by Lily Luchesi
Salem watched with wide, unblinking eyes as Iaso left the office and slammed the door behind her. Not telling him how long his recovery would be, what he was poisoned with, or anything else.
Caelum Lynx fed me poison, and yet I am the one in trouble, he thought, hugging himself tightly for comfort. As he had had to do since he was a small child. I could have died, and no one would have cared. No one.
He closed his eyes as a pained whimper escaped him. Tears fell down his face and he stayed like that until exhaustion overcame him and he fell into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 5
Salem’s recovery took so long, he was reduced to finishing his exams in the infirmary. Punishment or not, he still was in forced isolation from his classmates. And because Daphne was mad at him, the only visitors he had were Robert and Madam Iaso. Not that he wanted to spend any time at all with the Medic, who seemed to hate him. He spent his days surrounded by books, and his nights cold and alone in that sterile white room. Many nights he would cry himself to sleep and wake up with his face still stained with tears.
One morning, he woke to find that he no longer coughed up white specks of flower. It looked like the last of the poison was out of his system.
That day, he received his first visitor aside from Robert, and he nearly fell over trying to get away. Draven Silver.
“What the bloody Hell do you want?” he asked warily, hiding his hand as his magic sparked in his palm.
“I want to do what Michael and Caelum won’t: apologise,” Draven said.
“You didn’t have a part in it, did you?” Salem wondered. Draven had always been much kinder and quieter than his so-called friends.
Draven shook his head. “No. But they were wrong. I haven’t spoken to Caelum until today, in fact. And I wanted to apologise to you on his behalf. What happened was wrong, and I take responsibility because I didn't know what they were up to in order to stop them. I thought they were going to give you a dancing hex in the courtyard. Not nice, exactly, but nothing compared with what actually happened. I don’t even know where Cae would have gotten that powder or known how to use it: he’s rubbish at Brewing.”
Salem scoffed. “When have you ever stopped them from harming me or anyone before?”
The other boy had the grace to look ashamed. His eyes were downcast, and his pallour was ghastly. “I know. I know. But this time Caelum went too far. And I’m so sorry. If it means anything, he wasn’t actually trying to murder you. He said he thought you’d have an allergic reaction.”
Another scoff came from his throat. “Please. Spare me. If I had died, do you think either he or Smith would have given half a damn about it? Let alone mourned me?”
“Daphne would have.”
Salem’s black eyes locked onto Draven’s, forcing the shy wizard to maintain eye contact. “What they sabotaged was my way of making our fight up to her. And now I think even she wishes me ill.”
Not that I can blame her.
Draven shrugged, crossing his arms. “Look, Sinclair, I gave my apology, and I did so sincerely. You can take it or leave it.”
“I cannot accept it,” Salem replied. “Because you were not the one in the wrong. I appreciate the effort, but even you taking their place cannot make me forget what Lynx did to me at Smith’s behest.”
Draven sighed, rubbing his reddened eyes. “I know. But I hope you know that if I could have stopped them, this time, I would have.” He went to leave and then turned back. “What was the potion supposed to be, anyway?”
“Mea Sensus, a potion that, when she drank it, would show her how I feel. No lies, no words. Just emotions. As honest as one could be.”
Draven looked surprised. “And how do you feel?”
Salem gave a wan smile. “Oh, Silver, if you think I’m giving you any sort of ammunition to use against me, you must be as daft as Lynx looks.”
Draven scoffed, but he was smiling as well. “You know, I’m surprised you could even be poisoned, since you already have so much venom stored up inside of you.”
Daphne watched the students who didn’t live in the Coven as they left for summer holidays and resigned herself to a long summer alone. Not that she didn’t like Kimberly or the few others she knew who lived full time in the Coven. It was more that they weren’t Salem.
She knew what he said had been horrible, but did he mean it? Or was he merely trying to make her feel as hurt as he was? What she had said about Clan Munro had been just as cruel as his words, after all. Maybe it was his way of expressing his pain.
Did I react too quickly? she wondered. He said he didn’t mean to hurt Michael, not really. And I understand why he was thinking that way, that I was just like all the rest. I wish he stayed in the Coven. I wish I could talk to him.
Daphne spent part of her summer as an apprentice under Madam Iaso, because Mrs. Fraser wanted her to be a Medic once she graduated. But the time that was her own, she spent it thinking about Salem, about the strange feeling she got in her chest and in her magic whenever she recalled the hurt in his dark eyes.
Does he feel as bad as I do? And what can I do to fix things?
By the end of the summer, Daphne had no idea what to do. She only knew that she was miserable and lonely and missed her best friend.
As she was having a little pity party, playing sad songs on her record player, there was a soft knock at her bedroom door.
“Come in,” she called.
The door opened and Draven poked his head in. “Hey, can we talk?”
Daphne nodded. “Not too long. If Mum sees a boy in my bedroom, she might die.”
Draven chuckled. “Would it help if I told her that I don’t particularly like girls?”
