by Cate Corvin
I nodded, staring at the waystone where his son would stand years later and Roman’s daughter would say goodbye. “Yeah. Looked pretty happy to me.”
“That’s all I need to know, then.” His brow creased. “I can wait to live the rest. As for who I’m waiting for… the Tribunal will be sending a sigilist alongside the archivist.”
I shot him a sharp look.
“While I was in Deepwood, I had a talk with an old mentor of mine. Lucrezia’s sentence was predicated upon her mastery of wildfire. After all we’ve seen and done here, I feel she’s proved her mastery beyond what most students are called upon to perform. I will sign the sigilists’ book as her witness. She’s earned it.”
“That’ll be a weight off her shoulders. How did the other Wardens feel about your role in all this?”
Steele finally cracked a smile, but there was a bitter tinge to it. “Let’s just say the ranks of the Wardens will be in upheaval for some time. Some of them never imagined they’d see the inside of a Carnelian prison cell for themselves.”
I nodded as the sigils began to glow. Someone was searching for Cimmerian’s psychic signature from the other end of the waystone web. “Good. I’m glad you stayed with us, Steele. Both then and now.”
The light flared and vanished. A gaggle of witches and warlocks stood clustered on the white stone.
“Is this Cimmerian Reform Academy?” The warlock was older, with iron-gray hair trailing over his shoulders, wearing heavy, dark robes embroidered with silver.
“Not for long, Judge Everhardt.” Steele got to his feet. “The covenmistress is waiting. Did you send a sigilist?”
A young man in navy blue robes looked up at him with wide eyes, his nerves evident. “I- I’m the sigilist, Justiciar Steele, s-sir.”
Steele stared at him. “I hope you’re steadier with a needle in your hand.”
The sigilist blanched.
“He’s a new pup, Dom.” A witch in leather armor, tinged with red, stepped forward and took his hand. She was as old as the first warlock, her icy hair wound in a neat bun, but nothing about her was soft or frail. Every line on her face looked like it had been carved with iron and her pale eyes were sharp. “Don’t forget- I knew you when you were a fresh young recruit, too.”
She took his remaining hand, giving him an almost motherly smile.
“Good to see you again so soon, Inquisitor Merry. I’ll try to keep my barking to a minimum.” Dom still gave the sigilist a stern look- but so would I, in his shoes. Nobody wanted a shaky sigilist on one of the most important days of their lives.
Inquisitor Merry looked like she wanted to pat his cheek, but she refrained in the presence of the other Inquisitors and the sigilists. “We’ll have time for visits later, dear boy. Where’s this covenmistress of yours?”
I trailed behind the group, debating whether to become a wolf and sniff at the cowering sigilist’s hem, but the thought of a shaky mastery tattoo on my mate held me back.
“That’s your mentor?” I muttered, jerking my chin towards Merry, who was plowing ahead of the Judge and his retinue.
“Yes, my first teacher when I joined the Sanctum,” Steele said. “She’s… different from the rest, for an Inquisitor.”
Lu, Holly, and Daphne’s laughter cut short when the Tribunal members filed into the parlor. Lu had put the wards to work cleaning out the room, turning an empty classroom into a sun-filled room that echoed the clean lines of her bedroom, all white paint and black trim, with a splash of red flowers in a vase.
She stood up, smoothing her indigo blouse and jeans, looking nothing like the mistress of a several-hundred-year old covenstead. It was impossible to tell from looking at her now that she could burst into flames in less than a second, or that she’d taken over an ancient covenstead’s cornerstone on the fly without losing her mind. The only giveaway was the ancient rowan sword at her side. She never went anywhere without it now.
The color flooded out of her cheeks when she took in the audience, some eyeing her sourly, Inquisitor Merry with intense interest, and the sigilist with something like terror.
“Welcome to Cimmerian,” she said. Her voice remained strong, betraying none of the nerves evident in her face.
“Pleased to be here, dear,” Merry said, her eyes sweeping over everyone. “Archivist Betony?”
