“I heard a few Daedeth-class members whispering that the ceasefire will end. That maybe the war would end.” Sera kept her eyes down, made an attempt to make herself look studious in her meticulous note-taking for the archives but really, she was avoiding Galene’s glower.

  The witch hated to talk about the war. Honestly, her mentor hated to talk about anything other than the pieces surrounding them. But Sera had worn her down after three years.

  “And?” Galene asked.

  “Do you think the demons have finally given up?” Sera shifted in her seat.

  Since the coven founders had defected from the underworld, Gehenna, they’d been at war. The fact that they hadn’t been retaken was claimed a miracle. Some said it was proof that witches and warlocks were meant to break free of the demons’ oppressive reign. Sera had a suspicion there was more to it than that. Though in the three years she’d been preserving pieces of the past, she hadn’t found her proof yet.

  “The start of the truce was not long enough ago to reconcile with Gehenna. Twenty years is a drop in time to demons.”

  Sera flipped the page, revealing three separate pictures of the same bird in different phases of flight, all drawn in incredible detail. She had to admit that whoever this artist was, they were talented. “How old were you when the war started?” She bit her cheek to keep from smiling.

  “Witchling.” The scowl that formed on her mentor’s face rivaled those of the ancient statues of demonic deities. “You know I am not two thousand years old. Do not insult me, for if you continue, I will send you to another office.” Galene huffed so hard dust motes floated through the room.

  “I’m not a witchling anymore. I’m about to be twenty-four,” she said and turned another page in the ledger. A wolf with terrifying eyes stared back at her. Dark shading came off the beast like a shadow. She shivered for a moment, then looked at the name printed beside it: Vuk. Well, that was a creature she’d never seen before.

  “Four years out of your schooling? You’re still a witchling.”

  Careful not to damage the page, Sera used both hands to turn the thin paper. As she did, another image was revealed. She gasped.

  “What is it?” Galene asked.

  A being with giant feathered wings protruding from his back took up both pages. An aliato, light-bringer, a being of sun and sky. They were the soldiers of the human god, myths among her people, despite the evidence provided by the old tomes. No one had ever seen one in person, but here the warrior was depicted along with a sword and shield.

  “Nothing… nothing.”

  Galene pursed her lips.

  “Will you attend Honora’s trial?” Galene asked. Sera turned another page, grateful it was empty.

  “As if my mother would let me miss it.” Sera sighed. “Nora’s creating a portal. Our uncle will be on the other side.”

  “Artemis? Is he not deployed?”

  “He is up in Valburn, but you know how my mother can be. Her goal is to get Nora into Daedeth.”

  Galene’s eyes widened. “Impressive distance for a portal, let alone for a novice. Lavinia must be proud.”

  “Well, Nora is impressive.” The words tasted sour in her mouth. Her mother had always been proud of Nora. One of her daughters had to be powerful, and it certainly wasn’t Sera. At least not in the way that was acceptable.

  And when Lavinia Wildrick had watched Sera present what little magic she had to the Council… it had been just the tip of her mother’s disappointment. Sera had stood in the middle of the Menage as three Council members and a quarter of the coven watched. She’d thought she was used to the scowls Lavinia gave her, but when the coven and Council had realized just how little magic she held…

  A surge of scalding heat ripped through her.

  Sera bit her cheek hard to keep from yelping out. As if her very thoughts had insulted that other magic. She closed her eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Galene asked.

  When she opened her eyes, instead of her mentor standing before her, it was a Legion soldier. Sera trembled as she watched the soldier’s body snap tight, his muscles and tendons constricting from the dark blaze that engulfed him. His eyes were milky rivers, running down his cheeks into his silent screaming mouth.

  She was going to be sick.

  The abomination roiled in her gut.

  “Seraphina?” Galene’s voice barely made it through the rushing of blood in her ears.

  It wanted out. Those black and terrible flames scorched every one of her arteries in defiance. She couldn’t let it happen. The quill.

