Page 180 of Last Gift: Supernatural Battle

We’d lost forty-seven magus in the battle. A huge number of our coven that I could barely fathom. Everyone had lost someone dear to them, and our mourning would extend far into the future for those murdered souls.

The foreign covens, the Vissimo, and Luthers had all lost loved ones too. My heart ached as surely for them as for my own coven, and nausea filled me whenever I contemplated how much of a coven we would have had without their help. The price of keeping our caves and territory seemed so steep but could have been so much greater.

And if the weakness of a coven was that one blow was felt by all, then the strength of a coven was that one blow was distributed across many. Any fallen would be picked up by the ten magus around them too.

We’d get through our grief and the memories of battle together.

I’d woken today, a week later, feeling a return of normalcy for the first time. Despite that my demon nephew now lived in the coven with us. Despite that my sister was alive and mated to the demon king that she intended to deal with. Despite any number of future problems.

So of course that was when the coven had decided to hold a vote.

“Whatever happens,” Winona told me just before we entered, “you are my leader.”

I murmured my thanks and entered ahead of her.

Large vials, much like the affinity test vials, sat upon the stage. Instead of four tubes, there were two.

“The blue vial will fill with votes for your leadership,” Barrow announced as I stood before the stage. “The red vial will fill with votes against your leadership.”

Today, the coven decided to vote whether I would lead them.

“If the majority vote against,” Barrow boomed, “then the coven agrees to pick another suitable leader in the timeframe of one month.”

We’d beat the demons back. We’d hurt them and the king badly. I didn’t feel the same pressure as I had to fix everything as only I could see how. The path was clearer now, and I felt confident that any number of magus could rise to the role of high esteemed.

Winona was still my pick.

“Please cast your votes now,” Barrow said, glancing at me.

Smiling, he lifted a finger that glowed blue. The blue magic parted from his fingertip to fly into the vial rapidly filling with blue.

I didn’t take my eyes off the vial, but oddly, believing what I saw proved hard. The blue vial was nearly full, and only a handful of red filled the vial opposing my leadership.

The magic filling both vials slowed.

I looked at Barrow for confirmation, and he bowed. “High Esteemed Tempest, the coven has voted. Will you accept our invitation to take up the authority yet again?”

He swept aside, and I peered at the authority that had been behind him.

Will you accept our invitation to take up the authority yet again?

The issue with that question was that I never accepted this throne in the first place. I’d sat there for show. Because I had to. But I never accepted the seat due to not accepting myself or that I deserved to sit there.

Did I accept this seat?

I summoned a cushion. Purple. Filled with beans—a mini version of the bean bag I liked to use from the divination center. The cushion landed on the authority, and I climbed the steps, then sat.

Did I accept their invitation?

“I accept this authority and all that comes with it. I will not fail you.”

Barrow bowed low again. “You never have failed us, High Esteemed. May we deserve you as leader in return for your vow.”

The coven bowed to me, and a hum of magic built in the chamber as their acceptance washed over the stone and up on the stage to meet me. There was far less fanfare than the first time I’d sat on the authority, and yet this instance felt right. There were no lies between us. No barriers to fester or limit.

They were my coven.

I was their leader. But more importantly, I was a coven member myself and I finally, finally felt the truth of that on every level.

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