Page 3 of Fallacies

She’s untouchable when she’s like this. The most devastating thing I’ve ever seen.

I’m going to kill her.

“Cin…” I warn, but she waves me off.

Delia lets out a panicked laugh, but Lucina isn’t laughing, not even a little.

“You can’t be serious,” Her Grace breathes in disbelief.

When I look over, Laverna’s jaw is practically unhinged, and Ceres’s moonlit skin has blanched four shades lighter.

“Why not?” Lucina folds her arms across her chest, serious as ever.

This was the very, very last thing I expected out of today. Sure, she’s spent a lot of time with us. She’s gotten close to Pax and even Hunter has a soft spot for her. But Lucina? In my coven? Is this really what she wants? Does she even know what she’s asking for?

Normally, I can read her. Right now, I can’t.

Ever since she stepped out of the pile of Fenton’s blood that had pooled at her feet, she’s been different. Actually, ever since she woke up in the infirmary after the Ashvine, she’s been different. And with all she’s been through in the last twelve hours, who could blame her?

I just don’t know what her angle is.

“Because you’re a female,” Ceres spits as if the idea isn’t just absurd… It’s appalling. “The Disciple-Born covens have been separated by sex since the original Disciples deemed it so.”

And to my knowledge, no one has ever challenged that rule.

I exhale a heavy breath at the mock look of surprise that passes over Lucina’s features. If she wasn’t already dead set on my coven, she is now. I can guarantee it. There is nothing she loves more than a challenge, and Ceres just waved a red flag in front of her face.

“Because I’m a woman?” Lucina repeats, dark brows rising impossibly further.

“Lucina,” Delia grits out, voice strained. “That’s not how we do things. We have traditions to uphold, and you…you must—” She fumbles over her words, something I don’t think I’ve ever seen her do. “You will join our coven next week; it is not a request.”

The lights in the room flicker, and I don’t have to look up to know who is responsible for it—Lucina’s magic is as familiar to me as my own.

“With all due respect,” she starts, and I calculate how long it will take to grab her and run, “you three have sat here for twenty years while your people have sat in cages.”

Her delivery is swift. Brutal.

And she isn’t finished.

“Callan and his coven seem to be the only ones here who care, and I think I’d like to be on that side of history,” Lucina bites out, sweeping her certain gaze over the furious faces staring back at her. When she lands on the Dame, she straightens. “Not yours.”

Silence.

If it were anyone else, Delia would have ripped out their tongue right then and there. Usually, she wouldn’t be able to stomach such disrespect, but Lucina isn’t everyone else, and Delia knows it.

“It is tradition,” Delia snips, her jaw clenched tight. Beside her, Laverna is wide-eyed, unsure of where to look. “We will not break it for you.”

Teacups rattle, and the lights overhead continue to flicker. Ceres turns her nose up, back stiff as if it makes her any taller.

Lucina stares daggers at the Dame.

“Your Grace,” Laverna says softly, but Delia doesn’t break her furious stare.

Not until her third whispers, “I’m afraid it’s not up to you.”

Fuck. Me.

All eyes swing in my direction.