  Sera grabbed her quill and pressed the sharp point into her thumb. There was pain… always pain… but with it, a bit of release. Pushing a great breath out through her nose, she said, “I’m all right. Just had a headache come out of nowhere.”

  “Do you need to visit the healers? I will walk you, my dear.”

  She wiped the drops of blood on her uniform, right on the underside of her bicep. “I’m fine… better now.”

  If they found out, if anyone knew, she’d be done for.

  That’s when the chimes rang through the Citadel.

  Chapter three

  Seraphina

  Sera stood and followed Galene toward the golden-framed mirror hanging on the front wall. Council Chair Renata appeared in the glass, sitting regal in her golden throne. “Attention, coven members. Trials will be canceled this evening and resume tomorrow. Lead novices, please report to your professors for your new time.”

  As quickly as the Council elder’s face had appeared, it disintegrated.

  A second later, Sera’s glowing blue sign appeared.

  “It’s not for personal use,” Galene huffed toward the incessant pulse of magic on the mirror.

  “Well, Galene, not to pull rank or anything, but if it’s my mother on the other side, it’s going to be bad for both of us.”

  She hated to do that, but it was true. Her mother was the master mastria; no one denied Lavinia.

  Galene grunted. “Make it quick.”

  Sera swiped the mirror, and her sister’s face appeared. “Sera?”

  “Nora?” she said in a tone a tad more sarcastic than she’d intended.

  Nora had twisted her hair into tight shoulder-length curls. Her brown skin radiated in golden undertones that made her glow. Her cheeks, chin, and lips were rounded and soft, contrasting with the sharp tilt of her amber eyes.

  Nora was the sunshine to Sera’s darkness. This, of course, was according to their mother. Nora excelled at everything.

  “Would you mind getting a hold of Mama and finding out what is going on?” Slews of novices with their white robes rushed back and forth behind her in a panic.

  A shameful part of Sera wanted her little sister to fail during her trial today. That same part hoped Nora would be assigned to Jedan, like she had been, if only to see the look on their mother’s face. To mar her sister’s golden image, just once.

  “What was the point in contacting me when you could have gone straight to her?”

  “It’s chaos down here. Everyone is trying to find out the reason for the delay. We got one connection, and I knew you’d answer. Please?” Nora asked.

  Sera sighed. “Fine. Meet me at Mystic’s with Dom, later.” She knew the conversation with her mother wouldn’t go well. They never did.

  Once her sister’s face had disappeared, she traced her mother’s symbol on the glass and waited, staring at herself in the empty mirror.

  Dark bags had lived under Sera’s eyes for three months now. Her brown skin was dull, and she patted down the frizz from her curls. Only her irises were vibrant, almost full of a life she didn’t remember anymore. They’d always been her favorite feature. Swirls of emerald and sage stared back at her, bright and astute against her pallor.

  As she admired them, they turned to amber. Sera’s long, curling hair morphed into braids wrapped high in a blue scarf. Her ashen skin transformed into a glowing, rich shade of ebony.

  “Seraphina.” Her mother raised one pointed eyebrow at her. Even through the mirror, she could feel her mother’s claws bite into her mind.

  “Mother, do you know what’s going on?”

  “With Honora’s trial? It’s been postponed. I figured that was obvious. Why? Did the news cause your flickers?”

  “No, nothing happened. I haven’t felt a flicker in weeks.” As she whispered the lie, Sera ensured the walls in her mind were solid. Her mother didn’t need to know that a few moments ago, she’d experienced what she referred to as “flickers”—isolated moments when her magic flooded her body.

  “Artemis is fine with the delay.” Lavinia waved off her concern like it was a gnat. Her black robe’s sleeve stirred in the air, revealing her favorite golden cuff. “He reached out this morning and will still be available for Honora. He understands the urgency and importance of her trial and will ensure she is placed in Daedeth class.”

  Of course she had already known about the change in trial date, and it was typical that she had chosen not to share it with her daughters.

