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He held out a hand to help her up, and she slapped it away, letting her head fall to the floor with a thud. Her vision swam with the force of it, but she had nowhere to vent her grievance.

He crouched down next to her head, propping his chin up on his hand as he looked down at her. “You’re an interesting creature, Rowan Dahl.”

She scoffed. “I’m not a cre-. Well. Shit. I don’t actually know what I am.”

“You’re Rowan Dahl. What else matters?” He asked.

“Shouldn’t I at least know what being Rowan Dahl actually means?”

“You don’t know what being Rowan Dahl means?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve known you for all of three days and know exactly what it means.”

He said it like a fact. Rowan took a deep breath, reaching up to wrap a finger around one of his curls. “I shouldn’t be able to feel you.”

“No. You shouldn’t.”

She dropped the curl, tucked her knees underneath her, and turned to him. “What does it mean?”

“Potential. Period. End of sentence.” His eyes were so bright that even if she couldn’t tell the color, they hurt her own to look at him for too long.

“Iamafraid.”

“I know.”

“You’re power and you’re not afraid.” She whispered.

“You’re not afraid of me, either. It isn’t power you fear. What in the world do you think you possess that is more frightening than me? I ask again, what are you so afraid of?”

Her eyes fluttered closed. It felt like it would relieve some of the sting of her confession. “I’m afraid if I go too far, that my family will realize that The Coven had a point, that I am a monster.”

She felt him move to lay his head down next to hers. She opened her eyes and turned to look at him when he settled. Her lips were near his forehead, they were nose to nose, and she could feel his breath in the strands of her hair.

It lulled her eyes shut once more. How could comfort and danger exist so perfectly in him?

“There was a time when I was a kid. I burned down ten acres of the forest behind our house because my mom told me I couldn’t leave the table until I was done with my food. In the Eastern Elven Kingdom, we use more candles than lightbulbs. I was so angry that I was shooting everything around the apartment in a telekinetic tantrum. One candle made it to the edge of the forest. It might have been a small, manageable fire, but my parents couldn’t calm me down. The fire, already linked to my loss of control, spread fast. My dad, running out of options, slapped me. His face…” she sighed. “It was the first time he realized he was in over his head. That I was a menace to the carefully craftedpeace of his kingdom. I saw the terror in his eyes. I knew he hated himself for hitting me. He was crying as he pulled me in, whispering sorry over and over again. I watched the forest burn. Heard the animals cry, and I promised myself I would be more careful with my magic.”

“So, you made it your mission to be not only more careful with your own magic, but also to clean up the messes of everyone else’s loss of control.”

“It’s gotten to the point I’m neurotic about it now.”

“Lucky for the rest of us.” His lips brushed against her forehead as he spoke. “You must know it is a safer world with your presence. You’re not a monster, little elf. In fact, you’re the opposite, a product of love. A type of love that won’t shatter because you’re a handful. The only way you will lose a family like that is if you walk away from it.”

His words warmed her chest.

Growing up, she never found a place she belonged in the Eastern Elven Kingdom. Lexine was the heir apparent, and by far the most brilliant choice, too. She kept their people healthy with her gift of medicine. No one had her skill in diplomatic affairs. Axel bolstered their strength with strategies. Forces like the Coven hesitated acting against them because of the security measures her elder sister weaved both in the open through treaties and in the shadows through threats. Zeva had grown up in the libraries of the kingdom, gone toe to toe with every scholar and made it her personal mission to ensure the education of all elven children was on even ground.

Without realizing it, she had attributed her inability to fit in through the kingdom to being unable to fit in with her family.

But physical distance wasn’t the same as emotional distance. How could she have forgotten about their love?

The warmth of their affection had allowed her to overlook the pain of the power test unit year after year.

In her mind, if she passed with her charade, no one could take her family from her. She wouldn’t end up like those recruiters they’d sent to her.

Success stories of their indoctrination, each Coven-raised like she could be if she joined them.

Those people hadn’t had families who threatened retaliation when the witches came for them. They didn’t have a Master Japhet, who found them entertaining enough to mentor them through their worst years.

Somehow, they lacked substance, hardly more than NPCs to the game called life. They felt empty and disconnected.