A Crown of Blood

Chapter 7

I was up before the sun. Magenta streaked the periwinkle sky, winking stars and fluffy white clouds beckoning the start of a new day, songbirds worshiping the early morning light, a coat of white frost crunching beneath my boots.

Pulling my sweatshirt tighter around my body, I stepped into the morning air with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

I get to learn how to control my magic.

And then—oh, so soon—I get to learn how to control the wolf.

I wanted to jump up and down like a giddy school girl.

At the end of the driveway, Jude and Rosalia waited for me, a weatherworn statue of the Moon Goddess, Artemisia, towering over them, her obsidian eyes swallowing the morning light. Stopping just before the statue, I stared at the goddess, daring her to move, but she continued her resolute watch on the Caine compound.

Look at me. Look at me and beg for my forgiveness.

She didn't, of course. And I was disappointed.

At the weight of Rosalia's scrutinizing gaze, I turned to my instructors. "So... when do we start?"

Content in her observation, Rosalia straightened, and ran her fingers through her damp hair, a flicker of concern in her eyes when she looked away. "Your training will take place in a cabin just down the hill. We've converted an empty building into a training lodge for you." She motioned me to follow. "Come this way."

My eyebrows shot to my hairline.

Jude, too, was quiet. Jude, who was not the silent, brooding type.

Should I be concerned?

No, I surmised. The silence felt more like a peace offering than an omen. Bickering, as natural as it was, wouldn't get us where we needed to be. Wherever that was.

Flecks of golden light peppered the tree-tops like tinsel, softening the darkness. Somewhere, brooks and rivers, waterfalls and lagoons flowed through the hilly landscape, and if I listened close enough, I swore heard my name in the wind. The thought of a lifetime in this sort of peace made me feel a bone-deep sense of yearning. If the stakes weren't so high, if circumstances were different, I could get used to calling it home. Packs adopted pups. Even pups who weren't pups anymore. Even if the pack had a reputation of being something out of a nightmare.

Let go, the wolf instructed. My muscles tensed with her words. She wanted to race and leap and jump across the landscape. Let go. Let go. Let go.

Not yet. Not now.

Jude followed close behind. Unlike Rosalia and I—whose naturally hot body temperature made for a light jacket and sweats in this weather—he was bundled from head to toe. As we walked, I noticed the opulent black book that Jude held close to his chest. Magic buzzed from the frayed edges, ancient and unfamiliar, and a thrill raced down my spine. A grimoire. I'd never been so close to one before. Instinctually, I reached for the ancient tome with my mind, and instantly pulled back, surprised when the power hit an invisible barrier, rolling off its glossy black cover with bright red sparks.

"Uh-uh," Jude clicked his tongue. "No peeking."

The cabin sat behind a curtain of willow trees, reminiscent of a fairytale cottage.

"We're not going inside?" I asked, confused at the outdoor set up of wicker chairs, an altar circled with white crystals, and a—fire extinguisher.

"You shook the compound, Witchling," Jude reminded me. "We can't risk you leveling that or a cabin. They're quite expensive, I hear."