I hung my head forward as exhaustion threatened, determined to give everything the plant needed. The grip loosened as if the plant realized it dared to take too much, that if it put me at risk, it may never be given another offering again. As it released me, a single leaf swept across my cheek, and I leaned into the touch.
Into the soft and subtle thank you it seemed to offer.
The vine slid along my skin gently, leaving distinct, bloodied welts behind as it returned to the trellis it called home.
“Let’s get you to a healer,” Iban said, stepping toward me.
I slid my fingers into the earth beneath me, gathering up a single handful of dirt that now felt soft and ripe. I spread it over my injuries, covering my arms and hands in it.
It gave me the relief I’d earned with my offering, glowing with a soft green light as my wounds stitched closed. Iban’s eyes grew wide as he studied them, watching as I brushed the dirt from my arms to reveal smooth, unblemished skin.
I pushed to stand, swaying on my feet as a wave of dizziness filled me. A vine stretched out, catching me around the waist and stabilizing me without being asked.
“It helped you. Of its own accord,” Iban said, the shock in his voice disarming. Whatever he was, whatever the Brays had become, they were as far from what my mother had taught me of Greens as possible.
“Our magic is about balance. You cannot take more than you give and still expect nature to answer your call. It’s a dance, a relationship like no other. If all we do is take and use, how are we any better than the humans who poison the earth?” I asked, running a gentle finger over the vine that had stabilized me.
When I felt able to stand on my own, it pulled away once more and returned to its slumber, now satiated.
“No wonder my mother hated it here. You’ve all become so corrupted by your own selfishness, they don’t even teach the old ways anymore, do they?” I asked, shaking my head and taking a step toward the window I’d slid through to get to the courtyard in the first place.
The ground rushed up to meet me, pressing into the bottoms of my feet and helping me keep my footing. It sprang beneath me, helping my weakened limbs find the energy to move. It wasn’t my magic that motivated it to do so, not when I’d depleted so much of it in offering to that vine.
It was the symbiotic relationship that a witch was meant to have with her affinity. Harmony, rather than theft.
I leaned against the edge of the stone, touching my hands to the ledge and attempting to lift myself up. Before the earth could help, Iban’s face filled my vision as he stood before me. He placed a hand on each side of my waist, lifting me up until I rested fully, and drew in a deep breath.
“What you just did—”
“Was forbidden. I know.” I sighed, shaking my head as my eyes drifted closed with exhaustion. If I hadn’t feared for my life in this place I’d needed to come, I might have gone straight to sleep. It had been a long time since I’d needed to give that much of myself at once.
“It was beautiful,” he said, his deep voice shocking me. He wrapped my sweater around my shoulders, giving warmth to my chilled skin as he stared down at me. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“You aren’t going to run and tell the Covenant that I broke the rules?” I asked, laughter bubbling up as I glanced back toward the Tribunal room.
“No,” he said, his brow furrowing as he grasped my hand in his. He turned it over, looking at my uninjured skin and wiping away grains of dirt. “You make me wish I hadn’t given up my own magic. I think maybe that’s something worth protecting.”
The smile drifted off my face as I met his gaze, staring up at him. My shock took over, consuming every waking thought. Of all the things he could have said, that hadn’t been what I’d expected.
To exist without my magic felt like losing part of myself, like losing the most important part of what made me, me. I didn’t know who I was without the whisper of the earth in my veins or the scent of the woods filling my lungs.
Even now, knowing what I’d given would return with time and rest… I felt like nothing. Like an empty shell of myself.
Of all the things the Coven had done, I was fairly certain the Choice that male witches were required to make was the most cruel. Family or magic.
“This doesn’t look like her room, Mr. Bray,” Thorne’s voice said from behind me.
I groaned as I hung my head forward, my forehead pressing against Iban’s white dress shirt. His tie tickled my cheek as I tried to ignore the weight of the headmaster’s gaze pressing into my spine.