Silvan a why choose witc.., p.9
Silvan: A Why Choose Witchy Paranormal Romance Trilogy, page 9
Romy slumped against Dane, and he offered a supportive squeeze to her arm. “Can’t you FaceTime them? Zoom call or something?”
“Unfortunately, no. This kind of announcement must be face-to-face and in a formal setting. Everyone bears witness to my verdict, which you will read after disclosing the details of the investigation. As the future high priestess, you exist as the mouthpiece of The One and The Only.”
“Well, Mom, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I gotta sit this one out. I’m not ready to lead the council yet.” After a hard swallow, she forced a tight grin. “I’ll be there to support Grandmother or Aunt Selene or whoever you get to do it.”
“This wasn’t an invitation, sweetheart.” Cyril leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “This is mandatory.”
“You said a favor,” Romy fired at her mother. “Not an order.”
Cassia’s eyes fluttered in exhaustion. “Andromeda, I really don’t have time to do this with you.”
“You’re the one who said I can’t even move a candlestick so why the hell would you want me to lead your stupid council?”
Wide-eyed, Cyril stood and clapped his hands once. “Dane, that’s our cue, bud.”
As the men withdrew to the kitchen, Romy didn’t take her eyes off her mother. Cassia didn’t relent in her stare either. Green eyes to green eyes. Same skin. Same hair. Sometimes even the same attitude. But they were not the same in everything. Romy did not want to be bound by the constraints Cassia created. “This is wrong, Mom. And you know it. You could literally get anybody else.”
“I don’t want anyone else, Andromeda. I want you. As my daughter and my heir, it’s my right to appoint you to stand in for me.”
“You say it’s your right, and I say you’re forcing me to do something I don’t want to do.”
Her mouth curled into a slight sneer that Romy barely noticed. “Sometimes we have to participate in situations we don’t want to for reasons we can’t understand. I will say this to you once, Andromeda, and that is all. I need you to hear what I say and what I don’t say.”
Romy nodded but remained quiet.
“You must oversee tonight’s meeting. I cannot tell you why, but I don’t need to be there. You have to trust that I would never put you in harm’s way, nor would I give you a task I thought you were incapable of.” Cassia paused. “Do you understand?”
She didn’t understand, but she did trust her mother. “Mm-hmm.”
“Good. Dane will be at your side.”
“And you’ll be here? With Thora?”
The muscles in Cassia’s jaw tightened as she answered, “Yes.”
But Romy knew she was lying.
CHAPTER 12
you are mine and i am yours
Romy sat with Bastian in the Dusk Garden for the third time that week. Last time, he’d offered comfort, but this time, it was strength. She didn’t want to preside over the High Council meeting, nor did she believe she should have to. There were far better choices for the assignment. If her mother couldn’t attend, fine, but Grandmother still went to the meetings, and she’d been high priestess for many years. Aunt Selene might have been passed over when she was younger, but she was leaps and bounds more qualified to supervise than Romy. Hell, anyone in attendance who’d been to more than one council meeting could lead and probably command more respect. Beyond that, how was Romy supposed to concentrate on Claude Rincewind’s death when her baby sister could be dying too?
After Cassia had told Romy the news, she’d rattled on about the sacred role of the high priestess. How she functions as an agent for The One and The Only. Then she’d spouted some bullshit spiel about how duty came before emotions and the coven came before all.
Fuck. That.
Nothing came before Thora. Absolutely nothing.
So why was she here now, with the entire left portion of her body pressed against Bastian’s right side, preparing to walk the path to Tuiteam feòil is fuil? Peer pressure? The fear of disappointing her parents and the coven? Fear of disappointing herself? Or perhaps because deep within, she did care about what had happened with Claude Rincewind, if only for his nephew.
Though she wasn’t cold, Romy shivered and inhaled deeply. Sensing her apprehension, Bastian squeezed her hand seven times. She didn’t question what the significance of seven was. As it had been from the beginning of their evanescent interactions, Romy simply knew his soul as if she’d resided within him or him inside her. As if those seven words had knitted them together in a past life.