  Satisfied that she’d done enough to appease her sister, Sera didn’t prolong the conversation. “Thank you for responding. I have to go.”

  “Seraphina,” her mother’s voice rang out, but Sera wiped the symbol from the glass, and Lavinia’s face disintegrated.

  Galene muttered to herself for the rest of the day, setting Sera even more on edge. As soon as she’d completed her assignment to log the sketches of forest creatures, she wished her mentor goodnight and hurried to meet Nora.

  Mystic Mond was her favorite tavern, tucked away on the border between Jedan and Dobro Quarters. The brew was strong, the entertainment lively, though often off key. The best part was that no one from Daedeth would be caught there, except Dominick.

  Sera smiled at the barkeep and headed to her table, Nora in tow.

  Ithar nodded, prepared two glasses, and carried them toward the pair. He’d insisted this was Sera’s table—the one in the far back, hiding in the shadows, a thank-you for the good she did in Jedan. She had stopped fighting the warlock after a while and accepted his charity, despite the fact that she could more than afford to pay for a reserved table.

  Ithar had promised her this seat for as long as he had the ability to do so.

  “Dom should be here any minute,” Sera said to her sister. On the walk over, she’d shared the minuscule amount of information she’d gathered from their mother, and, no surprise, Nora had huffed and said she should have just had the conversation herself.

  Sera took a seat on her stool and thanked Ithar as he set down the two glasses of purple brew and winked at her. The tavern was quiet tonight, most likely because of the rain, but Seraphina still enjoyed the soft melody of a single lute playing in the corner.

  Dominick appeared through Mystic’s swinging door. His eyes were red rimmed and strained, and the drizzle outside had darkened his light blond hair.

  “You look like shit.” Sera moved to the next stool over, giving Dominick the outside seat.

  “The master had us staring into the pools all day. And if I had to guess, I’ll be staring at colorful water every day until the end of my sorry life.”

  “That is your duty.” Sera smirked and sipped her brew. The purple liquid was pleasantly sweet on her palate. Hints of peach and orange blossom coated her tongue. The bit of magic it was laced with, along with the warmth of the alcohol, was making her insides hum.

  “Did you see anything? Any reason for the delay?” Nora asked.

  “Other than the weather and some hideously decorated festival the humans intend to throw, no. I didn’t see anything.” He rubbed the back of his neck and palmed his eyes.

  Dominick had explained the mirroring pools to her a few times. An oracle searched for strands of the future in the water. When they found one, the oracle would pull it forward, revealing images of what had happened or what was to come. No matter how often Dom described it, Sera never quite grasped the mechanics of it all, nor why only certain witches and warlocks could pull the strands.

  “Blackwell probably had the case of the runs,” she said, hoping to break a bit of the tension.

  Nora scoffed. “The Council is up to something. There has never been a trial delay before. I looked it up myself. Never.”

  “I agree with you, Nor,” Dominick responded. “I heard today that the Mistresses of Arcane spoke with senior oracles about a witch, shunned sixty years ago, who was the best strand reader in a generation. She had never misinterpreted a reading, not even once.”

  “Then why was she shunned?” Nora asked.

  “I have no idea. This one wasn’t a public shunning either. It was kept quiet. She left in the night. I also heard that the Council has been searching for her since the master oracle has been… inconsistent.” Dominick took another large gulp.

  Why would a shunned oracle be the cause of a delay in the trial? The Council shunned witches and warlocks frequently. Usually, the reasons were serious offenses. Thievery, insubordination, and causing harm to another coven member. What was so special about this one?

  “Interesting…” Sera muttered. The sky was growing dark on the other side of the rain-pelted glass. “You need to go, Nora. Mother is going to be pissed if you’re home much past sundown with your trial tomorrow.”

  Nora gave them a perfect pout. “Is this another leave-so-we-can-talk-without-Nora situation?”

  Sera glared at her sister. “No, this is a situation where I don’t want to be blamed for your lack of proper rest.”

