Selene rose from her seat without ceremony, the motion sharp enough to slice through the tension lingering in the chamber. She didn't bother to explain herself, nor did she have the patience to waste more time sitting in this room. She had what she came for. Everything else was noise.

  She flicked two fingers toward Lucen.

  “Lucen, let's go. Show me this ward of yours.”

  Cassian straightened as if she'd slapped him. "What are you doing?"

  Selene grabbed her pendant and showed it to Cassian. It glowed brighter as she brought it near. She then pulled it away and said. “You know exactly what I’m doing. Don't follow me. ”

  He scoffed,

  "Don't follow you?"

  "Yes, don't follow me. I know you two hate each other, but your presence will make things more difficult. Don't cling so tightly."

  Cassian's jaw tightened. "How can I not when there are so many flies buzzing around my soon-to-be wife?"

  “Soon-to-be.” She remarked with certainty. “I’m not your wife yet.”

  Lucen took a half-step forward, and Selene motioned irritably for him to hurry. Cassian bristled.

  “You still need to be here for the Accords,” he said. “You can’t just walk out.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the Accords.” She waved a dismissive hand toward the table of leaders, all of whom stiffened but wisely said nothing. “My grandmother and the Hallows council can handle it just fine.”

  Her eyes swept the room.

  “And there won’t be much left to discuss now anyway. I’m sure you’ll all come to see things our way. Especially, now that you know what we’re capable of, and what’s coming.”

  No one dared to question her logic. There were many undeniable truths laid before them.

  Selene turned on her heel and strode for the exit. Lucen followed, his boots echoing behind her. As she passed by Darius, she left him no words, just a gentle smile and a quick, almost unperceivable wave of her hand.

  Darius’s face started to relax, the beginning of a smile forming, but it died before it could breathe as Lucen stepped into his line of sight. Lucen saw his smile being snuffed out.

  Lucen snorted under his breath and, for the benefit of the entire room, called back:

  “Don’t worry, everyone. I’ll take good care of the Princess.”

  Selene's stride didn't falter. Her gaze remained fixed on the exit.

  Behind them, Cassian slumped back in his chair, arms folded and jaw clenched tight. Darius exhaled slowly, steadying himself. He had more important things to concern himself with than this ridiculous entanglement that he found himself in.

  Darius refocused quickly. “Lady Lefaye.”

  His voice was the kind of calm that didn’t promise peace—only purpose.

  “Where do I need to go to find the Bishops?”

  Morgan leaned back in her chair, lips curling. “Isolde will lead you. Take them to the Abyss.”

  Isolde’s eyebrows shot up so hard that they nearly touched her hairline.

  “You put them in the Abyss?”

  Morgan chuckled. “They’ll be fine. I didn’t store them deep.”

  Isolde shook her head but nodded. She turned for the door, but the Grand Master lifted a hand.

  “Hold.”

  He turned toward the Pontifex. “I assume my presence is no longer required today?”

  The Pontifex didn’t answer—he only stared, hollow-eyed and shaken by the last several hours.

  Morgan broke the silence. “Let’s end things here. Reconvene tomorrow at noon. We’ve been locked in this room for nearly three days.”

  "Very good." With a huff, Grand Master Varin rose and walked toward Darius and his group. He then looked towards Isolde and then commanded,

  "Take us to this Abyss Saintess," Isolde stared at the Grand Master and responded,

  "Is that a command or a request? Because I was only asked to lead Darius. And I don't answer to the Inquisitors of the Thorn Path." The Grand Master's jaw flexed in frustration,

  "You've gotten much bolder since you've been consorting with the witches. Perhaps I should," Isolde cut him off and said,

  "Please, save your threats. I don't answer to you, and we both know soon enough I won't have to answer to anyone." The Grand Master frowned, and the Pontifex spoke up,

  "Please, Saintess Isolde. Could you please guide the Grand Master?" The Pontifex lowered his head to her, and Isolde returned the gesture.

  "Of course, your eminence. I was going to anyway. Just thought the Grand master here should learn what humility is."

  "Of course." The Pontifex smiled.

  "Take it easy on them, Isolde." Augustine smiled at the Grand Master.

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  "Please, follow me." Isolde turned for the door.

  Valerion rose, rolling his shoulders like a man relieved to be free of obligations.

  “Yes. Ending here today is a wise choice. We have a lot to consider, and I look forward to what the Inquisitors pull from those Bishops.”

  Rhydan shot to his feet the moment the words left the Emperor’s mouth.

  “I’m heading to the Colosseum,” he said, already striding for the doors. “Will you join me?”

  Valerion hesitated. Since he heard of its existence, he wanted nothing more than to revel in its glory. They wanted so much to waste the day away there, maybe even fight in the arena himself. He glanced at Morgan like a man torn between duty and indulgence. Morgan sighed.

  “Go. Go play. I’ll meet you there. I should probably make sure nothing goes wrong at the Abyss.”

  Valerion bent over, taking her hand and kissing it before turning for the exit.

  “Come with us, boy,” he called to Cassian.

  Cassian groaned like he’d just been condemned to labor, but stood anyway. Rhydan’s sons slapped him on the back as they herded him out. As they walked through the door, Rhydan chuckled.

  “Watching your woman walk away with another man. Tsk... Tsk."

  "Father, please...." The eldest Prince pleaded. He begged his father to show even the smallest of decorum.

  "It's alright. You just need to learn how to woo a woman,” Rhydan chirped.

