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And with that, he dives into the sea, leaving me standing alone on the shore.
thirty-seven
I’ve been here before. Lying in bed when I should be asleep, thinking about a boy I shouldn’t be thinking about.
My Covenant Ball, as well as my wedding, is in three days, and all I can think about is how just weeks ago, I was so deeply in love that I was willing to turn my back on both. Wolfe told me how I got there, recounted every detail of our relationship, but I can’tfeelit. And even when I could, I still chose to take the memory eraser; I still chose my coven in the end.
And I know that’s for the best.
Wolfe’s passion scares me. His willingness to show me his anger and pain, his frustration and vulnerability, is unlike anything I’ve experienced. He was so desperate for me to remember that he cut himself open so I could watch him bleed, knowing I might never suture the wound.
And I know that if I live a thousand years, no one will ever feel that way for me again.
But it isn’t about me, and I don’t think I could forgive myself if I turned my back on my family, my duty. I have one role to play, and my happiness, my wants, my desires have never been a factor. They can’t be.
When I hear my parents moving around downstairs, I force myself to get up. Another sleepless night. My mother will scold me for the darkness under my eyes and the pallor of my skin, but it’s nothing a little magic can’t fix.
We’re destroying the sea and ruining our island, but at least we can look well rested as we’re doing it.
I brush my teeth and wash my face, thankful I don’t have to work today. My mother says it will make the wedding more impactful if the rest of the witches don’t see me in the week leading up to the ceremony. Everything is for show in one way or another, but I’m thankful for the time away.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask when I get downstairs.
Mom looks up from her leather-bound planner and smiles. “Morning, honey. He’s harvesting some lilac before heading to the perfumery.”
I pour myself a cup of tea and sit down next to her. “Ivy told me about the memory eraser,” I say, watching her.
She slowly closes her planner and looks at me. “I had a feeling she might.”
“Why?”
She shrugs. “You’ve been best friends since birth. Keeping secrets from the other isn’t a skill either of you possesses.” She sounds so calm, and I wish I knew what she’s thinking, wish Iknew if her mind is a chaotic mess of to-do lists and worries and overreactions or if it’s as put together as the rest of her.
Her words grate on me, though. “Not like you, right, Mom?” The words are quiet, and I can’t believe I said them. It is so unlike me to question my mother, and I look down.
“Tana, why don’t you ask me what you want to know instead of making snide remarks?”
I swallow and nod. “You’re right, I’m sorry,” I say. “I want to know why you lied to me about the old coven.”
She walks into the kitchen to brew more tea. “The simple answer is that we never would have gotten this far if the mainland knew dark magic was still being practiced on the island. They had to believe the old coven had been disbanded if we were to be on solid ground with them. The old witches are selfish and stubborn, but they aren’t stupid; they knew that if the mainland was aware of their existence, each and every one of them would be caught. So they vowed to remain hidden if we vowed to perpetuate the belief that they were gone. The council members are the only ones who know the truth.” The kettle whistles, and Mom pours the water over the leaves. “And it has worked rather well, up until now.”
I feel foolish for believing her lies and even worse for being hurt. I thought giving up a life of my own to marry Landon and protect my coven would grant me the truth, especially from my mother. I thought it would make me important enough to be involved in the inner workings of our coven and our island. But I was wrong.
“I wish you had told me.”
“I know you do, but I couldn’t risk it. You’re going to marry the governor’s son, Tana—what would happen if you let it slip one night? Surely you must see the danger.” She refills my tea before sitting back down. “Not that it matters anymore, of course.”
“I can handle it.”
“You say that now, but keeping a secret that substantial from your husband will weigh on you, especially as the love and trust between you builds. It won’t be easy.”
“You believe Landon and I will love each other one day?”
Her expression softens at that, and she reaches her hand out and places it on my arm. “Absolutely. I already see it between you. Don’t you?”
I can’t promise you love.
I think back to our kiss, to the way it felt to be near him in that way. It didn’t feel like love, but maybe my definition of the word is too narrow. Maybe there’s love like what Wolfe described, passionate and all-consuming and vital, and also more subtle love that takes root and grows over time, slow and steady. “I don’t know,” I admit. “But I want to.”
