Page 5 of Demon's Beauty

“You’re going to Ascend, Soleil,” she says, her voice flat. “You’re right on the cusp and now you’re just… what? Running away?”

“Please don’t tell Esme.”

It’s pathetic, the way the plea comes out of my mouth. It makes me sound like I’m all of ten years old, trying to cover up breaking a mug so my mother wouldn’t see.

She props a shoulder on the doorframe and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Wanna talk about it?”

I really, really don’t want to talk about it.

Especially not with her.

I consider Marianne a friend, in so far as I can consider any Crescent witch a friend. But even after decades, the unspoken truth lies between us.

We’re rising witches first—always angling for a spot in the coven hierarchy—friends second.

I’ve already exposed too much with my plea about keeping this from the High Priestess, and I make myself shove that scared, shivering part of me as far down inside as I can manage.

“I’ll be back soon,” I say.

Marianne’s expression doesn’t change. Implacable as ever, the perfect version of the Crescent witch mask.

“If you say so.”

She drifts out of the doorframe like she’s not about to hurry off and tell everyone about my freak out.

And maybe she’s not. Maybe she really doesn’t care. Maybe she’s more confident and assured in herself and doesn’t need to take advantage of the opportunity to knock another witch down a few pegs.

Or maybe news of me losing my shit is going to be all over the coven hall before I even make it through the Veil.

With a renewed urgency spurring me on, I finish grabbing everything I might even remotely need from my room. Looking up and down the corridor to make sure no one else is around, I lock my door behind me and take one of the hidden side staircases directly down to the cellar.

It’s quiet down here this early. The younger students will show up in a couple of hours for their lessons. I’m Priestess Sonja’s only advanced apprentice right now, and it thankfully leaves the shared workspaces and common room empty.

Well, mostly empty.

I stop short in the doorway, heart leaping into my throat when I see the common room lounge isn’t empty after all, but it settles right back down when I realize who I’m looking at.

Sonja is napping in an armchair next to the fire.

The drawback of the dreamsbane potion. You might be able to walk through your dreams at will, but it doesn’t make for a very restful night’s sleep.

Another point in my favor, though, as I tiptoe into my workshop.

I’m a little more discerning with what I pack down here.

Technically, none of this is actually mine.

Once a witch Ascends to the position of priestess, they have more say and more ownership over their life in the coven hall, but until that happens, I’m still just apprenticing.

So I probably shouldn’t clean out my entire stock of ingredients.

If anything is going to get my escape noticed and draw Esme’s ire, that would be it.

But I don’t intend to go into the demon realm entirely unprepared, so I spend the next few minutes sorting through hundreds of jars and vials, trying to decide what’s most important.

In the end, I probably take too much.