Page 17 of Savage Desire

“Jugis. Perpes. Proprius. Constans. Perennis.”

“Again,” she breathes, the order little more than a whisper, and I do as she says.

“Jugis. Perpes. Proprius. Constans. Perennis.”

“Now, close your eyes and do it one more time, focusing on the sand in your hand,” she says, and despite the uncertainty weighing on my chest, I let my eyelids fall closed and repeat the words one final time.

“Jugis. Perpes. Proprius. Constans. Perennis.”

“Polaris, that was perfect. You can open your eyes now, and what I want you to do is tip your bag of sand upside down.”

I open my eyes to frown at her, but the way she nods eagerly has me slowly turning my wrist and the contents of my bag falling out. The sand scatters across the floor and my eyes widen in surprise when the rapid flow continues uninterrupted.

When it's clear she was trying to show me how much was in there, I quickly return my wrist upright and stop the mess from growing.

“Excellent. You’re a natural, Polaris. No sleep problems in sight,” she adds, her eyes saying more than her words before she nods at my pouch. “Keep it with you at all times. You’re going to be entering a new world as a witch, and with that comes a language of its own. It's important you remember these things.”

I almost asked her if she has a little notepad for me to jot everything down, but she's quickly waving her hand and moving on to a new subject as she returns to her little station at the back of the room.

“Another priority is to learn what your main ability is,” she states as I slip my pouch of sand back into my pocket. “You could specialize in elements, potions, charms, or, as rare as they may be, you could be a center; a mind witch,” she reels off, and I rub my lips together nervously.

“How do I figure it out?” I ask, painstakingly recalling the last time someone tried to find out what kind of witch I am.

She turns to me with a small golden object in her hand. It's almost like a bowl with a sharp edge on top. “All you have to do is prick your finger and let your blood mix inside the basin with the tea leaves. They will reveal what you are,” she states, and I rear back, attempting to hide from the device.

The fact that I’m spooked must be clear because she lowers the bowl in her hand, remaining where she is instead of being the one to take control of the distance between us. She leans back against the bench, her eyes soft as she speaks.

“If you're what the Renegade coven are looking for, will you reconsider their offer?”

“No,” I answer honestly, and she sighs, disappointed with my answer.

“A coven is?—”

“I'm not all that worried about what a coven is, Professor. I've survived this long without one.”

She nods, but the disappointment and sadness in her eyes doesn't change. “It changed me as a person,” she admits, and I recall the fact that she too was a Florentine.

“For the better?” I ask, my strong stance wavering for a brief moment when I take note of the fact that she's part of a coven and still living past her twenty-second birthday.

Juniper pauses, eyes overcast as she drifts off into her thoughts. “Mostly, but not all,” she admits. “I’m more confident in who I am and what I'm able to do, which grows with time and knowledge. Plus, having a place, a home, a family like no other is an irrefutable improvement.” Her gaze dips. “But the price I pay for that is, I sometimes have to do things I don't want to do. Sometimes I have to compromise, but that too is life. You'll learn that, Polaris. Compromise is going to come, whether you want it to or not.”

“That may be true, but I don't plan on compromising my morals for anybody.”

She nods in understanding as she rises from her perched position. “Finding out what you are doesn't force you into a coven, Polaris. It would just make you more appealing to those that are looking to complete their family,” she explains, lifting the device once more.

I rub my lips together nervously, trusting her words as I cut the distance between us.

She takes a deep breath as I come to a stop in front of her. “Sing after me,” she orders, making my pulse quicken as I stare down at the device.

“Witches dream, witches mean, witches grow, so it seems. Witches I, witches you, witches us, witches true.”

I repeat the words, the slight melody to her tone almost soothing as she waves for me to prick my finger on the tip of the device. I hiss at the sharp contact, watching as three droplets of my blood fall into the leaves, swirling without assistance, and I wait, unsure what it is I'm actually looking for.

When a symbol settles in the center of the golden bowl, I tilt my head, unable to decipher what it means. Juniper gasps, her eyes darting to mine as she gapes at me.

“You're a center.”

I frown, unsure if that's a good thing or not. “So… not what the Renegades want?” I ask for clarification, and she shakes her head vigorously.

---