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“Except in our case that isn’t working anymore,” Sindri whispers, gaze distant.
“When it occurs, it causes rifts and wars between the races,” Ashton says.
“Miss Worthy told me about the Golden Moon.” I pace in front of them. “She said that, about a century ago, the witches tried to harness the elements and take over the world.”
Ashton lifts his gaze from the book. “The Witchcraft Trials? That was closer to two hundred years ago.”
“And there was Salem before that,” Emrys says. “Those were Golden Moon events?”
Ashton nods. “The confluence of our magic and the Golden Moon’s could be huge. Someone has undertaken to weaken our magic before this Golden Moon and take us out altogether.”
“What the fuck do they think we can do? What could we do?” Emrys’ hand clenches on the backrest of the bench, knuckles going white.
Ashton closes the book with a snap. “That is a very good question. Apart from what’s in history books, we have little to go on. And there is the legend of the Black Queen.”
“Legends,” Sindri whispers. “Are you talking about the Queen Witch?”
“Who is this Queen?” I glance from Sindri’s troubled gaze to Ashton’s determined one. “She doesn’t sound very nice.”
“It’s not a matter of niceness,” Ashton says. “It’s a matter of power. A great witch rises with every Golden Moon, one who can bind the elements to her power.”
“But thatisa legend,” Sindri says. “Not history. Not a proven fact.”
“Then how do you explain the recurring events—”
“Rebellion is a cyclic event in history,” Sindri argues. “So is power-grabbing. Women have been repressed—”
“No woman could bind her power to mine,” Emrys says, “I’m far too powerful for that—”
“Not arrogant at all, are you?” Sindri sneers. “Point is—”
“Ohfuck,” Jason whispers and drops to his knees.
He does it almost without a sound and I wouldn’t have noticed him go down if I hadn’t been turning toward him at that exact moment to see why he wasn’t taking part in the argument.
“Jax!” I go down on my knees beside him, touch his shoulder. He’s panting harshly. “What’s wrong?”
And for the first time, I get a good look at his back.
Jason was whipped. That’s what created those scars on his back—the lash curling over each shoulder with each lash that fell. I’m sure of it. I saw a man once with scars like that, at the Church, and father had explained what they meant.
“The full moon,” Ashton whispers as I kneel there, frozen in my realization. “It’s rising.”
“I feel it,” Sindri says. “If you’re right about the moon business,abesh, there’s going to be a great surge tonight.”
Something’s happening to Jason’s jaw. It seems bigger somehow, jutting out, his teeth long enough to protrude.
“He’s shifting,” I breathe. “We have to stop it.”
Emrys hisses. “Isn’t he taking suppressants?”
“Guess what?” Ashton says. “It’s not enough anymore.”
“Then let’s give fae drugs to the wolf to keep him down until we figure something out,” Emrys says. “And if that fails, sex.”
We all turn to stare at him.
“What?” he demands.
