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Chapter One
Aria
Duty.Power.Responsibility.Theweight of those words press down on me like iron shackles, chaining me to this preordained path. No matter how hard I try to pull away, to get at least a few inches in the other direction, I’m dragged back, weak and exhausted, my hope and determination cracked just a little bit further.
It’s always the same speech from my grandmother, really more like a lecture. I honestly don’t even need to bother listening to her at this point. Her sharp words are just a murmur as I tune them out and focus on the weathered desk before me. My fingers glide along the aged wood, and the pads skitter over where the varnish has worn off from centuries of use. This desk has been used by every leader of the Hart coven—just another reminder of the fate that awaits me. One day it’ll be mine and I’ll be sitting on the other side, the same lines spilling from my lips as I place the burden of our coven’s future on the slender shoulders of my daughter or granddaughter.
“Are you even listening to me, Aria?” my grandmother, Glenda, hisses, breaking through the hum of familiar words.
My eyes flick up to meet hers automatically. The worn wood is replaced with her curled, sneering lips and cutting blue-green glare. She simmers with barely caged rage as she takes me in, clearly already knowing the answer to her question.
“I didn’t hear every word, but I’m sure it went along the lines of ‘you have a duty to uphold’ blah blah blah,” I say, letting my blasé tone convey just how over this conversation I am. I slump back in the wooden chair and let my hands fall onto my lap, doing my best to avoid shifting uncomfortably in the hard seat. “Did I get it right?”
Glenda slams her hand down on the desk right where my fingers had skated over just moments before. My heart jolts at the sudden sound, but I force myself to keep my eyes locked on hers, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. The impact echoes through the silent office as she pulls in a deep breath, her nostrils flaring in irritation.
I lift an unimpressed brow, keeping that look of unamused boredom plastered on my face, but internally I scold myself for letting her catch me off guard. Of course my grandmother is a master of manipulation, she knows every card to play to get the reaction she wants and to capture the upper hand once again. She’s had a century of practice after all.
Which is exactly why silence still stretches between us, it makes people uncomfortable and forces them to fill it. Secrets and platitudes can’t help but fall from people’s lips with just a few tension-filled moments of quiet while in her presence.
Sometimes, I swear the woman must forget that she’s taught me everything I know, that we’re cut from the same cloth, her and I. She raised me in her image, something I’m both grateful for and repulsed by at the same time. The alternative would have been being raised by my traitorous mother, and who knows how I would’ve turned out if she hadn’t shown her true colors when I was a child. But at the same time, I can’t help but mourn the little girl who was thrust into a life of duty and responsibility at such a young age and was given no time to just be a child.
“I know, Glenda,” I say, cutting through her building tirade. I let the bored expression slip away and sit upright in my chair, rolling my shoulders back. I stare back at her, matching the power that exudes from her every pore, my stern expression a mirror of her own. It’s a risk to cut her off, but honestly, neither of us has time for this right now, and frankly, I don’t have the patience to sit through her spiel again. “You should knowmebetter than that by now.”
“Well you’ve been gone for four years, you could have very well gotten soft in your time away,” she huffs, but some of the tension that held her shoulders taut eases at my display, at the confidence and power that rolls off me now. I know this is what I need to be, what I’ve been taught to be since I was born, but I can’t help but feel my heart harden as I slam the door down on my emotions, on the very essence and spark that makes me the person that I am.
“I went to a magical university, Glenda, not a mortal one,” I say dryly. “I haven’t lost my edge. Quite the opposite actually.”
Cold. Heartless. They’re words flung at some as an insult, but to my grandmother, they’re a compliment, and the epitome of what a coven leader should be.
“I swear you’re going to send me to an early grave by trying to get a rise out of me every chance you get,” Glenda says, easing back in her plush green velvet chair, her hand sliding to her side of the desk. The bell sleeve of her black dress slithers back, but still takes up half of the table as if poised to strike.
“Someone has to keep you on your toes,” I say coolly, internally cringing at the ease with which the words roll off my tongue so naturally.
“And I’ll continue to do the same for you.” Glenda’s lips tilt slightly with the barest hint of a smile.
The look sends a shiver skittering down my spine. I have no doubt in my mind that she will, and that thought alone chills me to my bones. The woman will stop at nothing to see the success of this coven, regardless of the consequences—a fact she’s proven time and time again.
“I was saying that I have a meeting set up for you with the headmistress,” she says, any hint of amusement now just a distant memory. “She’s an old friend and a valued member of our coven, not to mention Endcliffe Academy is the most prestigious and exclusive honor there is for a supernatural, so you need to make a good impression.”
“I understand.” The words leave my lips automatically. Glenda doesn’t have friends. She had underlings and adversaries, so I have to assume the headmistress is the former. Great. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to meet someone ‘important,’ and it won’t be the last.
“I don’t think you understand what exactly is at stake here, Aria,” she grinds out through gritted teeth as her hand balls into a fist on the worn wood. “You need to pass your classes with flying colors if you want to become the next coven leader.”
My jaw tenses at those words the second they leave her lips. Coven leader. I bite back what I truly wish I could say, swallowing the truth for what has to be the thousandth time. I don’t want to be the coven leader, at least not as quickly as Glenda is forcing me to step into the role. But I really don’t have a choice.
“I know,” I breathe, deciding to take the high road this time. Tensions are high—like they always are when we discuss me taking over. My usual sarcasm and biting tone won’t do either of us any good right now.
“I have to devote my time to the head of the elders.” Her lips curl into a snarl as she says the strangers title, and I frankly don’t blame her. We’ve always seen eye to eye on this point.
“Our position is more precarious now than ever because of your mother,” she seethes.
For the last two centuries the Harts have been in charge of the elders, the rulers of the magical families of Endcliffe. My ancestors fought tooth and nail to take that position and my grandmother will do anything it takes to keep it. The woman who birthed me nearly toppled all that blood and sacrifice when she abandoned us, shirking her responsibilities and leaving the weight of her burden on my shoulders at just five-years-old. Which is why it’s so important that I become the coven leader as quickly as possible. The torch would’ve been passed to her by now, leaving Glenda to focus on the pinnacle of power with her position as the head of the elders. But with her gone, I need to rush through my studies and devote my life to the coven far sooner than I should’ve had to.
“I’ll meet with the headmistress,” I assure her, realizing she’s only rehashing all this to calm her own nerves. This message of duty has been drilled into me since the moment it was clear that my mother had left for good. “Just leave it to me.”
The only sign of relief she lets show is the slight slumping of her shoulders as she nods in agreement. I know this won’t be the last time she reminds me of just how much is riding on my success, but I can’t take the burden of her worries on top of my own, not right now at least. Based upon powers alone, I have no doubt in my mind that I’ll be able to pass my post-graduate classes, but with the growing tensions between covens and the corruption that’s swept under the rug, someone might fail me just for the power trip it would give them. Glenda’s continued pressure doesn’t do anything to ease the anxious energy buzzing in my stomach like a swarm of angry bees.
“Fine,” she declares, pushing back from the desk. The wooden legs of her chair scrape against the hardwood floor and I suppress the urge to cover my ears as the grating sound raises goosebumps along my arms. “Your brother should be waiting by the car, and you don’t want to be late.”