A witch in black stepped forward, clutching a thick book bound in dark blue leather. Gilded sigils had been stamped over its surface, with a blank space left in the center of the cover for our future coven sigil to be tooled on.
Roman slipped into the room. Lu’s eyes flicked to the windows and they folded in on themselves, becoming solid walls.
Merry didn’t so much as flinch, but the other Inquisitors’ shoulders were stiff. Judge Everhardt’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline when Locke followed Roman in, safely shielded from the sun, and took a position at Lu’s back.
Lu pulled a silk-wrapped bundle from the coffee table: the Giltglass grimoire. “This is for you,” she said, extending to the book to the archivist.
Betony glanced at the gray-haired Judge before she laid the blank grimoire on the table in its place and took the Giltglass grimoire from Lu.
“I understand this isn’t the way this is normally done,” Lu began, but Judge Everhardt interrupted her.
“No, it isn’t,” he said, his voice sour. “If it weren’t for Justiciar Steele’s interference, you’d still have an outstanding warrant from the Tribunal that would render your claim on this covenstead null and void. You’ve taken one of our finest Wardens-” Steele’s lip curled at that- “Celebrate dangerous therianthropes, and ask a vampire to sign a grimoire? Preposterous.”
A low rumble rose in my throat, which I stopped dead in its tracks. No way I was giving this pinched old asshole any reason to drag Lu back to Deepwood Sanctum.
“Do you have the Lockheart grimoire?” Locke’s amber eyes fixed on Betony, who hid behind the warlock. “I would like it back, if you please. I remember so little of my family’s history, you see.”
A little of Betony’s color came back. She seems surprised that Locke was not only sane, but spoke with a formal, thoughtful cadence that clearly wasn’t of this era.
“If your covenmistress signs a formal petition, we can pull grimoires from the Shadow Archives… if we have it.” Lu nodded and touched Locke’s hand.
“You might not see eye to eye with how we do things here, but that’s not our concern.” Her tone had gone cold as she looked the Judge over in kind. “This vampire is the last remaining descendant of Lockheart. He has every right to be here and sign this new grimoire, and we welcome all therianthropes, dangerous or not. In fact, I intend to become one myself. And as for your Warden, he had every chance to go back to Deepwood. I didn’t steal him. He’s right where he wants to be.”
Steele broke away from the Tribunal’s representatives and went to the other side of the room, making his choice very clear.
Inquisitor Merry grinned at him and clapped silently behind the Judge’s back.
Daphne, Holly, and Beck stood and made their own little group, part of neither side but willing to witness. Archivist Betony’s eyes widened at the sight of a second vampire who’d seemingly appeared from thin air, but she said nothing.
Judge Everhardt’s sneer never left his face. “There’s no accounting for taste. Open your grimoire, covenmistress.”
Lu was pale with fury at his snub, but she ran her hand over the blue-and-gold cover before opening the cover reverently. Blank white pages shone up at us.
“State your coven name and write in your book.”
Alongside the tea, she’d also laid out the tools she needed to bind her magic to the grimoire: a blood-letting knife and a gold-dipped quill. Lu pressed the tiny, razor-sharp blade to her wrist without so much as a wince and loaded the quill with her own blood.
Her eyes flickered over us, surrounding her, before her expression solidified. “I name us Wildhaven.” She wrote our name at the top of t
he page, with the witnessed year below.
“We witness the naming of Wildhaven,” the other groups echoed.
“State your name, covenmistress.” Judge Everhardt looked like he’d swallowed a burr.
“I am Lucrezia Wilde, covenmistress and defender of Wildhaven.” She signed her name with a triumphant flourish and handed the quill to me.
The cut in my wrist felt like nothing more than a sharp sting. “I am Shane Wilde.” I signed my name in the book and handed it to Roman.
“I am Roman Wilde.”
Steele went next, and Inquisitor Merry beamed like a proud mother. “I am Dominic Wilde.”
Locke finally took the quill, and hesitated for only the barest second before signing. “I am Elijah Locke Wilde.”
