Wolfe nods. “Then you’re welcome.”
We walk back toward the main beach, out of the cover of the trees, and I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.
Then every part of me freezes with panic. Mrs. Wright is walking along the beach, humming to herself, her dog a few yards in front of her. She’s on the council with my mother, and I stare in horror as she gets closer. A cloud drifts in front of the moon, shrouding Wolfe and me in darkness.
But soon she will see us.
Suddenly, my body takes over. I sense the breeze over the sea and latch on to it, building it up until it’s a strong wind. I send it barreling off the water, sea spray suspended in the air, covering the beach in a hazy mist that moves straight toward Mrs. Wright.
“A breeze to a gale, fresh off the sea, more distance is needed, walk away from me.” I frantically whisper the words under my breath over and over, hoping they’re enough.
“Oh my,” Mrs. Wright says, so close I can hear her.
A few more steps and she’ll see us.
I kick up more wind, ready to send her way, but Wolfe collides with me, sending us flying into a thicket of long grass and overgrown shrubs. He lands right on top of me.
“What was that?” I hear Mrs. Wright say. Her dog runs over, sniffing at the grass, but as soon as it gets here, it whines and runs away. Wolfe holds a finger to his lips, and I can feel his chest expanding against my own, our breaths tangling in the space between us.
I push one more strong gust of wind her way, and it’s enough to send Mrs. Wright back the way she came. I hear her muttering about unpredictable weather, and then her voice fades to nothing.
My heart beats against my ribs so violently I’m afraid it might break free.
Wolfe is still on top of me, making it hard to breathe.
The clouds continue their march across the sky, and the moon comes out of hiding once again. It pours its pale blue light over Wolfe, over his disheveled hair and gray eyes, illuminating his expression. Illuminating the way his gaze finds my lips.
All I can think about is closing the space between us. I want to know what he feels like; I want to know how he tastes. I want to know all these things that are forbidden to me.
I almost do it. I almost close my eyes and touch my lips to his, but then I think of my parents’ expectations and Landon’s sea glass, my ancestors’ sacrifices and Ivy’s belief in me.
And I can’t do it.
I want it more than I’ve maybe ever wanted anything, but I can’t do it.
I clear my throat and roll to the side, but I don’t stand up. Instead, I stay on my back and look up at the stars.
Wolfe does the same.
“You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you.” I turn to him, but he doesn’t look at me. He keeps his eyes on the waxing moon, on the sparkling starlight.
“What is it?” I ask, terrified of what he might say. I think about my early days in the perfumery, infusing feelings into scents. I never had to work at it. And I think about how nothing, not even making perfumes, has ever come as easily to me as pulling the wind from the sea.
“What you just did is impossible for a witch of the new order. You shouldn’t have been able to do it.” He pauses. “Do you know what that tells me?”
I’m silent. I don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t blink. I wait for his answer, afraid it might shatter my whole world.
“You’re practicing the wrong magic.”
And I’m right. It does.
sixteen
Main Street is bustling with tourists, a sea of scarves blowing in the autumn breeze and gloved hands holding warm beverages. The maples are changing, the green and yellow leaves morphing into shades of deep orange and bloodred. The cobbles are wet from the recent rain, but today is clear and bright, and the sunlight catches the raindrops that rest on the foliage and vines.
Ivy’s arm is looped through mine, and we follow my mother as she weaves her way through the tourists. I love seeing the paper bags dangling from their hands, seeing the way our island is thriving, the way our magic is being appreciated. I’m scared by how easily it could fall apart.
You’re practicing the wrong magic.
I shake my head and banish the words. The right magic is the magic that protects us. That lets us live freely and openly. That guarantees the safety of our children.
“Hey, where are you?” Ivy asks, bringing me back to the present.
“Sorry, I’m here.”
Ivy rolls her eyes. “Give my regards to Wolfe.”
“Ivy!” I say, hoping I sound harsh. “Don’t say his name anywhere near my mother. And I wasn’t thinking about him.”
“Whatever you say. Just…” She slows her steps, distancing us from my mom.
I look at her. “Say what you need to say.”
“This is your heart on the line, Tana. I just want you to be careful.” She doesn’t start walking again after she says it. Instead, she swallows and twists her hands.
“And?”
“And it’s Landon’s heart, too.” The words are so quiet I have to lean in to hear them.
“I don’t know about that,” I say under my breath, then instantly regret the words.
“What do you mean?”
I shake my head and start walking again, but Ivy stops me. “Forget I said anything. It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“It’s just something he said about duty mattering more than anything else. He said he couldn’t promise me love.”
“Did you ask for that?”
“No, of course not,” I say. “I just asked that he be open to it. I guess I always thought that once we began our courtship, there would be a spark.” I shrug. “I realize how silly that sounds now.”
My mother is far ahead of us, and we start walking again, Ivy’s arm looped through mine once more.
“It isn’t silly. I don’t know how anyone could spend an extended amount of time with you and not fall completely in love. He’ll be a fool for you one day; just give it time.”
I smile at the words, but my stomach is tight, because as much as I want to believe her, I don’t think I do. I squeeze her arm; the weight of her next to me feels good, anchoring me to this world and this magic and this life. She’s trying to protect me, and I’m grateful for it. We all need protection at some point, and I think this is mine.
Because sometimes, in the middle of the night when the Witchery is sleeping, I feel myself slipping away. Slipping away to darker magic and broken rules, to the western shore and a boy who’s sharp and beautiful, like raw crystal pulled from the earth.
And I don’t want to slip away. So I cling to Ivy a little tighter than necessary as we catch up to my mother.
“Ready, girls?” she asks, stopping in front of Ms. Talbot’s dress shop.
“Let’s find a dress,” I reply. My mother nods in approval, then sweeps into Satin & Silk like the autumn breeze down Main Street.
“Hello, Ms. Talbot,” she says. We have the shop to ourselves. Mom set up a private appointment so that she, Ivy, Ms. Talbot, and me would be the only people to see the dress before the ball. It seems a little excessive to me, but I’m happy to go along with it. I’ve been looking forward to the ball my whole life.
Every witch has their own ball the night of their twentieth birthday because it is the individual that makes our coven strong. With each witch who renounces dark magic and commits themself to the new order, we get stronger. We get more stable. We get closer to the life we’re striving for.
And my ball will seal that life with the announcement of my engagement to Landon.
My mother is right: I need the perfect dress.
“Well, Tana, this is very exciting indeed,” Ms. Talbot says as she brings out a pot of tea and three teacups.
We sit down on an ivory tufted sofa that faces a raised platform with a wall of mirrors on the other side. The room is immaculate and bright, and sunlight streams in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, making the gilded mirrors glisten.