Page 145 of Demon's Beauty

“I did.”

“I wasn’t sure if Marianne would be able to find you. You’ve been hard to track down these past few days.”

“A brief trip to the demon realm.”

“Right before you are to Ascend? When it’s important for you to be here, setting an example for the rest of the witches of what it means to be an exemplary member of the Crescent Coven?”

I’ve got nothing to say to that. Nothing but a lump in my throat and churning bile in my stomach and the realization she’s probably right.

Priestesses are supposed to be the best of us.

The brightest, the most committed and talented, the ones who set the example for everyone else.

And just as I was supposed to be setting that standard and stepping into that role, I ran away.

“I should revoke your Ascension consideration,” Esme says mildly, like we’re discussing the weather and not my entire future as a witch. “Given everything that’s happened, why on earth would I trust you to have the best interests of the coven atheart? Why would it be inourbest interests to offer you entry into the ranks of our leadership?”

I knew the question was coming, but I have to fight my instinctual flinch when it’s asked.

“I still believe I can be an asset to this coven,” I say, though it doesn’t come out with as much confidence as I want it to. “I just needed… I needed to breathe. To take some time to myself and get my head straight, make sure this is what I wanted.

“It must be nice,” she says with a brittle edge that doesn’t sound very nice at all, “to claim that type of freedom. You won’t be able to, you know, once you become a priestess of this coven.”

“Why not?” The question pushes against the boundaries of my better judgment, but I ask it anyway.

Esme levels me a stern look, but there’s something else beneath it. A sliver of surprise, maybe, though I wouldn’t have expected the High Priestess to be capable of such an emotion.

“Maybe we’d all be better off for it,” I say, pushing ahead with all my usual restraint screaming at me to stop. “If we weren’t always here, in this pressure cooker, maybe we’d all be a bit more… I don’t know. Well-adjusted? Less neurotic?”

“If a witch wants to be better adjusted and able to step out of thepressure cooker, as you call it, then she can certainly forgo ever trying for Ascension. You’ve always known what this role entails, Soleil. You know what it costs, and why we pay that price.”

A sharp pang of sorrow stabs through my chest.

Of course I know.

I’ve always known.

Witches can’t exactly trust the world we live in. We can’t practice freely; we can’t admit the truth of who we are. Even in this day and age, the risk is too great.

But does that mean we have to suffer so much for it?

“That’s what I’m saying.” I push even further. “The priestesses aren’t made of stone. Why should it be so unattainable for them to have any kind of balance? Their responsibilities here, their life outside the coven, why do those two things always have to be at odds?”

Instead of continuing to dress me down like a wayward child, Esme stands.

For one gut-wrenching moment, I’m certain this is it.

She’ll dismiss me, tell me I’ve crossed too far over the line to have any hope of making it back, that I’m unfit after all, and I can take my leave from the coven forever.

But she doesn’t say any of those things. In fact, she says nothing at all as she walks from the desk to the window, framed there by all the plants I was pretending to admire. A long minute passes before she speaks again, and my heart stays firmly lodged in my throat the entire time.

“Perhaps it won’t always be out of reach for us.”

I’m not sure what she’s saying, whatIshould say, so I stay quiet and wait to see if she’ll continue.

“The world as we know it is changing,” she says after a few moments, still with her eyes fixed out the window.

“Changing in what ways?”