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“If we’re bargaining with memories, then I want something real,” she warned with narrowed eyes. “None of your ridiculous exploits, but something true to who you are beneath the mask you wear.”
I kept my face carefully blank. While I was sure Jade’s past held unfettered joy, mine better resembled a bleak shroud of pain and darkness. But knowing the earth witch, she would take an equal trade or nothing at all.
My breath hitched, but I nodded my ascent. “It’s a deal.”
“Fine, let me think.”
I watched as she bit her lip, her mind far away. My fingers trailed through her dark locks, brushing the soft strands against her cheek until she swatted me away.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re an impatient, spoiled brat?” she huffed.
I laughed cheekily. “Not today, no.”
“Hilarious, vamp.” A pink flush gathered around her cheeks as she dragged her fingernails down my chest. “Okay, here's one. For Sabbath one year, my sisters and I played a prank on my dad. He was the cook in the family, though Mom made attempts. She couldn’t scramble an egg to save her life.”
She suddenly pulled away from me and returned to the jasmine plant and inhaled the comforting fragrance of the flowers.
“Mom thought it would be hilarious to trick Dad into thinking we had burned his famous pecan pie. He brought it to the Coven’s feast without fail every year. When he saw the burned pile of tar gooped into the tin pan, he merely nodded and hugged my mom, thanking her for trying to help.”
Tears caught in her throat, and she swallowed loudly before she could continue.
“My sisters and I expected an explosion of outraged magick, but my mom broke out into tears, and she kissed him right there, over the smoke. We squealed with disgust, but I’ll never forget the tender way they held each other, like no one else mattered but each other.”
She chanced a look back at me before staring unfocused at the foggy glass of the dome.
“It was such a small, perfect moment that was made even better when Ember and I pulled out his perfectly baked pie from the cupboard. Now, I can appreciate just how gentle and kind my dad truly was. He’s a lot like Isla in that way.”
“He sounds like a wonderful father.” My eyes burned as I stared ahead, unseeing.
I couldn’t relate to her idyllic childhood. My family had been cold and totalitarian, utterly focused on appearances and legacy. Soon, I would return to this hellish land, forced to become Jade’s worst fear.
As my watch stroked three o’clock, a vibration ricocheted over the greenhouse, the panes of glass shaking dubiously before it stilled.
Jade cast her gaze around us with alarm. “Did you feel that? It felt like magick.”
An uneasiness buzzed in my blood. “It still lingers. The power of the witches and warlocks murdered during the witch trials. They were executed near to here, and echoes of the brutality still fester in the earth, though time has moved on.”
Jade shuddered. “It’s strange being here, knowing what happened.”
“Violence is often swift destruction that time melts away.”
Beyond the greenhouse, the tall pine trees surrounding us were silent, blocking out the screams of the wind and whatever else lurked in the wilderness. Memories overtook me, and I paused at the greenhouse door, feeling frozen, unable to see beyond my failures.
Bled had once been a similar sanctuary, where witches thrived until an outside force punished them for their power. The Bled Coven had taken me in, teaching me their ways despite my father’s reputation, and I only brought them only death.
It seemed to be my legacy.
“Alexei?” Jade whispered, her hands creeping up my back.
“You wanted a story that reveals who I truly am?” My voice darkened. “I’ve told you of my role in the Bled Coven’s murders, and the subsequent hunt for spirit witches, but I never told you about my other crimes.”
“Don’t,” she snapped, pulling away from me. “I told you I don’t want to hear any more of your conquests or battles. I want something about your sister or your greenhouse. Something about therealyou.”
I exhaled, wondering if such a tale even existed. But then it came to me, bright and perfect like a winter’s morning I would never see. “I suppose I could tell you a story of when my mother was pregnant with Mira.”
My lips twitched at the youthful innocence I once carted around the Slovenian castle, before life’s teeth cut into my skin.
“You have to know that my parents’ relationship is nothing like yours,” I warned. “My mother hates Alistair, perhaps even more so than me. She was once mated to another, her childhood love, but Alistair always got what he wanted, and he had his sights set on Mariana. Regardless, my mother did her duty, providing him with two children and heirs.”
