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My eyes snap open, and the setting is torn away. I’m back on the beach with Wolfe under a cloudless sky.
“How did you do that?” I ask, breathless.
“I altered your senses until you believed you were someplace else. It’s a perception spell.”
“Like the one you use when you have to go into town? That makes people think you’re a tourist?”
“Exactly.”
“Unbelievable,” I say. My clothing is dry and my skin is warm, but there’s still a part of me that believes I was under the water just seconds ago. “Teach me.”
“Our connection to the natural world is what’s most powerful about us—it enables everything we do. Just as we have a heightened sensitivity to the world around us, the world has a heightened sensitivity to us. Your intent matters more than anything else in magic. That’s why you were able to save Ivy’s life using a spell you’d never used before. Think of it like a veil that’s woven from your experiences, desires, and understanding of the physical world. That veil can cover anything you choose.”
“Even another person,” I say.
“Even another person. I created a veil of the sea and covered you in it.”
“Amazing,” I say.
“Your turn.”
I smile. I’ve been waiting for this since the last time I saw him, aching to discover more of the magic that’s living inside me. We use the sea again for my first time, a setting I could recreate over and over.
I weave a veil of cold water and slow movements, of silence that stretches out in every direction like morning fog over thePassage. The veil forms in front of me, a physical thing I can see and touch. I weave in memories of being wrapped around Wolfe, our wet bodies pressed tightly together.
Then I take the veil and stretch it until it covers both of us.
The world around me vanishes, and I’m back in the water, in Wolfe’s arms, with nothing but the perfect silence of the sea.
Magic pours out of me, sustaining the veil, engaging all of my senses until I fully believe the image I’ve woven. I’m under the water, moving with the motion of the waves, weightless in Wolfe’s arms. We are quiet and still and content, holding each other in the belly of the sea.
I pull the veil away, and we’re back on the beach. I look at Wolfe and run my fingers through his hair, sure it will be soaked. But it isn’t.
“Did it work?” I ask. I know what I felt, but that doesn’t mean Wolfe felt it, too.
He nods. “You are much more powerful than you realize,” he says. “You could have changed the perception of every witch in this house.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why does this come so naturally to me?”
“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “I think it has to do with all the time you’ve spent in the water. You are so connected to this place; every time you’ve accidentally swallowed seawater, every time you’ve gathered flowers and herbs for the perfumery, all the hours you’ve spent wandering this island, you’ve invited this world in, and it has taken root inside you. I think that’s why.”
The words cause something inside me to break open. I’ve been scolded most of my life for getting too dirty, swimming too often, preferring trails in the woods to ballrooms and high teas. It is something I’ve been taught to apologize for, but in Wolfe’s world, it’s a gift. An extraordinary gift.
We practice more magic, weaving veils of different places and calling the wind from the sea. We create fire from dust and capture the light of the moon in our hands. We use more magic than I would ever expel during a rush, and instead of hurting the Earth, we’re delighting in it.
We walk onto the lawn, and I collapse on the grass, exhausted. Wolfe lies beside me, and we watch the stars. The rest of the witches have gone inside, and it feels as if we have the entire world to ourselves, as if the moon and stars are shining just for us.
“Do you know that I’ve never seen another moonflower on the island since the night we met?” I ask, rolling onto my side. “I’ve only ever seen them with you. It’s like we were fated for each other, like the flower’s only purpose was to bring us together.”
I lean down and kiss him. He’s hesitant at first, his movements slow and unsure. Then he opens his mouth and pulls me into him, weaving his fingers through my hair and kissing me as if he’ll never be able to kiss me again.
I move my hand beneath his shirt and trail my fingers over his skin. He inhales sharply, and I’m ravaged by the way he unravels. He breathes my name into my mouth and clutches me tighter, rolling me over so his body is on top of mine, the weight of him anchoring me in this perfect moment.
Then someone calls his name, and he quickly moves off me.
I’m mortified when I register his father’s voice, and we both sit up. I wipe my face and smooth my hair, as if that will do anything.
“Get up, you two,” Galen calls as he walks down the lawn to meet us.
