“Cut the shit. You tried to kill my son.”
Sylvia wedged the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she walked into the kitchen, opened a cabinet, and pulled out a glass. She placed the phone on the counter, putting it on speaker and pressing mute as she filled the glass with water, then took a slow sip. She’d been waiting for word on whether there had been any bodies found in the rubble of the hotel fire, but no such luck.
She took herself off mute, but left the phone on speaker, delighting in the image of Nina straining to hear her on the other end. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Silas has been having a lovely visit in Los Angeles thus far. I think you’ll find Aestas has been nothing but welcoming to him.”
She put emphasis on the wordwelcoming, the dig intentional. She knew she should be mature about this—show Nina she was above it all. But it was impossible to keep the hurt out of her voice.
The thought of how much power Nina still held over her made magic coil in Sylvia’s stomach. Nina could rip the funding from Aestas. She could take away their spellbooks and cut the coven off at their knees. She could make Sylvia lose sleep for weeks by sharing one photo of herself on Khatri International’s Instagram. She could—
Sylvia thrust down the surging magic as hard as she could, but she couldn’t stop it from fracturing her phone screen.
Fuck.
“Silas told me you set fire to his hotel, Sylvia. Locked him in his fucking room. Who does that?”
She supposed it was too much to hope that her snap would have broken the phone entirely.
“I didn’t do any of that,” she said, as she ran her finger over thecracks in the glass. It would cost an arm and a leg to fix. “Sounds like an unfortunate coincidence.”
“Save it,” Nina snapped. “I know how you get when your power is threatened.”
Sylvia scoffed. “HowIget? That’s rich, coming from you.”
Despite herself, Sylvia couldn’t help thinking back to the last time she’d seen Nina. She’d been twenty-three, her feet sore from the hours she’d spent pacing in too-expensive new heels. She’d been waiting for days, fidgeting outside the doors of hours-long meetings about the future of Noctis now that Vikrant’s father had passed. Vikrant had only just turned thirty, which would make him the youngest coven head Noctis had ever had—and on top of that, he wanted his wife to be his co-head. His wife who, the board had repeatedly pointed out, had a baby to take care of. Despite their disagreements, Sylvia bristled at the fact that the board thought Nina couldn’t lead because of her new child, but didn’t share the same concerns about Vikrant.
His and Nina’s appointments had passed, though, and now it was Sylvia’s turn to wonder if she could earn the board’s approval.
She’d submitted her application for Executrix two days before, but she’d been working on it for years. Stockpiling sentences about her leadership skills, about her commitment to the coven. About her goals for the future, and the different perspective that her background could bring to the organization.
She’d dropped it in the stack with everyone else’s, on top of a dozen applications that ranged from somewhat viable to laughably off-base. Her competition didn’t matter, she told herself. She’d known Vikrant and Nina for years. Sure, she and Nina had grown apart since Sylvia settled and since Silas’ birth, but that didn’t matter. A relationship like theirs didn’t just disappear. It was a friendship built on a shared desire to make a mark on a world that kept telling them to sit down and shut up. It was a friendship built on the understanding that strength was worth more than anything else. It was a friendship built onneed.
Sylvia joining the board would be a boon for both of them. All she needed was for the board to say yes.
And so she paced and paced and paced in front of that office at Noctis, until finally the door opened and Vikrant and Nina walked out, their faces drawn.
In the present, Nina was talking again.
“I never resorted to attempted murder.”
Attempted?Sylvia wanted to say.It’ll be successful eventually, I promise you that.
Instead, she chuckled. “Have you been getting enough sleep, Nina? You get so cranky when you’re tired.”
“This isn’t a game, Sylvia! This is my son’s life.”
Sylvia’s hand gripped the counter, her knuckles going white. “Noctis was my life, and you took that from me.”
Vikrant had been the one to tell her that she hadn’t gotten the spot on the board. It stung, but her mind was already swirling with plans—she was too young, Vikrant’s tenure still too new. A few more years, and then she’d try again. Work her way up the ladder. They’d see her worth eventually. They had to.
It was Nina who dropped the real news, and her poker face wasn’t as good as Vikrant’s. The glint in her eyes snuck through every few words before she forced it back down.
It was supposed to be a sad moment, telling your best friend that she was kicked out of the coven.
The words were the same as always—the epithets that had been whispered behind her back since she arrived. The things Nina used to defend her from, now pouring out of her mouth in that singsong voice.
As the coven heads, we have the right to remove members who we feel could be a danger to the rest of the coven. We just don’t know enough about your power. What if there’s still unsettled magic in you? What if you hurt someone?
Sylvia, you’re just not worth the risk.
