“You must be misinformed. I’m a practitioner of low magic,” I say, gripping my goblet too tightly.
“Sure you are,” she says. “I was, too, many years ago.” She clinks her glass against mine and takes a drink, and then someone calls out for her. “It was nice meeting you, Mortana.”
I’m left staring after her, her words replaying in my mind. To my knowledge, Jasmine Blake was the last witch to leave the new order, choosing the outside during her Covenant Ball. A choice must be made, and once it is, it’s final. That’s why the Covenant is so important. Besides the rush, it is the most powerful magic we do, an irrevocable oath that follows us to the grave.
I am too young to remember Jasmine’s Covenant Ball, but year after year, our witches choose the new order. It’s hard to imagine what a ceremony would look like if someone chose the outside, the kind of anger and chaos it would evoke.
The music stops, and everyone makes their way to their seats. I know Wolfe told me there were more than seventy witches here, but seeing them all in one place, dressed up and laughing and talking, overwhelms me.
Seventy-three, and we had no idea.
“Are you okay?” Wolfe says, and I jump at the sound of his voice. I didn’t see him walk over.
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask.
Before he can respond, Galen walks up to the iron arch and the ceremony begins. I quickly take my seat next to Wolfe, spinning my glass in my hand, nervous energy humming inside me, refusing to move on.
Wolfe reaches over and places his hand on top of mine, stopping the glass in my fingers. He lowers my hand to my lap, his skin cool. My breath catches, and I don’t hear a word Galen says, too focused on the way a single touch can be felt in so many places. I’ve imagined this feeling so many times before, spent so many sleepless nights hoping my life of duty might still create this kind of madness within me, hoping Landon might ignite this kind of fire. But he hasn’t, and in this moment, I’m sure he never could.
I swallow hard, and Wolfe removes his hand from mine.
The music starts again, its deep, vibrant tones drifting on the night air. If I heard this anywhere else, I would think it was meant to evoke sadness, such a stark contrast to the fast, lively pieces at our own weddings. But here it isn’t sad. It’s beautiful and raw and bold. I blink and take a deep breath.
Two women walk down the aisle together, one in a long black gown with a full tulle skirt and fitted bodice, the other in a tight dress covered in black gemstones, her train reflecting the moonlight. Their fingers are woven together, and they stop in front of Galen.
They speak to each other of love and commitment, loyalty and patience, understanding and grace, and I’m overcome by the beauty of it, the emotions I’m experiencing for two people I’ve never met. The ceremony feels real in a way so many things in my world don’t. I raise my hand to my eye, fighting back tears, and I notice Wolfe shift in his chair, moving closer to me.
Closer.
I try to focus on what’s happening in front of me, but the music and the ceremony and the waves crashing on the shore fade away, fade to nothing. All I can hear is my blood pulsing in my ears, my shallow breaths, my too-fast heart.
By the time the women kiss, I think I might snap in half from the tension in my body, from the way every single muscle is straining. The women walk hand-in-hand to the water, saying something I can’t make out. Then, all at once, the moonflowers rise into the air and rush up the lawn, swirling all around us like autumn leaves. The music gets louder and louder, the women kiss once more, and the flowers vanish.
In unison, the witches around me say, “May your love be as constant as the tide, as powerful as the moonflower, and as patient as the winter seed. Blessings.”
Then applause and cheers break out. I stay in my seat, watching as people hug and kiss, as conversations start and laughter flows.
I wonder what my wedding to Landon will look like, if there will be even a fraction of the intimacy and joy I’ve seen tonight. But as soon as I think it, I know there won’t be. The wedding won’t be for Landon and me; it will be for show, a production meant for everyone in attendance.
“What are you thinking about?”
I turn to Wolfe, and he’s watching me intently. It isn’t his fault that doubt has crept into the edges of my mind, that uncertainty is clawing at my insides, that for the first time in my life, I’m thinking about what I want instead of what’s expected. But I take it out on him anyway.
“I’m thinking that I want to go home.” I drop my glass to the earth and rush back to Galen’s study, tearing off the gray lace dress and replacing it with my own clothes. I need to get out of here, get back to solid ground.
“Get this off,” I say when Wolfe finds me, motioning to my face. His hand reaches for mine, and I step away. “Please.”
“Okay.” My face cools with his magic, and I instantly miss what it felt like to be in his world, to look the part.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, but it’s an impossible question to answer. Everything. Everything is wrong.
I see a large wooden door carved with silhouettes of moonflowers, and I know I’ve found my exit. I force it open, the door groaning on its hinges, and hurry out into the night.
twenty-four
Wolfe follows me to the edge of the trees behind the manor. I can see the path in the distance that will lead me home.
“Why did you bring me here tonight?” I ask again, facing him.
He looks at me intently, his eyes never leaving mine. “Because you’re trying to force yourself into a box you don’t fit in. This is the life you were taught to despise,” he says, pointing to the manor behind us, his voice rising. “We aren’t a bunch of evil witches chanting in circles and conspiring with the devil. We’re a family. We laugh and have hopes and fears and dreams, just like you do. We farm and raise our children and try our best to protect this Earth.”
“It isn’t that simple—”
“Yes, it is. This is a life, Mortana. A vibrant, full life.” His words are urgent and loud and angry.
“And what do you want me to do about it?” I yell, at a total loss for what this life could ever mean for me. “There is no place for me here.”
Wolfe grabs my hand and closes the space between us. “There is a life for you here, a life where you can be everything you’re afraid of being.” He looks down at me, his breaths filling the air and colliding with my own. He searches my face, his gaze so intense I can feel it on my skin, feel it in my core.
He permeates everything, every belief and doubt and question I’ve ever had about myself. When I look at him, I see the person I want to be, the potential of a life lived on my own terms.
And it hurts.
It hurts.
Hot tears prick at my eyes, and I swallow them down. “That’s where you’re wrong,” I say, the words shaking as they come out of my mouth. “There has only ever been one life for me.”
Rain starts falling from the black sky, and I’m soaked in seconds. I pull my hand from Wolfe’s. “I have to go.”
I turn to leave, but Wolfe catches my wrist and pulls me back, and I crash into him just like the first night we met. I’m scared to look up at him but even more scared not to. I lift my gaze, and he puts his hands on either side of my face, his wet fingers weaving into my hair.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he says.
I put my hands over his and close my eyes, feel the way his breath tickles my skin and his fingers spark a flame that burns all through my body. I imagine pushing my lips against his and practicing his magic and allowing myself to be all the things he thinks I’m capable of being.