I swallow and look around, not wanting to be the person who accidentally tells Sybil what Archer has agreed to. When I turn back, they can see the sad resolve in my expression.
“Heknows.”
It only takes a second for both of them to understand.
“What—how?” Rowyn asks, putting the pestle down and giving me her full attention.
Biting back a sigh, accepting I’m about to get another lecture, I admit, “A few nights ago, Nestor took me out behind the trees.” I point in the general direction of the back gardens. “Petra had buried some of her journals there. A large box full of all the journals before the first one I found. It… It haseverything. From the early days of dating Nestor, to her mother’s death, to the coven, to her affair with Barrett that ended when Nestor returned from wherever he went.”
They stare at me before giving each other a long look. When their eyes find me again, I know they are going easy on me rather than giving me the scolding I deserve.
“What do you mean, ‘wherever he went’?” Esme asks. “Doesn’t it say?”
I shake my head and watch Rowyn start her task again. “No. It’s not as vague as her last journal, but there are so many details she kept to herself and to her coven.”
Rowyn slides two small glasses toward me, and one toward Esme.
“What about you?” Esme asks, shooting the tonic back like a shot of alcohol.
I pick up the day after elixir first, scrunching my nose at the bitter taste of Queen Anne’s lace seeds before finishing it in one gulp. It leaves a burn down my throat and I quickly grab the contraceptive, hoping the rue and pomegranate concoction will overpower the taste.
Quietly, I watch Rowyn and Esme.
Not accepting her silence, Esme says, “Maybe we should make this a daily ritual—all the witches! Except Clementine,” she adds with a shrug. “Clover would have an aneurysm.”
Laughing, I assess Rowyn as she shakes her head and says with a sigh, “Esme.”
“What?” She holds her hands up innocently. “You can even make the male contraceptive for Archer,” she adds with a wag of her eyebrows.
In an exasperated voice, Rowyn says, “I don’t need it. I’ve never had sex.”
We both grow silent and stare at Rowyn with our mouths open in shock. I don’t mean to, but it was the last thing I expected her to say. When my eyes quickly move to Esme, I notice that she’s also surprised. It doesn’t seem like it’s because of the admission, rather that Rowyn actually said it.
Esme knew what she was doing all along.
“How?” I ask.
Rowyn gives me a look like,don’t be an idiot.
“Okay, not how,” I amend. “But… why?”
“Are you waiting for true love’s kiss?” Esme teases, but it’s playful. The earlier goading tone is gone.
Rowyn rolls her eyes and pours herself a serving of the contraceptive anyway. “No,” she says and quickly drinks it. “I’ve kissed a boy. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then why? Did something happen?” I ask.
That makes Rowyn laugh. “No, nothing has happened.Ever.” She waves an arm out like that is enough explanation. “I grew up in Briarhollow, so I didn’t exactly have my pick of men like you two. The one boyfriend I had is now mated to my sister—so thank the Gods I never crossed that line with him.”
Once again, Esme and I are both speechless. Rowyn hardly ever talks about her sister. I had a lot of theories of what could have happened—having three of my own to compare it to—but to bematedto your sister’s ex-boyfriend… Wow.
After a moment, I mutter, “No kidding.”
I don’t remember the name of the first person I had sex with—some random man in New York City when I was twenty. It’s not a bad memory. Just mediocre.
Especially after last night.
In a low, vicious tone I’ve never heard from her, Esme asks, “What the hell happened?”