“Probably not,” Daphne replied, unsure if he was being sarcastic or not. Coming out was a big deal, and if he was saying it so nonchalantly…
“I talked to Salem the day before we all went home,” Draven admitted. “And he told me what the potion was that Caelum sabotaged.”
Daphne waited patiently as Draven explained that it was an old fashioned potion created in the Middle Ages, to help suitors find suitable spouses. With every word, her heart felt like it was repairing itself.
She knew emotions were difficult for Salem, and to think that he had begun to brew something so intricate, just for her to understand him, it warmed her heart.
“Uh-oh. I know that look,” Draven said with a small smile. “You fancy him, don’t you?”
Daphne nodded. “I have for a while now.”
“Well, I think it’s safe to say that he feels the same about you,” Draven said. “And I think that, with you in his corner, maybe his Darkness won’t be able to take over. You’ll balance each other out.
“After all, Darkness can’t exist without the Light.”
Salem was dreading school. How could he go back and face Daphne after what had happened? He knew he was out of line, and that was why he had wanted her to take that potion. Because then she could understand not just how sorry he was for his rash words, but know that he loved her so much it made it difficult to breathe. Every time he thought about her, it made his heartbeat race and his magic spark on his skin.
She was everything to him, and he had buggered it all up, partially thanks to the relentless bullying being heaped upon him.
But really, how bad could what he said have been, if she always said that he was the one person from Clan Munro she actually liked? How could she be angry with him, when she herself was guilty of the same train of thought he had? It was quite the double standard, and it didn’t sit well with him. Why did she have a right to be angry, but he didn’t?
When Salem got to class the first day of school, he didn’t look at anyone, didn’t raise his hand, didn’t speak. He wanted to get through it as fast as he could and then go and hide at home.
Even during teatime, he hid in a secluded spot in the courtyard so that no one would bother him. Being alone seemed to be the only way he wouldn’t wind up hurt or a victim. Despite the fact that
, when he and Daphne passed each other, or sat a few seats away in class, her magic seemed to pull at his very skin. Their magic was trying to drag him to her, and he refused to obey. If she couldn’t see that he regretted what he’d said and done, then maybe she really was just another stuck up Fraser.
The realisation hurt more than he cared to admit, even to himself. She had been his best friend for six years, and to think she could let one argument come between them forever killed him.
It wasn’t until his last class, Brewing and Medicinal Magic 101, that Salem got in trouble for his lack of participation. When he refused to answer a question Mr. Fraser asked him, the professor looked nearly gleeful to be able to punish someone from Clan Munro.
“Sinclair, never have I seen a surlier, more reluctant student,” he commented.
Salem just looked at him, trying to maintain a bored expression when in reality he wanted to start flinging hexes.
“Despite your high marks in this class, you are not above participation,” the teacher continued. “Talent does not mean you are allowed to have an inflated ego that enables you to sit there and stare blankly at me while the other students are working their bums off to pass.”
Salem barely dared to blink, or else he’d wind up saying or doing something that could get him kicked out of the Coven.
“You will serve detention here, from three-thirty to four-thirty, organising the ingredients by size, type, and alphabetically.”
Mr. Fraser then went on with the lesson as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, Salem could feel the amused, mocking gazes directed at him after that little incident. To say he was embarrassed was an understatement. Being made a public fool was something he was used to bullies doing to him, not teachers.
He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, going on with his potion. It looked like his first day back was going to be a long one.
Oh well, he thought. At least I’ll be alone for that hour.
After class, everyone cleared out except for Salem. He stayed in his seat as Mr. Fraser saw the others out. Robert gave him a half-hearted wave, while Caelum smirked at him as Draven practically dragged him out of the class. He hated that so many people had dropped the class, the older students had been condensed into one class, which meant he had to endure the hour with Lynx underfoot.
Sure, mock me, he thought. You nearly murdered me, and I’m the one always in trouble while you skate about, free as a bloody bird.
Daphne and Kimberly were the last to leave, and Salem steadfastly didn’t look her way, though he felt the pull of her magic as she passed by his seat. He kept his head down and cursed his betraying heart. His head wanted to feel nothing for her. His heart, however, had other plans.
“Sinclair, stay here until I come get you at four-thirty. If it’s not done by then, come half an hour before classes resume tomorrow,” Mr. Fraser said, closing the door behind him.
Leaving Salem to his own devices. Which was fine. Salem was used to being on his own. He preferred solitude. At least then he knew he wouldn’t get hurt.
Slowly, he rose from his seat and proceeded to open the large cupboards where dry ingredients were kept. Those were the easiest to organise, even in the extreme state of disarray they were currently in. He knelt on the stone floor and began moving boxes and jars around, making room on shelves and making everything more accessible.
Despite the mortifying way he had been given this punishment, he was glad for it. Organising the store for Piper had been one of his favourite tasks, it made him calm down and control his wayward emotions. As poorly as he had been feeling, this was exactly the break he needed.
As he stood up to put a box of dried anemone leaves on the topmost shelf, the door to the lab squeaked open.
