This time, I can’t stop the tears that spill over my lashes. “I love you so much,” I say, giving my dad a hug, holding on tight, wanting to stay here just a little longer. Stay his little girl instead of Landon’s bride.
“I love you, too.”
I wonder if he can sense that I’m struggling to let go, that he is the only solid ground I have left.
The door opens, and my mom comes bustling out with a notebook tucked beneath her arm and a large teapot and three teacups sitting on a tray.
“Today’s the day,” she proclaims, setting everything down and pouring us each a cup of tea. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
Her eyes are so bright and her smile so excited that it’s hard not to smile back. “Great,” I say, slipping the necklace from Dad over my head. “I can’t wait.”
“Oh, Tana, it looks perfect on you,” she says, touching the vial around my neck.
“I love it.” I smile at my dad, and he squeezes my shoulder before taking a sip of tea.
“Okay, why don’t we go over the schedule for the day? Ivy will be here at noon to get you ready for your Covenant, which will start promptly at four. Mainlanders will be arriving on the island all day for the wedding, but Landon and his parents will be the only ones permitted at your Covenant. Once the ball is over, you’ll go back to the main house, where you’ll get changed for the wedding. The ceremony will begin promptly at sunset on the eastern shore, followed by the reception.”
I nod along with her words, having memorized the schedule from the previous times she’s gone over it with me. It sits heavy on me, knowing so much of my life is about to change. By the end of the day, I’ll be bound to my coven for life, an irrevocable tie that can never be broken.
And I’ll be Landon’s wife, binding my coven to the mainland, another tie that can’t be undone.
It’s terrifying and exciting and monumental, and I hope I can get through both ceremonies with the grace and poise required for such occasions. At least Ivy will be there helping me, gently guiding me when I’m not quite sure what to do.
Between her and my mother, I’ll be fine. I know I will be.
“I’m ready,” I tell my mom, making sure my nerves don’t edge their way into my voice. I want to sound calm and controlled and strong, all the things she would be if she were in my place. All the things she is.
“I know you are, honey,” she says, pulling me into a hug.
The three of us drink our tea and watch the sky until it’s a vibrant shade of blue, a clear, crisp day that’s perfect for vows and promises and change.
When we’re finished, I set my teacup on the tray and fold the blanket.
“Now it’s time for the best part of the day,” my dad says in a mischievous voice. “Cinnamon rolls.”
My mom swats him on the shoulder and laughs. “Hardly.”
“I don’t know, Mom. His cinnamon rolls are pretty excellent,” I say, following my parents inside. “I’d bind myself to them for the rest of my life if I could.”
They laugh, and I touch the vial hanging from my neck, already a part of me that I never want to be without.
Today will be a good day, one to remember for the rest of my life. History in the making.
I can do this.
* * *
I watch nervously through the window as the council readies the lawn for my Covenant. My mom rushes around with a pencil tucked behind her ear and her notebook held firmly in her hands, passing out orders as if they’re hors d’oeuvres.
Ivy pulls me away from the window and motions to a pale pink velvet chair. We’re in an old manor house that was converted for events years ago, and the entire room is ornate. Gold botanical wallpaper brightens the space, and a white grand piano sits in the corner, reflecting the light from outside. A fire dances in the white marble fireplace, and a large, gilded mirror hangs above the mantel. Dozens of plants line the windowsills and snake down the wall, and I gently take a leaf between my fingers.
“Sit. We aren’t done yet,” Ivy says, swirling a brush in a rose-colored powder from Mrs. Rhodes’s beauty shop. Ivy had me ready hours ago, but she finds applying makeup without magic soothing, much like my dad keeps magic out of the kitchen. I’m overwhelmed by the number of witches who have offered up their goods, wanting to be part of the ceremony in some way. Mrs. Rhodes’s makeup and Ms. Talbot’s dress and Mr. Lee’s shoes and even Ivy’s Tandon blend.
“It’s actually pretty good,” I say, starting on my second cup.