You are mine, and I am yours.
The breadth of the statement didn’t scare her. Nor did Bastian make her afraid. But she was a witch, and he was a vampire. Whatever was between them was an impossible dream.
You are mine, and I am yours.
How was this happening? To meet someone and realize an inexplicable connection? The odd twist was that while she experienced complete peace with Bastian, the insatiable hunger she’d felt for Silvan had only increased. When she was with Bastian, she didn’t want to indulge in her Silvan fantasies, but being with one man made being with the other all the more appealing. Which was just great because vampires and lycans were mortal enemies. Every stitch of her behavior was prohibited. Forbidden. Wrong.
Do you always do everything your mother tells you?
Silvan’s question might as well have been a dare because any interaction with the two men and Romy was on fire—a desirable, powerful goddess who did exactly as she pleased and abandoned the need to fit in.
Presently, though, her emotions needed to shift to the back burner. She’d need every ounce of fortitude to muddle through this meeting.
Bastian stood, his way of saying it was time. With no instruction, Romy closed her eyes, knowing that when she opened them, she’d be at the entrance of Tuiteam feòil is fuil alone.
Romy led the Delacroixs through the fiery circle and into the ruins, thankful for less pomp and circumstance than her first High Council meeting. The blaze had a green hue, which Romy thought was odd, but it was only her second council meeting. How was she to know if the lights changed colors? Or what they meant?
The moment she took Cassia’s seat, she felt the weighted stares of the other preternaturals. Had it not been for the Rincewind Pack’s elevated whoops and jeers dominating the scene, she would have heard their whispers too. The moment Asa realized Romy was standing in as high priestess, an ominous silence fell over the crowd.
And then she heard them all.
Where the fuck is Cassia?
Is this some kind of a sick test? A joke?
It’s a little girl pretending to be the high priestess.
She can’t even do magic yet.
Impostor.
Pretender.
Wannabe witch.
“Everybody shuttt the fuckkk uppp!” Silvan shouted in a voice so loud the ground seemed to shake. “Fucking A, you degenerates. Don’t want to be here anymore than you do, but the quicker we let the little princess talk, the quicker we get their information on Claude. And then we can get the fuck outta here, aye?”
The pack sounded their rough agreement.
Asa silently fumed at their center.
Romy exhaled a shaky breath, grateful for the intervention. Silvan probably did want to get on with the meeting for the sake of his uncle, but he’d also called her a princess again. Briefly, they locked eyes, and she caught the hint of a smirk.
“Ma’am…” Asa pushed past Silvan with a low snarl. “Forgive my son for his outburst. May I ask where the high priestess is tonight?”
“It’s…” Romy cleared her throat. She looked around for something to steady her, but there wasn’t anything. There wasn’t anyone. “It’s okay. And umm… well…” She froze, unsure of how to begin. Why the hell had her mom done this to her? Did Cassia want her to make a fool of herself for some reason?
“Umm… well…?” Asa repeated. He paced in the center of the ruins, more animal than man, and the entire pack, sans Silvan, swayed with his movements.
“Well, she’s not coming. I’ll be reading the investigation findings and her verdict tonight.” Romy prepared for impact.
“Bullshit!” a pack member yelled.
“The high priestess doesn’t give a fuck. I told you this would happen,” said another. “It’s what we get for leaving our business to witches!”
Asa raised a hand above his head. “No. No. I’m certain the high priestess has sat out the meeting because she’s caring for your little sister, right?” He didn’t give Romy a chance to answer. “Because we can understand that, can’t we, Rincewinds? A mother looking after her gravely ill child?”
“We’re leaving!” This time, the voice came from the leader of the dwarves, his arms tightly folded over his chest.
“Us too!” a faerie said.
“Friends, please…” Asa exposed his wrists and opened his arm wide as if he were a politician skilled in persuasion. From her vantage point, Romy saw Silvan sneer at the sight and wondered if the two men had as tenuous of a relationship as she did with her mother. “Let’s respect Miss Delacroix. After all, if The One and The Only allow, she will be our next high priestess.”
