Aeval set down the chalice on another stone and held out a long dagger. She cast a Circle as Titania kept watch.
Beneath Litha’s summer moon, beneath the stars and jet-black sky,
I weave this Circle with magic’s rune, all unwelcome flee or die.
To this sacred space we come, To this night of summer’s height,
To the ancient charms we turn, to the ancient charms and rites.
Hags of Fate, hear me now, to your will we bend our knee,
Come to us, your faces show, come to bestow destiny.
As she spoke, a great mist rose up by the water and out of the mist stepped a figure that I had met once before. She was regal, buxom, and barely skimmed my height by an inch. Wearing an ivory corset beaded with silver and a long flowing skirt the color of the mist, she looked more ethereal than real. Her hair cascaded around her, to her knees, the color of ice floes and winter snow. Atop her head, she wore a headdress of silver. Crystal antlers rose up from the headdress to tower over her. Her eyes were jet, with faint silver flecks, and she was a most fearsome and beautiful sight. She was wielding her wand—a thin birch branch with silver winding around it that sparkled in the night.
Pentangle…the Mistress of Magic. Pentangle, one of the Hags of Fate.
Aeval and Titania bowed to Pentangle. I felt awkward—standing on the stone, I was taller than she was and kneeling would be precarious. I tried, but she stopped me.
“So we meet again, Camille, as your destiny plays out.” She turned to Aeval. “Are you ready? Is she?” And I knew she was talking about me.
Aeval nodded. “I have the Nectar. And Titania carries the elixir.”
“Then we proceed.” Pentangle turned to me. “Before you can ascend to your throne, you must go through death and rebirth. Morgaine went through this same ritual, as did Aeval and Titania in their beginnings.”
I glanced at them. It had never occurred to me that they would have had to go through a ritual to take the throne. Somehow, in my mind, they had been born Fae Queens, rolled out of bed, stepped up to the throne, and taken their crowns like I might roll out of bed and make coffee in the morning.
Pentangle let out a soft smile. “No, child. Everyone who ascends to great power had to begin somewhere. You do not become great by the name you are born to, but by the destiny you are offered. And even then, you have to accept your path and fulfill it.”
That she could read my mind made me just as nervous as the first time I had met her, walking on the shore of the Ocean of Anger in the Netherworld.
“Are you ready?” She held my gaze. I couldn’t have lied to her if I wanted to.
I summoned a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m ready.” And in my heart, I was.
Pentangle turned to Aeval. “The Nectar?”
Aeval handed her the chalice and Pentangle stirred the contents with her wand. “The hands of time slow and still, as I charm, so be my will.” She pointed to my feet with her wand. “Make certain your feet are firmly planted on the stone of ages.”
I glanced down, wiggling my toes to make sure they were flat against the rock. I had never heard of the term “stone of ages” but now wasn’t the time to ask questions.
Pentangle handed me the chalice. “This is the Nectar of Life. Drink deep, and your years will stretch on for eons. Drink deep, and you will live as long or longer than any of the full-blooded Fae folk. Drink deep, for without the Nectar of Life, you cannot take the throne.”
I held the silver chalice in my hands, my stomach rolling like I’d eaten too much sugar or had too much caffeine. I can’t be scared of this, I thought. I always knew I’d drink this one day. Chase took the Nectar and he’s fine. But Chase hadn’t drunk Nectar empowered by Pentangle, and he wasn’t taking a throne.
But he is becoming one of your Knights. And his life is changing in ways he can’t even fathom. Be brave. Step into your future.
At first I wasn’t sure where the thought had come from, but then I glanced up. Pentangle was smiling at me—faintly, yes, but there it was, at the corner of her lips—a slight upturn.
You know I can read your thoughts, Camille. I see your heart, and I see your fear. But let fear pass away. You no longer need it.
I raised the chalice to my lips. No words were necessary. No formal proclamations. All that was required was for me to drink the Nectar of Life. I sipped the golden liqueur, and it was like fiery honey on my tongue, racing down my throat like the oldest brandy ever known, smooth and yet with a fire so deep that it worked its way into every cell of my body.
I drank the Nectar in one long swallow and handed Aeval the goblet, reeling as the magic began to seep into my cells and my blood, changing my DNA as it went, twisting me inside out and then inside out yet again. My thoughts were scattered like a flock of startled birds, winging away as the Nectar waged war on the cells that wanted to age. It hurt, as though I were being sliced, diced, and twisted like a licorice whip. I cried out and would have fallen except for Aeval, who grabbed my hand to keep me steady. Forcing myself to see through the haze that was running rampant in my body, I once again planted my feet firmly on the rock.