by Tasha Black
“Today we’re doing a practical, ladies,” Professor Waita said with a smile.
I repressed a sigh. It was usually a practical magic lab in Plants class, but I had hoped I might get lucky and we’d have an advanced demonstration instead, so I could just relax and take notes.
“We’re going to work on crossing plants,” the professor said, her warm brown face a study in delight. “This is more complicated than some of our other lessons, but I’m excited to see each of you use your creativity to bring a new idea to life.”
She began rolling around a cart with two boxes of flowering plants in it. One set of plants had red blossoms, the other had white. She placed one of each color in front of every student as she spoke.
“I’d like you to combine the two plants, using a joining spell,” she said. “What you combine it into is completely up to you. But by the end of class I’d like to see that each of you has a successful hybrid.”
In the row in front of me, Esme was already moving her hands and murmuring over her plants. It wasn’t fair that some people were beautiful, popular, and talented.
She caught me looking and gave me a smirk.
Definitely unfair when those people were also mean.
The professor placed my plants in front of me and gave me a gentle smile.
“Relax, Cori,” she said quietly. “You’ve got this.”
Gratitude made tears prickle my eyes, but she was already moving on to the next row, her gray and brown bun bobbing as she looked up and down from cart to student.
I stared down at my plants and wondered if they were capable of making decisions. If they were, I hoped they would decide to work with me.
“Let’s begin,” Professor Waita said, depositing the now-empty cart beside her podium.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, pulling my energy in close and tight like a ball, and then letting it expand out across my chest, my table, the whole room, and then in again.
When I opened my eyes again, a quaver of sparkling energy hovered over my palms.
I traced it over the plants, whispering a joining spell that I hoped would cause each plant to have both red and white blossoms. It wasn’t especially impressive, but it seemed like something I could pull off.
In the row in front of me, Dozie had blended the colors of her flowers into a perfectly balanced pink.
I tried to focus on my own work, but it was hard to concentrate over the squeals of happiness in the front row. Esme had turned all of her flowers into red and white checkerboards.
I glanced over at Kendall. Her flowers had alternating red and white petals now. She caught me looking and shrugged.
Focus, Cori.
I gathered myself again, closing my eyes, pulling in my energy and letting it breathe out into my palms. This time when I opened my eyes, I kept them on my own work.
I traced my hands over the flowers, pulling the energy over them. I could feel them awakening. Their inner voices were high and sweet, a gentle whisper of life.
I murmured back to them, telling them what I had in mind.
They went still and quiet. I was just starting to think that maybe the spell had fizzled completely when there was flurry of movement.
Multiple tiny blossoms began to unfurl on each plant. The red blossoms were on the red plant and the white on the white, but I hadn’t killed the plants or blown anything up. This was as close as I was going to get to a victory.
I looked over at Kendall to see if she had noticed my triumph, but she was gazing down at my plants with an expression of horror.
A hissing sound came from my table and I looked back to find an unfolding scene of chaos. The tiny red and white flowers were battling each other, stems bending, leaves smacking, until petals rained into their pots.
I bent down to whisper for them to stop, but one of the red flowers gave out a high-pitched roar and a white blossom snapped at me, petals clamping down way too close to my nose.
“Oh my,” Professor Waita said, heading over to take a look.
The red plant was definitely winning now. White petals snowed down on my workstation.
“Please, stop,” I whispered. But the magic was long gone from my hands. I would have to start over.
“Well, I’ve certainly never seen anything like this before,” the professor said thoughtfully. “Congratulations.”
She walked on before I could figure out whether or not she was being sarcastic.
On my table, the white plant was dead, and the red was withering. Without a common enemy, the red blossoms had turned on each other. It was only a matter of time until both plants were no more.
No matter how powerful or unusual my magic was, there was one undeniable thread running through it.
Everything my magic touched was ruined.
Whether I was knocking statues into my classmates, sealing up icy chambers, or making plants murder each other, my magic was chaos.
Leaving school to go with Reed might be the smartest thing I could ever do. All he needed from me was love, and the ability to be a mother to his children.
For an instant I let the classroom fade away so I could picture it.
We were in a sweet cottage in the woods, like Luke and Bella’s. A fire crackled in the grate, and something sweet was baking in the kitchen. Reed sat in his chair, as I rocked a baby in my arms. The child had his father’s golden eyes and my dark curly hair. My heart throbbed at the sight of him, even though I knew I had only dreamed him up myself. He wasn’t real.
But he could be. I wasn’t perfect, but this was something I could do.
A shifter needed a witch to have a shifter child. Without her magic, it would be impossible. My life would have purpose.
And then the truth hit me.
The notebook and pen fell from my hand and clattered on the classroom floor.
“Cori,” Kendall said. “Cori, are you okay?”
