Page 47

I’d never felt more out of place in my entire life.

Straightening my spine, I carefully gathered up my dress, trying not to crease the silk, and headed up the stairs. Several people stopped midconversation, turning my way. An older witch I’d never met went as far as elbowing her companion so they wouldn’t miss the show. My family avoided these people, these kinds of events, and it was clear a few people had obviously assumed I wouldn’t attend.

Don’t let them see how nervous you are.

Ignoring the wild fluttering in my belly and the tingle of unease down my spine, I walked through the wide doors, across the massive foyer, and through to the ballroom doors. An attendant held out his hand for my invitation.

“Willow Thornheart, of coven Thornheart,” he called, reading it out loud.

The room seemed to still, drinks pausing on the way to painted lips, conversations stopping, all so they could look my way.

I wasn’t fond of attention, especially not from these people, but I had to play the part or get eaten alive. The Thornheart name was old, and because of that, well known. My great grandparents had enjoyed the finer things and had moved in these social circles, thus the reason Gran had needed a dress like this for her engagement party.

But my grandmother had defied them in the first place by marrying my grandfather, and refusing the suitor they’d chosen for her. And when my grandfather hadn’t bent to their will like they’d expected, my grandparents had been cut off. Even after my grandfather died, they’d pretended Mom and Gran didn’t exist.

Gran had left this life behind and she’d had no interest in coming back to it.

The fact we were as powerful as we were but chose to stick to ourselves, to snub them, still pissed a lot of them off.

I carried on, not allowing my step to falter, and took the stairs down to the main floor, focusing every bit of my energy on not tripping and falling on my face.

I reached the floor and, ignoring the overt stares and whispers, headed to a table laden with champagne flutes.

Someone coughed as I passed, and I was pretty sure they said whore. Nice.

Some of the witches here had decided my family thought we were better than everyone else, unable to comprehend that we didn’t give that first fuck about status and money. Now they were desperate for a chance to knock us…me, down a peg. That wasn’t happening tonight, not if I could help it.

I grabbed a glass of champagne and took a deep sip when what I really wanted was to down it and grab another. I hadn’t mixed with any of these people in a very long time, not since Mag’s moon goddess initiation two years ago, where all the young witches were pranced around and forced to pretend to “make friends,” but really it was a superficial load of crap, like tonight, where parents tried to find their sons and daughters influential connections.

Mags had insisted on doing it with her friends, but we’d been given the same treatment as tonight. Mags had felt it and withdrawn, hadn’t talked to anyone during the event, and it had solidified the we-think-we’re-too-good-for-you narrative in everyone’s eyes.

“Willow, is that you?”

A beautiful Japanese woman walked up to me, her hands held out, and smiled warmly. I smiled back at the first welcome face I’d seen here. “Asuka.”

“It’s so good to see you.” She pulled me in for a hug and I squeezed her back, probably a little more desperately than I would have liked, but I was so glad she was here.

Asuka’s family had moved to Roxburgh when she was fifteen. We’d been friends until they moved to the other side of the city and she’d changed high schools after her mother had taken her place on the witch’s council. Her mahogany gaze took me in. “You look stunning. How have you been?”

“You look like you should be on a runway. And same old, you know, except for the part that I’m here.” Asuka had always known this was her destiny, and she’d taken the honor very seriously, training for the trials to come all her life.

I, on the other hand, had partied and goofed off because I could.

She grinned. “I’ve missed you.”

“I never did forgive your folks for taking you away. So I hear congratulations are in order. Who’s the lucky guy?” I’d heard through the grapevine she’d gotten engaged, but since I didn’t run in her circles these days, I was short on facts.

Her smile slipped. “No congratulations needed, not anymore, anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…”

“It’s fine, really. He’s a good man but was more my parents’ choice than mine.”

Some families were all about finding ways to gain more power, like my great grandparents had been, and an advantageous marriage to a Keeper was one way to do that. I personally thought it was fucked up, but what did I know?

“So how did your final trial go?” she asked, sympathy and curiosity in her eyes that kind of rubbed me the wrong way. I mean, it was to be expected, she knew as well as everyone else here that I was runner-up in this situation.

“I’m actually still in the middle of my task. You?”