Page 45 of Last Gift: Supernatural Battle

“He’s close to going too far,” Wild said darkly.

I pulled a title off the shelf in Corentin’s section. He hadn’t returned the divination titles to the library yet. He’d been busy doing… linen pants. “We can’t take his bait, Wild. It’s frustrating, and I’m most likely going to sink my fist into his face one day. For now, that would achieve the opposite of what we’ve told everyone to do. There must be an effort toward harmony and room for natural negative emotions. From us too. Even if Frond is the mouthpiece of the original coven. He’ll get what’s coming to him in time.”

When Wild didn’t respond, I turned to find him regarding me with a small smile. I’d like to have that mouth on mine. Or on my body. I wasn’t picky. “What?”

“You won’t want to hear it, but you’re a leader, Tempest. There hasn’t been time for anything but meetings and letters and speeches, but I hope you’re proud of the way you’ve taken this in your stride.”

“More like in a crawl.”

“If you’re still moving forward, then you’re doing what most magus could never do. Think of how your life has changed in a week. Most would crumble under that. You’re incredible.”

Blood warmed my cheeks. “Thanks. My life has changed in worse ways in the past. I suppose that made me different from a lot of people.”

“You are different to a lot of people. I love you, Tempest Corentine.”

Maybe I hadn’t thought about myself lately, because I had the surprising urge to shed a few tears right now. “I love you, too, Wild Astar.”

“When we have our union, I’m taking your name.”

I opened the book on Ogham Staves. “Did you just casually mention tying yourself to me forever?”

Wild approached, tilting my chin. “We’re already tied, my love. A union would be so everyone else knew it, and I do want them to know.”

Learning grimoire magic was becoming less important by the second. His musician fingers had that effect.

Wild took the book from my hands. “Why this one?”

“So I can complete my homework from Ty and learn grimoire magic at the same time.”

“Multitasker.”

“You knew that from last night.”

He flashed me a grin from where he flicked through the pages.

I perched on the table, making sure to do so on Huxley’s side so I could tell him where my ass had been. No reason why the rest of us shouldn’t mimic Rooke’s efforts in the greenhouse. Not when Huxley had reacted so brilliantly. “Your regret about not meeting my family gave me an idea.”

“Mmm?”

“You could technically meet them.” It wasn’t often that magus spoke with their deceased loved ones. When we died, we moved on. To hold back from what was next was a choice the dead rarely made because once the choice was made, there was no moving on ever. As magus, we didn’t fear a return to the Mother. We expected to meet our family and friends in whatever was next by embracing the full journey of death when it arrived. In saying that, a spirit did sometimes decide not to keep going. When a mother was ripped from a child, for instance, or when one lover died before another and couldn’t face leaving them alone.

He shot me a sharp look. “Your family didn’t move on?”

“They did.” Thank the Mother. “That doesn’t mean you can’t see them in a memory of mine.”

Wild set the book down. “I thought you’d set yourself against further divination journeys.”

And here was my real idea. “I had. Mostly still have. I can’t stop thinking that my other half may be trapped in the demon realm, though.” I checked the silence barrier was still in place around our cubby. “I’m not content to wait on her return. What if she doesn’t?”

What would happen to Wild?

“There’s one instance where she has always come out of her hiding spot,” I added.

“Whenever you return to the memory of your family’s murder.”

“Exactly.” My voice was grim because, really, I didn’t want to do this again. Each time I woke up at the north mountains, naked and covered in dirt, and the victim of chaos. “Maybe that would give my demon a door to return to my divination affinity. Once she’s back, our ritual will restart.”

Wild’s focus didn’t falter from my face. He wanted to do it, and also didn’t.

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