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  “I don’t have anything of Bane’s.” She considered me a moment longer than was comfortable before I waved my hand, bringing her attention away from my face. “Why are we even discussing this? Am I that much of a threat to your family’s precious plans for Bane’s life?”

  Cari’s expression softened, not for long and not drastically, but the emotion was there. “You have no idea what it was like for him, do you?” It was the first time since I’d known her that I thought she might have some genuine feelings for Bane.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You bewitch him. Always have,” she said, soft as a whisper behind a swig on her flask. “By the gods, it’s time you stop.”

  She moved away from the fire, disappearing to the tent Ethan had constructed during our conversation, and I watched her, catching the look my brother sent me and the warning in it. He heard her. He knew what warning was meant for me and wanted me to heed it even if I didn’t take Cari Rivers seriously.

  “Ridiculous,” I muttered to the fire, scrubbing my hands over my face, half wishing the crazy witch would have left her flask.

  “She’s not wrong,” Malak said, sitting next to me as Sam and Hamill moved to the edge of the encampment, on their guard. Bane’s cousin looked thin and tired, but still handsome, and I wondered if the mission and long trek through the forest was weighing on him.

  “You think?” I asked him, leaning back against a small pine tree with my arms curled across my chest.

  “I know,” Malak said, stretching out his legs. “You forget, I was there, in the same house as him all that time.” Malak was five years younger than us, but had always followed after Bane with something akin to severe hero-worship. If my leaving had impacted the wizard at all, Malak would be the one to notice.

  “Even before that day you left. Bane doesn’t remember much, and for a while we’d half convinced him that you’d twisted some sort of powerful spell on him.” Malak glanced at me then, as though looking for a little confirmation. When I gave none, he returned his attention to the fire and his small revelations. “That would have made sense. Hell, I even suggested a love potion, a hex to keep you front and center on his mind. But a week after you left and he was still distracted.”

  A small noise of surprise lifted past my lips, but Malak continued. “A month and he’d hounded your family about where you were. Two years later and you became a constant sticking point—the girl he drove away without ever understanding how he’d done it. And trust me, Jani, it was a skill he truly wanted to remember.” He leaned back against a small, smooth boulder, propping his elbow on it. “You forget who we’re talking about. You forget his reach. What witches want from him.”

  “I haven’t forgotten a damn thing.”

  “Fine then. But let me remind you that he’s been hounded, tempted by many a witch. What he’d done to drive you away would have been useful to him, I’m sure.”

  That Bane would try, would want to be rid of me struck me as insulting, though I knew that made no sense. Malak seemed to be digging for answers, skirting too near the truth. But I didn’t give him a thing—I didn’t avoid his stare, didn’t try in the least to seem apologetic.

  “What are you saying?”

  “That Cari was right. You were remembered.” The wizard shook his head and ran his fingers through his thick hair. “Bane is the eldest among us cousins. And he’s the strongest. Our uncle could only choose him. But it took five years to convince Bane to the marriage with Cari. Five long damn years that shortened the preparation needed to make certain the arrangements were settled, that both covens would gain significant assets from this arrangement. The bloodlines crossing, strengthening will ensure the Cove protection from any threat, magical or mortal. The two oldest covens melding magic. Can’t you imagine the power of those future generations? Their strength is unfathomable.” When I didn’t respond, Malak slid next to me and I caught the shift in his expression, the lowering of his gaze as it settled on my mouth. “It doesn’t mean that you can be without him completely.”

  “What?”

  His breath was thick, smelling a bit like whiskey. “It happens often. High coven wizards with lesser coven witches. There’s no marriage, of course, certainly no children that could be claimed as part of the bloodlines, but it still happens. Wizards, even powerful wizards have…certain wants.”

  I was too stunned by his words to react when Malak pulled a strand of my hair around his finger. Then sense returned and I moved it out of his reach to my other shoulder as my outrage smoldered. “You’re suggesting I play whore for Bane? That I stay here in the Cove and wait on the sidelines as he builds a life with another witch because my coven isn’t half as old as his?”

