Bring Me Your Midnight(88)

“Thank you,” I say. Ivy goes back to applying my makeup, running the brush over my cheeks again. “And thank you for telling me everything, about the memory eraser and Wolfe. It means a lot to me, more than you will ever know.”

I feel the brush slow against my skin. “You’re welcome,” she says hesitantly. “Are you feeling okay? With all that?”

“I think so. I’m glad I know what happened, but I still don’t remember any of it. It all feels like something that happened to someone else, like a character in a book. I don’t recognize it as my own lived experience.”

Ivy nods, but her eyebrows pinch together, and she purses her lips. “Hey,” I say, putting my hand on top of hers, moving the brush away from my skin and making her meet my eyes. “It was my decision. I’m the one who took it. I’m the one who made the choices that led up to it. This isn’t on you.”

She swallows and takes a heavy breath, then gets back to work. “I know. It’s just that one day, it might be nice to remember those nights that you fully chose for yourself.”

“Maybe,” I say, looking up as she applies something under my eyes. “But why make it harder on myself?”

“Is it hard?” Her voice is casual, but it’s a loaded question.

“That’s not what I meant,” I say quickly.

“It’s okay if it is.”

“It’s not.”

“Okay,” she says, moving to my other side.

She finishes my makeup in silence, then lifts a gold hand mirror from the table and holds it up in front of me.

“You look beautiful,” she says, emotion edging its way into her voice.

“Oh, Ivy, it’s perfect.” She kept my makeup light enough that I still look like myself, but she has rimmed my eyes in black and added deep gray shadow to my lids. I look dramatic and natural and soft and fierce, just like the sea.

“Thank you,” I say.

She helps me into my dress, the gray silk sliding over my skin and trailing on the floor behind me. My hair is down in soft waves, and she gently tucks a comb into place, adorned with pearls and crystals that catch the light.

“We are so lucky to have you,” Ivy says, giving me a soft hug, careful not to smudge my makeup.

“Don’t you dare make me cry. I have a very long day to get through, and if I start now, who knows when I’ll stop.”

“Fair,” she says.

Just then, the door swings open, and my mother rushes in. “Oh, Tana,” she says, coming to a halt when she sees me. Her eyes begin to glisten, and she takes a deep breath before moving closer to me. “You look radiant.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Ready?”

I look to Ivy, and she gives me an encouraging smile. “I’m right behind you,” she says.

I nod and squeeze her hand. Then I turn to my mother.

“I’m ready.”





thirty-nine





The lawn is packed with bodies. Bright conversation and easy laughter fill the space as I wait to make my entrance. Covenant Balls are our most sacred events, more important than almost anything else. Even though a witch hasn’t denounced our coven in years, we still celebrate each and every witch who declares themself for us because it’s a win for our way of life. It signifies that the new order will continue, that this life is worth protecting. And at the end of the day, it’s still a choice.

The music changes, and my mother weaves her way through the garden and onto the lawn. There’s a circular wooden platform with three marble pillars on top set up in the middle where the binding spell will take place. A copper basin glints in the sunlight, resting on the first pillar. On the second is a gold knife, and on the third is a shallow crystal dish filled with water. It has been the same for every witch who has come before me, the only ritual we have preserved from the old order.

If my blood enters the copper basin, mixing with the blood of my ancestors, I am bound to my coven for life.

If my blood enters the crystal basin, spreading through the clear water, I am banished from my coven forever.

I wonder what Landon will think when he sees my blood fall from my finger and into the basin. I wonder if it will scare him or intrigue him, if it will make him second-guess our arrangement or make him more eager to marry me.

I wonder if he will shy away from who I am or accept me fully, power and magic and all. I think back to our conversation on the mainland, and my stomach pinches.

My mother steps onto the platform, and all conversation stops. The witches spread out, fully encircling the wooden stage. My heart beats wildly as she raises her hands.

“Presenting Mortana Edith Fairchild this seventeenth of December for consideration by the new order of magic and all of us therein.”

My father helps her off the platform, and the music stops. I step onto the lawn, my heart so loud I struggle to hear the ocean. I remind myself to breathe. All I have to do is breathe. My legs shake as I walk toward the platform.

The crowd parts, creating a small aisle for me. I walk down it, unable to make eye contact with anyone. I’ve been waiting for this ceremony my whole life, but now that it’s here, it feels suffocating. When I get to the platform, a hand takes mine, helping me up.

Landon.

It doesn’t feel right, him being the one to help me. It should be my parents or Ivy or just me by myself, but I hear the way the crowd murmurs and see my mother’s smile, and I take his hand.