I take a deep breath, but it only makes me shake. The air tastes salty, just like the cologne. Just like Wolfe.
I look out over the crowd and find Ivy. She’s staring at me, her eyes wide. As soon as I see her, my vision blurs and my throat aches. And before I know what’s happening, she rushes onto the stage and pulls me into her arms.
“What did you see?” she whispers in my hair, holding me so close no one else can hear.
“A memory. With him.”
I can’t help the tears falling down my face now, and I tremble in Ivy’s arms.
“Listen to me. Do you want out of this? Tell me now.” Her words are clear and concise. Urgent.
“Yes.”
I feel her magic as it leaves her system, overwhelming me at once. The same soothing magic she puts in her nighttime tea swims in my head. The world spins, my eyelids get heavy, and I can no longer support my weight.
I collapse in Ivy’s arms as the world goes black.
* * *
I wake up in the same room I got ready in. Ivy is sitting next to me, tapping her polished nails on a porcelain teacup.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice groggy.
The tapping stops.
“You got sick and passed out. At least, that’s what everyone thinks.”
I slowly sit up. My head is pounding and my throat is dry. Ivy hands me a cup of tea.
The image from the copper basin comes rushing back to me, so vivid and real. I believe what I saw, the way my eyes were wide with wonder, the way my tears fell from amazement. I believe how deeply dark magic spoke to me and how it made me feel completely at home.
I understand why I was willing to give up this life for a different one. I don’t want to walk away from this, from my family and my coven and Ivy. But maybe this was never the life that was meant for me.
“What happens now?”
“Everyone is still out there. Your mother said you didn’t eat enough earlier and that the Covenant will happen at the top of the hour.”
I strain my eyes to read the clock on the wall. “That’s in thirty minutes.”
“You need to figure out what you’re going to do. You know how it works—you have to go through the Covenant and make your choice. Blood in the basin or blood in the water.”
I close my eyes. The Covenant isn’t only for show; our magic is bound to it. If we don’t go through the ritual, it becomes erratic and violent.
I have to make a choice.
“I know.”
My mother walks into the room, relief crossing her face when she sees that I’m awake. “How are you feeling, darling?”
“Better,” I say. Then I remember the moonflower floating in the basin, and I know I can’t put it off any longer. “Ivy, would you mind getting me a bite to eat? Just something small?”
“Of course, I’ll be right back.”
I wait until Ivy is out of the room, then look at my mother. “How can we practice magic if there are no moonflowers on the island?”
“Tana,” she says, exasperated. “We don’t have time for this.”
“I need to know.” I need to hear you say it. I need you to trust me.
My mother considers me for a moment, but I won’t back down, and she must know it because she sighs and sits next to me. “Tana, what I’m about to tell you must remain secret. You can never repeat this to a single soul, not to Ivy or Landon or even your father. Do you understand me?”
“I understand.”
She closes her eyes, and for a moment I think she’s not going to tell me. Then she speaks. “The moonflower is the source of all magic; we cannot practice without it. It’s most potent in its natural state, and dark magic is only possible with the physical flower. The council decided years ago, when the new order was formed, that moonflowers would be banished from the island and that we would perpetuate the belief that they are poisonous to witches. If there are no moonflowers on the island and witches believe them to be deadly, there is no chance anyone can practice dark magic.”
“But if the flower is required for all magic, how are we able to practice?”
“We keep a low level of moonflower extract in the Witchery’s water supply. It isn’t strong enough to be used for dark magic, but it’s enough to keep the magic going in our veins. It’s enough to sustain our way of life.”
It’s exactly what I wanted to hear, confirming what Wolfe told me, but it doesn’t make me feel better the way I hoped it would. It doesn’t make me feel trusted or like I’m part of the inner workings of my island. It makes me feel foolish because I believed her lies.
“Dad doesn’t know?” I ask, hating the way my voice shakes.
“No. Three of the seven council members know, including myself, and now you. That’s it, and that’s how it must stay.”
“Does the governor know?”
“Absolutely not. The mainlanders believe the flowers are deadly to witches, and it is imperative that they continue to believe that.”
I want to argue, to dive in and ask how she could perpetuate such a lie, ask why she doesn’t trust our coven to make the right choices if she believes in this life so much, but the words get lost somewhere inside me.
I sit up straighter, nod, and look at my mother. “I will not share this with anyone—I swear it. Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re welcome. I know my obligations to this coven have made certain aspects of our relationship difficult at times, and for that I’m sorry. But out of every role I’ve ever played, being your mother is my favorite.” She squeezes my hand then clears her throat, the moment passing by me too soon. “Now, let’s move on to your Covenant. Are you ready to proceed?”
“I am,” I say.
She gives me a tight hug, then leaves the room, passing Ivy on her way out.
Ivy sets down a porcelain plate filled with tea sandwiches, but I’m too nauseated to eat. I walk to the window and look at everyone standing on the lawn, drinking and chatting as if all is well. “Ivy, I know you just got back, but would you mind sending Landon in here?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Why, what happened? What are you about to do?”
“Just send him in.”
She watches me for a breath, then leaves, and a moment later, the door creaks open. “You gave us all quite the scare,” Landon says as he gently shuts the door behind him. He sounds nervous.
“I’m sorry. Other than being embarrassed, I’m fine.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
I motion him over, and Landon sits down on the couch beside me. I lightly take his hand, and he looks down at it with a confused expression.
“Landon, I can’t marry you.” Once the words are out of my mouth, the heaviness I’ve been carrying begins to ease. I take a deep breath.
He studies me as if trying to discern how serious I am. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to worry that you will fear me our whole marriage. I don’t want you to have to try to love me.”
“I value honesty; that’s why I said those things. But this marriage has never been about love. It has always been about duty, and that comes first. It must come first.”
I look down, because he’s voicing something I used to believe about myself, that duty mattered more than anything else. I was wrong. “But it doesn’t come first. Not for me.”
Landon shakes his head, pulling his hand from mine. “Tana, I will treat you well. I will do right by you and our families. I will swim with you and teach you to ride and help you build a life on the mainland. You and I have been walking the same path our entire lives, carrying the same expectation. We understand each other. This is a foundation we can build a fulfilling life upon.”
“I know you would treat me well. That has never been a question,” I say. “You think you understand me because of the role I’m meant to play, but I’m more than that. I want to be more than that.”
He exhales, heavy and loud. “What more is there?”
The memory surges in my mind, images of powerful magic and intense glances and fragile touches, a love so strong it broke every restraint I’d ever put on myself. “So much more.”