He takes a step back. “You really want to know?”
I nod, unwilling to speak and hear the way my words tremble.
“Then come on.” He shoves the moonflower in his pocket and grabs my hand, dragging me to the shore.
I stumble behind him, trying to keep up. His hand is rough, and his grip is tight but not unpleasant. It’s urgent.
When we get to the shore where the rush happened last night, he drops my hand and points to the sea.
“That’s why,” he says, his voice angry, but all I see is water.
“I don’t understand.”
“Your rushes are destroying this island. You’re killing the animals and ruining our crops, and our shores are getting smaller by the day. Your currents will eat up our entire island before you do anything about it. And who knows what will happen when they start taking down boats and drowning people. Witches are stewards of nature, and look what you’re doing to it.” His voice gets louder and his words come faster, flying through the air like an attack, and they hit me right in my chest because he’s right. “So no, Mortana, I won’t help you with a rush.”
I nod and look out at the sea I love so much. There’s nothing for me to say; I agree with his reasons. They are sound and good.
“You’re right,” I say quietly. “I can’t argue with any of that.”
I shift my bag on my shoulder and look away before the tears break free and roll down my cheeks. I start walking up the beach, wiping my eyes and hoping the boy behind me doesn’t see.
“That’s it?” he calls after me.
I stop walking and slowly turn to face him.
“You’re just going to let yourself die?” He still sounds angry, and I don’t understand.
I look at him but don’t respond. What else is there to say? I asked for his help rushing my magic and he refused. That’s it.
He walks up the beach and stops in front of me. “There’s another way,” he says.
I blink and fight the hope that rises in my chest. “There is?”
His eyes glint, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I can teach you a few spells, enough to get the magic out of your system. You won’t die, and you won’t make the currents any stronger.”
He watches me intently as I process his words. “You mean dark magic. You’ll teach me dark magic.”
“High magic,” he says with annoyance. “And yeah, I’ll teach you enough to get your excess magic out.”
“Why?” I ask, suddenly aware that there’s nothing in it for him.
He pauses and his expression changes. His jaw tenses, and the way he looks at me sends a shiver down my spine. “Because you insulted me when you called me a liar and said I don’t use my magic for good. I want you to have to go back to your fancy house in your protected coven and know with every rise of your chest that the only reason you’re alive is because of the magic you’ve been taught to hate.”
I’m stunned. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
“If you want my help, meet me here at midnight. I won’t offer again,” he says.
Then he’s gone.
ten
It isn’t as hard to get through dinner with my parents as I thought it would be. Certainly not as bad as it would have been had I chosen not to do anything to fix my situation. For better or worse, my mind is made up, and I haven’t second-guessed myself since my walk home.
I want to live, and I don’t think that means I’m disrespecting my magic or the values with which I was raised. I think it means I’m human.
Landon is coming to visit the Witchery tomorrow, and my parents are busy deciding what we should do, where we should go, who we should see. It will be our first public outing on the island, a very strong signal to the other witches that things are about to change. They won’t see us as two young people falling in love for the very first time, star-crossed and shy, hopeful and self-conscious.
They will see us as a walking alliance. A safety net. A vow of protection.
They will see us as the brilliant end to a game we started playing generations ago.
A game we’re about to win.
“A picnic,” I say, cutting off my parents.
Mom pulls her lips from her glass, and Dad looks up from his plate.
“What?” my mother asks.
“Landon and I will go on a picnic. I’ll tell you the beach ahead of time, and you can spread that information however you like. Landon and I will be out in public for all to see, but in a place that feels private, with our backs to the island. We need to be able to talk and get to know one another without feeling like we’re being paraded around. This may be about attracting attention for you, but it’s my life.”
My mother nods along until I say the last sentence. Then she opens her mouth to speak, but Dad cuts her off.
“I think that’s a great idea, Tana. We can definitely work with it.”
Mom clears her throat and swallows whatever she was going to say. “Yes, we can work with that.”
“Great.”
I shove back from the table and carry my plate to the kitchen. I rinse it and put it in the sink before filling my glass with water and heading upstairs.
“You’re going to bed already?” Dad asks. He and Mom are still at the table, plates in front of them, drinks half full.
“I’m sorry, I’m just exhausted. It was a long day.”
“It probably wasn’t a good idea to go walking after last night. Get some rest, sweetie,” Mom says.
I nod and walk up the stairs, my parents’ conversation about my picnic with Landon in full swing before I reach the top step. I go to my bathroom and wash my face and brush my teeth, then crawl into bed and anxiously wait for midnight.
* * *
My heart races as I sneak down the back staircase and quietly slip out of the house. This is the most defiant I’ve ever been in my life. I don’t feel guilty about it, though, and I’m not sure why.
Tomorrow’s visit with Landon will bring whispers and watchful eyes, and I’m glad I’m doing this tonight, before everything changes.
When I get to the western shore, Wolfe is waiting for me. My heart beats faster when I see him, fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins, and I force myself to close the distance between us.
“I’m impressed,” he says. “Glad to see you have a survival instinct after all.”
“Do you always have to be this unpleasant?”
“That’s hardly fair. I brought you a flower and everything.” He takes one step closer to me and pulls a moonflower from behind his back.
His eyes sparkle in the moonlight, the color of the waves that crash into the shore. My breath catches, and my hand reaches for the blossom independent of my command.
But he shakes his head. “Not to hold,” he says.
My long hair is blowing in the wind, and Wolfe gently brushes it back, tucking the flower behind my ear.
“There,” he says. “Queen of the dark.”
My hand drifts up and brushes the soft petals. Queen of the dark.
“Are you making fun of me?” I ask, the words quiet. He hasn’t moved back, and we watch each other, close enough to touch.
“It was meant as a joke, but it…it looks nice.” He clears his throat and takes a step back.
My cheeks burn and I hope he can’t see the heat that’s spreading across my skin. The petals feel like velvet against my fingertips, and the question I haven’t been able to let go of since last night tumbles around in my mind. Why doesn’t it hurt?
I bring my hand down to my side, ignoring the question for now. There are more pressing matters.
“Can we just get this over with?” I ask, forcing my voice to stay steady.
“Whatever my queen commands,” he says, bowing, his tone ensuring I know I’m being made fun of this time. I shake my head.
“What do I need to do?”
“I thought we’d play with the tides,” he says. It’s impossible to miss the way his eyes light up when he says it, the way his voice lifts in anticipation. He’s disagreeable, his face nothing but hard lines and sharp edges, his voice constantly laced with annoyance, and yet beneath it all is a boy who deeply loves his magic.
I suppose that’s one thing we have in common.