WILLOW
The Tribunal doors were cast wide open, the locking mechanism useless. Never before had the entire Coven been allowed within
these walls, only the select few permitted to be in the private space of the Covenant previously.
But there was no Covenant left to respect, and I knew what would happen to the Coven after centuries of strict leadership. They’d descend into chaos; they’d turned on those who had once been friends in an effort to fill the vacuum of power.
Gray guided me through the doors, the murmur of voices immediately an assault compared to the ordinarily quiet place of somber respect. I drew in a deep breath as we passed through the bubble to enter the center circle that was far too crowded, that same popping sensation pulsing within me as I felt like I’d plunged underwater.
Even without the Covenant, this place was holy to our magic. Sacred to
us.
I would not see it desecrated.
The boundary seemed to hum in agreement with me as Gray attempted
to tug me through to the other side, the tiny pinprick of magic piercing the skin of my arms. The boundary held me steadfast, consuming me as blood welled from the minor injuries it had caused. Single beads rising from needlelike wounds, I watched them float through the magic of the boundary as Gray watched in smug satisfaction. They collected into a sizable tear- shaped droplet, hovering in front of me until I raised a hand to rest beneath it.
The boundary finally released me, allowing me to move to the other side. Sound returned immediately, the frenzied murmur of voices drowned out by one man’s furious scolding as he launched a tirade toward Gray.
“What is the meaning of this? You decorate your whore in the bones of the legacy we lost now?” Itan asked, waving a hand toward me and the bones lingering at my waist.
They clacked together as I took a step toward him, moving directly past him to approach the abandoned Hecate throne where it had been left to rot. The blood moved with me, and I glanced back toward the boundary that had somehow known I would need it and found myself without a knife.
Stupid.
“What is lost can always be found, Itan,” I said, raising my chin and glaring at him. It was safe to say that most of the Coven hadn’t heard the truth of my lineage, staring back at me in confusion.
Itan recoiled physically, looking as if he’d been struck before he recovered with a shake of his head. “Bullshit,” he said, raising his chin. He left me with no choice, forcing me to do the one thing that I would never be able to come back from.
When I thought of the wrongs I could right, I wasn’t sure I ever would have wanted to.
The Hecate throne called to me as I stepped up in front of it, staring down at the aging seat crafted from the bones of those who had come before me. The ones settled at my waist were finger and hand bones, the smallest parts of my ancestors, but the throne had been remade from the remains of the first generations of Hecate witches.
Turning to look over my shoulder at Itan, I smirked as I cast my glance toward Gray. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching in amusement as I dropped my hand to my side. The blood that had levitated in front of me fell, dropping to the surface of the throne and splashing all over the yellowing bones.
“Congratulations. You can make a mess as well as any child attempting to play with the grown-ups. What was that supposed to prove?” Itan asked, resulting in the chime of laughter from his supporters who hid behind him.
My smirk shifted into a smile as I turned to face him fully. Lips pulling back over my teeth, I refused to look at Iban as I prepared for his uncle’s shame. “Are you completely unfamiliar with foreplay?” His brow dropped
as I raised my hand, waving it lazily toward the bones now covered in my blood.
Covered in my magic.
The chair groaned, creaking as the bones began to shift, collapsing to the tile floor until the throne was gone. “I don’t understand,” someone whispered, lacking patience.
I waited for that familiar sound of bones clacking together, feeling every touch resonate in my soul. I didn’t bother to look as I felt the bones assemble themselves into the body of a man, standing on top of one another and moving until his figure moved forward to stand at my side.
Somewhere in the room, Gray barked a laugh of pure joy, the warmth of it coating my skin as Itan stared at the skeleton beside me in horror. “You,” he paused, looking back and forth between me and the creature I’d summoned from the dead with merely a wave of my hand and the release of blood. “But you’re a Madizza! I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
I turned my attention toward the Madizza throne, lifting my dress slightly and stomping a single foot on the floor. The vines of the Madizza throne squirmed instantly, sliding out of the places they’d been trapped for centuries. The throne slid along the ground, shifting into nothing but a tangle of roses, vines, and thorns as they made their way across the center of the Madizza circle. They climbed the steps of the dais, centering themselves where the two thrones of the Covenant had once been.
I had no idea what Gray had done with them, but the knowledge that he’d paved the way for me to do exactly what I’d chosen to do sunk deep into the pits of my stomach. I didn’t like being predictable.
I nodded to the skeleton, earning a wordless nod back before he proceeded to the dais along with the vines. He crumpled to the floor on top of them, and I watched in satisfaction as the vines wound around the remnants of my ancestors.
Uniting them as one.
They twisted and turned, maneuvering their way into a new throne—a throne of bones, blood, and life.
I took the steps slowly, one at a time, exhaling a single sigh with my back to the Coven.
Turning to face them, I took the throne that could belong to no one but me in the place where the Covenant had once sat. “Any other questions, Itan, or are you done questioning me now?”
