“I love it.” I smile at my dad, and he squeezes my shoulder before taking a sip of tea.
“Okay, why don’t we go over the schedule for the day? Ivy will be here at noon to get you ready for your Covenant, which will start promptly at four. Mainlanders will be arriving on the island all day for the wedding, but Landon and his parents will be the only ones permitted at your Covenant. Once the ball is over, you’ll go back to the main house, where you’ll get changed for the wedding. The ceremony will begin promptly at sunset on the eastern shore, followed by the reception.”
I nod along with her words, having memorized the schedule from the previous times she’s gone over it with me. It sits heavy on me, knowing so much of my life is about to change. By the end of the day, I’ll be bound to my coven for life, an irrevocable tie that can never be broken.
And I’ll be Landon’s wife, binding my coven to the mainland, another tie that can’t be undone.
It’s terrifying and exciting and monumental, and I hope I can get through both ceremonies with the grace and poise required for such occasions. At least Ivy will be there helping me, gently guiding me when I’m not quite sure what to do.
Between her and my mother, I’ll be fine. I know I will be.
“I’m ready,” I tell my mom, making sure my nerves don’t edge their way into my voice. I want to sound calm and controlled and strong, all the things she would be if she were in my place. All the things she is.
“I know you are, honey,” she says, pulling me into a hug.
The three of us drink our tea and watch the sky until it’s a vibrant shade of blue, a clear, crisp day that’s perfect for vows and promises and change.
When we’re finished, I set my teacup on the tray and fold the blanket.
“Now it’s time for the best part of the day,” my dad says in a mischievous voice. “Cinnamon rolls.”
My mom swats him on the shoulder and laughs. “Hardly.”
“I don’t know, Mom. His cinnamon rolls are pretty excellent,” I say, following my parents inside. “I’d bind myself to them for the rest of my life if I could.”
They laugh, and I touch the vial hanging from my neck, already a part of me that I never want to be without.
Today will be a good day, one to remember for the rest of my life. History in the making.
I can do this.
* * *
I watch nervously through the window as the council readies the lawn for my Covenant. My mom rushes around with a pencil tucked behind her ear and her notebook held firmly in her hands, passing out orders as if they’re hors d’oeuvres.
Ivy pulls me away from the window and motions to a pale pink velvet chair. We’re in an old manor house that was converted for events years ago, and the entire room is ornate. Gold botanical wallpaper brightens the space, and a white grand piano sits in the corner, reflecting the light from outside. A fire dances in the white marble fireplace, and a large, gilded mirror hangs above the mantel. Dozens of plants line the windowsills and snake down the wall, and I gently take a leaf between my fingers.
“Sit. We aren’t done yet,” Ivy says, swirling a brush in a rose-colored powder from Mrs. Rhodes’s beauty shop. Ivy had me ready hours ago, but she finds applying makeup without magic soothing, much like my dad keeps magic out of the kitchen. I’m overwhelmed by the number of witches who have offered up their goods, wanting to be part of the ceremony in some way. Mrs. Rhodes’s makeup and Ms. Talbot’s dress and Mr. Lee’s shoes and even Ivy’s Tandon blend.
“It’s actually pretty good,” I say, starting on my second cup.
“I told you I wouldn’t let you down.” She tilts my face toward the window and studies her work. We still haven’t talked about the night I saved her life, but it’s in the room with us, occupying the moments of heavy silence and empty laughs.
I feel it the same way I feel the shadows where my memories used to be, following me around every second of every day, haunting me for different reasons.
But I know Ivy and I will be okay, because not all the laughs are empty and not all the silence is heavy. We’re still us, standing side by side, walking through the aftermath of my decision together.
“How are you?” Ivy asks. She busies herself with my makeup, but I can feel the weight in her words.
I look over at the door, but it’s still closed, blocking us off from the rest of the world.
“I’m good,” I say, rolling the vial between my fingers. “I feel ready.”
“You do?” I can hear the hope in her voice, and it makes my throat ache, the way she only wants me to be happy, even after everything I put her through.
“Yeah, I do. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I’m proud of the role I get to play. Landon will be a good husband.”
“He will be,” she agrees, and I look at her closely. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it. I want this union to happen as much as your mother and everyone else, but I wouldn’t let you do this if I didn’t think you’d find happiness in it.”
“Thank you,” I say. Ivy goes back to applying my makeup, running the brush over my cheeks again. “And thank you for telling me everything, about the memory eraser and Wolfe. It means a lot to me, more than you will ever know.”
I feel the brush slow against my skin. “You’re welcome,” she says hesitantly. “Are you feeling okay? With all that?”
“I think so. I’m glad I know what happened, but I still don’t remember any of it. It all feels like something that happened to someone else, like a character in a book. I don’t recognize it as my own lived experience.”
Ivy nods, but her eyebrows pinch together, and she purses her lips. “Hey,” I say, putting my hand on top of hers, moving the brush away from my skin and making her meet my eyes. “It was my decision. I’m the one who took it. I’m the one who made the choices that led up to it. This isn’t on you.”
She swallows and takes a heavy breath, then gets back to work. “I know. It’s just that one day, it might be nice to remember those nights that you fully chose for yourself.”
“Maybe,” I say, looking up as she applies something under my eyes. “But why make it harder on myself?”
“Is it hard?” Her voice is casual, but it’s a loaded question.
“That’s not what I meant,” I say quickly.
“It’s okay if it is.”
“It’s not.”
“Okay,” she says, moving to my other side.
She finishes my makeup in silence, then lifts a gold hand mirror from the table and holds it up in front of me.
“You look beautiful,” she says, emotion edging its way into her voice.
“Oh, Ivy, it’s perfect.” She kept my makeup light enough that I still look like myself, but she has rimmed my eyes in black and added deep gray shadow to my lids. I look dramatic and natural and soft and fierce, just like the sea.
“Thank you,” I say.
She helps me into my dress, the gray silk sliding over my skin and trailing on the floor behind me. My hair is down in soft waves, and she gently tucks a comb into place, adorned with pearls and crystals that catch the light.
“We are so lucky to have you,” Ivy says, giving me a soft hug, careful not to smudge my makeup.
“Don’t you dare make me cry. I have a very long day to get through, and if I start now, who knows when I’ll stop.”
“Fair,” she says.
Just then, the door swings open, and my mother rushes in. “Oh, Tana,” she says, coming to a halt when she sees me. Her eyes begin to glisten, and she takes a deep breath before moving closer to me. “You look radiant.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Ready?”
I look to Ivy, and she gives me an encouraging smile. “I’m right behind you,” she says.
I nod and squeeze her hand. Then I turn to my mother.
“I’m ready.”
thirty-nine