Page 9 of Summer of Sacrifice
Goddess, he was terrified of returning to Achlys. To return to more memories of his girls. What he had within him already was too much. Very nearly a physical pain.
Agatha gave him a cursory glance laced with concern and coloured by her own shades of fear. “Grimm is correct. We have to know more.” Her voice was so soft. He pushed out love toward her, and she bolstered. “We need to better understand what’s happened over the course of Chresedia’s life and our own many lives. Achlys is the best place to do that, as it’s in The Void.”
“She was Lady War.” Dulci’s sudden comment sat neatly between a question and a statement, more disbelief than misunderstanding beneath it. “That is no small thing. But neither is leaving the country you lead, especially with”—she gave Grimm a sad quirk of her lips—“a queen fresh in the grave.”
Grief tugged at Grimm’s heart, followed swiftly by a pull to check on his father again. The man was gone to the world, driven mad by the draught and descending only further into madness since being weaned off of it. Shaking clear his worries, Grimm spoke, “I understand your concern, Dulci, but you all are more than capable of holding things down while we step away to do this. It’s vital.”
If Dulci’s facial expression was any indication, she heard loud and clear that there was more he had not divulged, and she would soon come knocking on his door.
“Going to Achlys sounds fucking amazing to me,” Sorscha drawled, picking at her nails.
Winnie smacked Sorscha’s thigh. “Can you not act appropriately, at least for a council meeting?”
“I’d agree. Fucking amazing,” Laurent uttered with a grin, and Winnie shot him a death glare. Clearing his throat, he straightened until his posture reminded Grimm just how much he respected the Druid leader…and his humour. “Chresedia is slick. She’ll be preparing for the eclipse as well, but we cannot underestimate her.”
Winnie looked from Laurent to Agatha. “True, but Dulcibella is also correct in her assessment that leaving here could pose a threat.”
Agatha nodded. “Seagovia is at risk right now. Witchcraft has been reborn here, but it is still a fragile thing. Many are less than thrilled about its resurrection, and our absence could multiply that.”
Grimm watched his wife’s profile, feeling the cogs in her mind spinning as she sorted through decisions. He should have addressed the matter of Achlys with her privately prior to the meeting, but he’d frankly been curious to see how she would handle it being thrown at her. He would pay for that decision later by way of a fiery redhead on a tirade, but watching her lead was one of his favourite pastimes. And he was horribly anxious to see if it had always been one of them in their history together, as he had a sneaking suspicion it had been. Lacing his fingers together, he rested his hands in his lap and leaned back in his chair.
Look at you, he murmured in the bond. You’re a fucking goddess.
Her cheeks flushed again. Stop it. But she didn’t turn to look at him, and he snorted.
Seleste gasped. “Are the two of you talking in your minds? Is that part of your bond?” She clapped her hands together, evidently having been watching them closely. No great shock there.
“Ew,” Sorscha grimaced.
“Your cunning is more remarkable than Agatha let on,” Grimm said to Seleste, ignoring Sorscha.
“It makes sense, being who you both are,” Seleste continued, completely ignoring Grimm. “How fascinating!”
“Can we please stay on task?” Tindle screeched, both hands splayed and tense, like he might strangle them all at any moment. “Goddess above! Yes, Seagovia is at risk right now, but obviously, the God of Night and Goddess of Magic should figure out what in Hades is going on.” He rolled his eyes, ripping the glasses from his face with gusto. “This is drama at its finest, and frankly, we were all born to handle it. We can hold it down for a time, I assure you.” He looked pointedly at von Fuchs. “Emile is the perfect person to be the face of Seagovia in your absence.”
Grimm sat up, resting his arms on the table. “I don’t think?—”
“All due respect, prince,” Tindle snapped, “but you have been gone quite a while. You made Aggie queen, and she set Emile in a place of trust for the people. In particular, the witches and warlocks living in this fine land.”
Grimm could feel his teeth beginning to grind together again.
“It began as a way to keep the public from thinking too hard about your and Fleurina’s absence, but…and I hate to say this…Emile is a good man. The people are no longer on the draught, and he is a comfort to them in the seat of a leader.”
Goddess help him, Agatha was nodding along.
This time, it was Anne who cut in. “They don’t remember all the draught did to them,” she said, “but they do remember their Grand Magus. They were made to believe he was wholly for them, and now”—she exchanged a small smile with Emile—“he truly is. And they know it.”
A half-snarl, half-sigh escaped Grimm.
“They’re right.” At Agatha’s simple words, he looked from his wife to Augustus, who nodded his agreement as well, and then to Dulci, who shrugged but gave her declaration of being in accord.
Grimm stood abruptly. “Fine. Von Fuchs, you have until nightfall to get us your detailed plan of how those of you on this council will keep Seagovia safe and at peace while we’re gone.” He could feel all their eyes on him, not the least of which was Seleste’s. Probing. Searching. “Seleste,” he bit out, not meaning to snap at her.
“Yes?”
He risked a glance at Agatha, eyes darting back to her cunning Sister Summer. “I would feel better if you were here, too.”
Agatha looked at her boots, hiding a smirk, but he didn’t have time to search their entanglement for why.