I shouldn’t even entertain this hypothetical, but the question pops out before I stop to think. “Who?”
Eden tucks a strand of red hair behind her ear. The firelight makes the room glow, and everything is fuzzy and warm. She shrugs. “What if it went to your uncle?”
I pause, my answer stuck in my throat.
“Or some other horrible person who deserves to be punished.” Eden’s face is full of genuine concern, but what she’s saying is dark.
My brow furrows. “Who gets to determine that this person requires punishment?”
“Magic,” she says simply. “Maybe me. Maybe a stranger.”
What if Tucker did get my curse? He would know the pain of the illness that has affected me for half of my life. He would know his death is coming for him, sooner than later. He would suffer, like he’s made me suffer.
Would I take joy in that? Would that make me no better than the monster that he is? He deserves to be punished; there’s no question in my mind about that. But what if the curse didn't go to him? What if the magic passed it along to someone who didn’t deserve it? What if it went to a child? That’s what my father did when he passed on his curse. That’s how almost four hundred years later, the Briar Witch’s curse still lives on, when it could have died out in a generation. All I’ve craved is freedom from oppression, from my curses. I’ve almost fully succeeded, but at what cost? I won’t curse someone else to free myself.
“No.” I may hate my uncle, but I refuse to live my life centered around him ever again. I won’t continue the cycle of egotistical self-importance.
Eden watches me, quiet for a moment, before she replies. “Very well. You may go.”
I frown and look around the room. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“What now? Is there another part of the trial?” I stand up, surprised to see the doorway appearing once again.
“Now, you go. We’re done here.”
35
AMBROSE
“What is going on between the two of you?” Roman asks, but my attention is wholly focused on Piper as she walks into the closet. What the fuck is this challenge even about? A test of your ability to handle claustrophobia?
“You’re just going to ignore me?” Roman snaps his fingers in my face.
“What?” I swat at his hand.
“You and Piper. What’s going on? She looks like you stole a kitten from her, and you look like you’ve fucked around and got caught.” Roman curses. “You didn’t fuck around, did you? I know why you guys got married, but really?”
I glare at Roman. “Fuck you. I didn’t cheat on her.” I blow out a breath. “I kissed her.”
Roman gapes at me. “That’s worse. Have you lost your mind?”
I sigh, my shoulders sagging. “It was an accident. The potion the other night. Piper sort of commanded me. It was a whole thing.”
Roman looks at the door between us and Piper. “I’m sorry. You guys seemed like you oddly fit together.”
“She’s not dead.” I drag my hand over my face, scratching at the five o’clock shadow that’s already growing in. “I’ll figure something out.”
I watch the door, waiting for Piper to come out. What’s happening in there? I hate that she’s going through whatever it is alone.
“Do you want to be part of the council?” I ask.
Roman cocks his head. “Do you?”
In the beginning, I was slightly flattered to be selected, even if I was also reluctant. The council has always been a tool of the founding families. They held their power tightly to their inner circle and screw the rest of the witches in town. I didn’t want to be part of that world, but I realized it didn’t need to be like that. If we have a new council, we can make the rules. We don’t have to be exclusive assholes whose sole concern is about themselves.
“Yes. I do.”