  "I've never needed to before." Cassian sighed, shoulders slumped, knowing—painfully—that they were right. The Princes rubbed him on the back, and Emperor Valerion sighed and said,

  "I don't see the point. She'll be your wife. All she needs to give you is an heir. Let her give her heart to whoever she wants. Love for an Emperor is a weakness." For the first time, Rhydan was silent. He let out a deep breath and wrapped his arms around Cassian,

  "Poor boy. Come, this grandfather will teach you."

  The door shut behind them.

  *****

  Selene stepped out of the Clock Tower first, her boots hitting the stone walkway with purpose. Lucen fell into stride beside her.

  Waiting at the base of the tower was a full company of Darius’s Inquisitors—armored, straight-backed, every weapon polished to a mirror shine. Their helms tracked Selene’s movements with suspicion.

  She scoffed openly.

  The only Inquisitors she had any fondness for were trapped inside with Darius. Even if they hated her, at least they had the good sense to properly hide it when needed.

  She turned to Lucen. “Where’s the boy?”

  Lucen cupped his hands around his mouth.

  “LUMIN!”

  Thunder split the sky so violently that it rattled the tower windows. A bolt of golden lightning crashed down in front of them, blinding white. The Inquisitors stumbled back in alarm. Even the Orc guard—leaning on his spear, half-alert—arched an eyebrow.

  When the crackling light faded, the young man stood before them.

  Dark caramel skin. Buzz-cut hair. Lean frame, mid-to-late teens. Like his mentor, he was dressed more like a cutthroat than a Saint. Dingy white and brown leathers, with golden trim. The Sanctum's thorns etched across his chest.

  He was younger than Eryndor, but older than Lucen or Isolde when they were first named Saints.

  As soon as his face was visible, Selene’s pendant went hot—burning hot.

  Her smile spread slowly. It burned hotter than when she met Caelthorne. Its heat was on the same level as the burn she left when she met Cassian. The First Coven’s blood was deep and thick with him.

  Lumin looked up at her, light brown eyes shimmering with arcs of golden lightning. He grinned, boyish and sharp.

  “So you’re the witch Lucen’s always whining about?”

  Lucen sputtered, indignant. “Hey—I don’t whine. And she’s a Princess, not a witch.”

  “A witch princess,” Lumin corrected, shrugging. “Not like I care. We kill demons and Apostates. I don’t think we’ve ever gone after a witch. Not yet.”

  Selene's smirk widened.

  “Do you know why Lucen brought you here?” she asked.

  Lumin blinked. “I just assumed he came to chase after you.”

  He tilted his head thoughtfully. “He talks about you in his sleep, you know—”

  Lucen slapped a hand over the boy’s mouth.

  “That’s… irrelevant. The reason we’re here is because Selene needed to meet you.”

  Lumin pulled Lucen’s hand away. “Meet me for what?”

  “Because,” Selene said, “you are a descendant of the First Coven.”

  Lumin didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink.

  Instead, he smirked.

  “I know.”

  He reached under his leathers and tugged out a necklace—a pendant that mirrored Selene's own, only that it was light golden in color.

  “My mother left me this before she died,” he said quietly. “Said I was descended from Lightning Point of the First Coven.”

  Selene’s smile sharpened. “Good. That makes this easier for both of us.”

  His eyebrows lifted in challenge. “Easier for what?”

  “I want you to join me,” Selene said. “To help recreate the First Coven.”

  Lumin's expression shifted—understanding mixed with calculation. She pressed forward. Refusing to concede, well-earned ground.

  "I am willing to work with you to get whatever...

  "Sure," Lumin interrupted. "Why not?" Selene studied him, searching for the trap. "What? Just like that? Why?"

  Lumin turned to Lucen and deadpanned, “Damn, you were right. She really doesn’t trust anyone, does she?”

  “Very few,” Selene corrected. "So tell me why you are accepting this so easily."

  Lumin shrugged. “Long story short? Lucen found me right after my parents died. They hid their magic their whole lives. Both of them could have been Saints or Witches. They chose peace." He forced a smile,

  "When peace was no longer possible... when they needed to use their power, they couldn’t use it. Not to the extent they needed. And they died.”

  His voice hardened.

  “But they bought time for me. Old Man Lucy saved me. He saw my potential and sent me to become a Saint. Told me never to hold back. I owe him more than you can imagine.”

  Selene’s expression softened—barely.

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Two years.”

  Her brows rose a fraction. Two years. He was new to magic and not only became a Saint in two years, but was already this strong. Terrifying potential, almost as good as herself,

  "Almost." She whispered to herself.

  “So,” Lumin said, rolling his shoulders, “if he says help you, I’ll help you. Unless what you’re doing will somehow cost him his life. Otherwise? I’m yours.”

  Selene considered him carefully. “And the Sanctum?”

  Lumin chuckled. “The Sanctum has its moments. And it lets me move through the Empire without being hunted like a rabid dog. But outside of that?” He shrugged.

  “It’s just a job.”

  Selene grinned. "Then we will get along famously. Especially if you can share more embarrassing stories about Lucy." Lumin chuckled,

  "It's only been a couple months since he took me in... Buuttt I got a few."

  Lucen groaned, but when he saw the radiant smile on Selene's face, he forced himself to deal with the potential embarrassment.

  Selene placed her hand on Lumin's head and said,

  “Good. Follow me.”

  Lucen blinked. “Where are you taking us?”

  “To the Libraries,” Selene said. “You two are going to drown yourselves in the knowledge of the witches who came before you.”

  She turned and walked, not bothering to see whether they followed.