I lowered myself into my seat, head in my hands, unable to speak, even to my friend.
How could I not have seen it before?
Reed was relying on my magic to produce a shifter child. But my magic ruined everything it touched. I couldn’t risk that.
My chaotic powers would only endanger a child. If I could have one at all. And if I couldn’t, then what good was I to him?
There was no way I could really be with Reed.
He would have to choose another, competent witch for his mate.
I pulled myself out of my chair and ran from the room.
32
Reed
The day passed slowly as I waited to see Cori again.
Adventuring all evening and then sleeping right through what remained of our night had left me feeling hollow and hungry.
Especially since last night was intended to be our last, according to the old ways. I had to claim her before another night passed, or set her free.
The madness of it had me spiraling, and I had spent most of the morning and afternoon patrolling in bear form trying to distract myself from my thoughts.
The bear was less anxious and more furious. His feelings were uncomplicated. He liked the girl, he wanted the girl, he would have the girl.
By the time the sun began to fade, and I rose back into my regular form, he had me thinking along the same lines and feeling a low rumble of confidence at my ability to keep the little witch safe and happy.
After all, her magic was her own, whether she was with me or not. Arguably she would be less likely to find herself under threat with a shifter guardian mate and strapping young sons to protect her.
The price for her magic was horrible. But it was her price, with or without me.
And the truth of the matter was, my own price for being without her was too dear to imagine. I had barely made it through the day. If she lost her memories sometimes or got confused, I would help her. That was what you did when you loved someone.
And I loved Cori. She held my battered heart in her small, sweet hands.
I strode back tow
ard the school, feeling ready to face whatever our futures held. It was just about time for the final classes of the day to let out.
Before I made it to the doors, they flew open and Cori’s whole group of friends came pouring out into the courtyard.
“Reed,” Cori called to me, then got a funny look on her face.
Actually, her face looked different, puffy somehow, and her eyes were wet with tears.
“Are you okay?” I asked her. Fury rose in my chest at whatever had made her feel this way.
“We have news,” the one with the purple glasses said.
“What kind of news?” I asked.
“Good news and bad news,” she replied, pushing the glasses up her nose. “Nina and I finished translating the other details about the spell.”
I looked to Nina. Her pretty brown face was a picture of concern.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her as gently as I could.
“It’s the timing,” she said. “According to the references to the planetary alignments, the ceremony has to be done tonight for the best chance of success.”
“So the Order will be doing it tonight,” I breathed.
“And that means so are we,” Nina said.
“We can’t,” I told her, thinking of Cori. There was no way I could let another night pass without claiming her and sealing our bond.
“We don’t have a choice,” Cori said, looking down at her hands.
I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and scream at her to tell me what was wrong. But I remembered how she felt the last time I yelled at her in front of her friends.
“We don’t have all the items on the list,” I remembered.
“We do have some good news about that,” Nina said with a smile.
Just then, the doors from the castle burst open again and Anya appeared in the frame, two big white birds on her shoulders.
“Look at them,” she crowed proudly. “Just look.”
We all watched as she marched over with a beautiful winter raven on each shoulder, a look of maternal pride on her face.
“How did you do that?” I asked.
“She used the growing spell we learned in our plants class last month,” Lark said. “With some variations, of course.”
“And they were very receptive to magic,” Anya said fondly, touching her nose to the beak of the raven on her right shoulder. “Meet Calvin and Hobbes.”
“The pleasure is mine,” I said.
The birds eyed me suspiciously, but didn’t fly off, so I considered it a win.
“Luke was tracking the Order as soon as we found out about the timing,” Lark went on. “He said they’re setting up for the ceremony on the north side of the valley, which means we need to do our counter spell on the south side of the bluff.”
“I’m not really a magic guy,” I admitted.
“Nina and I are going to go make the ink for the spell,” Lark said. “Anya is going to convince one of the ravens to give her a feather she can form into a quill.”
“Okay,” I said, eyeing Cori, who still wasn’t looking at me.
“We were hoping that you and Cori could go prep the site on the bluff,” Lark said.
“I can help Anya,” Cori said immediately.
“Oh no, I’m fine,” Anya said. “Go with Reed.”
Cori buttoned her lip and nodded.
My chest felt like it was caving in. She didn’t want to be with me. She didn’t want me to claim her. I felt like the Earth was dissolving and there was nothing I could do.
“Ready?” I asked her.
At least we would be alone when she told me.
She nodded miserably and we headed off into the night.
33
Reed
I expected that she would start talking during the hike up to the bluff, but I was wrong.
We walked through the courtyard, traversed the maze, and trampled through the darkening forest in silence.
I tried to tell myself that the hike was harder for her than for me. But even when we got to the place where the trees thinned, she still said nothing.
