Page 76 of Pirate Witch
Neither of the two witches seems alarmed by this, and I follow them as they abandon the now useless bucket and head for a pair of chairs in the corner.
“You can’t control how history will remember you,” Danika counsels. “All you can do is work to better the future.” She sighs and looks at me before returning her focus to Nilsa. “You should gather the rest of your males. It’s past dusk and I need to begin the evening prayers, but we will need everyone on board to get this plan of yours together.”
Nilsa nods, and the sadness which consumed her expression only moments ago disappears. In its place is a tiredness that speaks of the immense responsibility she’s taken on. “Of course.”
We leave the temple in silence and head back to the apartment, only to find it empty. Nilsa snorts and doesn’t miss a beat. I don’t know if it’s a witch thing, or just good intuition, but she leads us straight to the kitchen. Judging by the glorious smells coming from the building, it’s not hard to guess that the crew came looking for us and got sidetracked by the promise of whatever food is being served.
“Okay, you need to give me the recipe for these,” Klaus is saying as we walk through the door.
Opal looks up as we enter, but otherwise can’t bring herself to part from the food trough set along one wall for the familiars. The cat is purring as she shoves her entire face into the tiny chunks of chicken, completely engrossed.
“Where have you two been?” Cas asks, grinning. “You’ve missed out on some amazing breakfast.”
Nilsa smiles, taking a seat on the bench between him and Nos, leaving me to perch beside Ry, who’s completely lost interest in his mug of blood now that she’s arrived.
“I’ll let you in on a secret,” she says. “The chef—”
“Now, you wouldn’t be spreading rumours about my cooking, would you, girl?” A voice booms from behind Nilsa, making her jump.
A curvy witch stands with her hands on her hips and a brow cocked in challenge. She has sigils tattooed around her eyes, and a few dotted along her neck. Being around Nilsa has taught me that the more sigils a witch has, the older they are. This witch has more than most I’ve seen.
“I wouldn’t dare.” Nilsa grins back. “As long as you’ve saved some for me, that is.”
The other witch’s strict expression bursts into an answering smile and she claps a heavy hand down on our mate’s shoulder. “Of course I did. Good to have you back, pet.”
She moves off towards the open kitchen, humming, and Nilsa watches her go. “That’s Philippa. She was one of the witches responsible for my circle.”
“Circle?” Val asks, and I blink.
Did the mage just take an interest in our witch? Curious…
“After we reach schooling age, young witches live together in circles,” Nilsa explains. “Most Lunars aren’t really… maternal. We’re too independent. Obviously, we still have contact with our parents, and most girls can see them when they want to.” She pauses, no doubt remembering that wasn’t the case for her. “It gives us stronger bonds to our coven because everyone is involved in raising us in some way. We usually have a few core guardians who make sure our basic needs are met. They are the Lunars who break the mould because theyarecaregiver material. Then there are plenty of others who teach us to wield our magic.”
“Do Solars do the same?”
Nilsa shakes her head. “They don’t tend to have as many unplanned pregnancies, or children. Their Goddess sets a man on their path and ensures a baby comes from the union. Solars don’t keep the fathers of their children around once the deed is done. Often there’s only one or two Solar children at a time and they’re raised by their mothers.” She shudders, as if the idea of being raised a Solar is terrifying.
For our mate, it probably is. She’s not exactly the silent, contemplative type.
A plate heaped with eggs, sausages, and toast is put in front of her, and she digs in like she’s starving. It makes me relax to see her enjoying it properly.
The way people react to food is always a good indicator of how out of their depth they are. At my lowest point after I was cursed, I barely remembered food existed. I didn’t neglect myself intentionally… it just happened.
Nilsa has to regain what weight she lost when she was away from us. She can’t rely entirely on her indomitable will to defeat the Eagle. She’ll still need her physical strength if she’s to fight at her best.
“So what’s next?” Val asks. “We’re here, but everyone seems remarkably chill about the army heading for their doorstep.”
Nilsa snorts. “If you really think that, then you’re an idiot. Witches don’t prepare for battle like the other races do. What good would sharpening blades and running around in search of armour do us?”
Cas pipes in around his second helping of breakfast. “Yeah, you probably can’t scent it, but the smell coming out of the building opposite us is… potent. They’re brewing shit in there for sure.”
“Then there are the cats,” I mention, stirring another sugar into the hot tea Philippa has provided.
How they’ve got sugar all the way this far north is beyond me, but I’ll take any opportunity to attempt to replicate the sweetness of the foods in Faerie.
“Cats?” Val echoes.
“The place was swarming with them earlier,” Nos continues for me. “I could barely move without accidentally stepping on a tail. Now, they’re all gone.”
