Page 10 of The Damned (Coven of Bones #3)

I recognized the voice of Keane’s uncle, Uriah Peabody, as I pressed myself into the wall beside the door they’d left cracked open.

It seemed a foolish conversation to have in the open, but I realized that he likely didn’t care what Willow thought of him.

Those who opposed her and her way of life had always been vocal about doing so, so certain in their beliefs and the actions they took in defense of them that they never stopped to wonder if they were the villain of their own story.

They never stopped to question whether or not Willow may have been right.

“Likely not long at all,” my mom said, but her voice lacked all the panic that Uriah’s had possessed. There was no urgency in the knowledge that she wouldn’t retain the Tribunal seat she’d gained with my aunt’s death, her matter-of-fact tone shocking me.

She’d worked all her life for that seat, endeavoring to earn her title as her sister’s heir every day of her life.

She’d drilled that notion into me, wanting to see the same dedication from me even though I had no desire to serve as her heir.

That title could go to one of my sisters when they were older or to my cousin for all I cared.

“Then how are you so calm? She’ll undo everything we have worked for,” Uriah said, his voice remaining low and quiet even as his anger grew.

“Relax, Uriah.” My mother sighed, the familiar sound of her heel tapping against the floor in her impatience. “Who is it that you think Willow will choose to represent the Erotes line on the Tribunal?”

I paused, understanding dawning as I realized what my mother believed would come to pass.

Should the day arrive where Willow disagreed with who the legacies chose as their representatives on the Tribunal, it would stand to reason that she would plant the friend she could trust to drive the Reds of this Coven back toward balance.

She would choose me.

A rough breath left me as I shrank farther against the wall, pulling a book out of my book bag to pretend to read when other students passed me by and studied me curiously. I’d be late for my next class, but I couldn’t be bothered to care as I waited out the conversation.

What did Uriah mean when he spoke of what they’d been working for? Had they as heirs been aware of what the previous Tribunal had attempted?

“Margot is no better than Willow. Did you not see her display at Willow’s side?” Uriah asked with a scoff. “We lost Itan because of her.”

My heart sank into my stomach, the condemnation in those words all the assurance I needed of what people thought of me. Whether they thought I’d lied or just did not care that it had happened in the first place mattered little.

All that mattered was that I didn’t matter to them at all.

“She is misguided in her allegiance to Willow, but we cannot fault her for seeking vengeance against Itan. The man raped her repeatedly for years,” my mother said, and I fought for breath as everything within me froze.

Had she put the pieces together after the Tribunal and realized I must have been telling the truth all that time?

“That may be, but Itan was useful to us, Fritha. Without him, we don’t have the ability to do the binding ritual—”

“I have done my part. I have sacrificed my daughter to the cause as the Covenant asked of me, even knowing the cost. Itan may be gone and unable to do it again in the future, but Margot has already been bound. Take comfort in the fact that Margot will be physically unable to do what Willow wants from her should she supplant me.”

A binding ritual?

I shoved my book into my bag, my entire body primed to run. I warred with myself, trying to decide if I should demand answers to the questions swimming in my mind or if I should seek out Willow and share what I’d learned.

“And what of the other houses? Our heirs are not friends with the new Covenant, and there’s no guarantee that they’ll be chosen to take our place. She could choose someone who has not been bound and destroy everything—”

“Then I suppose it is time to convince your heirs to befriend the little necromancer, isn’t it?

Really, Uriah, not all wars are fought in bloodshed.

Some of the most important battles are won in quiet manipulations.

Think like the Red you are. Charm her, ” my mother snapped, her heels clicking as she walked deeper into the room.

I tucked myself against the wall, hugging the doorway in the hopes that Uriah wouldn’t see me when he yanked the door open, stomping his way across the landing.

He didn’t look back, leaving me to slip into the open door before I lost the nerve.

My steps were slow, cautious as I approached where my mother leaned over her desk, her eyes on the stack of papers before her as she scrawled a note.

“Mom?” I asked, my voice wavering with the word.