  “Hmm…” Nora squinted at the pair. “Fine,” she said and stood. “The last thing I need is a verbal lashing from her before the most important test of my life.”

  Sera did love winning against her sister. The few times circumstance allowed it, of course. “You still want to show a portal?”

  “Why do you keep asking? I’ve practiced nonstop. Even if Uncle Artemis isn’t on the other side, it’ll be clear that I’ve pinpointed his office. He has a life-size portrait of himself hanging above his desk,” Nora huffed.

  Of course he does. “Relax, I just want you to be sure. I have complete faith in your abilities. And… it is possible that Dom entered me into a bet with a few Daedeth members that you’d make arcana.”

  Nora rolled her eyes as she pulled her robe tight around her dress. “Really, Dominick, getting her into gambling?”

  “Your sister is a grown witch and makes her own decisions. I just presented an opportunity,” Dominick said.

  “Mother will ban you from the house for a month,” Nora said.

  “And wouldn’t that be a treat?” Sera hid her smile by taking a sip of her brew.

  “Whatever. I’ll see you two tomorrow.” Nora shook her head the entire way out of the tavern.

  “You should tell her what you’re using the coin for. I’d like not to be seen as an asshole our whole lives.” Dominick pushed his glass back and forth across the wooden table.

  “Never.” The pitter-pattering of rain turned into a drumming as the sky opened up on the stone tile roof. A cold chill sank over the tavern, and Sera downed the rest of her drink, hoping for a bit more warmth.

  “Come on, Sera. She’d understand. Shadow, I understand, and I’m an idiot.” He twirled his glass, flicking condensation across the top of the table.

  It would be considered a shunned offense if the Council found out that Sera was actively helping those below her in the hierarchy. “Nora has never been around Jedan members, not really, and she never will be. The only reason I told you was because I threatened a nasty and terrible death if you let it slip, Dom. My sister would find it commendable, and with it, she’d have loose lips praising me as some savior of the lessers.”

  Dominick rolled his eyes, his fingers finding the spot below his ear—the place he rubbed every time he was upset.

  “Something else is wrong,” she said. “What is it?”

  He glared at her for a moment. “I’m worried about Colton. They’ve moved his battalion’s position. Why?”

  “You think it has anything to do with the rumors of the ceasefire ending? Or maybe something to do with the oracle?”

  “I don’t know, I’m still waiting for his response.”

  Dominick didn’t typically concern himself with woes such as military movements. He was laughter and fun, the brightest spot in her heart.

  The last time he had looked this concerned was a few years ago. He’d approached her with shaking hands and sweat pouring down his temples, explaining how he wasn’t attracted to witches—a fact she’d already known.

  A dark flicker twirled inside her.

  Guilt coated in a layer of shame and swirling darkness rose up her throat. She’d kept secrets from him. Would he be as forgiving if the time came to tell him?

  “I’ll make an offering to Shadow for Colton. You have my word.”

  “Thanks.” He rolled his shoulders, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

  She wanted him to find someone to love. Really love, not fuck and throw away. But she was one of the only people with whom he truly let his guard down. So many warlocks came and went without knowing the true Dom. He had so much to give. But not only that, Dominick deserved it. He deserved everything.

  “I’ve got to get home.” She wrapped her navy cloak around her shoulders and pulled out the paper she’d ripped from the notice board that morning, giving it a quick read.

  “What do they need?”

  “Unfortunately, something from the healers. I’ll have to get it in the morning.” Dominick nodded, following her out of the tavern and into the rain. With a wave of his hand, a green covering materialized above her head, protecting her from the downpour.

  “Be careful getting home, okay?”

  “Thanks for this.” Sera pointed up. But Dom hesitated, assessing her. “I’m okay, I promise.” She hoped he didn’t push; she didn’t have the energy for it, and they’d already been in a heated argument two weeks prior. Another one wouldn’t make things better. Right now, the last thing she wanted to do was fight with him.