Part 40 (2/2)

Valentine tilted her head. ”Do you think for even a second I do it for malicious reasons?”

Circe grinned. ”I think you think you're quite wicked when you have a soul of emerald but a heart of pure gold.” When Valentine opened her mouth to object to that ridiculousness, Circe lifted a hand, kept grinning and continued speaking. ”Don't deny it. Actions speak louder than words, my green witch, and with all of yours, you could talk, as they say in this world, until you're blue in the face, or green,” her grin got bigger, ”and I wouldn't believe you.”

Valentine lifted her hands, declaring, ”I feel this visit is at an end.”

Before she could conjure her magic, Circe spoke on.

Gently.

”I'm happy, my sister, please know that with whatever your golden heart is speaking to you to do.”

Valentine halted her spell that would spirit her back to the other world and regarded the witch closely.

Then she stated, ”You will be happier.”

And at that juncture, before Circe could open her mouth to speak, Valentine finished casting her spell and disappeared.

When the hour had struck midnight in Lunwyn, Valentine appeared at the appointed place seeing a sleigh close by, four horses. .h.i.tched to it, blankets covering the steeds' coats to protect them in the cold, her two compatriots already there and waiting.

As she'd asked, Lavinia had brought their charge.

The witches had decided to perform Franka's ceremony close to an adela tree. It was just a sapling, but its power could still be felt and its place in this world for anyone with magic was sacred.

Franka stood beside the adela sapling wearing a glorious cloak of Prussian-blue fine wool lined with ermine, her hands encased in blue kid gloves, no cap on her head to cover her glorious hair that had a healthy sheen, even in the moonlight.

And there was no anxiety in her eyes. Her shoulders were straight, her chin up.

Valentine sensed no fear from her.

She also sensed no excitement.

This would change.

”Are you ready, my sister-witch?” Valentine asked, moving through the snow toward her, her own green cloak lined with red fox keeping her warm.

”Of course,” Franka replied.

Valentine stopped close and cast her gaze to Lavinia, who was moving to them. She waited for her fellow witch to arrive and catch her eyes.

When she did, Valentine nodded to her.

Lavinia returned this gesture.

They both looked to Franka.

”Take my hand in one of yours, Lavinia's in the other,” she ordered.

Without hesitation, Franka did as told.

Valentine felt her power through her touch and realized, even if she'd already sensed it was substantial, she'd been in error at just how substantial it was.

This power Franka Drakkar held had not simply fed on itself and grown over the years with no use.

She, too, like Valentine (as well as Lavinia) was a legacy. And from what Valentine could feel, it was not one or two generations in Franka's line who had practiced the craft, but centuries of them.

This was superb news. So much so, it made Valentine smile and look to Lavinia, who she knew felt it too, not only because it would be impossible to miss, but also from the answering smile on the witch's face.

”Would you care to share what you find so pleasing?” Franka drawled.

Both of them turned back to her. ”Your power is already substantial.”

”And you can tell that how?” Franka asked.

”Do you not feel it?” Lavinia queried softly, and Valentine knew she squeezed her hand when Franka looked down at their two hands clasped together. ”You must feel it,” Lavinia prompted.

The tip of Franka's tongue came out and touched her lower lip briefly before she turned her gaze to Lavinia and answered, ”I feel it. From you,” her gaze went to Valentine, ”and much more from you.”

”We feel it too,” Lavinia told her. ”From each other...and you.”

”You come from a long line of witches,” Valentine put in, this gaining her Franka's attention, and her altered expression showing unconcealed surprise. ”The last, not a very good one. Sadly, she didn't share this proud heritage with you so that you both could enjoy the satisfaction of having such, ma sorciere. But as you stand with two of your own with the same n.o.ble lineage, we will teach you exactly this.”

”I've never been proud of anything to do with my n.o.ble lineage,” Franka shared.

”This is because your lineage was superior as self-decreed, not n.o.ble, save the magic it offers the Freys and Drakkars it produces,” Valentine explained.

Franka nodded her understanding of this then asked, ”Will all future sessions such as this be conducted in the dead of night, thus the worst of any day's chill, and carry on a good deal of time? If so, I'll be forewarned for them and dress warmer.”

Valentine had the odd desire to laugh out loud.

Oh, but she liked this witch. She liked her very much.

”She's impatient,” Lavinia noted with kindred humor.

”I'm cold,” Franka returned but took a breath and went on, her voice lower, her gaze going between them, direct and steady. ”And when this is done, I can be done with her.”

She could indeed.

And that should be seen to immediately.

”Then let us delay no longer,” Valentine decreed.

She looked to Lavinia and nodded.

When she did, Lavinia turned her gaze to Franka.

”Magic is nature. Nature is magical,” she began to enlighten their charge. ”What you have flowing through you, millennia ago, was drawn from the earth. From the sky. The air, the dirt. From the seas, the winds, the rains, the rays of the sun. Our originators wors.h.i.+pped these things, walked, breathed, sowed, all with reverence. The elements shared their beneficence for this veneration, offering them power, allowing them to manipulate the magicks they celebrated, to internalize them, to utilize them. And more, they strengthened them through sisterhood, rewarding loyalty, building them along magical lines, enhancing power when used amongst other sisters, communing with them.”

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