Page 63 of The Cursed

"She knew what she was risking," the purple witch said, raising her chin as she turned her eyes to me. She waited for me to speak, for me to save her from the fate that would be waiting for her. I couldn't intercede on her behalf. Not when I, too, had started to question how much I wanted to give to protect someone who would willingly send me to my death.

If the roles had been reversed, I would not have been so quick to allow someone to die for the greater good. I didn't have that in me.

We were not the same.

"I did," I agreed, clasping my hands together in front of me. "That doesn't mean it should have ever been asked of me."

She scoffed, looking at Iban where he lingered in the middle of the group. He stepped forward, wringing his hands and stopping at an appropriate distance with only a glare from Gray. His brown eyes peered up at me on the dais, his expression pleading.

Except, for the first time, as I looked at him, I didn't see the friend I'd thought would have my back. I saw someone who had seen my weakness and the walls around me, playing them against me to achieve what he thought this coven needed.

"We've hadcenturiesof conflict between the witches and the Vessels," I said, speaking not to Iban but to the entire Coven. He opened his mouth as if he might interrupt me, but I silenced him by holding out a hand. "Have you not had enough?"

"What would you know of our centuries of strife?" an older white witch asked. "You've been here for five minutes and endured onlyoneReaping. You know nothing of our history."

"You're right," I admitted, nodding my head. "I did not grow up here. I have not spent my lifetime immersed in hatred the way that you have, but I was raised to come here and destroy the Vessels, regardless of the cost. If I am willing to set that aside for peace, why aren't you?"

"Because I'm not fucking the bastard who is responsible for it!" she yelled, resulting in a murmur of agreement.

"That bastard is also responsible for you having magic in the first place," I said, taking a step down the dais. I approached her, stopping before her and leaning into her face. "Perhaps you'd prefer he take it back."

She blanched at that, the same way any of the witches would have when faced with the thought of not having their magic. Somewhere along the line, it had become who we were, the only way we identified ourselves.

There was more to us than the magic in our veins.

Gray stood beside me, allowing me to interact with the Coven and their rebellions. I had more appreciation for him in those moments than ever before, in his willingness to step aside and let me fight my own battles. If I were indeed to replace the Covenant, they would not gain respect for me by him interfering at every turn.

I didn't miss the archdemons making their way into the back of the room, lurking quietly in preparation for the moment when Gray had to deal with his penance himself. Just as he hadn't interfered now, I would step back and allow him to do what was necessary for his people.

Even if it meant punishing those who had once stood with me and sacrificed me like a lamb.

Juliet moved through the crowd, reaching Della and Nova and grabbing them each with a calm hand. She led them from the room while they glanced back at me, and I sighed in contentment. At least they were safe, spared from what was to come due to Gray’s unwillingness to make me hate him all over again.

"You don't deserve to fill the Covenant's shoes," the purple witch said, the sneer of disgust on her face one that I would have hated to see at one point.

Now, it only filled me with resolve as I pinned her with a glare. "The Covenant didn't wear shoes, so I find it difficult to imagine I cannot fill them," I said, thinking of how their bones had clacked against the floor with every step. Gray snorted from the dais, the sound warming my soul. "But if the legacy they left behind was the destruction of the very magic that we claim to love, that's not a legacy I want any part of."

"Sweetheart, this Coven has operated on tradition for centuries," Iban said, glancing around the room when Gray growled a warning at Iban’s unwanted endearment.

"Has it?" I asked, furrowing my brow. "Centuries of tradition demanded blood magic and sacrifice to give back what we took from the Source. This Coven lost its way decades ago, and I will see it returned to what it should have been."

"That's all well and good, but you cannot expect them to approve of you if you stand with him at your side!" Iban said, his voice raising as he stared at me. He looked more like his uncle in those moments than he ever had, the contortion of his features in anger making him look cruel and spiteful.

"I don't need their approval, though I expect it will come in time," I said, taking a few steps up the dais. I took my seat, perching on the throne as I stared at Iban. "Why don't we discuss what is really driving your anger, Iban? Jealousy doesn't look good on you."

He pursed his lips, glancing to his side as attention turned to him. "You can claim whatever you want, but the good of the Coven should come first. Allying yourself with him is fine. However, he can never do the one thing you must do for the sake of the Source. You cannot allow your lines to end with you, and he can never give you children!"

I cringed with the whiplash the change of conversation gave me, fully acknowledging that his desperation made him grasp at any straws he could grasp. I'd considered it briefly once upon a time, but no matter what he thought my obligation was to my Coven, I didn't want kids right now. That was a tomorrow problem, for a woman who wasn't sure she'd even live that long.

"Can't I?" Gray asked, making everything in me still. I forced myself not to look at him, focusing on my breathing and keeping my face a blank mask. I couldn't allow my thoughts to show on my face, not when those watching me were looking for cracks in our marriage.

"Vessels cannot sire children," Iban said, but his voice was far less sure as I turned to look at Gray's arrogant face.

My husband smiled as Iban blanched, the reality of the situation that hadn't occurred to any of us. We knew next tonothingof Lucifer the Morningstar, and even less of the archdemons he'd brought with him. "Ah, but we both know I am no Vessel," he said simply.

Everything in me froze, even as I forced my expression into one of indifference. I swallowed, trying not to think about how many times we'd had sex. I'd taken the tonic to prevent childbirth monthly, keeping my period at bay for as long as I could remember.

I was safe.

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