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Landon slips out of his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders, bringing me back to the present.
“Thank you.”
He nods, and we sit in comfortable silence. I’ve never been one to enjoy parties, but I love being on the outside of them, close enough to hear the notes of the music and the murmur of voices, far enough away that the sounds fade into the background, quiet enough that I can still hear my own thoughts.
I love knowing people are having fun and laughing and making memories that will stay with them for years to come. I like imagining the conversations and the shy glances and the way it feels to dance with someone you like for the first time.
“What are you thinking about?” Landon asks me.
“How much I enjoy knowing people are having a wonderful time inside.”
He looks at me then. “You’re a really good person,” he says, surprising me.
We don’t love each other. We hardly know each other, but as the night goes on, we’re each discovering things about the other, and there’s so much relief in knowing that the person you have no say in marrying isgood. It isn’t a masterful concerto, but it’s something.
Maybe my mother is right. Maybe I will love him one day.
“I have a gift for you.” He pulls out an emerald velvet box and hands it to me.
“What’s this for?”
“It’s a promise,” he says, looking me in the eye. “A promise that I will get to know the real you. Not the person your parents or my parents want you to be, but you, exactly as you are.”
“Landon,” I begin, but his name is the only word I can manage.
A breeze rushes off the water and sends my hair out behind me. My fingers shake as I open the box. Sitting in the center is a single piece of sea glass, and I smile as I take it out and feel it in my hand. It hasn’t been polished down; it’s rough, exactly as I’d find it on the beach, turquoise and jagged and perfect.
“Your mother told me that you love the sea. I must admit I’ve only ever thought of it as an inconvenience, but it’s important to me to know the things you love so that those things can follow you here after we marry.”
“An inconvenience?” I say, unable to believe that anyone would look upon the Passage with anything but awe.
“Of course. It separates me from my intended.”
I look at him then. This union is as important to him as it is to me, and instead of finding comfort in that, I can’t help but wonder if there’s something in it for him and his father that I’m unaware of. I look down, scolding myself; my mother has been open with me about the terms of our agreement. They want more eyes on the Witchery, on our magic, and they want a share of our silver. We want protection. It is beneficial for us both.
“I don’t know what to say.” I grip the sea glass tighter, let the weight of it anchor me in this moment. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
My hands are shaking, and I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or something else entirely. Landon hesitantly touches his fingers to my knuckles, and when I don’t pull away, he takes my hand in his. The shaking stops, and I look down, wondering how much of this is for show and how much is real, wondering if he, too, is hopeful we might one day love each other like my mother says.
A new song begins in the ballroom, and Landon stands. “I believe we owe the room a final dance,” he says.
This time, his touch isn’t enough to stop me from noticing the way every person in the ballroom turns toward us when we enter. My heart races, but I keep my head high, leaning into Landon.
“Then let’s make it count.”
He smiles at that and leads me through the crowd, never once letting go of my hand.
five
The ferry is quiet as it takes us across the Passage. Mom and Dad are talking in excited whispers, beside themselves at how well the night went. Ivy is sleeping, her head resting on my shoulder, her hem brushing against the floor around her feet. There are no other passengers, a stark reminder that, apart from the musicians, we were the only witches in attendance tonight. I’m tired, slouched in my chair, but my mind is too active to sleep.
Ivy shifts and slumps down in her seat. Her head lolls back, and I take the opportunity to escape to the bow. I have the entire deck to myself, and I walk to the railing and close my eyes as the wind whips through my hair, sending chills through my body. The Witchery is mostly asleep in the distance, my perfect island quiet and dark after a busy day. It looks so peaceful.
“You did great tonight,” my mother says behind me.
I turn to look at her. Her shawl is wrapped tightly around her arms, and the wind seems to avoid her, going around hercompletely rather than risking messing up her hair, which is still in a tight updo, every strand in place.
