She wants—needs—me to treat her not as my student or my responsibility, but as my equal.
That’s not how a partnership works. That’s not how you show someone that you love them.
I push away from the window and drag my hands down my face, feeling rough stubble along my cheeks and chin. I forgot to shave again. That’s been happening a lot since Maeve walked away from me.
For centuries, I have survived by controlling every possible variable. It’s how I have endured.
But Maeve is not something to be endured.
She is a storm. And she’s not to be contained. She’s something to look upon with awe, knowing you arenothingin the face of her power. And loving her may mean I need to move out of her way and trust that she will not be destroyed by the path she chooses.
Even if the path she chooses is me.
The thought fills me with hope and dread.
Because I know what that choice could cost her.
And I also know it might be too late. Maeve may already have decided to move on without me.
And if that’s the case, I will understand. Though it will cut through my muscle and sinew and into my bones, I will understand.
My gaze flicks out the window again. In the glass, my reflection stares back at me. My eyes are dark, no hint of Maeve’s blood left in my system. I look older than I have in years, with circles beneath my eyes and a weariness clinging to my skin. And as I meet my own gaze, I finally accept that I’ve been stripped of the one thing I’ve always wielded like my own sort of magic: control.
But love has never yielded to control. It’s one thing that doesn’t submit.
In my chest, Maeve’s magic has quieted. I lift a hand and press it to the spot where our bond still lives, battered as it is.
But it is still alive.
Which means I might still have time. Time to fix this, to apologize to Maeve for all my wrongs. To give her achoice.
And for once, I will surrender the control I have harnessed for so long. I will give it to a storm witch with lightning in her veins and magic in her violet eyes. And I will trust her with it. Fully and completely.
Even if that trust leads her back to me.
Chapter 55
Maeve
THERE’S A CERTAIN ENERGY TO the academy during finals week. This is my seventh finals week at Coven Crest, and I’ve come to know this energy well.
It isn’t loud or chaotic—not like move-in day or the first week of classes. It’s quieter than usual, like the entire academy took a deep breath and is still holding it.
As I walk through the hallways, I note how quiet they are. Almost every nook is occupied by students studying, with books open in laps and quills scratching across parchment. But for me, my focus is elsewhere.
I’m not concerned about finals in the way I usually am. I feel good about my classes this semester.
It’s the fellowship board demonstration I’m worried about. And it’s only a few days away.
I clutch the strap of my bookbag as I make my way toward the staff offices wing. There’s one last thing I need to do before my demonstration.
When I reach Professor Azula’s office, I pause. The door is closed, and I take a moment to center myself.
I’ve made my choices. And the essay I wrote feels likemenow. I’m proud of it, and I’ll remain proud of it regardless of Professor Azula’s opinions.
This moment is mine. My future is mine. And I’ve learned this semester—more than any other time in my life—that I can’t allow anyone else to make my choices for me. I’m the one with the paintbrush, and I’m ready to paint my own path.
I lift my hand and knock.
