“What are they going to do? Expel me?” I asked with a harsh laugh.
All of us knew I would willingly leave if given the choice, but that choice had been taken from me before I’d even been born. There was only one purpose to my birth, to my existence.
The Covenant was too stupid to recognize the viper waiting in the flowers, prepared to strike at this first opportunity.
I fell to my knees as the plants continued to drink, taking only enough blood to carry the magic they so desperately needed. My offering didn’t go without notice. The dried leaves covering the vines reawakened. Green burst from the vine where it touched me, a fresh shock of color spreading its way up in a wave from my elbows to my hands. It continued toward the trellis as life began anew, until the wood support behind it was hidden by the lush green plant.
I hung my head forward as exhaustion threatened, determined to give everything the plant needed. The grip loosened as if the plant realized it dared to take too much, that if it put me at risk, it may never be given another offering again. As it released me, a single leaf swept across my cheek, and I leaned into the touch.
Into the soft and subtle thank you it seemed to offer.
The vine slid along my skin gently, leaving distinct, bloodied welts behind as it returned to the trellis it called home.
“Let’s get you to a healer,” Iban said, stepping toward me.
I slid my fingers into the earth beneath me, gathering up a single handful of dirt that now felt soft and ripe. I spread it over my injuries, covering my arms and hands in it.
It gave me the relief I’d earned with my offering, glowing with a soft green light as my wounds stitched closed. Iban’s eyes grew wide as he studied them, watching as I brushed the dirt from my arms to reveal smooth, unblemished skin.
I pushed to stand, swaying on my feet as a wave of dizziness filled me. A vine stretched out, catching me around the waist and stabilizing me without being asked.
“It helped you. Of its own accord,” Iban said, the shock in his voice disarming. Whatever he was, whatever the Brays had become, they were as far from what my mother had taught me of Greens as possible.
“Our magic is about balance. You cannot take more than you give and still expect nature to answer your call. It’s a dance, a relationship like no other. If all we do is take and use, how are we any better than the humans who poison the earth?” I asked, running a gentle finger over the vine that had stabilized me.
When I felt able to stand on my own, it pulled away once more and returned to its slumber, now satiated.
“No wonder my mother hated it here. You’ve all become so corrupted by your own selfishness, they don’t even teach the old ways anymore, do they?” I asked, shaking my head and taking a step toward the window I’d slid through to get to the courtyard in the first place.
The ground rushed up to meet me, pressing into the bottoms of my feet and helping me keep my footing. It sprang beneath me, helping my weakened limbs find the energy to move. It wasn’t my magic that motivated it to do so, not when I’d depleted so much of it in offering to that vine.
It was the symbiotic relationship that a witch was meant to have with her affinity. Harmony, rather than theft.
I leaned against the edge of the stone, touching my hands to the ledge and attempting to lift myself up. Before the earth could help, Iban’s face filled my vision as he stood before me. He placed a hand on each side of my waist, lifting me up until I rested fully, and drew in a deep breath.
“What you just did—”
“Was forbidden. I know.” I sighed, shaking my head as my eyes drifted closed with exhaustion. If I hadn’t feared for my life in this place I’d needed to come, I might have gone straight to sleep. It had been a long time since I’d needed to give that much of myself at once.
“It was beautiful,” he said, his deep voice shocking me. He wrapped my sweater around my shoulders, giving warmth to my chilled skin as he stared down at me. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“You aren’t going to run and tell the Covenant that I broke the rules?” I asked, laughter bubbling up as I glanced back toward the Tribunal room.
“No,” he said, his brow furrowing as he grasped my hand in his. He turned it over, looking at my uninjured skin and wiping away grains of dirt. “You make me wish I hadn’t given up my own magic. I think maybe that’s something worth protecting.”
The smile drifted off my face as I met his gaze, staring up at him. My shock took over, consuming every waking thought. Of all the things he could have said, that hadn’t been what I’d expected.
To exist without my magic felt like losing part of myself, like losing the most important part of what made me, me. I didn’t know who I was without the whisper of the earth in my veins or the scent of the woods filling my lungs.
Even now, knowing what I’d given would return with time and rest… I felt like nothing. Like an empty shell of myself.
Of all the things the Coven had done, I was fairly certain the Choice that male witches were required to make was the most cruel. Family or magic.
“This doesn’t look like her room, Mr. Bray,” Thorne’s voice said from behind me.
I groaned as I hung my head forward, my forehead pressing against Iban’s white dress shirt. His tie tickled my cheek as I tried to ignore the weight of the headmaster’s gaze pressing into my spine.
“We got distracted,” Iban said, helping me to maneuver my legs up onto the stone. He climbed up beside me, moving through to help pull me along the stone as gently as he could manage.
I giggled as I stumbled into his arms, the delirium of my exhaustion making me feel half-drunk. It had been so long since I’d allowed myself to feel such things, the risks far outweighing the benefits most of the time. To be depleted of magic so suddenly was a shock to the system, making me crave some sort of stability.
I knew the moment Thorne realized what I’d done, his body tensing as Iban wrapped an arm around my waist and supported me as I stumbled through the first step.
“Here,” Thorne said, raising his wrist to his mouth.
He brushed his suit jacket up his arm, unfastening his cufflinks so that he could roll his sleeve up and out of the way. He sank his fangs into his flesh slowly, holding my gaze with his burnished steely stare. Blood coated his lips when he pulled it away, stepping toward me and raising it to my mouth.
I reared back.
“Drink. It will help replenish your magic.”
I shook my head as I frowned, disgust rolling through my gut. If his blood was inside of me, he’d have certain… access to me, and I would be less able to fight. His compulsion would be stronger. He’d be able to sense me wherever I went; my emotions would be easier for him to feel as if they were his.