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Completing the unity bond with Rune may not have severed my connection with Fintan, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t had an impact.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JOSIE
Rune and I only get two songs together before people clear the dance floor. Rune follows everyone else’s lead and shimmies us over to where Finn and Sebastian wait for us near the bottom of the staircase, off to the side from where the crowd is gathering at the front of the room.
Are they expecting to need to make a speedy getaway or something?
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Sebastian lifts his chin and looks up to the balcony that overlooks the dance floor. I follow his gaze and find Francine, the witch who was at the shop earlier today, stepping up to the railing.
A hush falls over the room.
“It’s time for Adelaide’s rites,” Sebastian says.
“Yeah. The right to rot in hell,” Rune whispers.
“Rune,” Finn and I chide him in unison.
I might agree with him—but in private, not during the quietest moment of an event to honor the dead high priestess.
Thankfully, no one else is paying attention to us as Francine begins her speech. “Welcome, and thank you all for being here tonight.” Her voice carries across the room. “We gather from all corners of the city to honor and bid farewell to our beloved high priestess.”
Beloved? More like be-loathed.
Okay, maybe that’s just me and my personal prejudices. It’s hard to keep myself from rolling my eyes as Francine continues, but I manage.
Finn’s hand squeezing mine helps—it always does. I keep my focus on my Celt and lock down my emotions for a speech praising the woman who orchestrated the murder of my parents.
“She was a beacon of light who guided us through countless cycles of the sun and moon, and tonight we ask her for one last act as our leader. We ask her to guide Mother Gaia’s hand to the next witch who will take up the gauntlet in her stead—the Sun Witches’ next high priestess.”
A murmur of excitement rolls through the room as Francine raises a golden wine goblet into the air and then, all at once, the noise cuts out and the distant toll of the cathedral bell seems to fill the room, each chime getting louder until the twelfth rings out, hailing midnight.
“To Adelaide—she walks now in the realms beyond our reach, but her lessons, wisdom, and love remain here with us. May Mother Gaia guide her spirit and keep her safe. Until we meet again,” Francine toasts, raising the goblet to her lips to take a long sip and close the ceremony.
“Until we meet again,” the room echoes, raising their own glasses.
“The formal funeral rites for Adelaide will be held tomorrow at high noon for anyone who would like to attend.”
No thanks.
Grand-Mère always taught me that all life is sacred and valued, but being here already feels like a betrayal to my family. Besides, Adelaide’s life is not one I want to honor.
“And now, my dear sisters,” Francine’s voice rings out across the room once more. “The time has come to seek out the one among us who will lead our coven as the new high priestess of Sun Witches.”
She steps to the side to make way for an elderly witch whose commanding presence makes me hope I’m never on her bad side.
“That’s Elder Edith,” Finn whispers next to me as the witch begins explaining how the whole three-step trial process works: first a battle of magic against magic, then a potion-making challenge, and finally a sacred ritual. I’m barely paying attention now—all I’m thinking about is finding an opportunity to slip away without anyone noticing. We came, we saw, we partied—I’m ready to go home now.
Being here just hurts. I might be part of the coven, but it’s clear I don’t belong. I don’t know anyone, and the witches who know me hate me.
“Those who wish to put their name forward and take on the challenge and honor of high priestess, state your name and cast a simple manifestation of your magic to seal your entry.”
It doesn’t take long for witches to follow Elder Edith’s invitation and enter the running. The witch who approached me earlier, Summer Saint-Clair, is the first to raise her hand and declare her name, a bright blue light bobbing in her open palm.
“Yzma Delancey.” A warm yellow light bounces off the glass windows across the room as another witch adds her name.