As soon as I’d signed my name, a warm feeling had bloomed to life in my chest, like a flame unfurling. With every name that was signed, that warmth pulled me towards them, with Lu being the brightest point of light among us.
“We witness the names of Wildhaven,” our friends said, Daphne’s voice amused, Beck’s curious, and Holly’s cheerful.
Judge Everhardt’s lips were set in a thin line. “As a judge of the Tribunal, I witness the naming of a new coven, signed and sealed in blood.” His cold eyes looked over us one by one, reserving most of his hatred for Locke, Roman, and myself. His disdain was palpable.
I didn’t care at all. This was our home, our rules, our coven.
“Enjoy your new and entirely unearned status. Come, Merry.” Judge Everhardt swept out, his Tribunal cronies on his heels, but Inquisitor Merry and the sigilist ignored him entirely.
“He’s a puckered old arse, isn’t he?” Merry muttered, echoing my earlier thoughts. “Are you ready, Apprentice Horne?”
The sigilist, Horne, nodded, clutching a leather case to his chest. His gaze kept skittering to Steele and back to Lu, as though he wasn’t sure who he should be more panicked about.
“What is this?” Lu asked, frowning. She touched the page of the grimoire with all of our names signed in blood, and closed the book with the same reverence she’d opened it with. “Ready for what?”
She went still and I knew she was reaching through the wards, feeling for Judge Everhardt’s departure. Lu was getting better at looking natural when she vanished inside herself and became part of Wildhaven’s walls.
Wildhaven. That would take some getting used to, but it felt perfectly right. My Sight was becoming clearer with each passing day, giving me bits and pieces of our future.
It was the whole of our purpose for being led here: to become a home for those who didn’t have one. I’d already been sent a vision of an ill-tempered, twelve-year-old badger therianthrope who’d be coming our way soon, cast out by his own coven.
We’d be waiting here with open arms, ready to give him a new home.
“To be added to the grand annals of witchfire masters, Lucrezia Wilde.” Merry gave her a smile, the warmth belying the cool sharpness of her eyes, and elbowed Steele. “My boy put his neck on the line to witness your mastery.”
Lu’s eyes went to Dom, and to my surprise the slightest hint of color touched his face. “It’s tradition,” he said. “A master witnesses another master, and you receive your mark.”
“When was I witnessed-” she started to say, but understanding flashed across her face. “That’s what you were doing, taking so long to come back. You signed my name into the mastery books while you were gone.”
“I thought it safest to do it before you stepped foot in Deepwood.” Steele didn’t look away from Lu.
“Rightfully so,” Merry interjected.
“Judge Everhardt’s been on the warpath since he heard about our… unusual coven,” he continued. “I didn’t want you near him until the paperwork was done, so to speak. Whether you receive the tattoo or not, you’re still registered as a master in the elementalist branch of witchfire.” He gave her a wry smile. “Right under Lord Danteus Ember. Technically, you’re Lady Wilde now.”
Lu stared at him like she’d been frozen. Steele’s smile slipped a little. “I’m sorry, Lu. I would’ve waited for you, but I didn’t want to give Everhardt the slightest excuse to-”
“No, wait,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m just too happy to talk. Honestly, if one more good thing happens to me today, I think I might explode.”
Demonseed wound around her feet, his orange eyes focused longingly on my twin. She reached down to touch his soft gray fur.
“Well, instead of exploding, you should get your tattoo done before Apprentice Horne dies of old age,” Merry said. She fixed a beady eye on Lu. “Good luck, Lady Wilde. It seems that you’ll need it.”
She rose on her toes and kissed Steele’s cheek. “Behave yourself,” she whispered. If Horne’s eyes got any wider, they’d fall out of his head.
“I only learned from the best,” Steele said. Merry shook her head and left.
“She’s not your mother.” Lu was still looking at the door thoughtfully.
“Not by blood, no. But if there’s anything my time here has taught me, it’s that love is thicker than blood. Merry was the parent I never had when I first went to Deepwood. It’s because of her that I got through Everhardt without winding up in Carnelian myself.”
