Page 37 of Our Covenant

I laugh. “For fuck’s sake.”

“I think his truth deserves a little more than a dietary restriction,” Asher pipes up in defense of Thorne’s ego.

“You’re all acting like these are things I didn’t already know. That I haven’t been studying your schedules, habits, and lives to seamlessly merge into your paths. Which you’ve already admitted you know. So, unless you want to tell me one of your deepest, darkest secrets, I have nothing to give you in exchange.” She leans back on the heels of her palms, and I get a glint of the gold chain at her throat.

I know it has to be me. I’m the only one she couldn’t reach outside the walls of the manor. She obviously knew that I existed—the look on her face at the gym told me as much. Sifting through the bits of myself that would be considered interesting enough to earn us a glint of useful information, I finally settle on my ability, hoping that she also sees it as a warning. “I can control water in all its forms. Solid, liquid, vapor. Including the water you’re made of.”

I hold out my hand palm up and summon the water sitting in the glass on her side table. It shakes at first, gathering its molecules into a rope then traveling across the room to form a ball the size of an apple and hovering just above my skin. Her eyes widen and lips part slightly.

“That’s how you incapacitated me on campus.” It’s a statement.

“Yes,” I confirm and wait for her reciprocation.

She closes her mouth and looks to be reeling in her emotions.

“It must be nice to have consistent access to magic.”

There’s a slip of her mask with that small truth. She does use magic and has been taught by someone that we harvest it.

“I showed you mine,” I volley and return the water to her glass in a ribbon.

“If you’d like to share a bit of your potency with me, I would love to show you.” She holds out her hand as if we could produce a physical nugget of magic to hand over.

“I have a feeling you already have a supplier,” Asher says.

“It doesn’t surprise me that you don’t see woman as self-sufficient,” she counters.

Thorne bends at the waist to level his face with hers. “You have no idea what the witches in our coven are capable of. And that kills you, doesn’t it?”

Her mouth shuts hard with the click of teeth. He’s found the weak spot and digs in deeper. “You may know all you need to about us, but the coven is still a mystery to you, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t answer, but her lips tighten to a fine line. If looks could kill, the daggers she’s staring into him would paint the walls.

“I don’t need to know anything about them. They’ve placed the four of you on the highest pedestal.” She lowers her voice. “Their champions. Their legacies.”

The venom dripping from her last words silences us. Asher’s shoulders tense like he’s waiting for her to strike him, and Thorne straightens to his full height. I can feel the heat of Thorne’s frustration manifesting. He takes a step closer to her and my muscles tense. I’m unsure if Asher and I will have to pull Thorne off Elsbeth, but instead he reaches a hand out to the collar of her sweater and pulls it down just far enough to show the necklace she’s wearing. It’s a heart-shaped locket with some sort of engraving on it. Thorn takes the pendent between his fingers and turns it slowly.

“Is this where you’re keeping it?” His voice is almost a whisper. “Take it off.”

“What?” She looks down at his hand then back up to his face. “You think I’d be stupid enough to wear any sort of magical containment around my neck?”

“You’ve more than proved you’re not stupid. But you were ambushed and I’m not willing to take any chances. Take it off or I’ll take it off for you.”

The unspoken tug-of-war pulses between them, and she must decide it’s not worth the possibility of being manhandled because she reaches up, unclasps the chain, and holds it out for Thorne to take. He offers his open palm to her, and she drops it before retracting her hand as he pockets it.

Asher turns and addresses me. “Her tray is ready in the kitchen. I’ll wait here with Thorne.”

I give him a nod and move toward Maddox still leaning against the doorframe. With a gentle nudge, the two of us head back downstairs so I can fetch her dinner and a snack for later. The kitchen was renovated back in the early 2000s, but the appliances have been updated since—thank fuck for automatic ice makers and an extra-large dishwasher.

When the two of us get to the kitchen island, Maddox slumps into a stool and lays his head and torso across the cool marble countertop.

“You alright?” I ask while taking the plate meant for Elsbeth out of the warming drawer in the oven.

“Yeah,” he answers, sitting up with a curve in his back that doesn’t convince me. “I just can’t understand why she hates us so much. Who is she, and where did she come from?”

“Give Thorne twenty minutes alone with her and I bet we’ll find out.”

“We can’t let him hurt her.” His eyes bulge and fill with panic.