“I don’t know. I don’t understand what happened.” I pause. “How is Ivy?”
“Ivy had finally fallen asleep by the time I left. She’s confused and angry. Her life is tainted with darkness, and it will take time for her to recover from that.”
I want to tell her it isn’t true, tell her that Wolfe saved my life using the same magic I used on Ivy and it didn’t awaken a darkness in me. If anything, it brightened everything, bathed it all in the light of the moon.
“It isn’t tainted, though. There was a time when that was the only kind of magic we practiced—”
“And it was poison,” my mother says, cutting me off. “Magic was never meant to be used in that way. You know that, and so does Ivy. She might never forgive you.”
I nod. I will spend the rest of my life trying to earn her forgiveness. I will. But I also think Ivy will realize she is the same as she has always been, bright and brilliant, and I cling to that hope. “What about her parents?”
“They’re in a very tough position. No one wants their child infected with dark magic. They will watch her, constantly worried about the ways it will infiltrate her daily life.” Mom takes a big breath, pauses, then slowly exhales. “But right now, Rochelle and Joseph are focusing on the fact that their daughter is alive.”
I breathe out. I think it for the hundredth time tonight: I’m so glad she’s alive.
“Tana,” my mother says, the sternness I’ve been waiting for finally entering her voice, “your actions have consequences.” She lets her words hang in the space between us. “Later today, once we’ve all gotten some rest, we’ll discuss what you did tonight and how you knew to do it. And I will not tolerate dishonesty.” She rubs her eyes. “Then we will discuss the ramifications of your choices, of which there are many.”
She stands up and reaches her hand out to my father. He takes it and stands as well.
“It’s been a long night. Get some sleep.”
My parents walk to the staircase, but I stop them.
“Mom?”
She turns to look at me.
“If it had been me…” I don’t know how to finish the sentence, but my mother seems to understand what I’m asking.
“None of us knows how to use dark magic, Tana. I wouldn’t have been able to save you. But if someone else had made that choice for me, the way you did with Ivy?” She shakes her head. “It would be very difficult for me not to feel indebted to that person for the rest of my life.”
Tears fill my eyes and I nod.
She turns and heads up the stairs with my father, and I sink back into the couch and watch the sunrise through the large windows.
The last time I watched a sunrise, I was sure I was going to die. The sky came alive with pinks and oranges, and I tried so hard to accept my fate.
But I wasn’t successful, and it changed everything.
I’ve made a spectacular mess of my life, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to pretend my time with Wolfe didn’t happen, that it didn’t fundamentally change me, altering the atoms and cells in my body until they called back to a different star.
I don’t know how to stop wanting him or his magic.
Because what I can never say out loud, can never think of again, is that it felt right, more natural to me than making any perfume or soap. It wrapped me up in its power and whispered you’re home, just like the depths of the ocean. It made me feel like I was worth something, like I was worth everything. Like all the questions I’ve ever asked about myself were finally answered.
And I don’t know how to come back from that.
That, more than anything else that has happened during this disastrous month, is what terrifies me the most. Because I will be forced to make a choice. I will be forced to look at the life I didn’t choose and weigh it against the life I dream about when the Witchery sleeps.
And if this past month has taught me anything, it’s that when it comes to Wolfe Hawthorne, I never make the right choice.
It isn’t until I’m in my bedroom changing for bed that I notice the long silver necklace Wolfe gave me still hanging from my neck, tucked beneath my dress, resting over my heart. I hold it up, rolling it around in my fingers.
And there, through the filigree, are the white petals of a moonflower.
twenty-six
My mother goes to Ivy’s house once we’ve all slept, but I’m forbidden from coming. Ivy doesn’t want to see me. I did everything I could to save her life, gave up everything, and I lost her anyway.
I’m waiting by the door when Mom walks back in. She hangs up her coat and slips off her cashmere gloves, giving me a sideways glance.
“She’s back to normal,” my mother says. “Whatever you did, it completely healed her.” She says it with no emotion, because it isn’t something to celebrate. Not to her.
“Will she ever want to see me again?”
I follow her into the kitchen, where Dad is pouring two glasses of wine. I sit at the kitchen island and wait for her to answer.
“I don’t know, Tana. She’s still torn up over it.” She takes a long pull of her wine, then gently sets the glass down. “The good news is that Ivy’s parents have agreed to keep this a secret, contingent upon several things. But before we get into that, I need to know exactly what happened last night.”
I shift in my seat, turning to face my mother. I tell her exactly what I told my dad, that the nighthawk flew up to the window almost like an offering and something in my gut took over. I wasn’t thinking, I was doing.
My dad reiterates what he said to me last night, his theory that the buildup of magic in my system could have contributed to my actions. My mom listens to him thoughtfully, her expression giving nothing away. She tilts her head to the side, looking between Dad and me.
“This can never happen again,” she says to me. “It should have never happened in the first place. New witches don’t just stumble upon dark magic, Tana. It must be learned.” She pauses, seemingly thinking of something else. “Why did you bring up the moonflower yesterday?”
Goose bumps rise along my skin, and for a moment, my mind goes blank. I don’t know what to say, so I repeat my words from the day before. “I saw a flower that looked like one,” I say. “I was just curious. Why?”
I watch her, Wolfe’s words sliding into my mind, unwelcome. I really wish your mother had told you the truth.
She shakes her head and says, “It’s nothing.”
And with those two words, I know that Wolfe was right. She knows. A sob threatens to escape my mouth, and I force it back down, fighting to keep my composure. Her expression never slips, not even a flinch, and it breaks my heart.
I don’t say anything.
“If there’s more to what happened, I’ll find out about it. You know I will. But for now, we need to talk about the consequences.”
I take a breath. “Tell me.”
“First, you are to take a hiatus from your magic. At the end of every day, you will pour your magic into the scraps at the shop so it doesn’t build up. You will not make any new perfumes or soaps. Your only displays of magic for the foreseeable future will be draining it at the end of every day and during the full moon.”
“Mom,” I say, her words strangling me, sucking all the air from my lungs. “Please. Please don’t take it away. My magic is everything.”
“No, sweetie, not anymore.” Her eyes are sad—at least, I think they are from what I can see through my tears.
“Second, you will remain under constant supervision by your father or me until the wedding.”
I stop breathing. “The wedding?”
“Which brings me to the third contingency. You will announce your engagement to Landon at the harvest celebration.”
“But that’s next weekend,” I say, my voice rising. “It’s too soon.”
My mother holds her hand up to silence me. “And the wedding will now take place at your Covenant Ball.”
I stand up and back away. “No,” I say, shaking my head. “No.”