  “It’s not meant as an insult.” Malak frowned, seeming surprised at my anger. “It’s simply fact.”

  “But it is an insult.” I stood, my fists balling tight as he watched me. “It’s damn insulting to expect that I’d want or need to be someone’s whore, even Bane’s.”

  “Lower your voice. Your charm can’t be that strong. The trackers will...”

  “Damn the trackers, you loathsome bastard.”

  “Jani, calm yourself.” Ethan had returned from securing Cari’s tent. He made a motion, likely trying to reach for me, but my glare and the bubble of energy that pushed past Bane’s block and seared in my fingertips had the wizard raising his hand, backing away from me. “This isn’t Malak’s fault, you know. He’s only…speaking the truth.” He cleared his throat, tossing out a low “Some of it,” which earned him a glare from Malak.

  That small exchange between them—quiet, secret, made the irritation bubbling in my stomach churn harder. “Tell me.” I took a step, not backing down when Ethan frowned. “What is it?”

  Malak ran his fingers through his hair, looking more worried about where I’d direct my twitchy fingers than concerned about what revealing his little secret might do. “The Elam. When it’s replaced back on the lines and things are settled once more…”

  For an insulting wizard who was friendly with the likes of Ethan Rivers, Malak certainly didn’t seem eager to share what he knew. He hesitated too long, milking the moment, and that stoked my anger. Still, he inched back when I stepped forward. “Go on.”

  “Our uncle, Carter Grant,” he finally said, shifting his gaze between me and Ethan. “He’s dying. We cannot be without a patriarch. The treatments, the healing charms he’s taken for years, they prevent him from fathering children. Otherwise, he’d take a bride himself. Bane has no choice. Not if he wants to secure the bloodlines. Once this…” He waved his hand at me, around the forest. “Once the Elam is recovered, Bane and Cari will marry.” Malak took advantage of my stunned silence to continue. “I wasn’t trying to insult you really, though, honestly. This…is just the way it’s always been.”

  At his confession, I lowered my hands and stuffed them into my pockets. At our side, Ethan lifted his chin, his humor returning and that condescending attitude resurfacing as my anger quelled. “Come now, you know what a beneficial position you are in. Catching Bane’s eye will be useful to you, especially to your father. Finding the Elam, fixing the lines, will restore his name. Everything else is simply lagniappe, correct?”

  Then a great swell of anger and frustration rose up heavy in my chest and I couldn’t help it. I didn’t fight the feel of the faint lines seeping through the block that Bane had placed on me. I didn’t spell Ethan to take that genuine confusion from his face. I didn’t hex Malak to keep the smirk from his face. Instead, I let that liquid feel of tension, anger, and frustration flow straight through me.

  Behind me, Sam and Hamill approached, and I couldn’t be certain if they wanted to subdue me or warn the wizards of the bite my magic held. The two wizards lifted their hands, attempting an offensive block as I charged toward them, fingers twitching with energy. But this time, the pull of the lines did not overwhelm me. The anger and frustration did not seep out in a blast of magic meant to topple and cower an
yone. This time, the hex spelled firm, but did not maim. Ethan caught the bulk of my blast, falling backward over the tree he stood in front of near the campfire, while Malak failed to block the remnant of that quick spell, falling face forward into the ground.

  Sam knelt down to check the downed wizards as Hamill followed behind me, silent. I grabbed my pack and set out further into the forest. “I don’t need a chaperone,” I yelled at him over my shoulder.

  “Maybe not,” he said, trailing at my back. His voice came out muted, then grew louder as he turned back toward me. “But you might need a referee.”

  My anger and my frustration were too thick and too heavy for me to give much thought as to what Hamill meant, but then I heard Bane’s voice and the low rumbling of what was surely admonishment leveled out at Ethan and Malak. My steps slowed only marginally.

