Celeste
"Again," I said.
Blaise hesitated, my hands still folded in his, the afternoon light turning the den's heavy curtains to a dim, honeyed gold. A single candle burned on the low table between us, its flame standing straight and still, and the room smelled of rosemary and beeswax and the faint green sharpness of crushed vervain. Dust motes turned slowly in the thin seam of sun where the curtains didn't quite meet. Somewhere far off in the house, a door closed, and the silence afterward felt almost reverent.
"Celeste, you've done three sessions this week," he said. "It's too much, too fast. The spell takes more out of you than you realize."
"I know."
I kept my voice steady. It cost me. My head already ached with a low, pulsing ache behind my left eye, the old familiar nail, and th
