My dragon dances in my psyche at the way she openly refers to me as her mate. I am proud of the way she negotiates with me, my smart and worthy woman. “There will come a time when I can’t put off what needs to be done,” I say seriously. “But if it is within my power, I accept your terms.”
I’m relieved when she smiles at me before digging into her eggs.
Chapter Thirty-Two
ZOE
It starts with gold. Seb has a ring that we confirm is solid gold. We pry out the gemstone and melt down the face of the ring. Aesthetics aside, gems have their own vibration, and I can’t have anything interfering with the magic. After some debate, we decide on a star, and I engrave it into the face of the ring, a symbol of the creator.
“Now what?” Seb asks.
“Now, I create a potion using your blood and a collection of herbs designed to magnify the celestial powers inherent in it. The Order’s ring does the same thing but with poisonous herbs that kill the healing qualities and amplify the deadly ones.”
“They turn our own blood against us.” He scowls.
“I came up with this idea for a sister ring when I finally understood the magic of theirs. When I was in the Gold Room, it struck me how I could hear everything else in the room but that ring. It’s like a black hole of silence and darkness.”
“I remember you talking about that.”
“I finally understood it the last time I ascended. The destroyer can only destroy. My coven thinks of that axis of power as a god, an opposing force to the goddess. But gods can create and destroy. The destroyer can’t create anything, especially not life. He can only take it away. Their ring is all about death and destruction. But our ring will bring light. I will draw out the celestial magic in your blood that heals and provides you with long life. I’m going to build this ring to be everything that theirs is not.”
Seb leans over and kisses the side of my head. “My brilliant mate.”
I pull out my apothecary, the large wooden storage crate that opens like a tackle box and carries all the herbs, crystals, and other ingredients used in basic spells. I open it and start measuring herbs into the Dutch oven I have on the burner.
“Do all witches have one of those?” He eyes my apothecary with its many vials and drawers with a look of curiosity.
“Our parents gift it to us when we’re thirteen.”
“I thought you didn’t get your powers until later in life.”
“We don’t become powerful until we learn to ascend on our own, but we learn the mechanics of basic spells and potions before then. Using licorice root to soothe a sick stomach doesn’t take any power, and neither does mixing this potion. If you can follow a recipe, you can do it.”
“We both know my cooking skills are less than exemplary, so I’ll take your word for it.” He kisses me in such a familiar way, it feels like we’ve been together, moving around each other in this kitchen for decades instead of days.
“It’s time. I need your blood.” I hand him a ceremonial knife with a bone handle. He extends his forearm over the pot and slices across the soft underside. Blood splashes into the belly of my makeshift cauldron. I lift a compress to stanch the flow, but by the time I bring it to his arm, he’s already healed.
“That’s quick.”
“We’re hard to kill without the poison of those rings.”
We exchange a quick kiss as I stir the pot, and then when the concoction starts to sparkle gold, I turn off the burner and drop in the ring. “It has to soak for three days.”
The sound of the doorbell at the front of the house has me looking over my shoulder. I hear Patrick’s footsteps and then the door opening. “That would be Connor and Fiona,” Seb says.
“Where is that fuckhead brother of mine?” a man’s voice booms.
Seb takes my hand and leads me toward the foyer, where a blond man the size of a mountain stands. My feet shuffle at the sight, although he’s not particularly threatening. But it’s hard not to experience fear when a man is big enough to pound you into the ground like a stake with his bare fist.
“Hi, I’m Fiona,” a small, auburn-haired woman beside him says, holding out her hand. I didn’t even see her there at first.
“Nice to meet you.”
“And this is my brother Connor,” Seb says, pointing to the Viking beside her. “He’s the Aries warrior of the Zodiac Brotherhood.”
I shake the man’s hand, aware of how mine gets lost in his bear-sized paw. Beside me, Seb stiffens, and I notice his scent grow stronger, sandalwood and citrus filling the foyer. Connor releases me.
“Morwyn was right, then. You’re mated. Congratulations.”