  “What did you menaces do to piss her off now?”

  Fourteen

  Memory is an illusion. Time, space from the truth tends to draw you in circles of contentment where the memory, no matter the reality of it, becomes this imitation version of yourself, of what held such great happiness for you.

  Even when the memories weren’t nearly as beautiful as you recalled them to be, the mind, the heart, begs to differ.

  It was a glossy memory that brought me into another dream, this one of my own making, part fantasy, part manufactured recollection. It was there, in my own head as I lay sleeping: Bane’s reach, the slow, sweet movement of his fingers along my skin, his mouth pressed against my neck. It was like a spell, the weaving together of thought and sensation, misremembered or not, to make me drunk, eager to be lost in that day, the memory of us together in that classroom.

  He was beautiful then—the light from the horizon flooding into the half-opened window, the sticky humidity in the breeze doing little to abate the heat around us. I’d only wanted that touch, that taste to never end.

  I’d wanted an endless day.

  But that day, in Mr. Matthews’ English Lit class, sitting next to a boy who could likely impregnate the Cove female population with one look, I didn’t get my wish.

  He had never been friendly with anyone. He had, in fact, kept absolutely everyone at a distance: students, teachers, even the handful of wizards and witches that attended that last year with us. Only I seemed even remotely curious enough to exchange a glance or two and, of course, the glances which seemed to always come my way typically happened when I caught the attention of anyone not Bane.

  Especially the “anyone” boy types.

  The clock above Matthews’ desk had read 1:45. Fifteen minutes and I’d be free from all the hiding, all the whispered living that kept our lives running and our existence, our magic concealed from the mortals in the Cove.

  Fifteen minutes and I’d lose my chance with him.

  Forever.

  The courage I’d worked up had started just a month before that last day. I’d dropped my pencil in the middle of our Persuasion essay exam, and Bane reached down and grabbed it for me. I was going to say thanks, maybe just offer him a smile, but I’d reached for my pencil and Bane covered my hand with his and rubbed the pad of his thumb over my knuckles.

  And I forgot to breathe.

  There’d been something in that look, something more significant than his fingers rooting me to the earth that day. There was no need for confessions of admiration, or practiced monologue about how I affected him or how much he loved my smile. There was something sweeter, stronger in the strength of his fingers gripping my hand and the heavy-lidded gaze of his sharp crystal eyes catching me in their stare.

  Maybe it was the end of things that had forced me into action. Maybe he knew that day would be the last we’d have excuse enough for seeing each other.

  Things got a little hazy then, but I do remember Matthews telling me to, “Enjoy New York, Jani, and please reconsider college. I’ve never heard anyone so young explain symbolism like you do.” Then Bane staying behind, seeming to wait, and Mr. Matthews pointing out as he was leaving that it seemed like perhaps I’d forgotten something on my desk. But…I hadn’t. Had I? But looking back there was indeed a folded piece of paper sitting right there on my desk.

  It hadn’t occurred to me that Bane wanted me to stay behind. But as I opened the folded paper and read the scribble of “Don’t go,” I realized maybe there was more to small knuckle rub and the months of silent conversations than I could have imagined.

  I looked over at Bane, who had moved to lean up against the door. “Why?” I asked him, waving the paper between my fingers.

  He’d opened his mouth but didn’t seem able to speak. I’d spooked him with one word and hadn’t understood how. Bane had asked me not to leave the room but didn’t seem all that interested in doing more than stare at me.

  Another step closer and the scent of him hit me hard. He’d smelled like honeysuckle and forest.

  “Why?” I’d asked again, not expecting an answer, even shutting my eyes, giving him an out if he wanted to take it. He could have walked away right then and never looked back. But his scent got stronger as he moved closer, and the tip of his thumb smoothed down my jaw.

  “Because,” he’d finally said as I blinked up at him, “I need you with me. Alone.”

  Alone stretched into an entire afternoon and I’d found myself lost under Bane’s control, skimming my touch over his skin, wanting it to always be that way.

