Page 82 of Truly Madly Magically

Elizabeth says no, I tell them.

I don’t share that she heard them. We don’t have time for that.

The Joywood must ask their next question. Felix specifically, and he’s more than ready. The moment the Undine’s eyes take on that glow, he jumps on it, glaring at us from across the dais.

“How do you expect the people of St. Cyprian, the citizens of the entire witch world, to trust an immortal when we all know that only evil things can be done for immortality?” he demands.

“Former immortal,” I mutter. This is a mistake. Apparently, muttering means choosing to answer the question. The Undine keeps me in place, and it seems no one else can speak for us now that I’ve started. Shit.

I glance at Frost. His expression is unreadable, but the fact of the matter is, they’re right. A long time ago, he must have done something bad to be immortal for so long. We all know that’s how it goes. Despite that, a short time ago, he sacrificed it all.

For love.

He even admitted his sins while he did it, but naturally everyone’s acting like that part didn’t happen.

“We’ve all made mistakes,” I say carefully. “I, for one, can’t claim perfection, and I’ve only been on this planet for twenty-eight years. Can you imagine the kind of mistakes you’d make if you’d been around for two thousand? Yes, Frost once did something terrible, a long time ago. He also did something just a few months ago. He risked his very long, very powerful life to protect us. And I don’t just mean the Riverwood. I mean all of us. Frost knows what the Joywood are capable of, and if you think the way he got his immortality is shady, then you should remind yourselves what he said at Litha.”

I don’t need a reminder, because I can pull up his words from a few months ago without even trying.

“Maybe some of you missed it. He told us the Joywood discovered how they could make that power too big, too vast, to be challenged. In order to wield that power, they need immortality.”

I hear the murmurs from the crowd. I see the fury in the gazes of the Joywood across from me and wonder if part of the summer’s quiet was erasing people’s memories of this.

So I keep going. “He told us, ‘Nothing can change what the Joywood have done or will do if you do not stop them.’ Right before the very blood oaths he took struck him down for breaking them, in service to St. Cyprian instead of to himself, he told us very clearly, ‘If they succeed, they will be immortal. And you will all be slaves. You are already halfway there.’” I laugh as I gaze out at the crowd, at the world. “I know which is more likely to keep me up at night.”

Frost’s expression betrays nothing, as expected, but Rebekah’s eyes are full. She’s sitting next to him, her thigh pressed to his, and she smiles at me in a way that makes my own eyes feel prickly. All he does is incline his head, maybe a centimeter. A very grudging thanks.

I think he means it.

I let out a shaky breath. I think we’re doing okay. The Joywood haven’t messed up either, but they’re not blowing us out of the water. I haven’t failed in this.

Now I have to ask another question. Quickly. Something damning. I look at Elizabeth, but she and Zachariah are having an argument about crows, of all things. I glance at Zander.

And I know.

“You guys speak of trust, but the flood that overtook the confluence and nearly drowned the whole town had to be stopped by us. Meanwhile, Summoners are dying early. Far too early. Yet there have been no attempts by you, our leading coven, to address or solve these very pertinent issues. Why?”

Maeve steps forward this time, all smirking delight, and I know this means my question didn’t hit the mark. My heart sinks.

“There are lots of things going on behind closed doors. In an effort to maintain safety, Ellowyn, we can’t broadcast everything we do.”

“Sounds like a lack of transparency to me,” Frost says idly.

“Questions only, covens,” the Undine warns. “Only from the designated questioner.”

Maeve’s smirk deepens. She meets my gaze across the dais as she gears up to ask her question. Or drop her bomb, more like.

“I hate to bring this up.” She clasps her hands together and sends a sorrowful look out to the crowd. The tutting is implied. “But the leadership of St. Cyprian is about protecting witches against humankind. This Riverwood coven, such as it is, has a human amongst them.” Maeve shakes her head at me as if I sadden her. I accept that I probably do, but she’s still going. “Ellowyn, do you really think you’re witch enough to lead? Shouldn’t that be left to the full-blooded, truly magical among us?”

Zander shoots to his feet. I shake my head at him, because I know the thing he’s best at is blazing temper, and other, more private things, and this is not the place for either—

He doesn’t wait for anyone’s permission. He dives right in.

“As the Guardian of the Riverwood, and a member of a family who have protected St. Cyprian since its inception, I have a unique understanding of the threats we face from the outside world. I know that across this realm and the next, there are plenty of witches who have human blood.” He pauses, and I remember him on high school football fields, playing to the crowd. I know that’s what he’s doing now—making sure that every witch out there with any drop of human blood will choose him. Us. He turns that thunderstorm gaze of his on our opponents. “As the ruling coven, the Joywood have always impressed upon us the importance of the pubertatum as the evidence of our power, not the purity of our blood. It seems a little disingenuous to be worried about it now.”

Carol opens her mouth—we all see it—but something happens. I don’t know if it’s from the Undine or her own coven, but she cannot respond.

Like she tried to lie and couldn’t.

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