Then Nikki died, and I ended things right away. I couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk her.
I’m still not sure if I got out in time or if she’s still at risk. Paige’s name weighs heavy on my shoulders. She was so angry, so hurt when I ended things that she pushed me out of her life entirely, slamming the door on everything we had—not only with each other, but with Nikki as well. I know it was for the best, but losing my relationship with Paige felt like losing Nikki again too.
It’s been over a year, and I miss her. She’s sitting right next to me, and I still miss her. But our friendship got mixed up with our romance.
I loved Paige as a friend, a fierce, loyal love that lasted season after season. So maybe she was never safe, romance or not. Maybe my magic would have found her regardless. I pray the Sun doesn’t recognize her anymore, doesn’t feel the pull between us.
It takes Paige a while to speak, and I wonder if she’s thinking about all our loose ends the same way I am.
“I’ve seen you out there training with Sang,” she says. “You’re getting better.”
“I’m behind.”
“You’ll catch up.”
I look at her, but she’s focusing on a point in the distance. Things have been over between us for a long time, but she lingers, the way a hearth stays warm long after the last flame dies out.
I don’t tell her that. I don’t tell her that when I can’t sleep, I still play the games that used to keep her, Nikki, and me up until the morning. I don’t tell her that the rush of magic that took Nikki would have taken her, too, had she not been sick that day. I don’t tell her how I’ve never been more thankful for someone being sick in my entire life.
I think about the upcoming eclipse, about how I’ll never have to worry about this ever again. I can train now, gain control of my magic enough to tide me over, and then leave all of this behind. The hope of never hurting another person swells in my chest, beats in time with my heart.
Paige opens her mouth to speak again, but Sang comes out, erasing the moment.
“Want to get in one last session before the solstice?” he asks.
I don’t hesitate. I don’t remind him I’m in a dress and he’s in a suit. I don’t tell him I’m tired.
Instead, I glance at Paige, think about our tie that’s still too strong. Too dangerous.
I stand up, grab my purse, and say, “Yes.”
Chapter Eleven
“Autumn is its own kind of magic; it reminds us of the beauty in letting go.”
—A Season for Everything
The control field is still, silent. Stars shine overhead, and the full moon provides just enough light for us to see what we’re doing. My heels punch through the dirt, so I take them off and toss them aside.
“One of the best things about training at night,” Sang says, his voice soft and low, “is that no one can see you.”
He’s right. The darkness wraps me up like my very own security blanket, protecting me from the curiosity and judgment that follows me in daylight.
It’s freeing.
“And you can’t see the trees,” he adds. “Let’s keep working on the same drill, but tonight, focus on how it feels. Forget about the results; forget about how far you throw the wind and how much progress you’re making. Forget about being perfectly in control. Just focus on what it feels like to have that kind of power inside you.”
Something about the way he says it creates an ache deep inside my core. I push it down, ignore it.
“We’re witches,” he says. “Let’s enjoy it.”
I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but the comment feels so flippant, given why we’re here in the first place. I swallow. “Easy for you to say. How can I enjoy something that causes so much pain?”
“For starters, you can stop feeling sorry for yourself.” He says it so simply, as if stating that the stars shine brightest after a good rain or that winter follows autumn.
“Excuse me?”
He lets out a breath and shakes his head, frustrated. “You’re so caught up in the bad that you refuse to acknowledge the good.”
“People die because of me.”
“No, they die because of magic you never asked for. Your friend who died—she was a summer, right?”
“Nikki,” I say.
“Nikki. Did she love being a summer?”
“There wasn’t anything she loved more.” The words catch in my throat, but I force them out.
“And she loved it even though she spent nine months out of every year longing for summer to come. Even though the moment the equinox arrived, she could feel herself getting weaker. Even though for seventy-five percent of her life, she didn’t feel truly herself.”
“That’s different.”
“Of course it is. But my point is that she still loved her magic—we all do, even though it comes with real pain. Pain that you will never have to experience because you’re an Ever. Your magic comes with its own kind of pain, and you can acknowledge it, hate it, wish it didn’t have to be that way, and still live your life. Still be happy.”
His eyes reflect the moonlight. There’s something about the way he talks about hard things that makes them easier to approach, and I feel the tension rush out of me. I don’t want to fight anymore. But the best manipulators are disarming. I think about Sang and his calming magic, Sang sitting on the other side of that desk with Ms. Suntile and Mr. Burrows, Sang respecting a person who seems so horrible, and it suddenly makes so much sense that they chose him. He is disarming.
And I refuse to fall for it.
I clear my throat. “You make a better botanist than armchair psychologist. Let’s train.”
Sang tips his head down as if he’s embarrassed. But
