Page 224 of Bedeviled

I think I might be falling in love all over again. Is that possible?

Memnon’s attention slips from mine to the jungle around us, and I can hear the thought plaguing him.

Where is Eislyn?

The mud still bears her footprints, but her body and all the blood we spilled have disappeared.

“She’s gone,” I say solemnly. “The Hungering Ones…”

“They took her?” Memnon says, finishing my thought.

I nod.

He blows out a long, shuddering breath, casting his eyes toward Eislyn’s partially remade palace.

After a moment, I dare to whisper, “It’s finally over.”

Memnon’s gaze returns to me, his eyes glittering, and the corner of his mouth curving into the barest hint of a grin.

He shakes his head. “Bis, est amage. Esaga divak nusapisag.”

No, my queen. It’s just beginning.

EPILOGUE

FIVE YEARS LATER

There are some traditions witches do differently than the non-magical population, and then there are some traditions, like graduation ceremonies, that are quite similar. Minus, perhaps, the caps.

I adjust the wide brim of my pointed hat as I stand off to the edge of Slain Maiden’s Meadow alongside my coven sisters, all of us clad in black graduation gowns. Ahead of us, a makeshift stage has been set up where we’ll receive our diploma.

From the other side of it, the high priestess speaks to a woman with black hair, thin lips, and hawkish eyes whom I vaguely recall wanting to deny me admission to Henbane five years ago.

I try my hardest to gloat about that, if only to distract myself from the fact that my feet and hips are killing me and I desperately need to pee.

I turn, my eyes briefly sweeping over the sea of family and friends sitting in the audience before my gaze settles on the line of graduating coven sisters. Some of these witches have been here since Henbane reopened, and a few, like my best friend several bodies ahead of me, have been here since before.

Henbane ended up reopening a year after it closed, much to my relief, and many of us former students re-enrolled. Some, like Sybil, even stayed on an extra year. But there were many more who never returned. I feel their absence now, as I stand in the field where I watched a few of them die.

I face forward again, accidentally knocking my very large, very round belly into the witch in front of me.

“Sorry,” I apologize again.

The witch, Geraldine, doesn’t even respond this time. Which is fair since I keep bumping her. In my defense, I’m still not used to how far out this full-term belly of mine juts.

The high priestess strides up to the podium of the makeshift stage, and a hush falls across the field. There isn’t a microphone waiting for her, but I see her tap two fingers to her throat, and a wisp of her powder blue magic curls itself around her throat.

“Welcome family, friends, and students,” she says, her voice booming, “to the one hundred and ninetieth graduating class of Henbane Coven.”

A cheer goes up in the crowd.

The high priestess’s gaze passes over us as her white raven swoops down from the sky above and lands on her shoulder. “For many of these witches, it’s been a battle to get here…”

A sharp cramp tightens the muscles of my belly. I suck in a breath, my hand going to my abdomen.

That was probably nothing, right?

As quickly as I notice it, it lets up, and I exhale.