“Why can’t you just stay one more year and see if things with Gwen turn into something? Witches live long lives. You’ve got plenty of time to gallivant around New York later, and I’veneverseen you look at anyone the way you look at her. You seem lighter, happier, and you were already a freaking little granola sunbeam, so that’s saying something. Youvolunteeredto lead the hiking trip yesterday, for moon’s sake!”
My laugh was short-lived as I shook my head. “I made a promise to myself that this was my last year in Maple Hollow, and I meant it. I’ve been dreaming about this since I was ten. I can’t just go back on all the things I’ve wanted for myself, and I feel like if I don’t go now, I might never leave. I’ll get stuck in jobs and relationships and commitments, and maybe those will all be good and meaningful, but I’ll always wonder what would’ve happened if I’d chosen the other path. I don’t wantto live the rest of my life wishing I’d made a big decision after chickening out.”
“Goddess, you’re so stubborn. Talk about an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. You’re the immovable object, by the way.”
“I gathered.”
Iris frowned as she took a long swig of wine. “You’d ruin a good thing just to be right.”
Before I could reply to her, Dagmar turned the corner. “Indulging in some more of my wine, are we?”
We both tried to leap up, but Dagmar’s hand flew out, freezing us to the spot. “Trying to run from me? Really?” She dropped her hand, and we were forced back to our seats. Sometimes, I forgot just how powerful Dagmar was. “You think that would somehowhelpyour case? Stand your ground and own it like a witch. I thought I taught you both better.”
Was that what she’d been teaching us for so long? I guessed she had in a way, but the only lesson I could remember was to always carry a stunning potion into the woods in case of bears—or worse, creepy male hikers.
Hera swooped soundlessly from the sky and landed on Dagmar’s shoulder, chirping at her witch in greeting.
“Traitor,” Iris gritted out, but the owl just snapped her beak at her.
“A word to the wise,” Dagmar said. “Don’t try to bribe a witch’s familiar. They’ll take your bribe and rat you out anyway.”
She scratched the feathers under Hera’s chin, and Hera leaned into her touch with what could only be described as affection.
“We’re sorry. We?—”
Dagmar held up a hand, and I shut up. “You’re not children, Sabine. If you wanted wine, I would’ve given it to you,” she scolded. “And while I’m rather fond of a little trickery everynow and again—I am a witch, after all—you made a grave error when you thought you could steal fromme.” Her eyes darkened. “There will be consequences.”
I dropped my head into my hands. “Not another year, please.” I groaned.
Dagmar let out a gruff laugh. “Has this summer really been that bad?” Her shoulders shook harder and Hera bobbed up and down. “There is rule-breaking and there isrule-breaking, and this is the latter,” she continued. “You two have your choices: latrine duty until summer’s end or participate in the end-of-year show.”
“Latrine duty,” I said as instantaneously as Iris said, “Show.”
Dagmar laughed again, the sound low and grating. “Done.” She turned and looked back over her shoulder. Hera easily turned her head and watched us too. “Enjoy your wine. And when you’re done, come join us at the medal ceremony. I have a feeling some witches will want you to be there.” Ice flooded my veins at that, but Dagmar continued, “Like the rest of the Harvest Moon cabin?”
“Oh yes, right,” I said with a half-hearted wave. “We’ll be there.”
Of course she was thinking of my campers and not of the witch I’d gone down on outside the mess hall.Fuck. This was getting out of hand.
I tried to act casual as she walked off. Iris didn’t seem to note my discomfort. “Why medals?” Iris grumbled. “That’s so human. They should offer hard-to-make elixirs or witch wine or something for winning. No point in a piece of metal.”
“They’re imbued with luck, aren’t they?”
“Are they?”
I frowned. “I honestly can’t remember. It’s probably just a camp rumor from long ago.”
We both laughed and passed the bottle between us again.
“Thank you,” I said, feeling grateful.
“For what?”
“For being my sister.”
“Well, I had no choice in that,” she taunted.
“For being my friend then.”
