“We almost had her,” I whisper. “Thanks again.”
“Anytime,” Ivy says, taking a sip of her tea. She’s always put together as well, never late for work at her parents’ tea shop, never disheveled or groggy when she arrives. Her brown skin glows without magic, and her dark curls bounce lightly over her shoulders as she moves.
I grab a bunch of dried lavender from a glass jar on the wall and take out a mortar and pestle from the cupboard beneath the island. My dad and I made the work surface from a large piece of driftwood we found on the shore, and I run my hand over the smooth wood grain.
Early morning sun drifts in through the store’s front windows, stretching into the back room and illuminating all the varietals of plants and herbs. Ivy enjoys her tea as I create the base of a bath oil, closing my eyes and picturing how it feels to fall asleep, the heavy calm and gentle sinking of it. I let the feeling tumble into the lavender until the petals are drenched. Practicing magic is my favorite thing to do, and though I’m creating an oil to calm others, it has the same effect on me. This is when I’m happiest, when I feel most at home.
The bell rings again, and I reluctantly open my eyes. I recognize Mrs. Astor’s voice before I even look up, a regular from the mainland who comes to the Witchery for two things: magic and gossip.
“Good morning, Ingrid,” she singsongs to my mother, taking her by the hand, a gesture of friendship my mother likes to remind me is only possible because of the sacrifices made by the generations of witches who came before us.
“How are you, Sheila?”
“I should be asking you the same question,” Mrs. Astor says, giving my mother a significant look. “There are rumors circulating on the mainland, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
“Oh?” my mother asks, busying herself with some glass bottles on the counter.
I turn my back to the door and try to focus on the lavender.
Ivy nudges my arm and nods toward the woman. “Listen,” she whispers.
“Don’t play coy with me, dear. Something about your daughter and the governor’s son?”
I hold my breath, waiting to hear how my mother will respond. The rumor is true, of course, but timing is everything, as my mother says.
“You know as well as I do that I don’t like to share anything unless it’s settled.”
“Can we expect a… settlement anytime soon?”
My mother pauses. Then, “Yes, I should think so.”
Mrs. Astor lets out a tiny shriek, then congratulates my mother and gushes as she buys two new perfumes.
I quietly shut the door to the back room and rest against it, closing my eyes.
“News travels quickly,” Ivy says.
“News travels as quickly as my mother wants it to,” I correct her.
I just swam, but I want to run from the shop and dive into the sea, silencing Mrs. Astor and my mother and the expectations that weigh on me.
Ivy sips the last of her tea and hands me mine. “You should finish this.”
I take it from her and drink it down.
“Before I go, how are you doing with all this? It was one thing when your mom decided it was time to start your courtship with Landon. It’s another thing now that it’s truly happening.”
“This is huge for us,” I say. “It would be the most high-profile marriage between a witch and a mainlander in history. It would completely solidify our coven’s place in society.”
Ivy rolls her eyes. “I didn’t ask how your mom persuaded you. I asked how you’re doing.”
I exhale, moving closer to her. “Did you read any articles about the dock fire?”
The words are so quiet I’m not sure if Ivy heard me, but after a moment, she slowly shakes her head. “Only what was in the paper here.”
“I went to the mainland and read every newspaper I could find,” I say, watching the door to ensure my mother doesn’t walk in. “And you know what? There was hardly anything.”
A look of confusion settles on Ivy’s face. The fire happened one month ago, when a mainlander who didn’t trust magic or witches rowed to our island in a wooden boat and set our docks ablaze, trying to destroy the ferry route between the mainland and the Witchery. Trying to cut us off. As soon as my mother learned the details, she said it was time to begin my courtship with Landon.
“Why did you go there?” she asks me.
“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to see how the mainland felt about it, how strongly they would condemn it. It never occurred to me that I’d find just three short articles that never even called it what it was. I know it’s a small subset of people who feel that way, but things like this will continue to happen until the mainland takes a firm position on the Witchery, and what better way to do that than the future ruler marrying a witch? It’s the most powerful statement they can make. If Landon and I were already married and the mainland had officially written their protection of the Witchery into law, would our docks have been burned? We don’t even know how harshly the man who did it is being punished, if at all. It’s easy to feel like we’re protected with the sea separating us, but we aren’t.”
Ivy nods along to my words. “Mom locked our doors that night. It was the first time I could ever remember her doing that.”
“It’s time for Landon and me to announce our courtship. I’m ready.”
The truth is that the fire only affected the timing. My life has been mapped out for me since the day I was born. This is my role—keeping my coven safe by cementing our place among the mainlanders. It’s a role I’m proud to play, even though it isn’t up to me.
“Well, then,” Ivy says, wrapping her arm around my shoulders, “I suppose it’s a good thing he’s handsome.”
“He most certainly is,” I say, laughing.
Ivy takes my cup from me and walks toward the door.
“Thank you for asking,” I say. She turns. “It’s nice to be asked.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, because I’m going to keep bringing it up.” She grins and walks out the door, saying goodbye to my mother as she leaves.
I’ve known my parents’ plan for this wedding since I was a little girl, and Landon is a good person. He’s decent and kind. We will formally announce our engagement on the same day as my Covenant Ball, when I will bind myself to my coven for the rest of my life. It’s the same ritual every witch must go through, a choice that can never be altered, can never be undone. I must choose my coven or the outside, seal it with magic, and never look back. Without that choice, magic becomes volatile and dangerous.
Even magic needs a home.
In many ways, I’ve been preparing for the ball for nineteen years. It makes sense to share it with Landon.
My mother has never sat down with me to ask my thoughts on the plans my grandparents set in motion, to find out if I would be okay with leaving the Witchery and becoming part of the mainland’s ruling family. If I would trade my magic for jewels, my swims for social calls.
Every so often, I think it would be nice if she asked, if only so I could look her in the eye and tell her with absolute certainty that yes, I’m committed to this path we’re on.
I love my parents and my coven with my whole heart. I love this island with my whole heart. And I will do whatever it takes to secure our place in this world, even if it means marrying a man I don’t love in order to protect all the things I do.