The group slowly settled. Asa turned his attention back to Romy. “Miss Delacroix, please tell us what evidence was found regarding my uncle’s death.”
“We have to wait on Monsignor Marchland,” Romy mumbled.
“What about the marshlands?” He tilted his head, confused.
“Marchland! She said Marchland!” A wolf-man howled in rabid delight. “Because his dirty vamps are guilty as shit. Fucking called it!”
“Nooooo, noooo!” Romy’s head shook so fast it made her dizzy. She braced against the podium. No way would she allow anyone to believe her kindhearted Bastian had anything to do with Claude’s death. “I said… we have to wait for Monsignor Marchland. As is the law.”
The pack riled themselves into another fevered storm, but soon, the fires of Tuiteam feòil is fuil dimmed, and the crowd was silent once again. Bastian glided through the ruins and stopped in front of Romy. A low growl rumbled throughout the circle as the Rincewind Pack gathered around Asa.
“Late again, vamp.” Silvan took a step closer, even with Bastian. Romy’s breath hitched. How could two men be so beautiful, so sexy, and so absolutely perfect? Maybe even perfect for her.
Bastian ignored Silvan’s comment and met Romy’s eyes for the first time since the last council meeting. They were crystalline, like the color of the icebergs in Sermilik Fjord off the coast of Greenland. And they pierced Romy down to her core.
“Miss Delacroix, please forgive the delay.” Today’s interpreter was a male faerie. “I’ll take my seat so we can begin.”
“Thank you, Monsignor.”
“Nice of you to make an appearance at your own trial.” Silvan’s exaggerated eye roll almost made Romy laugh, but she thought better of it when some of the other preternaturals joined in. This wasn’t a simple turf war. This was genuine hatred.
“Good for nothin’ vamps,” a female elf shouted.
A centaur beat the center of his chest and reared up on his hind legs. “They take from us all with no accountability. What does your mother have to say about that, Miss Delacroix?”
“Everybody… please… hush.” Romy finally found her voice, and surprisingly, the group listened. Braver now, she turned to Asa. “I’m sorry, but the rules say three to seven members. Please send some out.”
“Your mother never enforced that rule,” Silvan huffed.
“Yes, she did,” Romy said boldly. “At the last meeting.”
Asa nodded solemnly. “As you wish, ma’am.” With a single click of his tongue, he directed the majority of the pack to leave. Silvan crossed his arms and rolled his head back, groaning. She tried not to take it personally, but she knew she’d be thinking about it all night. About him all night.
When they were gone, Romy stood.
At the podium, she located the envelope with the verdict inside. Cassia had given specific instructions for her not to read it beforehand. Romy thought that was dumb. Shouldn’t she be somewhat prepared for the reactions, which were sure to piss off everyone regardless? Based on the evidence she’d heard, Bastian probably wasn’t guilty, but the murderer was likely one of his vampires. What she hoped the envelope contained was an extension to continue searching. Even the idea of declaring Bastian guilty, directly or by association, made her knees weak enough to wobble.
Romy looked over her shoulder. The entire Delacroix family—sans her mother and father—gave a collective nod, endorsing her ephemeral authority. Her grandmother. Selene. Loren. Countless cousins. Great-aunts and uncles. Each of them provided their undivided support. And for the first time in her life, she could actually see herself following in Cassia’s footsteps. Maybe she’d do better at the job than she’d thought.
After locating Dane with his lopsided grin, aptly placed in her father’s vacant seat, she signaled to her aunt.
“Thank you for coming today,” Romy began. “I’ll turn this over to Aunt Selene since she’s compiled all the evidence.”
“You’re doing great,” Selene whispered as they passed. After setting a binder down, she opened the first page. “Hello, everyone. I echo what our future high priestess said. We do thank all of you for coming on such short notice, but I think we agree that discovering how the Rincewinds were robbed of their beloved family member is vital. My evidence was compiled with the assistance of Dr. Hiller, as well as an investigator from the Fontenot Coven in Shreveport.”
