Dread stirs in my stomach, but I force it down. Sang will be there. Ms. Suntile will be there. And I’m more in control of my magic now than I’ve ever been.
“Where is it?”
“I mapped it out—the whole area is farmland.”
“Great,” I say, grabbing my bag from the ground. “Let’s get this over with.”
Sang laces his fingers with mine, and we walk to the parking lot. It’s such a simple thing, walking through campus holding hands with the boy I like, but it feels monumental, significant in a way I can’t explain.
He doesn’t mind holding my hand in front of everyone because he believes he’ll get to keep holding it. Even as our connection gets stronger and my magic recognizes what we have. Even as the seasons change and the eclipse grows nearer.
I swallow hard and tighten my grip on his hand. He must think I’m worried about the test, because he stops and looks at me. “You’re going to do great,” he says, and I nod, because I don’t want him to know I’m distracted by what the future—what my magic—has in store for us.
I’m distracted by a decision I don’t feel ready to make.
But I know I’m getting stronger. And I’m demonstrating a level of control that would have been unthinkable a year ago. Maybe I won’t have to choose after all.
Today is the perfect opportunity to prove to myself that the hope I feel rising within me is justified.
We get in Sang’s truck and drive to the farmlands east of us. Sunlight reflects off the windshield and bathes the surrounding fields in its warmth, coaxing the crops from the earth.
Sang pulls off the highway and onto a narrow dirt road where Ms. Suntile and Mr. Burrows are waiting. There’s a small red house in the distance and infinite rows of barley stretching out to each side. Mountains border the northern edge of the farm, the last of winter’s snow dusting their peaks.
Sang turns off the engine and squeezes my hand. “You’ve got this. They’ll be blown away, just like I am.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I hope not just like you are.”
He laughs. “You never can keep it strictly business, can you?”
“That seems to be a weakness of mine when it comes to you.”
Sang leans into me. “I’m glad,” he whispers. Then he opens his door and gets out of the truck.
“Welcome to your second off-site test,” Mr. Burrows says when I walk over to him, as if it’s something I’ve looked forward to. As if the first one wasn’t completely outrageous.
“We’ve got a pretty simple test for you today,” he continues. “If you do well, this will be your last until summer.”
That alone is enough to make me stand up straighter and focus. “That sounds good to me,” I say, hoping he doesn’t miss the meaning in my words.
“You’re not going to like it though,” he says, going on as if I haven’t spoken. My heart beats faster, and I look to Ms. Suntile for some kind of reassurance, but her expression gives nothing away.
“Why is that?” I ask, keeping my tone even. Calm.
“Because it requires the use of winter magic.”
“Seriously? Don’t you think it’s a little pathetic that you’re using a test to get your way? I told you I won’t use your magic, and I meant it.”
“It’s your choice,” he says casually. “You don’t have to participate.”
I look from him to Ms. Suntile and back again. “I don’t?”
“No,” he says. “We’ll come up with another test if you choose not to do this one.” He pauses. “But you will not always like the witches you have to work with. If you’re going to move to the next level of your training, I have to know we can trust you to work with everyone. If not, it doesn’t make sense for Sang and me to be here anymore.”
I ball my fists at my sides.
“The work you’ve been doing with Sang has led up to this. You know how to control your magic in a calm, comfortable environment. Now it’s time to control it when you’re angry and upset,” Mr. Burrows says.
He gestures to the mountain. “That snow is right on the edge, hovering just below the freezing point. It will take hardly any magic at all to heat it up a degree. It drains into a river as it gradually melts, but if it all melts at once, the river will flood. And if the river floods, so will this field, drowning the crops. When it does, you’ll be the only one of us strong enough to stop it.”
“When it does? You said I don’t have to participate.”
“You don’t,” he says simply.
But I hear the words he doesn’t say: This field will flood regardless.
“These crops are someone’s livelihood.” My eyes burn, and my throat aches from the effort it takes not to cry. I hate how upset I sound.
I can’t let him win.
“Let’s go,” I say to Sang.
I walk back to the truck and open my door, but something stops me from slamming it shut. I still and listen. Then the air fills with the sound of rushing water. It barrels down the mountain, taking out plants and trees as it goes, and it will destroy the farmers’ crops if I don’t do something.
I jump out of the truck and rush to Mr. Burrows’s side. I close my eyes and find his magic darting to the surface. It’s weak, but there’s enough for me to follow his instructions.
I latch on to it and pull it away from him as hard as I can, freezing power slicing through the warm spring air. Mr. Burrows inhales, rapid and shallow, and he stumbles back.
With the full force of winter, I throw his magic to the clouds and gather as much cold air as I can. I shiver, and my hands shake. When
