Page 150 of Summer of Sacrifice
She felt Grimm begin to come through the glamour after her, but he halted as, without a word, the woman bowed low. All those behind her followed until Agatha had to fight not to squirm.
Finally, the woman stood upright. “My name is Lady Eldridge. We spoke only briefly at a royal dinner in the Winter.”
It clicked into place. The woman who thanked her for what she was doing for Merveille, before Grimm—addled by the draught—made Agatha cry, leaving the dinner before they could finish their discussion.
“Yes.” She was too curious, too off-kilter to say more.
“We are witches and warlocks, gathered by Grand Magus von Fuchs.” Lady Eldridge stood straighter, and Agatha’s throat constricted. “And we are here to fight alongside you.”
Agatha allowed them passage through the wards and took them to Seleste, who was all too happy to find a place for them on the grounds.
Eventually, the camp grew quiet save for the music of night creatures and the snores of their comrades. Once Agatha ensured Anne was tucked in safely with Augustus, she waved goodnight to Arielle and Gaius and made her way toward the tent she was to share with Grimm.
When she entered, he had his head in his hands.
“Reaper?”
He lowered his hands but kept his eyes trained on his boots. “It became too difficult out there.” He turned to her with a sad smile. “I suppose that makes me a coward, hm?”
“To care so much about your loved ones that it’s difficult to keep a brave face for them? Never.”
He sighed and rubbed his hands back and forth through his hair, mussing it up.
“Come here,” she demanded.
Grimm rose with the air of someone ancient. Which, she supposed he was. Standing before her, he reached out and clasped her locket. After a long moment staring at it, he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “It’s my turn, isn’t it?”
She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but it wouldn’t come. “Not yet. Not until you’re ready.”
“I have to break it.” His voice was so forlorn.
“You have to set it free.”
The correction bolstered him. She let her magic unfasten the clasp, the delicate chain falling limp against his fingers. Closing his fist around the amulet—closing his fist around the four intertwined eights that represented the Sisters Solstice—he squeezed. Agatha watched the muscles strain in his forearm, the effort far less than she expected. Though, he was a god after all. There was a faint snap, muffled by his fist, and Grimm opened his hand.
The charm had been crushed to dust. From it snaked the final vine of Lord Night’s power. Together, they watched as it wound around his fingers, then bled into his skin.
Neither of them said anything. They didn’t need to.
Grimm let the chain and dust fall to the ground, and he took her face in his hands. When his lips met hers, she could taste every kiss, every life with him. Tenderly, as if for the first time, as if for the last, Grimm took her to their bed of furs and loved her in the way only he could. It was like being in the depths of the sea and suspended in the night sky, all at once.
“I love you,” he murmured in her ear. “Now, and forevermore.”
SELESTE
Winnie woke her first.
Together, they snuck across the sleeping camp in their night clothes and roused Sorscha. She was naked and peaceful beside Asa and only cursed four times when they woke her, not bothering to dress.
Like ghouls in the night, they slunk into Aggie’s tent to find she was also naked.
Sorscha giggled. “Shall we draw her a bath and summon her into the murky woods?”
Memories of the Autumnul Equinox danced in Seleste’s mind when Aggie and Sorscha had both arrived naked and dripping wet.
Winnie groaned. “Why can’t the two of you ever be clothed?”
Seleste grinned. “I think we should do it.”
