“Do you remember this place?” Wylder’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel.
“I do.” I press my palm against the cool glass of my side window. “Mom brought me here for my coven welcome at sixteen. It was right before everything went to shit. Who knew that only a few months later, not only would I not be welcome, but I would be excommunicated for no reason other than merely existing.”
He sends me a sad look, but thankfully, he’s finally past defending Laurel and what the elders did to me. “Are you nervous?”
“Not really.” I lift my hand to the black onyx pendant hanging against my chest and draw comfort as it stabilizes my energy. “I’m only doing this because you think they deserve a chance to make amends. I am under no illusions that they’ll help or that they give a shit about what happens to Sebastian, me, or anyone else coloring outside the lines of what they deem a ‘coven-worthy’ issue.”
Wylder parks on the circular drive. When he turns the key and the rumble of the engine cuts off, he twists in his seat. “You promised to keep an open mind. Give this a chance. We’ll be stronger with their help than we will be without it.”
I’ll give him that. I draw an X over my heart with my finger and give him the sweetest smile I can manage. “I promise. I’m just saying that considering how low my expectations are, there isn’t much to worry about regarding being disappointed.”
He chuckles. “Now look who’s broody.”
I scoff. “No way. I don’t even begin to challenge your title. You’re the OG scowler.”
He pulls the handle of the door and swings his long legs to get out. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
Ashcroft Manor rises before us, all stone and elegance, ivy climbing the walls, and grand double doors that draw the attention of all those who approach the glorious stained-glass panel of the goddess mother depicted over the entrance.
There’s nothing haphazard about this place. Everything here is planned and chosen for the desired effect.
Dazzling the lessers.
Instilling superiority.
Worshipping the elite.
It twists my insides. Mom always taught us that the coven was dedicated to uniting those devoted to the goddess. We are all her humble servants, equal in her eyes, and gifted with blessings for the good of the innocent—both human and in nature.
As we enter, nothing about Ashcroft Manor makes me feel closer to the goddess mother.
High ceilings soar above us, adorned with elaborate crown molding painted in soft creams and golds. A chandelier dominates the grand foyer, crystal prisms cut in perfect facets, scattering fractal rainbows across the walls like watercolor brushstrokes. They dance and shimmer with every slight movement, turning the space into something out of a dream.
The energy here feels different from what I’ve encountered since coming home. Not overtly aggressive. Not hostile. But certainly not welcoming.
Not welcomingme,at least.
“This way.” Wylder’s voice is tight, the muscle at the side of his jaw working like he’s chewing glass.
We move through a corridor lined with portraits, generations of Emberwood witches staring down with painted eyes. I recognize a few faces. Laurel, younger but with the same steel in her gaze. A grouping of three photos, one of them being of a woman with Wylder’s bone structure and dark eyes.
My steps slow.
“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?”
“Like old-world Hollywood.”
Wylder smiles at the framed grouping. “This is the first time I’ve been able to look at these photos and not rage inside. These are the three coven members killed that night.”
But not the only three.
Bile burns at the back of my throat to know the memory of my mother was thrown away and marred with blame. Still, there is nothing to be gained by bringing it up again.
I will clear her name and expose the truth in the end.
These people and what they believe are irrelevant.
Chin high, I straighten my spine, and when Wylder opens the door for me, I stride into an elaborate meeting room that steals my breath.
