"YOUR INAUGURATION BALL is a few months away," Allegra Ashfield's voice was deceptively kind as she shuffled several manila files across her desk in rapid succession,"and yet I have heard nothing from you except a remark on why Beatrix would be designing your ceremonial shroud and not me."

"It's a valid concern." Cordelia Donithorn examined the nail polish on her acrylic nails with a purse of her lips. It hadn't been her decision to end up in the Ashfield Coven's office at the crack of dawn, but here she was, entertaining the aged Matriarch's request like it was a brunch and not what it was--an interrogation. " You are, after all, the Matriarch of the Ashfield coven. That's your duty, not your daughter's."

"Is it? I would have thought you would have appreciated Beatrix designing your shroud. She is, after all, one of your more interesting backers."

Allegra smiled when Cordelia's face twisted into one of surprise.

"Yes," the Matriarch continued,"Beatrix supports your ascension as the Donithorn Matriarch. It isn't surprising, at any rate--she always finds small ways to rebel against me."

"As far as I was concerned, Beatrix never liked me or my coven." Cordelia's eyes narrowed, catching onto the Ashfield witch's hint before she could elaborate further. "Adira's ascending soon, isn't she?"

"Smart girl." Allegra tucked away a sheaf of papers into a crocodile skin satchel. "Yes, but not anytime soon. Adira is still miles away from getting the position. However..."

"Get to the point, Ashfield."

"I don't know why I expected anything other than rudeness from a Donithorn," the gray haired Matriarch scowled. "Beatrix is showing some promise... granted she doesn't ruin everything before it's even begun."

"Beatrix is not the firstborn, though. Adira is."

"Yes, yes. But I have not spent twenty years grooming Adira to be the perfect Matriarch." Allegra's steel gray eyes--much more severe than either of her daughters'--twinkled with mischief when she fixed her gaze upon Cordelia once more. "You may go. Beatrix will still be designing your shroud; she expects you for measurements--"

"--at lunch."

Cordelia grimaced at the scent of brimstone that wafted into the room upon the demon's entrance. While she was no stranger to dealing with demons or familiars, it was not common for them to be present during personal meetings or even upon the earth unless the summoner had a need for them.

Citrine, while not naked for the first time since Cordelia had been graced with her presence, had dressed up to the barest minimum. The leather bustier she wore enhanced her breasts to the point of obscenity--and envy--and paired nicely with the skin tight latex pants that looked like she had to have been poured into them. On her feet, obscuring the brands that Cordelia knew to be there, were Jimmy Choos replicated right out of a magazine. She could smell the magic before she could see through it.

"Lunch?" Cordelia asked.

Right behind her, a pinch between her brows, Allegra inquired,"How did your little tea party with the girls go?"

Citrine's inhuman eyes swept over Cordelia in dismissal. She had clearly said all she was going to to the future Donithorn Matriarch. Instead, she looked to Allegra, her master, shifting her weight to one foot and putting a hand on her hip.

"It was fine. I don't appreciate you piling your work up on Beatrix, however." Cordelia had to suppress a shiver when the temperature in the room plummeted at the demoness's mood change. "But that's something I do not discuss in front of guests. They both already left the manor."

"Well then." Allegra cleared her throat. "Cordelia, we'll have to continue this another day. Citrine, would you escort her to the front gates?"

"Of course."

Cordelia didn't miss the sharpness in tone.

She gathered her things and allowed the demon to walk her to the giant purpleheart wood doors. They were much like her own manor's, with their history and protective sigils etched into it and burnt to make it permanent.

"You're close with Beatrix."

Citrine opened the door for her. "That depends on what you mean by 'close'. If you mean as a friend, of course."

"Right." The Donithorn witch tightened her fingers around her purse strap. While the Gucci leather felt firm, the buckle threatened to crumble underneath her inhuman strength. Even witches, despite being lower on the physical strength totem pole, could bend metal if they wished. "I was wondering--why is she supporting me as Matriarch? I thought she hated me."

"Beatrix? No, child." Citrine escorted her down the stone pathway to the Uber waiting to take her to her girlfriend's apartment. "You have mistaken her admiration for hatred. It is easy to do so with her; she is not very expressive to those outside of the coven. Perhaps you may need to take a step back and evaluate your situation more if that is what you believe."

"Still..." Cordelia paused by the door of the Uber, her fingers resting lightly on the handle. "Why? No one else in the Ashfield coven is supporting me."

"That I can't tell you." Citrine shrugged, but it was a graceful move on her where it would be jarring normally. "Maybe she just likes your hair."