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“I’m glad I’m here, too,” she says, “but if you dive into that water right now, I swear—”
“Relax, I’m just taking a breath.” I turn back to face her. “Shall we?”
She loops her arm through mine. “We shall.”
We walk through the open double doors, and the breath I took just moments ago drains from my lungs.
A large marble staircase rises from the center of the room and splits at the top, each side feeding a different wing of the house.A crystal chandelier catches the lights and shimmers overhead, casting rainbows around the room. Colorful flowers sit in dense arrangements on cocktail tables, and the walls are painted a soft mint green that’s as lively as the music.
Ornate woven rugs in bright colors with golden tassels lead us into the ballroom, where my parents have already disappeared into a sea of people. A string quartet is playing on a stage, and I immediately recognize them from the Witchery. No wonder everyone seems to be having the time of their lives—with each note the musicians play, they send waves of excitement and happiness into the room.
It makes me sad for a moment that the mainlanders think they need magic to ensure they have good time. But it’s the resentment I feel that startles me. Witches are forbidden from practicing any form of magic after the sun goes down, but the governor asked for an exception that my mother approved. She never would have approved it for anyone else.
And I can’t help but think what a waste it is to make an exception forthis.
The stage backs up to the gardens, and I look longingly out the window.
“Don’t even think about it,” Ivy says. “You weren’t invited here so you could stand stoically in the garden.”
“But I’m so good at that.”
“I’m not disagreeing, but there will be plenty of time for that later. I’ll go get us some drinks before we make the rounds.”
Sometimes I think how much better things would be if Ivycould take my place. I’m a direct descendant of Harper Fairchild, the witch who formed our coven and created the boundaries of low magic. Because of that, my mother is the head of our coven, and forging a bond between the most powerful family of witches and the most powerful mainlanders is the strongest declaration we can make.
But Ivy’s family is one of the original families, and as I watch her glide around the room and see the eyes that follow her as she moves, I can’t help but feel this life would suit her very well.
Ivy hands me a drink and clinks her glass to mine. “To getting through the night.”
“I can drink to that.”
I take a long sip and look around the ballroom. Large sheer curtains hang from golden rods and move with the breeze from the open windows, and multiple chandeliers glisten overhead. The room smells of candle wax and brine, and arrangements of white roses and greenery sit on crystal stands around the perimeter. It’s grand and impressive and nothing like my life on the Witchery.
My parents are at the front of the room, talking with Marshall and Elizabeth Yates. They all look comfortable and easy, as if enjoying each other’s company is a given. As if we didn’t have to earn it.
And then there he is.
Landon.
He walks around a large marble pillar, scanning the room. He’s tall, and his navy suit pulls just slightly across his broad chest. His skin is smooth and tan, and his dark brown hair is cutshort. He holds himself as if he owns the place, as if he owns the whole world.
I stare for a single breath before his eyes find mine. A smile tugs at his lips, one that seems genuine, and it brightens the room, a smile that would make me believe he was indeed gifted the whole world.
I stiffen next to Ivy, realizing I have no idea how to greet my future husband. “Tana, you may want to indicate that you’re happy to see him,” Ivy suggests under her breath. “Because right now it looks like you might launch yourself through the window and swim the whole way home.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Very helpful feedback, thank you, Ivy.”
“Of course.”
I take a sip of my drink, but what I could really use is Ivy’s Bravery blend from earlier. I close my eyes for just a moment and think about how it feels when I drink it. It feels the way Landon carries himself, like I deserve to be here. My spine straightens and my chin lifts. I roll my shoulders back, and when I open my eyes, they lock right on Landon. I give him a shy smile and tilt my head, beckoning him over.
He can’t hear the way my heart races beneath my too-tight dress, the way my lungs can’t quite find enough air. Being brave and feeling brave are two very different things.
“Tana,” he says when he reaches me, taking my hand in his and placing a soft kiss on my skin. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Ivy,” Landon says, straightening his stance. “It’s nice to seeyou again.” He doesn’t take her hand, making sure this entire room knows his sights are set one person tonight: me.
