“It’s not.” Sybil gestured with the candle at her soup. “Put it down, then, we have work to do.”
“What work? I’m going to eat this and go to bed. I think I’ve done enough work.” Leaning forward, she blew out the candle in Sybil’s hand and then reached for the door.
But the handle was locked, likely by magic, and the candle immediately burst back into flames. The orange pillar stretched nearly six inches high before it died back down to a reasonable size, reflecting Sybil’s annoyance.
Sighing, Jessamine put the cup of soup down on a shelf. They weresurrounded by cleaning supplies. Four brooms, buckets, glass containers filled with what she could only assume was birdseed considering all the animals Elissa had in this place. She really had hoped to get away with not having to do all this tonight, but apparently she didn’t have much of a choice.
“Fine. What is it?”
“Elissa needs to be brought into the coven.”
“She already has. Elric cracked her chest open and gave her all the magic, remember? We both watched that.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean she’s part of the coven. Not yet, at least.” Sybil handed the candle over to Jessamine. “We need to find out what kind of witch she is.”
“So you’re going to beat her over the head with a black book like you did me? I think the poor thing has gone through enough lately.”
Another glare nearly leveled her. “You needed to be beaten over the head with a book. Elissa is delicate. She needs a lighter hand to prove that this is something she might want.”
“Why didn’t I get a lighter hand?”
She could answer that question for herself. But Sybil’s expression was very obvious on its own.
Jessamine rolled her eyes. “Fine. Why am I involved, though? I’m not part of the coven.”
“Oh, I apologize. I didn’t realize the princess needed her beauty rest and didn’t want to see the coven at work.” Sybil crossed her arms over her chest.
“By all the gods dead and alive, you are the worst friend I’ve ever had,” Jessamine muttered before grabbing the now-unlocked door and throwing it open. “Fine. What are we doing?”
“Lovely! I knew you’d be interested. Get Elissa and join me in the garden.”
Sybil waltzed away, clearly pleased that she had gotten her way. The ragged ends of her skirts flared around a corner, and then she was gone.
Muttering under her breath about witches with personalities that were too big for their own right, Jessamine made her way to Elissa’s room. A few knocks and the door swung open.
Elissa’s eyes were ringed with red. The hollows around them were filled with shadows, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. Probably hadn’t. The woman had gone through so much in the short amount of time since they’d burst into her home. Jessamine wasn’t surprised in the slightest that she was exhausted.
“Would you come with me?” Jessamine asked.
“Why?”
“Sybil has something planned.”
Elissa started to close the door. “I think I’d like to be alone tonight.”
Well, that left her no choice. Jessamine caught her hand on the edge of the door and forced it to stay open or crush her fingers. “It’s not something scary. I promise. We’re just… finding out what kind of witch you’re going to be, apparently.”
“I still don’t know if I even want to be a witch.”
“And it’s still too late for you to be second-guessing all of this.” Jessamine smiled. “I know it’s a lot. But a walk in the moonlight with a couple witches isn’t going to kill you.”
“It sounds like something that definitely will get me killed.” But Elissa sighed, settling a silver wrap around her shoulders, and came out of her bedroom.
She was such a tiny little thing. The moonlight framed her lithe body beneath her pale nightgown as they both strolled toward the gardens in the back. The night seemed to come alive around them. Moonlight turned everything molten silver, with the trees’ leaves edged in a shimmering glow. Fireflies had woken, each of them dancing around the petals of flowers that filled the air with the sweet scent of peonies. It really was lovely back here on the meandering paths through a flower garden that rivaled any Jessamine had seen in her life.
And there, in the center of this small garden, sat Sybil in a circle of candles. The elderly witch had spread her colorful skirts around her, andsomehow those gave her an aura of wisdom. Each of the white pillars burned merrily, and the air was filled with magic. Jessamine could feel it dancing over her, like little bubbles of fizzling power popping all along her skin.
“Welcome, witches,” Sybil said, her voice carrying through the garden with purpose. “We gather together to welcome a new witch into the coven, and to discover what power you might have.”
