Page 68 of The Arcane God

Chapter Twenty-Four

Greya

“Okay, so the agreement is twelve bottles of soil enhancer in exchange for the four pigs and twenty bags of milled wheat you brought with you, is that right?” Greya asked, looking up at the middle-aged mortal man from Northumbra standing before her desk.

“Yes, that’s correct,” he agreed respectfully.

Greya recorded the intended transaction in her record book, which was illuminated by a fresh candle beside her.

“And also,” the man continued politely, “we do intend to trade this year’s corn crop as well, but it will be later than usual. The field itself, with all the new seedlings, was completely burned week before last.”

“Oh, Gaia,” Greya said, looking back up at him in shock. “How ever did that happen?”

“You didn’t hear?” the man asked, his wrinkled brow lowering. “It was daemons, you see. They took what was left of our overwintered food stores and burned the field behind them to aid their escape.”

“Daemons, you say?” Greya asked, shocked but not surprised. This was the third attack she’d heard of in as many weeks. Cole was clearly sending daemons out in force, just like Steig had predicted, though what their goal was—other than to steal and cause chaos—she wasn’t entirely sure. But they were bolder than ever before—not even attempting to hide, especially now that word had spread that their Powers worked against witches.

Greya knew that witches weren’t supposed to get involved or intervene—fighting was not their way, but…to stand by and do nothing while mortals suffered felt wrong too.

So last week, she’d sent Steig a message.

When she’d let him go, he’d agreed to spy for her, and pass her information that might help the witches to minimize harm from daemons, and now, she was calling that in.

But whether he would deliver remained to be seen.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Greya said to the man. “Please let us know if you require anything else in the meantime to get the crop restarted.”

He nodded at her. “Thank you, Greya, I’ll do that,” he said gratefully.

A knock on the altar room door interrupted them.

“Come in,” Greya called.

Perse peeked his head in, making pointed eye contact with her, letting her know something was up.

“Sorry to interrupt my love, but Jon and Aria would like to speak with you,” he said, not sounding particularly pleased about it. What was this about?

“Okay, you can send them in. We were just finishing up here,” she said, turning back to the mortal. “I’ll see that one of the other witches brings you the potions first thing tomorrow morning,” she said, effectively dismissing him.

He nodded again, and thanked her, before making his way out.

Within seconds of him leaving the room, Perse entered, followed by the two Auster witches, who seemed agitated.

“Jon, Aria—what’s going on?” she asked.

“There was another attack—in Northumbra this time. Did you hear?” Jon said in a rush as he approached her desk. He was older, in his late fifties, with graying hair, but seeing as he was the Coven’s chief builder, he was still very fit and healthy.

“I did hear. Sounds like quite the tragedy,” Greya said, suddenly worried about where this was going.

“And you think we should just stand by and do nothing? After what they did to our Coven?” Jon asked, getting visibly worked up by the second.

“I’m not sure,” Greya said, wanting to hear his thoughts on the matter. “You think that we should intervene somehow?”

“I do,” Jon said staunchly.

“And I explained to him, that that is not the witches’ way,” Aria chimed in. She’d been silent as Jon spoke his piece, but the older woman seemed quite agitated herself now—which was not unusual for her. Aria was a sweet woman, but she often expected the rest of the Coven to follow suit, simply because she was an elder. “We should not intervene and put our people in more danger.”

Greya listened to her as well, because the truth was, she saw both sides in this matter. The Coven was hurt—and incredibly angry—after the attack in the Sacred Grove. For some, it had stoked their fear and hatred for daemons, and for others, it had made them want to become even more insular and isolated. Despite what she’d told them about the binding spell and the witches’ part in it, it hadn’t changed much, not since daemons were still such a threat.