Page 86 of Reckless Witch

“No one here at The Academy is allowed to risk their lives,” Ethan says, but I have the odd feeling he’s mentally adding, especially you.

“Then what the hell are you teaching us?” I demand.

Raith passes me. “How to stay alive.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

ETHAN

Blood Pact

I flank Leilah’s side so closely, I can feel the warmth from her body. By the time we reach the small clearing Blade prepared for the ritual, the moon is nearing its zenith. Crickets and frogs play a magnificent symphony that calls to the fire straining to break free of my will. In the center of a circle of rocks lies a neatly stacked pile of leaves and twigs. A knife, one snow white cloth, and a sheath of paper half covered by the cloth lay beside the pyre.

We stop beside the circle and Raith and Blade look at me. I extend my hand, palm up. The command for fire barely forms in my head and the tattoos in my body heat as a baseball-sized ball of fire bursts to life on my open palm. For two heartbeats, I revel in the heat and beauty of the flame, then, with the merest of breaths, I blow the sphere into the pyre. The wood and leaves ignite with an audible whoosh.

The nighttime symphony falls silent, but my blood heats in anticipation of the blood pact. I haven’t said anything to Blade or Raith, but I believe the pact might connect us to Ciarah in a way that could release her memories of our many lives together. I can’t begin to understand what that might mean for us—except that we will no longer have to pretend. That possibility alone heats my fire.

How much hotter will my fire burn during lovemaking when Ciarah knows me, really knows me? How much more devastating will that knowledge be when we lose her again? Maybe, if she remembers us in this life, she will take those memories with her into the next life. Maybe, if she remembers, we will be able to hold onto her longer. Always, has her life come to a tragic end before its time.

She’s strong, but wary. She doesn’t fear the magic. She fears the bond the blood pact will create among us, the power we will have over her. Little does she know the pact will increase her power over us.

Blade shifts two of the stones that comprise the circle. We file through the opening and take up positions inside the circle. I stand to Leilah’s left, the south corner, and Raith stands opposite her, on the west side of the fire. Blade repositions the stones then stands to her right, on the north corner.

“When we’re done, we go get Stony,” she says.

I nod. She lifts a brow and looks pointedly at Raith and he angles his head in ascent. I half wish Raith wasn’t here. He said he wouldn’t come. Raith rarely changes his mind once he’s made a decision. While that often saddens and angers me, at least I know where he stands. His change of heart worries me. It’s got to be that he’s using the blood pact to punish Leilah for burying that knife in his heart forty years ago. There’s nothing I can do to stop him—from trying. If he hadn’t taken part in the ritual, Leilah probably wouldn’t have thought much of it. If he persists in punishing her, he’ll do something he regrets, something she won’t forgive.

Blade picks up the cloth and tosses it onto his shoulder, then scoops up the paper and knife. He begins to murmur in the mysterious Fae tongue. After all these centuries, I still know only a handful of Fae words. The fire crackles and the small flame leaps into the air as if to break free of the pyre.

The Fae are amongst the most beautiful creatures on earth, aside from angels, but they’re not of this world. Blade’s eyes slowly shift from their earthly blue to the gold unique to the Fae when they are immersed in Fae magic. This is when Blade is at his most pure. He extends the sheath of paper toward Leilah. She takes it and he gives a slight nod, an indication that she should read the words.

She scans the document. Our Leilah is no fool. To read the words out loud while inside a closed circle with beings as powerful as us three gives power to the words even without the comingling of our blood.

She gives an almost imperceptible nod, then reads aloud, “I swear to ask permission before leaving The Academy—for the next six months.”

“No,” Raith growls.

She meets his eyes squarely. “I will not indenture myself to anyone for a lifetime.”

“Two years,” he shoots back.

She snorts.

“A year,” I quickly put in.

She shifts her gaze to me. “Are you saying it will take more than six months to find who tried to kill me?”

I should have known she would find a way to thwart us.

I nod. “Six months.”

Raith opens his mouth to reply, but I say to Blade, “If you are in agreement, nod.”

He nods.

I ignore Raith’s unintelligible mutter and instruct Leilah, “Repeat the promise.”

She holds up a finger and pulls a pen from her back pocket. I stifle a laugh when she adds ‘for the next six months,’ to her written promise. She stuffs the pen into her back pocket, rereads the promise, then hands me the paper.