“Honey, it’s the only way.” Her voice is calm and collected, and that might be what hurts more than anything else. “You know what the punishment is for new witches who attempt dark magic.”
I nod. It’s part of our agreement with the mainland—we send them across the Passage to be tried. They inevitably miss the rushes while they are held in prison, where their magic eats them from the inside out.
It’s a death sentence.
I shake my head and start to cry, covering my face with my hands.
“This is the only way. This is what Ivy’s parents require—an alliance with the mainland. That’s what their silence is worth to them.”
“Give them time, please. You said yourself that you’d feel indebted if someone did for me what I did for Ivy. I know they’re glad she’s alive, even if they won’t say it. They’ll keep my secret.”
My mom just shakes her head. “They’re willing to swear to it with magic, but they want the wedding moved up. And I won’t settle for their word, not on this.”
“But I’m not ready.” The words are weak, barely making it out of my mouth around my tears.
“It’s only a few months’ difference. All things considered, this is an extremely lenient outcome. You’re lucky, Tana.”
“When will I get to practice magic again?”
“After the wedding. You won’t be able to practice on the mainland, so we’ll need to make sure you’re using enough magic when you’re working in the perfumery to prevent an unhealthy buildup from happening.”
I wince. I didn’t fully realize until now that magic will no longer be part of my daily life when I move to the mainland. It will no longer be what makes me rise with the sun and dread the night. I will have to bury it for my life with Landon.
My stomach rolls as nausea crawls up my throat. “I’m going to be sick,” I manage to get out before rushing to the bathroom. My father is behind me in seconds, rubbing my back and holding my hair. When I’m done, he gets me a cool washcloth to place on my forehead.
I see the worried expression on his face. I wish I could convince him that I’m okay, that this is okay with me. I wish I could squeeze his hand and tell him that I’m going to be fine, that a life with Landon is a new adventure I can’t wait to embark on, because seeing him worry this way, seeing the uncertainty in his eyes—it hurts.
Everything hurts.
And it’s in this moment, seeing my dad question the life he’s built for me, question the life I’m about to begin, that I finally admit it to myself: I’m not okay with it. It isn’t the life I want. I want the love my parents have. I want the certainty Ivy has. I want the passion Wolfe has. I want it all, and a life with Landon won’t give it to me.
Selfish.
I go lie down while my parents eat dinner. I roll Landon’s sea glass around in my fingers, feel every edge and every corner, hold it in my hands and will myself to believe that I can say the words I do without regretting them every single day for the rest of my life.
Landon deserves more than that.
And so do I.
There’s a soft knock on my door, and my father pokes his head in. “Almost time, sweetheart.”
Another rush. Another release of my magic. Another night of wrecking the sea.
I tremble as I get out of bed, change into my rushing gown, and follow my parents to the western shore. I’m terrified of giving my magic over to the sea when there’s nothing I can do to rebuild it. My skills will fade and my magic will weaken, and I will be a shadow of the girl I once was.
Landon will marry an echo, a whisper, a slight breeze at his back that makes him feel as if he’s being watched.
I walk behind my parents onto the beach and go through the motions of the rush, following my coven into the water once we’re all accounted for. I search for Ivy, but she never once looks my way. She’s on the far side of the shore, and I know she put herself there on purpose, keeping as much distance from me as possible.
The water is up to my chest. It’s a cold, clear night, and a full moon looks down on us from its perch in the sky, illuminating our shame.
It’s midnight.
I don’t think about it first. I don’t feel as if I’m making a choice, but as the rest of my coven pours their magic into the sea, I hold on to mine.
I keep it close.
And I whisper his name.
Over. And over. And over.
Minutes go by, and the last cries of the witches fade into the night. Magic rolls into the water, heavy and thick like oil, damaging instead of healing.