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There was one area in which she had backed off, at least. She had learned how to attend a coven meeting without butting in and acting like she was still High Sorceress.

I remembered the days when she’d walk down the stairs with me, like she was the Regent or something. Guiding me until I was wise enough or strong enough to lead the coven. Undermining me. She had dropped that habit not long after I returned home and convinced her I was still in one piece, mentally.

The tricky part had been pretending Mariya and Elias were dead.

I walked down the stairs to the mansion’s lower level and greeted the rest of the coven.

It wasn’t my imagination: they all treated me with more deference than they used to. And that was saying something, because they had always stood down before me.

I was the High Sorceress. My word was law.

It didn’t hurt that they were all slightly terrified of me because I was so volatile in those days. I wasn’t proud of some of the stunts I had pulled.

Like deciding I would never step down as High Sorceress.

I picked up my candle and walked out to the garden.

I could hear the footsteps of my coven sisters behind me. We were all as solemn as the event called for, with the ripe, full moon shining down on us. I stood at the center of the circle they formed around me and looked up at that moon.

The words were second nature, the call-and-call-back ritual between me and my sisters. A ritual which had been passed down for centuries.

I didn’t have to think about what I chanted, which left me able to focus on the moon and the goddesses we worshipped and called upon for guidance.

I needed guidance at this moment. I needed it desperately.

Please, help me. If you’re up there and you can hear me, grant me assistance. I don’t know how much longer I can go on this way. Please, send me a way to heal from what happened to me. I’ve never felt like I could share with anyone before. I could never let anybody see what was inside me. So, it’s hard for me to ask for help now. But I can ask you. I know I haven’t always served you as I should. I know I took advantage of the powers you gifted me. Please, accept my apologies and hear me now.

The chanting fell silent, and I realized it was because the ritual was over.

The full moon was still above me, and my coven sisters still stood around me in a candlelit circle.

“Vanessa…?” Mom whispered.

I could see wide, worried eyes under the other hoods.

I walked back inside and conducted the rest of the meeting in a sleep-deprived haze.

* * *

It was happening again.I was cold and half-naked and dirty, scared nearly to death. Wondering what sort of torture that damned, demented sorcerer Kristoff would put me through.

What did the ritual entail?

He wouldn’t tell me. It was more fun for me to guess. Just another level of torture, letting me imagine the terrible things he’d do once it was time to get the party started. His words.

Cold, emotionless eyes stared into mine, and no matter how I fought to close them I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop him from digging into my thoughts, my secrets.

He laughed about them, taunted me, teased and shamed and humiliated me.

I turned my head from side to side as his laughter drove into me like nails. A new nail for every icy peal from his foul, disgusting mouth.

I spat at him and cursed him, but that was at first. When I had the energy. When he hadn’t broken me down until all that was left for me to do was hang my head and wait for the inevitable.

I could hear his laughter echoing through the big, empty ballroom and bile threatened to project from my mouth as my skin crawled. When would it end? What had I done to deserve the torture, the shame?

When the doors crashed open, my head shot up out of sheer reflex.

Somebody had come for me. Yes, a tall, shadowy figure standing in the doorway, watching from across the room. But not for long. He flew to my side, throwing bolts of red and blue and white flame in all direction as Kristoff’s men tried to stop him.