Of course she can’t answer, but her head angling toward the door is enough of an indication.
He’s here.
“Yes,” I mutter and slam the things back on the bed. “I’m aware.”
She watches me before slowly slithering down the bed post and toward the door.
“I’m staying right here,” I insist with the petulance of a young child.
If a snake could roll their eyes, Hexate would be doing so right now. Instead she hisses at me and whacks her tail against the bottom of the door.
Throwing it open, I glare down at her. “You want to go? Be my guest.”
Waiting to see how serious I am, she makes the decision to enter the hallway where she stops to look back at me. There’s a long stare-off between us, and her growing disappointment comes through our bond. The same one I experienced when I told Rowyn I would be staying in my room due to a migraine.
I’ve never met anyone who sees me as clearly as Rowyn, so she didn’t need perception abilities to realize I was lying.
As I’m about to slam the door shut, Esme’s teasing cackle breaks out from down the hall. Turning my head, I try to catch a glimpse of what’s going on, but they must be in a bedroom.
It could be Sybil’s room—they’re probably helping her get settled.
I don’t know much about prophecies or how they come to be, but Sybil apparently spends a lot of time in the space between reality and her consciousness.
I’ve about convinced myself of that when Esme’s voice comes pouring out of the same room. “Whatever you say, Lover Boy.”
She turns out of Archer’s room with her arms full of bedsheets, and sees me standing at the other end of the long hallway.
Her mouth pops open in surprise before she forces a smile and says, “Renata. Hi.”
Unsure how to handle this situation, I turn on my heel at the same moment I see his tall, lean form step out behind her. The image leaves a sour taste on my tongue as I slam the door shut, not giving Hexate the opportunity to come back.
The window is always open for her if she really wants to get back, but she feels a bit like a traitor at the moment. She knew I would see one of the most beautiful women with Archer.
Esme isn’t just naturally beautiful, and all of the witches I’ve come to love are, but her magic enhances that. Her sensuality and allure is addictive. It’s the same for all water witches, but there’s something different about Esme.
The witch who taught my age range for most of my formal schooling once said that sometimes if our powers are too strong and we haven’t tapped into their potential yet, other aspects of our elements can be heightened. It is our bodies’ way of releasing the excess magic before itbuilds up and leads to decay fever. It’s not the first time I’ve wondered how strong Esme would be if she was given the space to explore that.
Maybe in another life, when I could be anyone other than Renata Blackthorn, I’d be more captured by her mere presence. In a life where there wasn’t a curse and generations of Gray Witches to worry about.
Or even an Archer Vexley to worry about.
As I sit on the edge of my bed and wade through my dark, inky emotions, I’m not worried about Archer growing interested in Esme, and I’m certainly not worried about Esme attempting to pursue something with him.
If anything, that makes me more confused.
This possessiveness I feel for him.
It’s not only confusing, but wrong.
The only part of Archer I have a right to is his death—even if it kills me at the same time. While I’ve accepted that I need to do anything I can to keep this coven and town safe, as well as give all of the future Gray Witches in the Blackthorn family a fair chance, I’ve accepted that my life will end with his. There’s no way to go on after.
My coven has been understanding of our current working theory so far. No one has any other ideas, and the evidence points toward Barrett. Now that the Vexley twins are under our roof and the friendships are brewing, I can’t expect them to be fine with the outcome, despite knowing it’s the only way.
Looking at Nestor, our somber expressions mirror each other, but only one of us has tears running down their cheeks.
Wiping one from my chin, I quietly promise, “I’ll do whatever I have to so you and Petra can finally find peace.”
His apparition flickers.
