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July 31 - August 2, 2023
“They are as inseparable as the sun and moon. Their powers work in tandem, and neither can survive without the other. Demon matings are considered to be a reflection of their union.”
“Now, what magic do you want to see first?”
“If anyone so much as attempts to lay a finger on you, Red,” he rumbled, adjusting the cloak to cover my hair more completely, “then they will find themselves without that finger. And possibly without the arm that finger was attached to.”
“You look like a gods-damned queen.”
“And if I find out he put his hands anywhere near you, so help me, I will be neither kind nor fair.”
“Find your what?” I pressed. “Your mate of course,” Brigid said, popping the pastry into her mouth.
“Lady Elara will bring us the head of the Crone,”
“I am the wild hunter of the forest deep, and I am the fire upon the hill, and I am the sower of the seed, and the tiller of the soil of the earth.” He paused, his deep voice soothing as he continued the prayer. “I am the golden warrior whose arrows are the shafts from the sun. The thunder is my hoof fall. The wilderness is my shrine. I wield the oaken staff, the elements at my call. By day I am the sun, by night I ride upon the wild winds.”
I contemplated the truth: that I was fine. Better than fine in his arms. That I felt whole. And that terrified me.
“If I told you I love you, Elara,” he said quietly, still holding me fast against him, “would you run?”
“I probably deserve your silence,” he said. “But I do love you. And I’ll wait however long you need to hear you say it back.”
I realized a truth. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so terrible to admit that I was falling in love with him too.
King Ulfric’s mate, a witch born of daemon and mortal blood, went on to have a daughter, strong in her mother’s magic and somewhat skilled in her father’s. However, the crown next passed to Agnar, Lord of Blood.
“Why do you love me?”
“Only if you catch me first.”
“Now and forever, you are mine.”
“Forever,” I agreed, the word coming between moans and gasps as I finally confessed what I was certain I’d been feeling, but lying about for too long. “I love you.”
“Only for you, my love. My mate.”
“The future,” Brigid intoned, flipping the final card. It was a scale, balanced at both ends, the image of the Triple Goddess and the Horned God carved at its base. I didn’t need to see Brigid’s smile of relief, or Cerridwen’s wicked grin, or the name engraved at the bottom of that card to know what it meant. Justice.
“Because, my love,” I purred. “You and I are going to burn your grandmother and her miserable Coven to the ground.”