Lu’s gray eyes settled on him. She and Demonseed looked disconcertingly similar in that moment. “Thank you, Dom,” she said fervently. “It almost feels like a dream I’m going to wake from at any moment.”
Roman leaned over the back of her chair and threw his arms around her neck. “No dream here, Blondie.”
He planted a kiss on the side of her neck, and Beck eyed Daphne speculatively, who sidled away from him. “Don’t even think about it,” she whispered.
Steele held out his hand. “Your mark awaits, Lady Wilde.”
Lu stood up and took it, wrapping her fingers through his tightly.
***
After we said goodbye to Holly, Lu stretched out on an armless chaise, wincing as Horne’s hand flittered over her inner arm. He dipped a needle in shimmering ink and took it to her arm, carefully limning the mastery tattoo by hand.
The tattoo glowed red against her skin, as scarlet as embers and glittering with imbued magic.
Dom and Roman sat around her head, watching the sigil slowly take form, and Locke and I sat near her legs. The vampire’s pupils were wide. His attraction to her blood was controllable, though. “The ink smells of magic,” he said. “Not appetizing at all.”
Horne had gone pale at how casually we talked about Locke’s meals, but maybe he’d learn something from it.
“How are you feeling, Lady?” he asked anxiously.
Lu made a face. “It stings a little, but I’ve felt worse.”
“It looks perfect, Apprentice,” Steele said, and Horne went from white with anxiety to flushed as red as a tomato.
An hour later, the sigilist sat up and capped the bottle of enspelled ink. He snapped his fingers and the needle and tiny cap of used ink vanished. “Your sigil is done, Lady,” he said.
Lu stretched out her arm. The tiny tattoo shimmered with its own internal light, like flames boiled just under the surface of her skin. “It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice thick.
Horne realized she was near tears at the same time as the rest of us and stammered several unintelligible things. Steele took pity on him, wrapping his arm around the apprentice’s shoulders and leading him out to the waystone.
As soon as the apprentice was gone, Lu sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “This is the best day ever,” she said. Tears still sparkled in her eyes.
“No more tears then, Bambi.” I held her arm, careful not to touch her tender flesh as I examined the tattoo. “It’s the first day of the rest of our lives.”
“The first day of being Wildhaven.” Roman toyed with Lu’s hair. “We need a new sign.”
“We will always be Wildhaven,” Locke said, his voice quiet. “I will never let that change, no matter what.” He w
as full of stoic vehemence, determined to protect the newest incarnation of Lockheart.
He kissed Lu, careful not to touch her with his fangs, and Roman and I followed. I tasted everyone on her lips. It was strangely comforting. She belonged to all of us, the heart we gathered around.
She went down to find Steele and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him last. “Justiciar Wilde.” Lu touched the ouroboros on his chest. “You need a new medallion.”
“I’ll take care of it next time I have to go,” he said, nibbling her lower lip. “I’d rather not leave home at all right now.”
I took a breath and let it out. We were together. For the first time in years, we were finally home.
Epilogue
Lu
Six months later I stepped outside the North Entrance, tired to the bone but happier than I’d ever been in my life.
It almost didn’t feel real. I’d come here as nothing, as a criminal, and now I was a Lady, a title most witches would never attain… and the Headmistress of the brand-new Wildhaven Academy.
We’d received our first student that day, a young boy named Colm River, whose soul was apparently a badger. It would take some time for him to warm up and trust us, after a lifetime of being treated like an outsider, but he’d taken to Shane immediately.
He’d find a home here in time.
The air was still tonight, the moon full and the sky full of stars. The Bluejasper-made mausoleum shimmered like a white monolith on the distant grounds, but the wards of Wildhaven assured me that all was peaceful and quiet.
I’d left Steele sleeping, Shane was prowling the forest, and Locke was studying Beck like he usually did, searching for the cure to vampire madness. I hoped he’d find it.
Powerful arms slid over my shoulders, locking around me. “Want to go for a ride?” Roman asked, his voice just a breath above a rumble, but he stilled when he smelled fresh blood. “What is this?”
