Page 89 of The Unbound Witch
“We will make those decisions when we have to. But we must leave this Grimoire here. No one is going to let that book go. It’s too precious to them.”
Bastian stepped closer to me, remembered he was actually Grey, and moved away, aware that we could be seen if not heard. “That’s exactly the problem. We’ll never get it back.”
I looked over my shoulder at the three awkward witches staring at us, though they could hear nothing. “Bind their words.”
“You make them agree to it, and I will let this go for now.”
“Deal.”
He dropped the barrier, and I crossed the long, golden grass back to the others. Pulling out the Grimoire, I noted the crackling purple stone embedded into the old leather. Though it was a solid object, I could nearly see the storm raging within it. Every part of me wanted to open the book, get lost in the pages of power and history and magic.
“I’m not sure if you would have been able to pull this from the orb it had locked itself into, but we will consider letting you hold onto it. However, there may come a time when we need this book back, and you must bind your words. If we need it, it will be returned to us. Peacefully and without incident.”
The two men shook their heads. “That isn’t our promise to make. Our families need this book to keep their power strong.”
I pulled the book to my chest, letting the talons of its grip on me seep into my skin, though no one else noticed. Nor did they hear the incomprehensible whispers it hissed into my mind like a snake. Pulsing as it lured me, I had to force the temptation away, to concentrate on anything else. “Your families sent you out here to see if you would die trying to collect this book. You owe them nothing.”
“She’s not wrong,” Grey said, stepping forward. “The coven leaders have kept many, many secrets from you. Starting with the origination of the Harrowing, the lies of the Thrashings, starving you to keep you angry at the king and thus the shifters. The story of our world is not as it seems and, though I’ve told Raven we can trust no one, she assures me we can trust you.” He called magic to his palms, letting the shadows dance between his fingers. “Can we?”
They shared haggard looks, and I understood their hesitation. They’d spent their lives seeking the approval of witches who looked down on them, classifying them as nothing more than burdens in their lives. A waste because they had no magic. Though I’d been granted magic, was born with it, then bound by Bastian’s mother, I’d been an outcast just like them. Still, I hoped they could see the desperation on my face. Because if they didn’t comply, we would simply leave with the book and even more animosity in our world.
The second that thought crossed my mind, the book’s magic gripped me once more. Begging me not to leave it behind.
“Yes,” Margreet whispered, picking at her fingers. “You can trust us fully. I will return the book if she says it is needed. I don’t trust you, but I do trust Raven, and that’s as much as you will get from any of us.”
“Will you bind your words?” Grey asked.
“To her. If it is what must be done,” she said, lifting her chin.
“Margreet,” one of the others interjected.
But she raised a hand to stop them. “You know as well as I do that there is no choice here. Even if we take this book back to the others, supposing the king’s messenger lets us take it, what will happen in our coven? Who will take ownership of the book? Everything is dangerous right now.” She locked her green eyes to mine. “Moon above, earth below, I bind my will to thee.”
Bastian pulled a knife from below his cloak and handed it, hilt first, to the witch. Her resolve was more powerful than some of the magic I’d seen from her coven. She may have been silenced, but it made her no less fierce.
She sliced the blade across her palm, touched the blood to her lips and handed the knife to the others. They looked at her as if she’d grown a third head, but with one pointed look they both backed down, repeating the process.
The power of blood magic sat in the air as Margreet took the Grimoire from my hands, running her fingers over the top of it. I wondered if she could hear it like I could. Could feel its power vibrating through her body just by being near it now that she held it. I searched her eyes for a trace of that feeling, finding nothing, though I could feel the void from where the book had sat in my hands.
The second the others dropped over the hill in the distance, the migraine pierced through my skull, taking me to my knees. I hadn’t even realized it’d subsided until it came back with a vengeance. But this time, there was no hiding it from Bastian. He scooped me off the ground, cast a door, and took me straight back to Crescent Cottage.
When Eden and Torryn jumped for us, Bastian’s resolve was gone as I pushed from his arms. He looked down at me with a myriad of emotions and when I gave no explanation or excuse, he turned away.
“I know I said you could stay here and help guard,” he said, looking at Torryn. “But I think we’re going to need you to come hunt with us.”
“Gladly. I found Alexander like you asked. He’s headed to the castle today,” the large man said, looking down at me. “Now, what happened?”
I rolled my eyes. “The king is dramatic. And who is Alexander?”
“He is reconstructing the castle with his magic,” Bastian said. “Hopefully. We need a place to store the Grimoires. We can’t chase the witches with them, we can’t trust the witches to keep them. I need to rebuild the barrier I had at the castle. I can’t do it here, either. It needs to be in the center of our world.”
“You’re still sick.” Eden pressed her palm over my forehead. “And warm.”
“It’s just a headache. It’s nothing like it was in the human lands.”
Torryn whipped a handkerchief from his pocket and held it toward me. “Your nose is bleeding.”
“I’ll pass on the used hanky. I just need a minute to myself.” I stormed into the back room, leaning on the counter as I pinched my nose, reaching for a clean cloth, my mind pulsing with pain. I tried to cast the wound away, but it didn’t work because I didn’t know what I was casting against.