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“Well, you just let us know if you ever need our aid. We’d be happy to help,” Marshall says. If he knew the extent of the danger, if he knew the root cause, I suspect he wouldn’t be so kind.
“Thank you, I’ll certainly let you know.”
My mother changes the subject, and soon they’re talking about the economy of the Witchery and what kind of partnerships with the mainland might make sense. After Landon and I are married, the Witchery will become an official territory of the mainland. They will share their resources with us, their knowledge and their plans. Most importantly, they will protect us as if we’re mainlanders. And legally, we will be. But the arrangement goes both ways—we will start paying taxes to the mainland, and they will have a say in how we run our island. It’s economically brilliant for the mainland, and it’s necessary for us.
Right now, the mainland has no legal authority here, which makes a certain kind of person more willing to act out, as with thedock burning, because they think they can get away with it. And the sad truth is that they can.
Still, I hear the things no one says. The mainland knows we need them to continue accepting us and welcoming us into their world; we are far outnumbered by them. If their government decided to do away with witches, they could. And we know the mainland wants to keep an eye on everything we do, that they’re terrified of a resurgence of dark magic, but that they’re also eager for a share of our silver.
It’s so delicate, a tapestry woven from half-truths and partial trust.
We can be friends and get along and even become family, but there are so many other things at play that it’s hard to keep track of them all.
Maybe one day, it won’t feel like so much. That’s the point of this wedding, after all. Maybe one day, I will look at Landon with utter adoration and forget that his father is keeping his eyes on the Witchery and his hands in our pockets.
“Samuel, that roast was absolutely divine,” Elizabeth says. “You didn’t use magic, did you?” she asks in a playful tone.
“I’m wounded you would think so,” Dad says. “I made this entirely on my own.”
“Dad doesn’t use magic in the kitchen,” I say. “He thinks it weakens his natural ability.” I laugh and give him a smile that lets him know how adorable I think it is.
“Well, I’m even more impressed, then,” Elizabeth says.
“Why don’t we move to the sitting room for some tea beforedessert?” my mother suggests, and everyone stands. “Tana, I bet Landon would love to see the rooftop.”
I look at Landon.
“That does sound like something I’d love.” His smiles come easily, but it’s hard for me to distinguish the ones that are genuine from the ones that are just for show. I’ve had to work exceptionally hard at hiding how I really feel in favor of how I’m supposed to feel. But I want to know Landon as he truly is, just as I want him to know me.
“The rooftop it is.”
I lead him up the stairs, the sounds of our parents’ conversation fading away. I feel myself start to relax, the weight of expectation not quite as heavy when it’s just the two of us.
I open the door to the rooftop and grab some blankets from the wicker basket. The night is clear, thousands of stars sparkling in the dark sky. The waning moon casts everything in silver light, and the waves on the shore fill the air with their familiar rhythm.
I sit down on the couch with my future husband and hope he can’t sense the disquiet in me.
“What are you thinking about?” His words cut through my thoughts, forcing me back to the present.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t know where I was.” How can I tell him I was thinking about the weight of it all? How can I tell him that the closer we get to the wedding, the more worried I become?
“Well, what if I tell you what I was thinking about?” he says.
I turn to face him. “I’d like that.”
“I was thinking about what a good match we are.”
The words catch me off guard, and for a moment, I’m speechless. “Why is that?” I finally ask.
“Because you’re good, Tana. Sometimes I get the sense that you’re trying so hard to be what you think you’re supposed to be. And I admire that. I admire that you believe in this so much that you’re willing to try.”
I’m mortified when tears sting the backs of my eyes. I look away and take a steadying breath, let the chill of the night calm me. The words are kind, and they’re coming from a decent person, but all I can think is that I wish I didn’t have to try so hard.
I wish this life came as naturally to me as it does to Landon and my mother and Ivy.
“I do believe in it,” I finally say. “And I’m hoping that one day, it won’t feel like I’m trying.”
Landon brushes a piece of hair behind my ear. “I hope so, too. I want you to trust me and trust that I will accept the person you are when you aren’t trying. When you’re just you.”
