A witch without a coven is just a loser, but also still a witch, which is fine, which I will be fine with. I don’t need my coven.
I am extremely nervous.
Which is understandable. I have had far more than my fair share of confrontations lately. It really is unjust. When this is all over, I’m going to live my life in a way that does not require confrontations, ever.
Dave opens the door. He takes one look at me and steps back to let me in without saying anything, which is either a bad sign or a good sign, and I genuinely can’t tell which.
There are six of us in total. Morgana is already seated, her silver hair pinned up, her purple robes doing their thing, her expression doing that thing it does where it’s perfectly serene and completely unreadable. The others are on the cushions and chairs arranged in the loose circle that Morgana always insists upon. Everyone looks at me when I come in.
I sit down. I put my bag on the floor. I look at Morgana.
“Felix,” she says, in that voice like wind chimes, warm and carefully neutral.
“Morgana,” I say.
A pause. The candles flicker.
I’ve been practicing what I was going to say. On the walk over, and in the flat before that, and possibly in the shower this morning, and definitely while Dis watched me leave with the focused attention of someone who wanted to come but couldn’t because bringing a shadow being to my hearing would not at all help my case.
Anyways, the point is, I’ve been practicing. I have a whole speech.
“I’ve been an arse,” I say.
Not the speech. But accurate.
Dave makes a small sound that might be a laugh quickly suppressed.
“Not intentionally,” I continue, because honesty has been the theme of my recent life, apparently, and I might as well commit. “But I’ve been dealing with something significant and I handled it by going silent, which wasn’t fair to the coven, and I know that. I should have said I needed space. I should have checked in. Should have said I needed cover for my duties. I didn’t, and I’m sorry.”
The room is quiet. Morgana’s expression has shifted into something warmer, something that wasn’t there when I sat down. Something I’ve caused by not being an asshole.
Personal growth, I think. Absolutely foul. Moving on.
“Before we start, I need to ask something,” I say. “My father. Don’t contact him again. Whatever happened with that, whatever the intention was, I need that to not happen again.”
“We were worried about you,” Morgana says gently. “Wethought...”
“I know what you thought. And I understand why you did it.” I hold her gaze. “But my relationship with my father is mine to manage. Or not manage. And right now, it’s not. So please.”
Morgana looks at me for a long moment with those clear eyes that have always seen considerably more than I’m comfortable with. “Wouldn’t it be healing,” she says, carefully, “to perhaps consider some form of reconciliation? In time?”
“No,” I say.
“Felix…”
“No. Never going to happen.” I say it without heat, which is new. It’s not anger, it’s just certainty. Something that has settled in me in the past few weeks, something that knows the difference between a door that’s closed and a door that’s simply not there anymore. “That’s not a conversation I’m having. Not today, not eventually. I’ve made my peace with it.”
And I have. That’s the strange thing. Somewhere between the Scrabble board and the futon and blue eyes watching me across a summoning circle, I’ve actually made my peace with it. Not because I’ve forgiven it. Because I’ve understood that I don’t need to. I have what I have, and what I have is everything.
Morgana holds my gaze for another moment. Then she nods, just once, with the grace of someone who disagrees but respects the boundary.
“The shadow being,” says Celeste with her usual arrogance. “We’ve all been aware of the presence. They are, as a category, deeply dangerous entities.”
“He’s not dangerous,” I say. The words come out immediately, completely without thought, with the ease of things that are simply true. “He’s mine.”
Silence.
I become aware of what I’ve just said. I consider feeling embarrassed about it. I decide not to bother.