A stack of folders levitated from the podium, then floated into the hands of the individual leaders. “Enclosed within this report, you’ll find the autopsy of Mr. Rincewind. Forgive me, Asa, I know it’s difficult for the family to see these gruesome pictures.”
Asa bowed his head and steadied himself on Silvan’s shoulder. “Yes’m, it is. Thank you for your sympathy.”
“We determined the victim did have marks consistent with a vampire attack. Two puncture wounds spaced half an inch apart. His blood had been drained from his body, and his heart removed.”
Red-faced, Silvan jerked the report from his father, read it, then tossed the papers to the ground. Deep, damning lines cut through his brow. More than anything, Romy wished she could be close to him and offer some form of comfort.
“With the help of our friends in the Fontenot Coven…” Selene continued. “We discovered tracks leading from the northeastern area of the Lycan Woods all the way to the Bayou Segnette. From there, the trail leads into Lake Cataouatche, and we surmise the perpetrator followed the water all the way to the Mississippi.”
Romy drew back. She’d never heard any of that before.
“Our high priestess herself met with Monsignor Marchland, confirming the whereabouts of his guests, and both of them have been thoroughly vetted and cleared by the Preternatural Constibulitaries.”
Several groans echoed throughout the council. Selene tapped the podium and brought them to order. “It was the recommendation of the PC to our high priestess that we continue this investigation beginning in Lake Cataouatche and follow the lead to the river. I’ll now turn this over to my niece once again as she reads the sacred words of our high priestess. May I remind each of you that her word is law because she is the mouthpiece of The One and The Only.”
As Romy traded places with Selene, the older woman leaned in. “I just know Cassia wrote to continue this investigation. It’s smooth sailing from here, sweetheart. You’ve got this.”
“Thanks.” Romy swallowed the lump in her throat. Despite the earlier triumph, her fear of public speaking had returned tenfold, and she didn’t know where to start. Behind her, she could sense Dane’s calm and steady resolve. To her right, Silvan… so powerful, so fiery. And on her left, Bastian, with his depth and tenderness.
All three men were so different, and judging from the icy stares bouncing between the lycan and vampire, none of them would ever get along.
Still, Romy gathered strength from them all.
She tore into the envelope quickly and instead of reading it to herself first, she began reading aloud.
Big. Mistake.
“Regarding the matter of Claude Rincewind’s demise, the judgment of Cassiopeia Delacroix is that his death be ruled accidental, and all investigations cease and desist under penalty of imprisonment.”
Though Romy could hear herself speaking, she didn’t register her words until the first stone ruin crashed at her feet, and a rock hit her in the shoulder. Plumes of powdery dust rose high as the pack collectively shifted, then barked a sound Romy could only describe as a battle cry. Fifty-plus wolves returned to the circle, wrecking everything in their path. Asa and Silvan attempted to regulate them, but the fires, now an iridescent chartreuse, raged out of control, fueled by the crowd’s delirium. Disoriented by the smoke, a large centaur stumbled into the podium, smashing it to pieces. Romy jumped out of the way, but her foot caught on a root, and she twisted her ankle.
“Oww… fuckkk. Damn.” Her cries alerted four nearby wolves. Drunk off the chaos, they circled her. Stalked her. Her eyes darted from side to side to find a path of escape, but she was trapped. No one could see her in the fiery mess, and it was unlikely anyone could hear her scream either.
With her gaze fixed on the gray wolf she knew would attack, she dug in the dirt and found a piece of the podium slightly bigger than her hand. If she was gonna die, she’d go down fighting. Two wolves charged. The brown one that reached her first pinned her to the ground just as Romy slammed her weapon into the side of his head. The impact knocked him out, but the other wolf locked his jaw onto her empty hand and jerked hard. His bite should have severed several fingers, but when she turned to see the damage, another wolf, a familiar silver one, had pinned the other to the ground. Long, sharp teeth sank into his neck, accompanied by a low growl.
Silvan.
