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But I also believe in the magic I practiced with Wolfe.
I feel as if I’m on my knees, crying out to God about the beauty of the devil.
“I don’t know,” I finally say.
“It’s him,” she says. “Wolfe.”
I look at the ground, at the fern that just appeared. I want to hate it, to tear it from the earth and toss it far away. I want to be appalled by what I just did, to repent and do better.
I want to be better.
“Tana,” Ivy says, my name catching on a sob. I look up and see my best friend’s eyes filled with tears for me. “Is he really worth it?”
I want to yell, scream at her that it isn’t about him. It’s aboutmagic, about what we’re giving up to live this life. It’s about being told a flower is deadly only to realize it’s just a flower, the same as all the others. But even as I think it, Ivy’s words settle deep inside me, and I know she’s right.
He isn’t worth it.
His magic isn’t worth it.
I love my life. I love my parents and Ivy and the Witchery. I know my marriage to Landon will be fulfilling in ways I can’t even imagine. But Wolfe blew into my life like a tornado, uprooting everything. Destructive and dangerous.
I see that now.
My face falls and my eyes fill with tears. I look down at the white petals in my hand and shove them back into my pocket.
“No,” I say. “I’m sorry, Ivy. I’m so sorry.”
She watches me for several breaths, and then all the anger melts away and she pulls me into her arms. I hug her back fiercely, so tight, telling myself that this is why the witches before me sacrificed so much. This is why we adhere to the new order and practice low magic.
Ivy is everything to me. I would marry Landon and move across the Passage even if it only protected her, not this entire coven, this whole island.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, pulling away and wiping my eyes. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You wanted something that was yours,” she says simply.
I nod. Maybe that is all it was—wanting something solely my own before I bind myself to my coven and marry the man my parents chose for me.
When she puts it like that, it sounds understandable. Reasonable, even.
We walk inside and back up the stairs, and I close my bedroom door behind us. We finish the popcorn and laugh and talk, and I marvel at how easily we fall back into this. Nothing, not even dark magic, can pull us apart.
But while Ivy sleeps soundly beside me, my mind races. It cannot find a place of rest.
“Mortana?”
I lift my head. It sounds like someone is whispering my name. I listen intently, but all I hear is Ivy’s even breathing.
I lie back down and close my eyes.
“Mortana?”
My eyes snap open, and I squint into the darkness. There is only one person who uses my full name. When I hear it a third time, I understand what’s happening: Wolfe is using his magic, inviting me to the beach.
I lay my head down and force my eyes shut, but even as I do, hot anger blooms in my chest and rises up my neck. My eyes burn, and it hurts to swallow.
He isn’t worth it, and I hate that he has put me in this situation, made me question all the things I love.
He says my name one last time before giving up.