I didn’t want to consider that it could be true, that she could have known what Itan did prior to the day before.

She couldn’t have believed me when I was a child, couldn’t have known that I spoke the truth.

To lie to my face and tell me it was just a nightmare would have been unforgivable.

It would have been inconceivably cruel, and while she was far from perfect, I refused to believe she was that fucking empty inside that she would leave her own daughter to suffer that way.

She dropped her pen in surprise, turning wide eyes up to me for a moment before she recovered. That carefully crafted mask she’d handed down to me covered her face, a smooth smile tipping her lips up at the corners.

She was the personification of beauty and grace, of hiding everything she wanted to remain unseen in the darkest corners of herself. I’d never known just how deep her shadows ran, never expected the truth that I’d just overheard.

“Margot,” she said, standing to full height and coming to step around the desk. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

There.

The slightest hitch in her breath, the tiniest falter in that facade as her smile twitched. Tears filled my eyes as I stared at her, my horror growing with each passing moment as I worked to connect the pieces.

“Did you know?” I asked, choosing to dive right in rather than play this game where we danced around our truths and hid who we really were.

“Know what, Margot?” she asked, the tiniest roll of her eyes.

It was an attempt at the usual disdain she showed for my directness, for my inability to play the game she was so gifted at.

The fact that she could pretend she didn’t know what I was talking about was all the confirmation I needed, my fingers beginning to shake in the rising anger I felt toward the woman staring back at me.

I pressed on, clenching my fingers into fists to attempt to control outward signs of it, knowing her well enough to know that I could only push too far if I wanted to have this conversation.

And while I already knew the truth, some distant part of me, the tiny girl that existed in my past, still dared to hope that I was wrong.

“Did. You. Know?” I asked again, enunciating every word to convey my seriousness. This was not a conversation that I would allow her to derail. This was not something she could distract me from.

“Darling, are you alright? I know yesterday must have been traumatic for you, but to come in here with accusations like that isn’t fair to me,” she said, the gaslighting words making me scoff in disbelief.

My skin flushed with heat, bypassing the warmth of irritation immediately.

I felt as if I might melt, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to my skin like humidity in the air in spite of the autumn weather and the flames crackling in the fireplace at the corner of the classroom.

“What’s the binding ritual?” I asked, pressing forward as I took more steps toward her. I tilted my head to the side as I studied her, my gut churning and sloshing like a violent sea with every step.

Her smile dropped off her face, that careful veneer abandoned as realization dawned. “It’s impolite to eavesdrop on conversations that do not concern you.”

“If I am the subject of all your secret conversations, then I think I should be privy to them, and if you don’t want me to be, then maybe consider closing the Goddess-damned door!” I snapped, the warmth of magic filling my eyes.

I knew what I would see if I looked into the mirror, had seen it too many times on the faces of others when they tapped into their magic. Even when not touching the lust that drove my magic, I could not ignore the surge of anger that rose up to defend me, making my eyes glow red like molten lava.

That rage didn’t stop the clogging of my throat or the need to cry, to weep for the relationship I’d never really had. For the secrets she’d kept all my life. It was a torrent of emotion within me, the two sides of my grief clashing together like storm clouds over the sea.

“What did you hear?” she asked, making me shake my head as I strode toward her. Anger made my arms tingle with magic, creeping up my skin like bugs crawling over me. Even now, knowing I’d heard her, she couldn’t just own up to the truth of what she’d known, of what she’d done.

I rounded the corner of her desk, striding up to her in my anger. My fingers wrapped around her throat, shoving her back to the stone wall with a force I shouldn’t have possessed. She clawed at my hands, snarling when I pinned her there and watched her.

“Tell me about the binding ritual,” I said, my words steady in spite of everything that threatened to tear me in two.

She looked down at my hands and my forearms, a slow smile spreading as she laughed lightly, the sound filled with glee in spite of her predicament.

I followed her gaze, stilling when I saw what she saw.

My nails had grown into long, pointed black talons. The faint glimmer of scales covered the back of my hand with the slightest blue and purple tint to them as the light played along the surface of my skin.