“Mr. Fraser, it has barely been a quarter hour,” he said, not looking up. Until, that is, his magic sparked within him. He turned to see Daphne standing in the room as the door slowly swung shut behind her. Without checking his attitude, because he was so surprised, Salem blurted, “What do you want?”
“To talk. And you’ve been avoiding me all day,” she said.
“You told me you never wanted to see or speak to me again,” Salem reminded her. “What did you expect? A greeting elf with a prepared sonnet?”
She gave a small laugh, and his heart tugged at the sight of her smile.
“I talked to Draven the other day, when he showed up for this semester,” she continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “He told me what Caelum tried to sabotage, the potion to make me feel your emotions.”
Salem nodded, wondering where she was going with this.
“I wish that hadn’t happened. I wish you hadn’t been hurt, and I wish that I had been able to take the potion. Because I know that you have a hard time saying what you feel.”
He nodded again. “But that doesn’t explain what you want here, now.”
She walked up to him, hands in her skirt pockets. “I want to know how you feel. If you really think I’m so horrible as to be like the others in my Clan.”
Her eyes met his and she didn’t allow him to look away. Holding her hand up, he could see pink magic all around her. Which was odd, because only Frasers could see others’ magic.
“You see?” she said. “Only you can see this, just like I can see where your magic is reaching out to touch mine.”
“But it’s not possible … is it?” he asked.
Daphne smiled a little. “It’s not supposed to be, usually. But it is. For us, I think it is. It’s old magic, Sal, magic I still have to research. But my magic tells me more than you or Draven ever could. It tells me I need to hear you out, find out what you meant by that insult. What you really feel, deep inside.”
Salem’s heart was somewhere in his throat as she said that. Because he barely understood how he felt; how could she expect him to explain it? “That’s why I was brewing the potion. I don’t think I can…”
Daphne walked up to him and said, “If you want me in your life, you can and you will. Because I deserve better than this, Sal.”
“I know you do. And one thing I can say without hesitation is that I am so sorry. I never, ever meant to hurt you. It is just … when you made that comment about me and Clan Munro … it felt like you had stabbed me. I cannot help where I was born, and neither can you. But I always thought you were different, that you understood me. And when you made that flippant comment … it killed me inside.
“What I said to you was born of fear, Daph. Fear that I was going to lose the person who means the most to me, all because of a bloodline I never chose. I know it was mean and cruel. But when you’re scared and hurt, you don’t stop to think about the consequences. You just lash out. And I’m sorrier than I could ever tell you.”
He hoped she believed him. So long he had kept his emotions tight to the chest, because his father had made him feel like feeling was a sin. And now he had to force himself to explain emotions he didn’t fully understand.
Daphne was silent for a moment before she said, “I believe you. And I forgive you. Telling me that couldn’t have been easy.”
He shook his head, surprised with himself as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He never cried in front of people. Not since he was about five. Instinctively, he ducked his head, hiding behind a curtain of silky black hair.
“Hey.” Daphne reached out and put her hand on his face.
He flinched, unable to help it.
“Salem.” She tried again, and this time he leaned his face into her soft, warm hand. Magic sparked once more, strong and invigorating. “Salem, it’s okay. It’s okay to cry, and to feel. You don’t have to hide, not with me.”
He looked at her, afraid that he would see contempt or revulsion on her face. But no, the only thing showing in her eyes was compassion. Not anger, not disgust, not pity.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted softly, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“You never will, Sal. I promise.” She moved closer, still keeping her hand on
his cheek. He was forced to move, and now his hands were wrapped around her back. Blue eyes sparkled with an emotion he was afraid to decipher and he was finding it difficult to catch his breath.
Standing on her tiptoes, Daphne leaned in and softly pressed her lips to his.
His first kiss. Probably her first kiss, too. Salem’s head started spinning and he was sure that his face was the colour of ripe tomatoes. A million thoughts ran through his head at once, worrying if he was doing it right, wondering why she kissed him. As she moved her hands from his face to his chest, he felt their magic sparking around them and his worried thoughts turned off.
He held her tightly, as if she was going to vanish any second if he let go. She fit perfectly in his embrace, and all he wanted was to freeze time and remain right there in that moment forever.
However, time manipulation was illegal, and the kiss soon ended. Daphne pulled away gingerly, eyes wide and glassy, her cheeks adorably pink.
“I’ve wanted to do that for at least three years,” she admitted.
“Why didn’t you?” he asked.
“Because I let fear from my family, from my Clan, overrule what was in my heart. And I am not going to do it anymore,” she vowed.
Salem held her tighter and said, “You know this is social suicide, don’t you? Once everyone sees you with me, they are going to blackball you. You might be just as much of an outcast as I am.”
“I don’t care,” Daphne proclaimed. “I like you, Salem. As much more than a friend.”
“I feel the same,” he admitted. “And I have for a long time.”
“Then why should we let what our Clans say stop us from being happy?” she asked. “I have been having the weirdest feelings and dreams ever since the summer began, and all I want right now is to have some comfort. Some Light.”
Salem scoffed. “I think you’re barking mad if you think I will bring Light to your life.”
