Page 16

By the time I corner Marian, it’s mid-afternoon, and I feel more vulnerable than I should to face her.

She’s formidable at the best of times; after the attack yesterday, she appears to be firing on all cylinders, a veritable whirlwind at the back of the hall, overseeing a war chest of potential defenses.

She is clearly pissed.

I draw closer, debating whether or not to talk to her today, when she catches my eye. “Emily,” she calls over, her white hair looking wilder than usual. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

“You heard?” I reply, walking over.

“I knew,” she replies cryptically. “That’s why you were coming yesterday, no?”

I stare at her for a moment, unsure if she really is prophetic or just extremely well-attuned to coven gossip. Both, perhaps.

“Sort of,” I say carefully. “I wanted to know what a half-witch shifter child will be like.”

Marian cackles—a proper, all-out cackle that draws stares from around the room. “Wild. Your child will be absolutely wild. And powerful.”

“Even with me as its mother?” I say, the words of my coven ringing fresh in my ears.

Marian hesitates for a moment. It’s gone in a flash, but I saw it. And it’s something I’ve never seen her do before. “We should talk, walk with me,” she says, and immediately turns, grabbing a sweet bun before heading out of the hall.

I trail after her, wondering what she’d need to say to me away from the others.

Covens are not known for their personal space, gossip is rife, and the concept of secrets barely exists.

So, I follow her into the crisp sunlight, intrigued.

We stop at one of the benches outside the hall, and Marian eats the sweet bun, seemingly unconcerned that I’m standing waiting.

“At least the wolves can bake,” she finally says, finishing the last of the bun.

“Er, yes, it’s from Charlotte’s bakery,” I reply, unsure what else to say.

“Ah, yes, I’ve always liked Charlotte’s family. Good shifters,” she says thoughtfully.

“You know Charlotte?” I ask, almost surprised, given that I didn’t think Marian had much time for shifters.

“I know everyone, Emily,” she says, sighing. “I have something to say, and I think it may be challenging for you to hear. But I want you to remember that your mother loved you very much.”

“Okay,” I say slowly, not liking where this is going. We never talk about my mother; she died in the days after my birth, and everyone mourned her. She was one of the most powerful witches in the coven, and her death completely blindsided everyone, apparently.

“Your father was from the mainland, but that’s all we know, other than that Sarah was crazy about him.

” Sarah. My mother. Marian continues, and I can see this is difficult for her.

“He disappeared. She was heartbroken, but we figured she’d move on.

Then we found out you were on the way; she was so excited.

But the pregnancy wasn’t normal. The magic around her was uncontainable.

We hunted everywhere for clues and spoke to covens on the mainland.

The magic was going to kill her. We bound her magic—your magic, too. But it didn’t save her.”

I’m too shocked to respond, suddenly feeling lightheaded; I feel Marian’s hands on me, guiding me to sit on the bench too. “Did I kill her?” I murmur, thinking out loud.

“No, child,” she says, surprisingly gentle for once. “You were born, and she was so happy. She didn’t even care about having no magic. She just wanted you. I sat with her those first days and saw her love for you.”

“So what happened? Why did she die?” I ask, confused.

I’m shocked as tears well in Marian’s eyes.

She dabs them, looking away. “We—I—thought it would be safe to unbind her magic, but she was too weak, and your father’s magic was obviously still there; she began burning up.

There was nothing we could do.” Marian sighs and then looks at me, her stoicism back. “It is my fault.”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t think she’d want you to think that,” I say, shocking myself as I reach over to take her hand. “But why did my father’s magic do this?”

Marian releases a long breath. “We really don’t know much, but the magic I saw surrounding your mother when she was pregnant was unlike anything I’d seen before until…”

“Until what?” I ask, my blood suddenly running cold as my hand flies to my stomach.

“Until I witnessed Malik’s magic,” she replies quietly.

The whole world tilts on its axis. “Malik is my father?” I gasp.

“Goodness, no,” Marian replies, laughing despite the circumstances. “I met your father; he was very attractive. Your mother had taste, albeit for dangerous choices. But the type of magic reminds me of what your mother couldn’t control. It overwhelmed her. It wasn’t like our magic.”

The reality of the situation slowly unravels in my mind, and I realize I’m still gripping Marian’s hand. “Would I have that magic if it hadn’t been bound?” I ask, grappling with the notion that I’m finally understanding why I’m the only witch who didn’t have any practical magic all these years.

Marian nods. “I believe so. Along with your mother’s magic, I believe you would be very powerful. If you could control it,” she says before squeezing my hand.

“Why are you telling me this now?” I ask suddenly.

She looks at my stomach. “Your child,” she says simply. “I don’t know what might happen to your bound powers during a pregnancy. And Malik seems to find you particularly interesting, which should concern everyone.”

Looking up, I see Tristen’s truck arriving. How do I tell him any of this when he barely trusts witches as it is? For the first time, I really feel my mother’s absence, and as I look at Marian, someone I’ve always feared and admired, I realize she feels exactly the same.