The space between us seemed to pulse and bristle with emotion. I couldn’t reach through it to touch her, even though I wanted to more than anything.
Surely, she would talk to me when we reached our destination.
We came out on the bluff to the jaw-dropping sight of the valley spread out before us. The wind blew cold and sweet here, carrying the scent of the pines and the cool, clear water of the river below.
“We need to clear the space for the circle,” Cori said. Her voice sounded small in the wind.
“How big of a space do we need?” I asked her.
“I’ll pace it out,” she offered.
She moved slowly, carefully, and I almost smiled at the serious expression on her face.
When the bounds of the circle were marked, we began clearing out the rocks and sticks. We moved quickly, never touching, never speaking, until nothing extraneous remained inside the circle.
Cori pulled sage and a lighter from her cloak and set the sage alight.
I clenched my jaw, but managed not to flinch away from her.
“Oh,” she said suddenly. “I’m sorry, Reed. I forgot.”
“I was only a child,” I said, feeling defensive. “It stuck with me, that’s all. I’m usually fine, but sometimes it sneaks up on me.”
“It’s okay,” she said, fixing me with those lovely, solemn eyes. “Fire is dangerous.”
“Cori,” I said helplessly, unable to take it anymore. “I don’t know what I did wrong, but please let me make it right.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, turning away, but not before I could see her expression close off again.
“I want to be your mate,” I told her, throwing caution to the wind. “I love you and I want to care for you. I long for you. And I want to love and protect you, and our children, too.”
She didn’t reply, just stood there, frozen.
“But I want you to have what you want, too,” I went on. “Do you want to stay at school? Do you want to start a family now? Do you just want to be with me? How can I make you happy?”
“You can’t,” she sobbed.
The two words were like a dagger through my heart.
I stood there, reeling as she ran from me.
As the wind howled, and the sound of my mate’s footsteps disappeared, I wondered how my heart would continue to beat.
34
Cori
Tree branches seemed to be reaching out to stop me, roots tangling out of the soil to slow my path.
But I was too heartbroken to care that my gown was ripped, and my shoes were sodden.
Reed loved me.
His words were still ringing in my ears - all the words I’d longed to hear him say.
He wanted me, he longed for me. He wanted us to have a family.
It had been so long since I had felt like part of something - like I belonged. Even the school didn’t want me.
Reed was offering me everything I had ever dreamed of - love acceptance, and my own choices.
And I had to walk away.
None of it changed the realization I’d had in plants class today. My magic was destructive, and I couldn’t let anyone else rely on it. Not Reed - not the children he so desperately wanted - not even me. I wasn’t a good enough witch to be a student. Loving me was dangerous for Reed.
And I cared for him too much to put him in danger. And I could never risk having the life of a child rely on my disastrous magic.
The tears I’d been fighting off all day burned in my eyes, and I let them fall freely. There was no one here to see it.
I was Cori Silverman, and I would always be alone.
When the tears finally slowed, I gasped for breath and leaned back against a tree to think.
I couldn’t be with Reed. And the school didn’t want me.
I had spent all day trying to figure out what I was supposed to do next. But the answer was clear t
o me now.
I would help my friends, because that was what friends did.
But tonight, when it was all over, I would pack up my things and head home. My parents might have a boring life, but it was theirs, and I was their daughter.
I didn’t need to have shifters or magic in my world. If I could tamp down my emotions, I could probably hide my magic for the rest of my life.
It sounded awful, but less awful than inadvertently hurting the people I loved. Especially when one of those people was Reed.
I wiped the tears from my face, took a deep breath, and resolved to march right back up to the bluff and tell Reed my plan.
35
Reed
By the time Cori returned, her friends were already gathering on the bluff. They didn’t ask me where she was, but I think it was only because they felt sorry for me.
The young witches tiptoed around, arranging things, and chatting nervously about Bella and Luke’s journey down to the valley to observe the other ceremony.
If we were here, performing a counter spell and it didn’t work, at least Bella and Luke would be close at hand to the other ceremony, along with the rest of the Brotherhood of Guardians. Maybe they could disrupt it in a more physical way.
My heart ached for Luke. I knew how hard it was for me to see the woman I loved in danger. I couldn’t imagine how he must feel, bringing his bonded mate closer to the enemies.
As soon as I had stopped thinking about my own pain for a moment, Cori’s sweet scent carried to me across the windy bluff.
I turned to see her trooping out of the woods, back toward the circle. She had obviously been crying. But now she wore an expression of naked determination.
She didn’t want me. It was clear.
I marched over to her, heartsick, but eager to do her one last kindness. I loved her. Her happiness was more important to me than my own.
“Cori,” I said.
Her eyes were so sad.
“Let’s talk privately,” I offered.
