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With the anger that flashed in Fey’s eyes now, though, and the energy that seemed to spark from her very skin, Sana found herself more frightened than ever.

Still, Fey was a Water Witch, like herself. And she owed her understanding, not fear. Sana swallowed her terror, wrapping it tightly in a box deep inside herself and pushing it down. She looked hard at the vial in her hands.

“Your sister asked me about this once,” she whispered. “The short-haired one—Alice.”

“Do you know what it is?” Fey asked.

Sana rolled the vial in her fingers, watching it catch the light. “No,” she said finally. “No, I’m sorry, but I don’t. And I told Alice the same thing when she came to me about it. It’s no elixir I recognize.”

Sana looked up, staring deep into Fey’s eyes. “Fey, what is this about? The Crown has been looking for you, child—the things they’re saying, they’re—” She swallowed again and steeled herself. When a line is drawn in the sand, you must pick which side you stand on. And Sana chose hers. “Whether what they are saying is true or not does not matter. I can help you, Fey. There are temples in the outer octants where you could hide, where you would be safe until whatever this is dies down.”

Fey hopped down from the table, not listening. She kept her eyes on Sana.

And the table at her back burst into flames.

Sana screamed. Not in terror, not in horror, but in simple shock. Her hand clutched her chest, squeezing the blue shawl she wore. A mark of her Coven.

Her eyes flickered from Fey to the table and back in quick succession.

“How… how did you…?”

“It’s poison. Allium,” Fey whispered. She nodded to the vial still in Sana’s hands, and Sana flung it from herself reflexively. It clattered against the floor and rolled somewhere beneath one of her cabinets full of herbs. “They’ve been poisoning us, Sana. The White Priestesses have been poisoning us.”

“No,” Sana shook her head, from side to side, not wanting to believe it. “No, they wouldn’t do something so… something so monstrous. No one would do something so monstrous… It would be blasphemy, the worst blasphemy imaginable against the Goddess’s will…”

“I can burn something else, if you’d like more proof, Sana,” Fey threatened. The table continued to burn behind her, the flames rearing up as though in response to her words. “Or I can call Earth, instead. I could bury this whole Temple, and everyone in it. Would that be enough proof for you?”

“You… you hold all four powers?” Sana asked, shocked.

Fey nodded, watching her carefully. “I do. And other Witches might as well. Can you see what they’ve taken away from us, Sana? What they’ve stolen from us all?”

She could. And the thought that anyone would do such a horrific thing… it sickened her, to her core. She called on Water, from deep inside herself, letting it ease her. It moved inside her like the gentle lap of the tide against the shore and gave her the chance to breathe.

Finally, Sana managed to get her breathing under control, letting the Water under her power guide her back to a place of safety, to a place where she could think clearly.

“Please put that out,” she said, finally, pleased to hear her voice was steady. “I liked that table, Fey, and I don’t want to lose any other furniture in here.”

Fey smirked, and behind her the flames dancing over the wood of the table pulled back and died. Sana was pleased to see the damage was minimal—the wood burned, but not ruined. If Fey had done so on purpose, held back her power to such a fine degree, it must have taken a remarkable level of control.

“I need you to do something for me, Sana,” Fey said. “To help make this right.”

Sana nodded. “Anything,” she said. “Whatever you need. You have my full support.”

Fey told her, explained exactly what she needed—what Alice needed—from her and the other High Priestesses. And Sana listened. Understood.

“And you?” she asked when Fey was finished. “What will you be doing, Fey?”

The smile Fey gave her was sharp and deadly as a knife. “Me? I’ll be doing what the Crown trained me to do.”

Fey turned away, then, and began to move toward the backdoor of Sana’s workshop.

“Wait!” Sana called, and Fey paused, looking back at her.

There are many types of strength. It takes strength to be a fighter. It takes strength to be a leader. And it takes strength to be honest—with yourself, and with others.

“I never hated you, Fey,” Sana told her, hoping she could hear the truth in her words. “I know we’ve never seen eye to eye, I know you’ve kept your distance from me, and I don’t blame you, I swear to the Goddess herself I don’t. But I need you to know—I never hated you. I never judged you for how you used your power. If anything, I envied you.

“I’ve dedicated my entire life to the Goddess’s gift of Water,” Sana continued. “And you? You found a new, remarkable way to use it. I envied you for that. Envied the connection you share with the Goddess that I don’t… but I never judged you for it, no matter what you think.”