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I wondered if they’d sent Derek a note remindinghimof that. He was trampling all over my trust, and he sure as hell didn’t respect or regard me very well. My jaw tightened. I readon.
-When you’re uncertain, look to your parents as a model for a strong witching relationship. Think back on how you’ve seen them resolve conflicts over the years. Take your guidance from your elders, and they will help you find the rightpath.
Celestine as my model? No, thank you. And my actualmother…
My gaze drifted to the photo hanging near the foot of my bed. A family portrait of my father, my mother, and me as an infant. My mother beamed at me from the image. With her black hair, pale skin, and large dark green eyes, she looked like a slightly older, slightly curvier version of me. The only way I took after my father to look at us was his lankiness andheight.
Dad had never talked about my mother very much. By the time I’d been old enough to form solid memories, he must have gotten over most of his grief at her death. But he’d gone years before he’d looked for a new wife. The occasions he had talked about his first wife, it had been with a tenderness I usually only saw directed atme.
Theirs had been a love match, I knew that much. My mother had been the only daughter of a prominent witching family in Massachusetts, but she’d left the inheritance of their family home and name to her younger brother in order to marry my father and become part of the Hallowell legacy. Her family had never really forgiven my father for that transgression, according to him. At least, that was how he’d always explained why we didn’t see or speak tothem.
I dragged in a breath, my heart suddenly heavy. All the factors the Assembly talked about, all the elements Meredith had told me a good match needed, I had them not with Derek but with my unsparked men. If the guys had been from witching families… If I wouldn’t have felt I needed to choose betweenthem…
Maybe Dad would understand, if I tried to talk to him about this once Celestine and Derek were dealt with. He knew what it was like to love someone you weren’t supposedto.
A knock rattled the door. I startled in my chair. “Rose?” Derek said. “Are you ready to come down? I’ve been told dinner isn’t faroff.”
Had I been mooning around in here that long already? My chest constricted. I still didn’t feel quite ready to see my unknowingly-former fiancé. “I, ah—” I started, and an alert lit up the screen of my prepaidphone.
I grabbed it, tapping through to read the full message. Margo Elands had come through.I can see why you’re keeping your name secret when you’re asking questions like that. Let me see if I can help you. Accounts of consorting ceremonies more than a couple hundred years back are few and far between. I’ve had to dig very deep for what I have come across. The most intriguing scraps I’ve found—nothing official, you have to understand, only fragments of texts I’m obliged to tell you may be fictional—havementioned—
“Rose?” Derekrepeated.
Damn. “I’ll be there in a minute, I promise,” I said. Anything to get him away so I had a moment to readthis.
—wilder ceremonies than we see today, on untamed grounds, with a symbolic structure nearby at times to ground the proceedings. I’ve come across one mention of a witch consorting with a completely inhuman being, although that may very well be fancy. Also a couple of vague mentions that seem to indicate the taking of unsparked men as partners, in one case to extend the witching blood. As I’m happily consorted already myself, I haven’t had occasion to try that oneout.
My breath caught in my throat. So it might be true. Not just because I wanted it to be—someone, somewhere had made note ofit.
My hands trembled as I typed out a quick response.I’ve seen pictures depicting witches with multiple consorts. Is that something you’ve encountered in your research atall?
Her reply was quick and clearly amused.Oh, an ambitious one, are you? The only time I’ve ever tried to raise that matter in a remotely public way, I lost my job, so you might want to tread carefully there. But yes, I’ve seen the sort of pictures you’ve described. Few and far between, maybe because they have a habit of getting themselves destroyed as soon as anyone takes note. But I make no claims that they’re anything other than symbolic. Just to beclear.
Covering her ass in case I passed her reply on to anyone else? Well, I’d be deleting her messages in a moment anyway. I’d be in so much more trouble than her if anyone saw what I’d beenasking.
My heart was outright thumping now. So what if she couldn’t guarantee anything? What she’d given me was still so much more confirmation than I’d had an hour ago. Maybe following my heart wasn’t quite as hopeless a risk as I’dfeared.
Of course, that was just my end of the equation. I still had no idea what any of the guys would think if I laid out the full truth of my situation and what I hoped wouldhappen.
It was about time I found out how they’d respond, wasn’t it? With a shaky inhale, I brought my thumbs to the phone and started writing a new message to the four ofthem.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rose
Jin’s apartment looked like a replica of the gallery below if the artwork had bled from the frames. Nothing hung on his walls, and the unmarked sections were the same pure white as those downstairs, but he’d obviously gotten into the habit of doodling on them whenever inspirationstruck.
A marker sketch of a sunset beyond a tall, spiky building rose from behind the plush sofa. A dappling of flowers followed a vine around the window frame. Smears of red and gold paint ran together across the open space beside his bedroom door. They formed no object I could decipher but left me feeling oddly stirred all thesame.
The smell of fresh paint hung in the air. His actual working studio was up here, maybe behind that other closeddoor.
I rocked on my feet on the soft shag rug, which was a deep orange that somehow worked perfectly with the lime green of the sofa. Jin had suggested I sit down when I’d gotten here, but I felt too restless. Too much like I might need to work what I had to say out of my mouth throughmovement.
Kyler had already been in the apartment, sitting at one end of the sofa with a just-opened beer, when I’d gotten here. “How did you put off questions about where you were going this time?” he asked with a devious gleam in hiseyes.
“I said I was looking through some more archives in the town museum,” I said. That excuse had covered a couple of daytime trips already. The little building near the town hall did have a file on the Hallowell estate, so it wasn’t totally unbelievable. “And I actually stopped there, in case anyone checks. I mentioned I might grab lunch. That’ll give me enoughtime.”
Jin came over with the glass of water he’d poured me. “For the lady,” he said with agrin.
