Page 9 of Demon's Bane

No matter what this Goddess magick pouring through my veins is telling me, and no matter what my instincts would have me believe, we are nothing but two strangers on opposing sides of the tangled web that’s been spreading between both our realms since the bargain was recast.

Or, maybe not so opposing, with the way Joan’s staring daggers at the High Priestess.

But even that doesn’t matter. Joan has her priorities. Esme has her schemes. And I have decades of dishonor driving me to speak once more, to salvage some small piece of this.

“You might not be helping the coven, you know,” I say softly, words only for Joan, though I’m well-aware Esme can still hear me. “If it turns out Seren has the proof we need to pin the blame on these Crescent witches, would that sway your decision?”

It’s a guess.

It’s the chance I take on my need to believe Joan has been honest this entire conversation. Perhaps every word she’s said has been true, every emotion flickering across her beautiful face has been genuine.

Though I have no way of knowing her own relationship with the coven, I can at least take a chance on this.

A spark, in Joan’s eyes.

Interest, maybe, or something else. Perhaps a need to exact some small measure of revenge or justice from the Crescent Coven.

Whatever it is, it makes her pause long enough to reconsider.

And when she turns to Esme, a hard determination in her eyes, triumph breaks sharp and satisfied through every inch of me.

“I get the wards, if he’s going to stay here. And I get the deal, even if Seren doesn’t talk and even if it turns out Crescent witches are to blame for the thefts.”

It’s a hard bargain. I almost think Esme will deny it, decide it’s not worth the cost to her pride, but she surprises me by nodding slowly.

“Deal.”

With the word, a stirring of witchmagick in the air.

Joan stiffens, and I almost reach for her again. But it’s delicate, this bargain, and despite the wreckage of my good sense after the turns this night has taken, I still know enough to hold myself in check until whatever magick brewing between us is cast and settled.

Esme lifts her cup. “A toast then, to clearing up misunderstandings.”

“To settling old debts,” Joan murmurs, her grip slightly shaky as she takes her cup in hand.

“To delivering justice.” I reach for the empty cup and the steaming vessel I assume is filled with whatever tea the two of them are drinking.

Pouring myself a generous serving, I meet Esme’s eyes briefly before catching Joan’s gaze and lifting my cup to hers.

“And to bringing truth to light. Whatever that truth might be.”

Truth.Goddess damn me, I toast to truth when I’m holding on to the most important one that will ever exist between my mate and I for fear of this ending before it even begins.

Because it would, I’m certain it would.

As it stands, Joan is barely willing to agree to help Esme, to house me and search for this Seren. If she knew the truth? If I dare say anything about what I’ve known since the moment I saw her?

The memory of her sour fear and mistrust is enough to give me my answer.

If my mate does not trust me now, I will give her reason to. If she fears me, I will show her there is nothing in any of the thirteen realms I would ever let harm her, least of all me.

So though I’m damned again for it, I hold my tongue. Twice-damned creature I might be, but I’m not foolish enough to take the chance. Not now. Not yet.

“Do you agree?” I ask her, low and soft.

Joan’s eyes flicker, a brief pulse of emotion I can’t name. “Yes, I do.”

And then it’s done.