Page 135 of Demon's Beauty

But damn if I don’t still want us to bridge at least some of the gap.

I had a little hope after she came to me for help earlier this year when she was poisoned, but those dreams were swiftly dashed when she found out I was a candidate for Ascension.

I’ll never forget the look on her face when Esme let it slip—probably deliberate, now that I think about it.

It was as if my sister didn’t even know me. The way she looked at me—with so much horror and sadness and betrayal—was just one more reminder of what I’ll lose if I go through with this.

My sister.

My mate.

Any future outside the coven.

How can any of it be worth it?

Strangely enough, it’s Seren who stops those spiraling thoughts and grounds me back into all the reasons I’ve been soconflicted, all the certainty I felt about my path until just a few days ago.

“You know,” she says finally, arms still around me. “I think if anyone could turn that coven around, it would be you.”

My laugh comes out choked and damp. “Yeah, right. What good have I ever done in that place? Just marching around, following orders like a good little witchling. Doing all the meaningless tasks and projects Esme asked me—”

She takes a step back and braces her hands on my shoulders. “Bullshit.”

I glare at her, but I doubt it holds much weight with the tears threatening in the corners of my eyes.

“You were doing it even back then, you know?”

“Doing what?”

She gives me a look that clearly saysoh, come on, and shakes her head. “You were always finding ways to stick it to Esme and the rest of the coven.”

“I…”

“Admit it, Sol. The way you always take the younger girls under your wing, make sure new apprentices know how to handle the priestesses’ moods and attitudes so they don’t get too overwhelmed.”

“That’s just being nice,” I argue. “It’s no more than anyone else would have—”

“It’s more than I did,” she interrupts again, then grins. “And what about all the shit you let me pull in your workshop? All the non-coven-sanctioned brews?”

I roll my eyes. “You’re my sister. Of course I wasn’t going to tattle on you.”

“All I’m saying—” She nudges me with her elbow as we both return to our seats at the table. “—is that I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You’ve already been changingthings where you can. Imagine what you could do as a priestess. Maybe even High Priestess.”

My heart pangs with that old, bittersweet longing. A longing I’d bet most Crescent witches feel at some point during their time in the coven hall.

It’s not quite the same now, though.

I lean back in my seat. “Why do you think we even need a High Priestess?”

Blasphemy. The idea is absolute blasphemy. Enough to scandalize any Crescent witch.

Seren hums thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Probably because that’s the way things have always been and the way most of the coven believes things will always be.”

“Most of the coven?”

“Yeah. Most of the coven. Only takes a few to start changing hearts and minds, though.”

Again. Blasphemy.