Page 46 of First Ritual
“Iron and stealth.”
Pretty cool, not gonna lie.
“We have our next mission,” Varden announced. He summoned a roll of parchment and pried off the seal.
I whispered to Sage, “Who creates missions each week?” As far as I knew, everyone in the coven was sorted into a team and there was no impartial magus to do the job.
“There are eighteen missions that were created at the onset of the game. A charm was created to randomize them. You don’t get the same combinations of missions across both teams that often, so that keeps things fresh.”
Does it though? I couldn’t help but imagine a Monopoly or Catan game lasting centuries. How the hell could that stay fresh?
There was a definite buzz going in this half of the chamber though. Excitement coated the faces of the surrounding magus. They leaned toward Varden, eager to hear what awaited them.
“This week,” he read aloud, “our mission is to destroy Vero’s charm stores.”
A hushed murmur broke out, edged in tension.
Vero must be the other team. “What does Vero mean?” I asked Birch as Sage engaged in fervent discussion with Huxley.
“Strength and fury,” Wild replied from behind me, making me jump.
Birch turned to speak with Opal.
I released a slow breath. People never snuck up on me. Not since the attack that claimed Syera, Mother, and Grandmother. How the heck did Wild evade my senses?
His warm breath tickled the back of my neck. “We need to talk, Tempest.”
I fisted my hands against the slight purr in his voice. I shifted on my seat, fighting the urge to move so he wasn’t directly behind me. I felt exposed. Speaking over my shoulder, I said, “No, we really don’t. I’m not part of this thing you’ve got going on with your man club.”
A brief silence. “I attacked my best friend yesterday.” His voice was almost plaintive. Almost. “I need your help.”
Huxley’s gaze met mine across the table before he returned to his conversation with Sage.
Opal, Birch, Varden, and the other council member had left to circulate. Great.
I pivoted on the bench seat, forcing him to lean back in his crouch. “Why do you need my help specifically? I wish you’d go to someone else. Anyone else, to be clear. I’m certain a lot of magus in this coven have struggled with chaos.”
Wild’s dark eyes were serious. His throat worked before he said, “Because it’s not chaos, Tempest. My… symptoms only started when you arrived here.”
I shook my head. “What do you mean by symptoms?”
He scanned the surrounding magus. “I can’t discuss it here.”
“But you want my help? When did these symptoms start?”
“Esbat.”
“So they didn’t start when we met because we met at the bar the night prior. Therefore your symptoms can’t be anything to do with me. You need to—”
“We were both concealing our magic that night,” he said tersely, glancing around. “Nothing started until our magicks met.”
My rebuttal died on my lips. My hand rose to rub my aching chest.
Wild watched the gesture. “You don’t seem to be experiencing exactly what I am, nor to the same degree, but you’re feeling something.”
The ache in my chest started the night our magicks met. My chest rose as I sucked in a breath. “What did you do to me, Astar?”
He rested a hand on the bench beside me, adjusting in his crouch. “Also what I wondered about you to begin with. We’ve decided you’re either a terrific liar or you have no idea what effect you’ve had. Like I said, we need your help to figure this out.”