When Sleipnir peered upwards, catching my eye, I almost fell off the branch. He winked, before pretending that he couldn’t see me again. I grinned at the charming god’s antics.
“Stop thinking with your cock lane,” Flair grumbled. “These idiots are about to get their bollocks hexed off.”
“Would you awfully mind not referring to my flower as my cock lane?” I arched my brow.
Flair’s pink eyes glittered. “I apologize for the vulgar term, boss. Stop thinking with your quim, muff, cu—”
“Hold your peace and listen,” I hissed, flushing.
Down below in the glade, the Immortals sat in a circle on a nest of woolen coats, shivering. A single tied tea towel rested between them. Sleipnir set a crimson candle at the base of Hecate’s tree, before lighting it. The flame flared a sizzling magenta, before dying down into a wavering specter in the dark.
Sleipnir watched the flame with an odd intensity, before glancing back at Bask.
Bask rested his hand on Fox’s neck in a casual gesture of protection. “We’re at the heart of the academy. Can’t you sense…?”
“Hecate cursing the bravest but dumbest mage of his generation?” Fox looked up and down the tree like he was weighing up an opponent. Bright boy. “Forbidden. Dead. Sacred to witches.” He counted off each point on his fingers. “Do you have any idea how much trauma you’re creating in my mage psyche, unless this ritual that we’re about to do involves slicing my neck as the sacrifice?” His eyes widened. “Okay, I take that back. This neck is steel; the knife would just bounce off…”
My familiars cawed raucously in unison. I swooped lower. There’d be no sacrificing of mages in my glade.
Bask snorted. “Get on with you, just feel it. Magenta doesn’t wish blood, only love.”
I hovered above their heads, suddenly breathless. How did Bask seem to know me? Why did they all feel as familiar to me as family?
“Strip.” Sleipnir sat back on his heels, rifling in the pockets of one of the coats.
He pulled out a charm bag, which glittered with stars.
I shivered, as the hair raised on my nape. I ached to touch and be touched by Sleipnir again, and it’d be awfully nice to see my mage naked for the first time.
I admit, they were possibly as familiar as lovers, rather than family.
“You know that I adore your commanding voice,” Bask gazed at Sleipnir through half-lidded eyes that had warmth curling through me, “but it’s freezing, Slippy, and there are no blankets to snuggle.”
Sleipnir’s expression gentled. He was even more handsome when his eyes became soft like that. “Omens and runes, I swear that it won’t be for long, and I’ll find a way to keep you warm. It’s for the ritual. Hey, I know that this is a long shot, but we have to give this the best chance of freeing her.”
Freeing me…?
Sleipnir had made that promise beside the frozen lake, but that’d been before the Rebels had discovered who I truly was. I hadn’t wanted to deceive them. For once, I’d wanted the truth to be seen. Unfortunately, I’d never attempted to communicate as a ghost before, and the mirror hadn’t withstood my power. I winced at the thought of injuring Fox.
So, were they attempting to free me back into life or free me from my ghostly existence and finally, allow me to die in peace?
My breathing became too rapid, and I sank lower and lower.
I wasn’t ready. After all this time…not ready. I collapsed with my arms over my head. If I died, how could I protect the mage?
“Breathe,” Flair sounded panicked and very far away. “Why does an infernal ghost have to fucking breathe or else she does this fading trick?”
“I don’t care, mate. I just need my Magenta.” Echo’s wings curled around my back.
All of a sudden, I could smell the sweet woodsy scent of white sage smudge sticks burning: the start of the ritual.
I raised my head, cautiously.
Sleipnir had lit a red candle, which channeled passion.
Sweet Hecate, let them be sacrificing their pleasure to free and then love me because all I desired was to love them.
Moonlight drifted through the canopy of the trees, draping like delicate veils across the beautiful limbs of the naked Rebels, as they sprawled in the center of the glade. Sleipnir glanced over his muscled shoulder at me; his hair was candy pink tonight, and sea serpent tattoos wound around his arms. As I watched, the coils of the tattoo wound higher and tighter. Sleipnir’s smile was shy and concerned.
I blinked. Ah, the huddled and shaking thing.
I straightened onto my knees like I’d simply been studying some fascinating fauna on the (scorched) woodland floor. Echo sighed in relief, before perching on my shoulder, and Flair thwacked me around the head with his wing.
It was a delight to have such faithful familiars.
I watched with genuine fascination, as Bask bounced up and down (it wouldn’t be ladylike to say how much I enjoyed the sight of his bouncing prick), as Fox started to untie the tea towel.
“The feast before the sacrifice is the only decent part of this plan.” Bask bit his lip. “Feed me.”
At last, Fox undid the knot, and the flanneled towel fell open to reveal the food inside. “Ta da!”
They’d planned a picnic…? My Rebels had sneaked out at night from the castle, broken the rule to enter the Dead Wood, before violating the sanctity of Hecate’s Tree, and now they were going to merrily scoff a picnic?
I grinned. Robin would’ve loved them.
Sleipnir scanned the pile of squished sandwiches. “Well, that was underwhelming.”
Bask petted Fox in comfort.
Fox shrugged. “Do these hands look like they were trained in petty thievery? This was all I could steal from the kitchen that you shoved me into.”
“If it pleases you, did you see the Princes’ salmon, cupcakes, and special chocolates…?” Bask asked, hopefully.
Fox huffed. “All the luxury stuff was locked and warded in this separate larder with the sign: KEEP OUT, PRINCES ONLY. THAT MEANS YOU, IMMORTALS.”
“What kind of jerk would put their name on food?” Sleipnir sneered.
“Well, my first guess would be the Princes.” Fox grinned with sudden glee. “But look: I made crisp sandwiches.”
He picked up a sandwich, biting in with a sharp crunch. Then he munched on the crisps with an orgasmic sigh, which made me cross my legs.
Sleipnir stared at him. “My life is complete.”
Fox took another large bite. “This is salt and vinegar in buttery white bread. It’s the food of kings, my Norse friend.”
Grudgingly, both Sleipnir and Bask munched on a sandwich.
I shook my head. Forget the danger of Damelza, the witches, and the academy, the Rebels were in dire need of my picnic etiquette skills. On that alone, I had to find my way back to them. Where was the basket, napkins, and cutlery? I remembered my own picnics in these grounds with delicious roast beef, cucumber, or banana and sugar sandwiches, meat pies, and cakes with cream fillings.
Oh, and never forget the tea…
“You’re drooling, boss,” Flair muttered.
Echo hopped onto my head and then bent to stare me in the eye. “Are you having another flashback to your life again because it was boring the first time, and I know that you don’t want to relive it.”
Blushing, I shook him off my head, and he flew to a low branch with a series of rattling clicks.