“I’m Galen, Wolfe’s father. Welcome to our coven.” He extends his hand to me, and I take it, noticing he wears a ring almost identical to Wolfe’s.
“Thank you.” My words come out quiet and shaky. An entire world has been opened up to me that I know nothing about, and it calls everything into question. My coven is so close to getting what we’ve always wanted, and the manor I’m standing in threatens to undo it all. How could we not know they exist?
“I’m aware this is a lot to take in,” Galen says. “We like to keep ourselves hidden. I’m sure you understand why.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Since the new order of magic became the standard. When your coven formed, almost all the witches joined, leaving very few who kept to the old order. We shared the island for a while, but as the years went on, the new witches realized that if the mainland found out high magic was still being practiced, it would compromise everything. So we met with the council and formed a somewhat tenuous alliance. We agreed to remove ourselves from the community of the island and stay hidden, and they agreed to keep our secret. That was generations ago. Over time, the new witches began to think of us more as myth than anything else. But we’re still here, practicing high magic.”
“Why, though? Why choose to live like this?”
“Where else are we to go? The mainland?”
I’m quiet because he’s right. Magic is forbidden on the mainland, and the consequences if anyone found out they were there would be severe. It’s safer for them to practice magic on the Witchery, even if it means hiding themselves away.
“How are there so many of you?”
“There used to be a lot more of us,” Galen says. He doesn’t sound nervous or unsure as he answers my questions, not the way Wolfe does. He is casual and warm with no hint of severity. Their secrets don’t seem as hard for him to carry as they are for Wolfe. “We gain new members occasionally; there are still descendants of the original witch on the mainland, and when they realize they have magic, they tend to find their way to us. And when someone from the new coven denounces low magic at their Covenant Ball, we take them in. And of course there are many families within our coven, and they have children. The truth is that we can’t survive forever, not without more members joining us, but that is a problem for another day.”
How will we be remembered? Wolfe’s words enter my mind, and I’m completely overcome by his devotion to his coven, by his dedication to ensuring that each and every one of the witches in this manor will live on in oil and canvas, long after their bodies have perished.
“I thought anyone who didn’t accept the new order was banished to the mainland,” I say, my voice quiet.
“What else could you assume if you think the old coven no longer exists?”
I nod, feeling foolish that I’m learning more in this dim office than I ever learned in my lessons. “And how do you stave off the illnesses brought on by dark—excuse me—high magic?”
“There are no such illnesses,” Galen says. “That’s a myth to perpetuate the idea that high magic is somehow evil or poisonous. It simply is not true.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, embarrassed to have asked. Embarrassed that I believed it. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive.”
Galen watches me and pulls off his glasses, folding them and placing them on an open book on his desk. “You look a lot like your mother.”
My mouth gets very dry. I swallow. “You know my mother?” The words stick to my throat as I force them out.
“Of course,” Galen says. “This entire island answers to her. It’s my job to know who she is.”
“I see.” I pause before speaking again. “Does she know who you are?”
Galen looks to Wolfe before looking back at me. “It would seem she does not, given your reaction to seeing our home.”
I remember fainting, and my cheeks turn a darker shade of red.
“Sit down, both of you.” Galen motions to a large black couch next to the fireplace. My heart is calm and my breathing is even, and I’m too distracted to figure out what that means.
“Mortana, I’m glad my son met you. And you’re welcome here anytime, but this will get very complicated for you very quickly. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
Galen settles in a chair across from us, leaning back. “I’m not worried about your coven learning of our existence—our plans require it. But the timing is something I’m sensitive to.”
“Plans?”
“As witches, we are stewards of this Earth. We are healers. And your coven is killing the only home we have. We will not stand by and let that happen.”
I shift in my seat. “You’re talking about the currents,” I say, and for some reason my voice sounds relieved.
Galen nods. “We’re strong enough to do something about it. But we need your coven’s help, and I suspect your mother won’t like that.”
“I suspect she won’t,” I say. The ocean is everything to me, and even before I missed the rush, the violent currents often occupied my thoughts, filled me with worry. We have to do something about them, and I’ve known for a long time that my mother isn’t doing enough.
I’m glad someone intends to do something about it. Maybe that makes me a traitor.
“I support you in that,” I say, looking at Galen.
“You do?” he asks, raising his brows. Shadows from the fire dance over his face.
“Yes. I won’t tell my mother about your existence until you decide to do it yourself.” I pause and take a deep breath, looking Galen in the eye. “But if you do anything to hurt a single person I care about, I’ll turn the full force of the mainland against you.”
Galen watches me for several moments before a large smile spreads across his face. “I believe you. And you have my word.”
“Good.”
“Well, I’m glad we got that settled, as it seems my son has a hard time staying away from you.”
I look down, but Wolfe levels his dad with an icy stare. “Thanks for that.”
“Anytime, son,” he says, standing. “Mortana, it was a pleasure meeting you.” Galen reaches out his hand, and I stand and take it.
“The pleasure was mine.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing you again,” he says, and the certainty in his voice, his absolute confidence that I’ll be back, sends a chill down my spine. “Until then, enjoy the ceremony.”
He places a hand on Wolfe’s shoulder and walks out of the study, leaving a million questions in his wake.
twenty-three
“What ceremony?” I turn to Wolfe, my voice urgent. My mind is overwhelming me with images of dark rituals and darker magic, urgent chanting and too-powerful spells, and I’m suddenly terrified of what I’ve walked into. Of what he brought me here for.
“A vow renewal,” he says.
“What kind of vow?” My words are angry, accusatory, and panic tightens my chest.
Wolfe raises an eyebrow, amusement tugging at his mouth. “Marital vows.”
“What?” I ask, the words not making sense. All the fight drains out of me.
“What were you expecting? Did you think I brought you here for some kind of blood oath, or perhaps a sacrifice? Oh, I know—maybe we were going to reach into the underworld and summon cruel spirits from the pits of hell to stalk the Witchery. Or maybe we were going to plant horrible nightmares in the minds of the mainlanders to make them turn on you for good. Or maybe—”
“Can you do that?” I ask, cutting him off, completely horrified.
Wolfe looks at me as if my face has turned inside out. “Of course not! My god, what are they teaching you over there?”
I shrug, not finding the thought nearly as outlandish as he does. “They don’t teach us much about the inner workings of dark magic; it leaves a lot of room for our imaginations to run wild, I suppose.” Wolfe closes his eyes and takes a long, deep breath when I use the phrase dark magic. “Sorry, high magic.”
“Mortana, I swear—”
“I said I was sorry,” I say, holding my hands up.
There’s a knock on the door, and Galen pokes his head in. “We’re about to start.”
Wolfe nods, and the door shuts, leaving us in private once again.