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Wolfe looks up and to the right, then rests his chin on his fingers as if what I’ve asked requires a tremendous amount of consideration. Then he drops his arm to his side and meets my gaze.
“No.”
My heart beats faster, and I struggle to maintain my composure. “No?”
“No,” he says with finality.
“And why not?” I demand. “It’s your fault I’m in this mess in the first place,” I say, my voice rising.
“My fault? You’re the one who ran intome.”
“You are infuriating.” The words come out in a growl. “You know, you actually have a chance to use your dark magic for something good.”
His eyes spark at that, and he stalks toward me until he’s standing so close I can feel his breath on my skin. I force myself to stay where I’m standing.
“You have no idea what I use my magic for.”
We stare at each other for several breaths, neither of us speaking. I didn’t notice last night, but his eyes are a marbled gray, the color of the sky as a storm approaches. “Please,” I finally say, the word nothing more than a whisper, so quiet he wouldn’t hear it if not for his nearness.
“No,” he says again, softer this time.
“Why?” My eyes sting with the threat of tears. The word is a plea, a prayer.
He takes a step back. “You really want to know?”
I nod, unwilling to speak and hear the way my words tremble.
“Then come on.” He shoves the moonflower in his pocket and grabs my hand, dragging me to the shore.
I stumble behind him, trying to keep up. His hand is rough, and his grip is tight but not unpleasant. It’s urgent.
When we get to the shore where the rush happened last night, he drops my hand and points to the sea.
“That’s why,” he says, his voice angry, but all I see is water.
“I don’t understand.”
“Your rushes are destroying this island. You’re killing the animals and ruining our crops, and our shores are getting smaller bythe day. Your currents will eat up our entire island before you do anything about it. And who knows what will happen when they start taking down boats and drowning people. Witches are stewards of nature, and look what you’re doing to it.” His voice gets louder and his words come faster, flying through the air like an attack, and they hit me right in my chest because he’s right. “So no, Mortana, I won’t help you with a rush.”
I nod and look out at the sea I love so much. There’s nothing for me to say; I agree with his reasons. They are sound and good.
“You’re right,” I say quietly. “I can’t argue with any of that.”
I shift my bag on my shoulder and look away before the tears break free and roll down my cheeks. I start walking up the beach, wiping my eyes and hoping the boy behind me doesn’t see.
“That’s it?” he calls after me.
I stop walking and slowly turn to face him.
“You’re just going to let yourself die?” He still sounds angry, and I don’t understand.
I look at him but don’t respond. What else is there to say? I asked for his help rushing my magic and he refused. That’s it.
He walks up the beach and stops in front of me. “There’s another way,” he says.
I blink and fight the hope that rises in my chest. “There is?”
His eyes glint, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I can teach you a few spells, enough to get the magic out of your system. You won’t die, and you won’t make the currents any stronger.”
