Page 5 of Last Gift: Supernatural Battle

The gemstone, I placed in an inner pocket Ryzika must’ve fashioned in the robes long ago.

I swept the robes back. The council had cleared the stage, and I blinked, seeing what their row of bodies had concealed.

A throne.

Though, just as this coronation was termed an accession, the throne was called an authority in magus culture. Not solely in this coven. Wild’s father and mother occupied authorities in the original coven. High Esteemed Rguc occupied an authority in her coven across the seas.

I took a breath. All I had to do was sit my ass down on what appeared to be a very hard stone surface. This authority would get a cushion. That I could say with certainty.

I walked up the three steps in the swirling cocoon of my coven’s centered magic. As I arrived before the throne, the novices started to chant, much as they’d done during my initiation into their midst.

The proven joined at a deeper pitch.

I turned to face them, and the esteemed added their voices to the chant at a higher pitch. The harmony was powerful.

It filled me.

Music swelled in my chest, and I lent my voice to the beautiful chant at a higher harmony again. I mimicked their words, feeling a lulling calm enter me as we continued through the chant, around and around.

Was I meant to be on this authority? I couldn’t say. This coven needed me here right now, and my friends needed me here too. I’d sit on this seat, and I would be what they needed me to be.

I’d fight for them.

I would piece this puzzle together the best I could. All I asked was their patience as I figured it out.

There were smiles, and I frowned, realizing I’d said those words aloud. Or maybe I hadn’t. Maybe my intent had been felt on a deeper level.

My knees bent.

I lowered and settled onto the authority.

Magic retreated from the chamber into its individual vessels. The lulling calm remained after, and I was loath to break it.

Frond wasn’t so loath. “The accession is complete.”

Varden approached the bottom of the stage and dipped his head, a hand over his heart. “Might I have the honor of being the first to greet High Esteemed Bronte?”

I tilted my head. There were too many other lies. I could fix this one. “High Esteemed Tempest,” I responded. “Thank you for your support, sir.”

His blue eyes said so much that others wouldn’t interpret. In his eyes, we’d won the fight—we’d finished Caves. I had to wonder if we were in another battle, but his happiness made me happy.

The council made up the first of those to greet me—I chose to think of this part as a greeting and not homage or sovereignty or something gross. Wild was last and walked up the steps to kiss the back of my hand. My cousin was next, and my closest friends. The esteemed after.

Ty, the divination mentor, stopped at the base of the stage. His rich brown eyes possessed a milky hue, and I waited for whatever his magic was pressing him to say.

“You are in the right seat,” he announced.

I stilled, having forgotten his prophecy from a couple of weeks earlier. “You did say the next seat wouldn’t be as comfortable as my purple beanbag.”

His lips curved, but then the ghost of a smile faded away. “You must accept it.”

I patted the authority. “I’m sitting here, aren’t I?”

Ty paused. “You are sitting there, yes.”

But I haven’t accepted it? He was bang on the money there. “I hear you.”

He bowed. “Welcome, High Esteemed Tempest.”

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