“You did great tonight,” my mother says behind me.
I turn to look at her. Her shawl is wrapped tightly around her arms, and the wind seems to avoid her, going around her completely rather than risking messing up her hair, which is still in a tight updo, every strand in place.
She looks pleased, and it fills me with warmth.
“Thanks, Mom. I’m glad you’re happy,” I say, because I am. That’s all I really want, for the people I love to be happy.
Happy and safe.
She nods. “I am. So is your father.”
“That’s good.”
“Things are right on track for your Covenant Ball. Announcing your engagement to Landon that night will be perfect.”
“I think so, too. I can’t wait.”
“Really?” she asks, studying me.
“Really.” I smile and turn back to the sea. The waxing moon plays hide-and-seek with the clouds, coming into view and glistening on the surface of the water before disappearing again.
I’ve been looking forward to my Covenant Ball my whole life, so eager to bind myself to my coven in front of all my friends and family. If I’m being honest, that’s the part I’m most excited about. I worry that announcing my engagement that night might take away from my Covenant, but my mom is sure it won’t.
I suppose it makes sense. I’m marrying Landon to protect my coven; binding myself to them and protecting them all in the same night has a beautiful harmony to it.
Most of the witches are just starting to hear rumors about Landon and me, just like the mainlanders. My mother has kept the secret of our betrothal for most of my life in case it fell through, and the witches will be overwhelmed when it’s announced.
I turn around, but my mother is gone. A lullaby jumps into my mind unbidden, and I hum it softly to the sound of the waves.
Soft like magic, calming tea,
give your power to the sea.
If they should turn,
come after you,
your weakness will ensure your doom.
Soft like magic, easy glee,
you cannot stop this violent sea.
I’ve always wondered who wrote it, where the words came from. It’s clear it was written as a warning, likely from the witches who refused to give up their dark magic and adhere to the new order. There was only one coven who refused, a small subset of witches who would rather have put us all at risk than convert to low magic, but no one has seen or heard from them in many years.
It’s as if they vanished.
The prevailing belief among new witches is that they eventually died out—it was a small coven to begin with, and as time went on, there probably weren’t enough of them to sustain the group. No one wants to practice dark magic when it means you have no security, no safety, no home. When it means you could die in a jail cell on the mainland.
Still, the words dance through my mind, but they don’t scare me the way they used to. The mainlanders can’t turn on us once I’m married to the governor’s son.
A shrill sound comes from somewhere in the distance, and I jump back from the railing. I squint into the darkness, looking for the source of the cry, and find a sea lion thrashing in the water, trapped in a current.
One of our currents. My heart aches as I watch the animal helplessly, wishing I could do something but knowing I can’t. There is nothing to do.
The sea lion swirls in the water, roaring as it goes around and around and around. The sound is awful, tearing at my insides, sending bile up my throat. I run to the railing in case I get sick, and I swear the animal looks right at me. My eyes fill with tears, and I want to tell it I’m sorry, so sorry that the currents we caused are taking its life.
Ivy rushes over to where I’m standing, grabbing my hand as if she’s afraid I might dive in.
“There’s nothing we can do,” she says. I’m leaning over the edge, as far as I can go without falling over, and Ivy gently pulls me back. We watch as the animal turns in the water, wailing into the night.
Then it’s pulled under the surface and the sound abruptly stops.
Eerie silence.
Tears stream down my face, and I take a deep breath and try to regain my composure. The currents are getting worse, eroding our island and killing our sea creatures. Hurting the things we love.
My mother says they’re under control, that the coven leaders are taking care of things, but watching a sea lion be drowned by its home is not control.
It’s failure.
I think back to that night five years ago when I almost drowned, to my father’s angry voice as he blamed it on my mother. What will he say to her tonight in the safety of their room, in whispers that can’t get past the door? Will he blame this on her as well, or were his words unfounded, brought on by the terror of almost losing his only child?
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
The boat slows as it approaches the docks on the Witchery, and Ivy and I walk inside together. She leans against the wall of the ferry, and I rest my head on her shoulder and exhale.
“You okay?”
“I’m okay,” I assure her.
“The currents are getting worse,” she says.
“I know.” I pause and lower my voice. “Ivy, what if that had been a person? A mainlander? It’s only a matter of time before that happens, and if Landon and I aren’t married when it does—”
My mother walks over, and I cut myself off, but I don’t miss the worry in Ivy’s eyes.
“Let’s get you girls home, hm?” she says. We walk toward the exit, and she wraps an arm around each of us. “Tonight was an incredible success. Well done.”
We follow my father off the ferry, over the rickety bridge and onto the dock. The clouds are getting heavier, concealing the moon and the stars. Everything is dark.
We stop at Ivy’s house first, and I give her a tight hug before she heads inside.
“Do you really think that’s a risk?” Ivy whispers as she hugs me back. “What you said about the currents drowning a mainlander?”
“I think we’ve got time before that happens,” I say, not wanting to make her worry more than I already have. “Mom says the council has it under control.” I squeeze Ivy tight, and she nods and heads inside.
My parents are walking slowly, their arms around each other, delighting in the memories of the night. I follow behind them, the lullaby still playing in my head, punctuated by the sounds of the sea lion slipping away.
I grip Landon’s sea glass tightly in my palm, its sharp edges digging into my skin.
When we get home, my mother walks to the kitchen and pours two glasses of wine while my father lights a fire.
“Would you like to join us, Tana?” she asks.
“I’m tired,” I say.
“Of course. Get some rest, sweetheart.”
I nod and head up the stairs, the sound of my parents’ happy laughter following me as I go.
I love that sound.
My room is dark, and I set the piece of sea glass on my dresser. I don’t bother turning on the light before I unzip my dress and fill my lungs for what feels like the first time tonight. I walk into my bathroom and wash my face, pull my hair up, and brush my teeth.
I’m about to crawl into bed when a dim light outside catches my attention. I pick up the sea glass and open the window, inviting the sound of the waves into my room. I sit on the window seat and roll the glass around in my hand, watching the world outside.