“I think we should ask her.”
It took him a moment to follow her train of thought, but then he groaned. “You are not going to ask her what I think you’re going to ask her. Sybil, it is too much! She already wants to become a queen, and if she does, she will have an entire kingdom to run.”
“Yes, with a god at her beck and call. She is no normal queen. We both know that, so why not ask her?”
“Because it puts her in even more danger. Because it exposes her to the underbelly of our world, and I had hoped to save her from all that. I do not wish for her to know what it truly means to be a witch.”
“I have to ask. You cannot protect her from who she is. She’s a gravesinger, Elric.”
The door creaked open behind them, and Jessamine walked in. Her hair was mussed and tangled, not just from sleep, but from his fingers running through the locks all night. She was clearly beyond exhausted. She stood there glaring at the two of them before stumbling over to the teapot on the now-cooling stove.
“Ask me what?” she finally said, turning toward them.
Elric groaned. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”
She frowned to silence him before turning her attention to Sybil. “Ask.”
“Every coven has a high witch. A leader who tells us what to do, and who wields the coven like a blade.” Ignoring Elric’s growl, Sybil continued. “I wish for you to take up that mantle.”
“If anyone should lead the coven, it is you.”
There was a long, drawn-out silence after Jessamine said that. Elric could read the thoughts running through Sybil’s mind so easily. It was a dangerous position to offer any witch. A head witch in a coven told the others how to think and what to do with their magic. If the wrong person got into that position, then the coven became a powerful weapon easily aimed at the wrong target.
It was beyond unthinkable for Jessamine to deny the position. And yet, here she was, willingly passing it over to a witch who had wielded very little power in her life.
Sybil swallowed hard, her throat bobbing up and down as she thought about the offer. Her voice was low and raspy as she replied. “I… I cannot take that offer. Jessamine, you are the gravesinger who is directly connected with the Deathless One. You are the one who raised him from the dead. We are all here because of you.”
“And someday I might not be here.” Jessamine lifted her teacup to hermouth, blowing on the steam while looking at the two of them over the rim of her cup. “Isn’t that what you were suggesting, Elric? I’m going to be queen. There will be a hundred things to do, thousands of people to satisfy, and simply not enough time.”
Sybil stood, letting out a scoff as she gestured at Elric. “You cannot listen to him, Jessamine. The future is entirely unwritten. If you wish to be a witch queen and rule this kingdom with an entire coven at your disposal, you can do that. Just because he is old doesn’t mean he knows what to do with our lives.”
“I take offense to that,” he replied dryly.
The kitchen witch glared at him. “I hope you do.”
“What would you suggest, then?” Jessamine asked, interrupting before they started bickering like children again. “Is your suggestion that I become the first witch queen this kingdom has seen?”
“Yes!” Sybil practically shouted. “You are more than capable of doing both. I have seen how you are with the people of this kingdom. It comes naturally for you to talk with them, to ease their minds. At first, I thought this meant it would make you a good queen. But then I saw you with Elissa, with Agnes, even with Agnes’s son. I have seen the way you speak with people like us, and I have seen the ease with which they look at you. Even with witches, you make them feel seen.”
Jessamine sipped the boiling-hot tea in her cup and barely reacted. Elric tried his own but recoiled the moment it touched his lips. How was she drinking that?
“Sybil,” Jessamine finally said. “There is no reason that you cannot be that person. I listen. I learn from what they say and I allow them to speak their mind. The mark of a good leader is simply being willing to hear what other people have to say without bias.”
“You have the training from the greatest queen this kingdom has ever seen,” Sybil murmured. “It would take me years to learn that. Years during which I might run a coven into the ground and destroy all that we have built. I’ve watched it happen. You asked me once what I wanted. And what did I tell you?”
“A quiet cottage, and a family by the sea,” Jessamine murmured.
“Do you really think I can do that if I’m the head witch of a coven? You’re asking me to give up my dreams.”
Elric straightened in his chair. Both the women looked at him, but he had eyes only for Sybil. “You never told me you wanted a quiet life.”
Her features darkened with a blush. “You never asked what I wanted.”
He supposed she was right. He had never asked her what she wanted because he’d never really thought a witch could want anything other than power. She was more classically a witch than any of the others in this coven, and he had just assumed…
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t realize you wanted anything different.”
She stiffened, but nodded in response. Perhaps it made her uncomfortable to know that a god could apologize, but it made him uncomfortable to realize that a god could be wrong.
