“Nothing,” I say, turning back to him. “Are we done?”
“Done?” he says, laughing. “That was just a warm-up. Ready for the main event?” His eyes don’t move from my face, challenging me, daring me to follow wherever he wants to take me.
I shiver and push down the fear that turns in my stomach. I can do this. And if I do this, I can live.
“I’m ready,” I say.
eleven
The ocean spreads out in front of us, reaching as far into the darkness as I can see. The tide is low, and we walk far enough out that there are fewer rocks and softer sand. The shore is wet and shines in the light of the moon.
The water seems infinite.
“Don’t you think manipulating the tides feels a little extreme? I mean, can magic even do that?”
Wolfe raises an eyebrow. “Our magic can.”
I don’t miss the disdain in his voice. The judgment.
“You act as if you’re better than I am because you practice ‘high magic,’ but you’re not. The only reason you’re even able to practice that magic is because the new witches have convinced the mainlanders it doesn’t exist anymore.”
Wolfe takes a step toward me. He’s several inches taller than I am, and I have to look up in order to meet his eyes.
“We convinced you we don’t exist anymore. We live on our own, hidden from view, so that we can maintain our way of life. We have to live in the shadows because your weak, fear-driven ancestors were all too willing to give up who they were to appease the masses. You’re all a bunch of cowards.” His voice is low and rough, and his eyes never leave mine.
I lean closer to him. “If we hadn’t created the new order, your ancestors would have been killed and you would never have been born. You owe your life to us.”
“I owe you nothing.”
“Then why are you here?” I demand, daring him to answer. We stare at each other, breathing heavy and red with anger. Then he shakes his head and shoves a hand through his hair before taking a step back and turning away from me. I have so many questions, want so badly to understand his life on this island, but what I need now is to focus on surviving.
“Do you want to live or not?” he finally asks.
“I want to live.”
“Then let’s get rid of that magic.”
I follow him in silence, trying to swallow my anger and questions so I can get through the night. The next nine days.
When we reach the water, he turns to me. “This requires a lot of magic. It’s an intermediate spell that I don’t expect you to be able to perform. But trying something this intense will require a steady rush of magic, and we’ll work at it until you’re safe again.”
“Thank you.”
He nods once and turns back to the sprawling sea. “Kneel down. It will help you form a stronger connection to the water.”
I sink down into the sand and put my hands in the ocean. Wolfe kneels beside me and does the same.
“I want you to concentrate on the feel of the water. Its temperature, its viscosity, its grittiness. Breathe it into your lungs and taste it on your lips. This water is in you—find it and bind it to the water around you.”
It’s an extension of what we did earlier with the wind, what I do every day in the perfumery. It should be easy, connecting the place I feel most at peace to the magic inside me, but the ocean is so vast. It’s so powerful.
“I can feel it inside me, but I don’t know how to tie it to the sea.”
“Imagine that your body is totally permeable. The water isn’t going around you; it’s moving through you. It isn’t outside of you, it’s in you. Speak your intentions out loud and invite it in.”
I never speak when practicing magic; the new order is softer and doesn’t require the power of words. I suddenly feel self-conscious, and I sit up. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s like a prayer,” he says, and something about the way he speaks the words forces my insides to shift around, as if making space for them. “You can say it aloud or think the words to yourself. It’s up to you. But you need to ask the sea to rush into you and seek out your magic.”
“What’s it supposed to feel like?”
“When you feel it, you’ll know.” He watches me, and even though I’m kneeling in cold water, heat spreads through me.
I start again. “Please seek out my magic,” I say. “Please help me.”
I keep my eyes tightly closed, my hands tense in the water, but nothing happens. I don’t feel magic pouring through me; all I feel is a creeping dread that this isn’t going to work, that it is foolish to even try.
“It has to be genuine, Mortana,” Wolfe says beside me. “You have to approach it like it’s something you want, not something you need.”
“But I don’t want it.”
I open my eyes, and he’s suddenly so close to me, his thigh almost touching my own as we kneel in the water. “For just one night, give in to it.” His words are quiet, but my entire body responds as if he’d shouted them at me.
Give in to it.
I gently place my hands back in the water, turning my gaze away from Wolfe before closing my eyes. I take a deep breath of briny air and hold it in my lungs for several seconds. Then I speak.
“Ocean around me, ocean within, touch one to the other, let the magic begin.” I don’t know where the words come from, but they feel natural as they pour from my lips, and I chant them over and over again.
And as I do, the magic inside me wakes.
I’m flooded with relief as magic releases into the space around me, giving the cold night air an energetic buzz, making the water around us stir.
Everything is coming alive.
I am coming alive.
My words get louder and louder, and soon my whole body is filled with power, the way I feel right before the rush.
“Gentle tide, waters low, rise to us now, send us below.” The words fall from my lips of their own accord, and soon my magic follows, flowing out of me with a power I’ve never known. It’s exhilarating and terrifying and confusing, but I keep saying the words because it feels as if something inside me will break if I stop. My body is shaking, and I’m unsure if it’s due to fear or the magic roaring through me.
I am being rewritten, the water around me and the magic inside me carving new paths until the map of who I am looks different.
“Mortana!” Wolfe shouts, grabbing my arm.
I open my eyes just in time to see the water rise and surge toward us. The ocean slams into me, knocking me back. It rushes over my head and I gasp, filling my lungs with salt water. The tide grows higher and higher, and I try desperately to reach the surface, but I can’t.
My chest burns with the need for air, but my body is being tossed every which way, and I can’t get my bearings. I start to choke, and I’m instantly reminded of the time I was caught in a current made by magic, when my father told my mother she was at fault. And now here I am again. It’s a different kind of magic, but drowning feels the same.
I thrash in the water, clawing for the surface, but I don’t know which way is up. I’m frantic for air, but I can’t find it. My muscles are tight and cramping, and my body suddenly feels heavy. So heavy.
I can’t keep fighting. I’m absolutely drained, an exhaustion more intense than after my most powerful rush. Slowly, my muscles relax and I let my eyelids close.
If the sea wants me, it will have me.
My lungs ache for another breath. I can’t get to the surface.
It will be over soon.
I sink lower and lower, the water in my lungs pushing me to the bottom.
I hit the sand, and then an arm wraps around my waist and my eyelids drift open.
Wolfe is holding me against his chest, kicking his legs. Kicking and kicking. I try to move, try to help, but I can’t. Everything goes dark.
Total silence.
Then suddenly I’m choking. I’m sprawled on the beach on my back, water spouting from my mouth like a fountain.