“We have the same history. The same stories. The fact that I chose a different life after hearing all the information doesn’t make me ignorant,” I say, taking a deep breath and drying my eyes.
“You haven’t heard all the information. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, exasperated.
Wolfe watches me as if he can’t decide whether he wants to continue down this path or not, whether he wants to say what’s on his mind. I don’t move my eyes off his, daring him to speak.
“The moonflower,” he finally says. “Have you asked your mother about it?”
“No,” I say as a chill moves through the air. I shiver.
“Why not?”
“I know this might be difficult for you to understand, but I don’t just sit at home and think about you. I have things going on, big things, and it hasn’t crossed my mind.”
What I don’t tell him is that I have thought about the moonflower many times, but I haven’t had the courage to ask my mother about it.
“See, that’s the problem!” Wolfe shouts, walking away from me and toward the water. “It should cross your mind every second of every day. You should demand to know the truth. Don’t you care at all about that?”
“You know what I care about? Protecting the people I love. Practicing magic out in the open without fear of being killed for it. Seeing this island thrive and knowing our children will have safe and happy lives. I don’t care if those things seem foolish or silly to you, Wolfe. I don’t. While you’re being selfish, putting us all in jeopardy because you don’t know what it is to sacrifice, I’m out there putting in the work to protect this island, and that includes you.”
“I sacrifice everything for this life. I live in a manor covered in a veil of magic, completely invisible to the outside world. I have to travel by water because I can’t risk being recognized. I grow my own food that’s threatened every day by your currents eating away at my shoreline. I’m desperately clinging to a life you’ve all decided isn’t worth living, and it’s hard.”
His voice is getting stronger, but it isn’t his usual anger. That’s there, of course, but there’s also a sadness laced into his tone, and it takes my breath away. Devastating.
“No one asked you to do that,” I say gently.
“Exactly. No one asked because no one cared to preserve my way of life.”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong. No one asked because no one was willing to die for it.”
We watch each other, the tension between us beginning to ease, melting away like snow in the spring. He believes in his life so fiercely he would do absolutely anything for it, same as I believe in mine. For the first time, I realize how similar we are, and I can no longer be angry at him.
He is willing to die for something the rest of us have decided is evil. I wish there was something I could say that would ease his hurt somehow, but there is nothing.
“I was so angry at you when I came here tonight,” I say.
“Why?” He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, as if trying to rid himself of the pain he has shown me.
“Because I blame you for making me question a life I’ve never before questioned.”
“Questions are good, Mortana.”
“I know that. And I know it isn’t your fault if my choices don’t hold up under scrutiny.”
He nods and stares out over the ocean. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look tired, utterly spent after showing so much of himself. I want to reach out and touch him, let him collapse in my arms and rest, but he could never find peace there. Not when my last name is Fairchild.
Then I’m struck by an idea, a wild and ridiculous idea he’ll probably never agree to, but I want to try.
“Will you do something for me?”
“It depends on what it is.”
“You’ve shown me your magic several times now; I want to show you mine. Will you make a perfume with me?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m asking nicely?” I say, inviting lightness into my voice, trying to ease the burden of our previous conversation. Trying to ease something in both of us.
“There are moments when I think I might understand you better than I’ve ever understood another person, and then you suggest something as absurd as making a perfume together, and I’m sure you’re the most baffling creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”