m okay.”

“The guests will be gone by now. Does that help?”

“Yes.” I hadn’t shown my face to thank them for coming, and I felt crappy about that too. “I’ll come to lunch.”

Rooke heard the tone of my voice and opened the door she’d slammed. “I’ll be there. Please don’t be too hard on yourself. You deserve a fucking break, whether that comes from you or someone else.”

Once she’d closed the door, I opened myself to my magic in a bid to center. There was a slight whoosh as the four relics joined me. I barely noticed their arrival these days, but today another thought occurred to me.

How had Ryzika felt in moments like these? Did she ever have them? Had coven members ever turned on her and attacked her magic? Had she sat on a couch in her quarters, cloaked in this robe, holding this dagger, and with a pendant around her neck? Had her other hand held this same gem?

Had she felt terribly alone in those times?

Another woman set apart from those around her had worn and held these relics. She’d formed them and didn’t gain her position from simply acquiring them as I had. She’d staked her claim and climbed to leadership.

Maybe there was a lesson in that.

I stood in the cloak and sheathed the dagger before placing the gem in the pocket of my black jeans. Time to leave.

Partway down the main tunnel, I spotted Wild striding toward me from the eating chamber.

“I felt you move.” He didn’t ask how I was, and I’d need to impart the new demon greeting of Are you ready for battle between us. There were times when that suited me better. “How are the gates?”

“No change, my love.”

Then this situation could be worse. I should take heart in that. “Thank you for handling everything last night.”

“Naturally. None of the sentries have spoken of it.”

That was also something to take heart in. The magus who’d witnessed the destruction of my magic were broken for me. They felt my pain. I had to remember that the actions of a few shouldn’t force me to hide away and expect the worst of everyone. “Please make sure to thank them for that.”

Wild held the back of my hand to his lips. “People shouldn’t be thanked for being decent to others. It lowers the bar and makes a person believe that’s the best of who they should be, not the minimum.”

We entered the eating hall, and there wasn’t any drop in volume. I could see some subdued faces and vaguely recognized a few sentries from last night in the crowd. I couldn’t look at Frond’s table yet. I’d either cry or get super violent, and crying would be the worse fate for me.

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