  “Bane,” I moaned, not understanding at first that where I lay, my mind and emotions were visible, open to him. I was no longer eighteen. He was now out of my reach. But that didn’t stop my subconscious from calling out to him. It made the touch that came to me impossible to disregard. “Please.”

  But the hand on my neck moved up, covered my mouth, its grasp too hard to be a dream, and the shock of being touched, roused awake so quickly, had my eyes jerking open and me gripping helplessly for the lines.

  Bane shook his head, his forehead wrinkled with worry as I struggled against him until my sleep-addled brain realized that it really was him. He held a finger up to his lips in a shushing motion and it was then that I heard the sound of lumbering, noisy feet close by—too close.

  My guise charm? I thought, counting on his spell to keep our silent communication open.

  You were sleeping. It wore itself out.

  I looked around, panicked. We were alone by the dying fire.

  Be still. There’s something moving…the creature.

  My heart pounded as Bane waved his hand, throwing a concealment charm over both of us long enough to make for the tree line.

  My brother…and the others?

  Cari’s tent was still erected, but the door flap was open and there was no sign of anyone near the camp.

  I don’t know. But their signatures are still here.

  My skin was flush and clammy despite the cool temperatures, and when I pulled Bane’s hand off my mouth, that cool sensation only intensified. The way he watched me, how careful he was not to say or think anything that would give himself away, was a little intimidating. I could not pretend to maintain control like he could. Bane was the real power in the woods and I was like a pathetic apprentice waiting for instruction.

  Bane worked his own charm from his neck, holding it tight between his large fingers, but I could not make out what spell he twisted to invoke it. Magic is personal and intensely private, and most wizards and witches keep their spells to themselves. Seeing Bane hold something as mundane, as simple as a charm without any real fear of exposure to me was incredibly intimate. With the charm twisted and the muzzle of magic once again concealing us, Bane looked down at me, a half-smile reminding me that he could still read my emotions, hear my thoughts.

  “It is private,” he said, pulling me close when the brush beyond the firelight began to move. We snuggled together, my back against Bane’s chest, his large hand extended, ready with a hex as I curled my hand into a fist, centering my own spell to attack.

  “Magic, charms,” he said against the
shell of my ear, his voice reminding me of whiskey and gravel. “They don’t work if we keep ourselves from its power. The lines want us.” The side of Cari’s tent moved and we went still, moving into position, keeping the conversation going to distract whatever would attack and make it believe we were unaware of the approaching danger.

  “They want us to crave them,” he continued, his gaze shooting to me, then to the tent when Bane came to my side, “but they need us as much as we need them. Light and dark, Jani. We feed off of each other. It’s symbiotic. It’s a relationship. Of course it’s private.”

  “You…you don’t hide it.” I answered, swallowing the thick salvia in my throat when the large shadow of a creature moved across Cari’s tent.

  “Didn’t you twist your charm in front of Ethan and Malak and, Gods, Hamill too?”

  “Invoking the charm is nothing. Besides, they weren’t paying attention to me.”

  “But you were,” he said, nodding toward the tent, taking careful steps. The creature could not see us because of Bane’s spell, but it would be able to hear how our voice traveled. It was a tactic I hoped would work as a distraction. “Just now when I invoked it, you listened.”

  Bane pressed his lips together. He didn’t need to explain further. I caught his meaning. Common decency dictated that I look away when a wizard works a charm. It’s just good manners, but hell, I was lower coven. He shouldn’t have expected me to behave. By the quick smile Bane gave me, I remembered he could hear my thoughts.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, shrugging.

  “No you’re not, Jani.”

  And I wasn’t. Why would I be?

  The ripping scream that sounded inside that tent shredded apart our distraction and when Cari’s voice went flat and silent, Bane forgot about anything else but charging forward, right for the tent. I flanked him, letting the hex bubble between my fingers, holding the curse back when my brother moved from the back of the tent.