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It stays where it is.
Wolfe touches the first plant again, then takes my hand and covers his own with it.
“Close your eyes and focus,” he says. “What do you feel?”
The fire in my belly rages at his touch, but I know that’s not what he’s referring to. I force myself to focus on everything else, everything other than his fingers under mine.
I’ve worked around plants my whole life, and after several seconds of concentration, I know exactly what he’s asking me. A pulsing stream of cool, clean magic waits in his hand. I feel it as clearly as the heat in my gut and the wind in my hair.
“There,” he says. “That’s it.”
Gently, I pull the magic from him. I don’t know why I think to do it, how I even know it’s possible, but it feels natural to me.
“Where once there was one, another.” I take the fern’s heartbeat and plant it in the earth.
Another fern grows before us.
I plant more and more of them, watching them sprout from the dirt one after the other. I want to plant hundreds, thousands of them, my own secret meadow I can go to whenever I want.
Another, another, another.
I laugh, utterly delighted by the feel of the plant’s energy wrapped up in my own.
It isn’t like this with low magic. We add our magic to what already exists: perfume, tea leaves, makeup, dough. But this tangling of my magic with the fern, with the wind and the sea the last time I saw Wolfe—it’s intoxicating.
It’s how it’s meant to be.
As soon as I think it, I scramble to undo it, but it’s too late. The thought settles, taking root in my mind like the ferns that surround me.
“Thank you for teaching me,” I say. “I’m glad I got to experience this.”
“Is that all you want to do tonight?”
I can feel the magic waking in my body, stirring, wanting more. But that is a dangerous feeling.
“Yes.”
Wolfe nods. “Then you’re welcome.”
We walk back toward the main beach, out of the cover of the trees, and I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.
Then every part of me freezes with panic. Mrs. Wright is walking along the beach, humming to herself, her dog a few yards in front of her. She’s on the council with my mother, and I stare in horror as she gets closer. A cloud drifts in front of the moon, shrouding Wolfe and me in darkness.
But soon she will see us.
Suddenly, my body takes over. I sense the breeze over the sea and latch on to it, building it up until it’s a strong wind. I send it barreling off the water, sea spray suspended in the air, covering the beach in a hazy mist that moves straight toward Mrs. Wright.
“A breeze to a gale, fresh off the sea, more distance is needed, walk away from me.” I frantically whisper the words under my breath over and over, hoping they’re enough.
“Oh my,” Mrs. Wright says, so close I can hear her.
A few more steps and she’ll see us.
I kick up more wind, ready to send her way, but Wolfe collides with me, sending us flying into a thicket of long grass and overgrown shrubs. He lands right on top of me.
“What was that?” I hear Mrs. Wright say. Her dog runs over, sniffing at the grass, but as soon as it gets here, it whines and runs away. Wolfe holds a finger to his lips, and I can feel his chest expanding against my own, our breaths tangling in the space between us.
I push one more strong gust of wind her way, and it’s enough to send Mrs. Wright back the way she came. I hear her muttering about unpredictable weather, and then her voice fades to nothing.
