Brave the Tempest (Cassie Palme) - Karen Chance Page 0,137

have ever been, and I am tired of waiting. Five hundred years we have hidden, cowering in the shadows—no more! If you don’t have the guts to do what must be done, then get out of the way!”

“I won’t let you do this! You can’t—”

“I can and I have. Challenge was freely made—”

“To you. You can’t expect—”

“Ah, but she was a bit careless in her wording, was she not?” She looked around at the other women, who I guessed were members of her coven. Or perhaps of several like-minded ones, because there were a lot of witches. “You all heard her. There was no mention of my name—”

“Because she didn’t know it!”

“—just a challenge issued on behalf of her Pythia, whom she was there to represent, to my coven—”

“You know damned well that wasn’t what she meant—”

“I don’t care what she meant,” Ingaret snapped. “I care what she said. And what she said—”

“I accept.”

My voice hadn’t been loud, but the acoustics in here were excellent. The words echoed off the walls and seemed to fill the whole space, loud as clashing cymbals; or maybe that was my ears ringing. Because I wasn’t up to this. Not after shifting here, shifting two guards and Marlowe, and then slowing Ingaret’s spell.

The Pythian power was inexhaustible, but it had to be processed through weak human flesh, and when my stamina gave out, so did my power.

Unlike my mother, I didn’t own it, I just borrowed it, and I wasn’t going to be borrowing much more today. But I couldn’t afford to show that. Or to so much as glance at Mircea, whom I’d had problems with in the past and likely would in the future, but who had had a genuine teachable moment earlier. As, weirdly enough, had Rosier.

Fake it till you make it, I reminded myself, and grabbed hold of the table.

It was even bigger than I’d realized. The slab must have been six inches thick and long enough to hold a couple hundred people easily. The huge, shiny surface looked back at me, as if it were challenging me, too.

“What?” Ingaret looked more surprised than anything.

“Yes, I know,” I said, as I got an assist from someone else who wasn’t here, namely Augustine. Because the metallic bodice of my dress began to glow as my power rose. “That wasn’t the plan, was it? You expected me to decline, forcing Jonas to fight you for his daughter’s life—”

“Cassie,” the man himself said, from somewhere in the darkness. I couldn’t see him too well at the moment, because my dress was now shining with power. I could see it in the highly polished surface of the table, reflecting light shadows on my face and body, making me look like an angel—

Or like a Christmas tree topper, some cynical voice in my head said, because it was a little over the top.

But around here, that just made for good theater.

“Rhea is talented,” I said, raising my voice to be sure that everyone heard. “But she can’t take on a whole coven. So you thought that you’d have your war either way: she’d die and Jonas would retaliate, or he’d wrest her away, but you could still spin the attack and any spilt blood into propaganda to sell to the other covens. To back up the idea that you’ve already been circulating, that this war is just a way for the Circle to destroy you—”

“As they almost did before!” I couldn’t see much, but Ingaret was clearly visible, being surrounded by the boiling heart of the portal, like she’d stepped straight out of hell.

But I knew hell a little these days, and there was nothing there that was any worse than what we made for ourselves right here on earth. In her hatred and jealousy, she’d derail the war, maybe even ensure that we lost it. She’d literally rather die than work together, and there were many who obviously agreed with her.

But there were others—a lot of others, suddenly—who did not.

It looked like Evelyn had brought friends, I thought, seeing vague shadows pushing past the other witches. But instead of lowering the danger in the room, their presence seemed to heighten it. Especially when several dozen wands were drawn, their tips glowing red.

They flashed off Ingaret’s eyes and, for a second, she really did look demonic. But she wasn’t. She was just a woman—a scared one, currently—because this was not going according to plan.

And it was going to go a lot less well if she