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My dad has to drag me home. I claw and yell, desperate to get back to Ivy, desperate to heal what I broke. But once I’m on the couch staring into the fire, I realize I will never be able to fix it. The way she looked at me told me all I need to know.
My mother has stayed behind, presumably to figure out how to get Ivy’s parents to keep my secret. If our coven learns that I used dark magic to save Ivy’s life, it will create chaos. Witches will demand punishment. My parents will be held accountable for my sins. And our relationship with the mainland will crumble.
All of our progress, erased in the span of a single breath.
But this is Ivy.Ivy.My best friend, my soul mate, the love of my life. And even as I sit here with tears in my eyes, I know I would make the same decision again. It’s selfish—I know that it is—but I have to learn to be okay with that. I have to learn to accept labels I’ve lived in fear of my entire life.
Selfish.
Impulsive.
Irresponsible.
I’ve never let myself be any of those things, and tonight I was all of them rolled into one desperate girl who would do anything to save her best friend. Maybe Ivy will hate me for the rest of her life; maybe her parents will never get over it; maybe I will always wonder if it truly was the right thing to do.
But Ivy is alive, and I can’t make myself regret it. I won’t.
My dad brings me a mug of tea and sits down on the couch next to me. I pull the thick wool blanket up to my chin as if it’s armor, a shield that will save me from whatever’s about to come. I watch the flames dancing in the fireplace. Dawn paints the sky beyond our windows, and I know I have to deal with this.
“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Dad finally says, breaking the silence.
“I know.” I blow on my tea and take a long sip. There is no magic in it, but it still reminds me of Ivy.
Part of me wants to tell him everything about Wolfe and missing the rush and using dark magic. But I promised Galen I wouldn’t, and it’s important to me to keep my word. Maybe that’s foolish after everything that happened tonight, but the last thing I want to do is throw another family’s life into upheaval.
One day, I will tell my parents everything that happened. But tonight, I will tell them only some of it. And that will have to do for now.
“I’m still replaying it in my head,” I say. Dad shifts on the couch so he’s facing me. He doesn’t look angry or disappointed;he looks curious. Patient. “I was holding Ivy’s hand, talking to her. And this nighthawk flew to the window and practically offered itself to me. And I don’t know… It’s like my magic just took over. I don’t even remember thinking about what I was about to do; I don’t remember making a choice. I just remember doing it.”
Wolfe’s words about the moonflower suddenly sound in my mind, how it is the source of all magic, but I didn’t have one with me. I’m so frustrated I could cry, so sick of not understanding my world, my magic, myself.
Dad is quiet for several moments, taking in my words. “But you shouldn’t have known how to do that. Dark magic doesn’t just awaken after years of not being used; it has to be coaxed out. Nurtured.”
He’s right. He’s right, because that’s exactly what I did with Wolfe that first night—awaken a magic that had been sleeping for nineteen years.
“I know. I can’t explain it, Dad. It didn’t feel like I was an active participant in what I was doing. I’m not trying to avoid blame, and I accept full responsibility for my actions. I’m just trying to explain how it felt.”
Dad looks outside at the sky, growing brighter with the promise of another day. All I want is to sleep.
“We are very close to the rush,” Dad says, more to himself than to me. “Which means you have more magic in your system now than at any other point. Maybe the combination of the hawk and Ivy’s imminent death sparked something…” He trails off and shakes his head. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Dad,” I whisper, my voice trembling. He looks at me. “I’m glad she’s still alive.” Each word is dressed in terror as it slowly falls from my lips.
“I know, honey,” he says. He scoots closer to me and puts his arm around my shoulders, and I collapse into him. He knows, and he still holds me. He knows, and he still made me tea. He knows, and he still loves me.
Guilt claws at my stomach for all the ways I’ve betrayed my family. All I’ve ever wanted was to make them proud, and instead I’ve put our entire way of life in jeopardy, hanging in the balance of how my mother and the Eldons decide to move forward.
I’ve always known my role, but as soon as I chased that light during the last rush, as soon as my world collided with Wolfe’s, I’ve been in the weeds, so far from the path I’ve always walked that I wonder if it’s too late to find my way back.
I wonder if I even want to.
Selfish.
The front door slams shut, and my mother comes into the living room. Dad doesn’t move away from me, and that simple gesture fills me with strength. I can do this. I can find my way back.
“You’ve made quite the mess,” my mother says, sitting in a teal tufted chair beside me. She sinks into it and leans her head back, and I’m struck by how human she looks. How real. Her eyes are tired, and she yawns without covering her mouth, and for some reason it breaks me open.
Right now, Ingrid Fairchild is my mother. She isn’t the headof the council or the coven’s darling; she’s my mother, exhausted by the chaos of her daughter.
