Though her stomach was a raging sea of angry lightning bugs, she made sure her face was composed. This was what she’d been waiting for. She appeared to be calm, cool, and collected, even if inside she was anything but. It was an art she’d mastered at an early age. Too early. But if she’d learned not to care about the secrets and whispers and children calling her names like witch and freak, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. Fold the worries in half. Tuck them away.
The house was uncommonly warm. The kitchen table, set with Gigi’s nicest linen and china set, made Sadie’s heart thrill. The teapot had ceramic clusters of blueberries that were so cheery and full they looked half alive. There was a gentle, fragrant haze in the air from the clary sage and frankincense incense that added an air of magic and mystery to the whole ceremony. Both scents, Sadie knew, were supposed to invite clarity and focus.
“He can’t keep it from me,” Sadie said after she’d taken in the scene before her.
“He can and he will. Your turn now, sugar,” she’d said. “Sit.” She pushed a saucer and empty cup toward Sadie. “Eat,” she added, holding out a plate of pomegranate tea cakes.
“What do I need to be brave for?” Sadie asked, her eyes narrowing and focusing on the fruit dotted throughout the cake.
“The future always needs bravery, toot. Eat.”
The seeds burst in her mouth, the sweet, buttery taste coating her tongue as Gigi poured the vanilla jasmine tea with a hint of black pepper and cinnamon.
“It’s hot,” she warned.
Sadie blew on the top, watching the tiny ripples and inhaling the sweet warmth of the vanilla.
“Now, what do you want for your future?” Gigi asked conversationally.
“To do magic. To grow things. To help people,” Sadie answered without thinking.
“And what does magic mean to you?” Gigi asked, and Sadie thought there was a hint of sadness to her voice.
“Everything. Or almost everything. Seth means as much.”
“I know he does. Drink,” she commanded.
Sadie felt the valor of the pomegranate sink into her. She let the clarity and focus seep into her from the incense. Her curse wouldn’t be that bad. Whatever it was, it would be worth it so long as she could keep her magic.
She drained the last drop, set her teacup down, and rotating it, pushed it toward Gigi.
“You know the legacy. Every Revelare has magic, but they also have a curse. I told you your time would come, and it’s arrived, sugar. Your choice, of course, is to forgo the curse by sacrificing your magic.”
“What did Seth say when you asked him that?” Sadie challenged.
“Your brother and I had an entirely different conversation and ceremony, which you’re not to know about. Focus on your own future,” Gigi told her in a stern voice.
“Whatever his future is, mine is the same. We’re twins. That’s how it has to be. And I know Seth: he’d never give anything up until he understood it fully, and he doesn’t; so I can’t either, and I wouldn’t even if he did!” she said.
“This will change everything,” Gigi warned.
Sadie didn’t answer, but nodded once and watched as Gigi finally looked down into her cup. She turned it this way, then tilted it that. She swirled the remaining tea leaves, her lips pursed thin as paper.
“There’s a heart broken into four pieces and a chain. I see a clover, but it’s so near the bottom that the luck may not arrive before you’re old. And a snake. Bad omens, always.”
“What does it all mean?” Sadie asked, her heart hammering.
“It’s a curse of four heartbreaks, sugar.” Gigi shook her head almost as if she were angry. “Each one will be worse than the last. They’ll be so deep they’ll rend your soul in two. And if you’re not careful, when all four heartbreaks come to pass, the curse will consume you, and your magic will flee, leaving chaos behind, bitter as milk thistle. This curse will follow you like storm clouds, leaning toward you like wheat in the wind. Love only as you are willing to lose your magic.”
From that day, the magic had wrapped itself around her heart and built a wall of thickest vines until not even a tendril of hope could get in.
Though she thought of her curse every day, she hadn’t pictured the tea-reading ceremony in years. “Rule number seven,” Sadie said, sighing, “‘If it’s done, it can’t be undone.’” She’d forgotten what her grandmother had said about Seth’s time with her and wondered, for the first time in three blood moons, just what Seth’s magic was.