Page 54 of A Beastly Court

With one exhale, I released every reservation, every inhibition, and just allowed myself to be. The oak tree of my magic shivered, and a familiar voice said, “Hello, child.”

She came from the tree, literally lifted from the trunk like a flock of peppered moths and condensed into a form I knew I’d seen before. Long black hair swirling like ink dropped onto wet paper, ivy-green eyes glowing, dark fertile soil clinging to her hands and bare feet and legs. Her dress of sewn leaves, so much like the links of the chain mail net shrouding the canopy of my tree, swayed around her knees in the same current that moved her hair. Terrifying in her wildness. Beautiful because of it.

“Violet. Is this… am I hallucinating? Are you truly here, or am I just talking to an aspect of myself?”

She cocked her head to the side like a raven examining a beetle it was about to devour. “Yes.” Then she pinched my cheeks with one hand, the long nails digging into my flesh. Moss and the smell of autumnal rot filled my nostrils. “Do not waste the power of the moonflower on trivial questions, child. You insult us both.”

She released me, but she remained disturbingly close, her glowing eyes tracking over my face.

“I’m in trouble,” I told her.

“Yes,” she readily agreed, following my gaze to the oak tree behind her. “You’ve been purposefully stunted, kept weak to be less noticeable.”

Stunted? That oak tree was enormous. I pointed to the net covering the canopy. “No, my grandmother cursed me; that’s why I don’t have full access to my magic. To my full potential.”

Violet pulled back, arching a black eyebrow as she crossed her lean arms over her chest.

When she didn’t say anything, I blurted. “Right?”

“I fade and you continue to waste time with assumptions and pointless queries.”

To the point, then. “How do I become?”

The grin that spread across her dark lips was positively catlike. “My seed is not wasted, after all. Look at the tree.”

I obeyed, my gaze immediately narrowing on its trunk to a spot just under the amber cat silhouette. “I never noticed it having one of those knotty holes in it before.” It was akin to the kind that squirrels or owls used to make their nests, only it was glowing—a window to its heart. The heart that had come alive within it truly burned now, as if it had its own hearth ember inside its trunk.

“You’ve not noticed many things about your magic before,” came a dry and slightly judgmental reply. She softened slightly. “Though, much has been concealed from you.” Violet swept her hand across the tree, and the knotty hole blazed red at the same time the roots flared green and the leaves shone white. Lines of blue raced along its entire length like veins for only a moment, then the strange demonstration dissipated, and all returned to their normal golden-green glow.

“I didn’t know it could do that!”

Ignoring my excited outburst, she lifted her hand once more and instructed, “Now take heed.” The power she commanded made mine rise in exact mimicry of hers. My fingers splayed achingly wide, obscuring the oak tree’s canopy just as my arm did its trunk, not unlike the moon passing in front of the sun during a solar eclipse.

“Like a shifter, there is no distinction between beast and man. They are one. Like the fae, they are their magic.” Violet’s power kept my arm extended, but she moved to float in front of me once more. “They are each born with an innate sense of their true self. You were not allowed to embrace yours, instead molded and taught to be something other than yourself.”

Anger flared deep within me, my thoughts turning to my grandmother, and our mutual ancestor tsked in disapproval. Then the first Hawthorne extended a single finger to press against my chest. “Decide your heart and the rest will follow. It is already waiting for you.”

The pressure of her touch lessened as she became less corporeal, dissolving into mist.

“But the curse—”

Violet was already gone, and my lungs were in desperate need of air.

I jerked away from the sink, slinging milk over the bathroom tiles and gasping for breath. Frigid castle air, laced with the smoke of spent candles, caused me to cough and sputter, and Sawyer came racing in just as I fumbled around and found the hand towel.

A warm rough tongue dried off my forehead as I swept the milk from my cheeks and chin. Sawyer then cleaned off his whiskers and asked, “You alright? Did it work?”

“‘Decide your heart and the rest will follow. It is already waiting for you,’” I relayed to him.

The tip of his tail gave an irritated flick. “That’s it? No helpful spell or a tea of special magical herbs or an instruction manual? She knows you’re a witch, right?”

I pointed at the cold milk currently draining from the sink. “You wanna talk to her? Get a second opinion?”

The tabby tomcat shook his head. “I’d rather not meet the woman responsible for creating your grandmother, thank you very much.”

“Violet created me too, you know.”

“That only shows she has tastes as volatile as the weather. No thank you.” Sawyer pricked his ears. “So what now?”