Chapter Twenty-Nine #4
Ash doesn’t look up at me as she works on Farrah. Mental magic, it looks like, though she could be Healing — should be, considering the blood pooling under Farrah’s head. “Farrah figured it out last night,” Ash says matter-of-factly. “It’s why I was following her. I’ve got it covered.”
“Let me help,” I say, not that Ash needs it. Ash knows every spell I do. Ash holds her own in combat.
“No offense, but no. You hesitated. You were sloppy. You’re a hazard to me. And if Cackrin finds you tonight, you won’t win.” The look she shoots me says she’s seen it in a Vision. “I don’t have time to get in the middle of it. You want to help? Then, go.”
I grab my bag and set Farrah’s lantern by Ash.
There’s more I want to ask her, like what she knows about what Jaxan’s planning, but there’s an edge to her voice, her hands are flying across Farrah’s scalp like she can’t get out of here fast enough, and she was telling the truth about me being a hazard tonight.
So I’ll get out of her way and let her handle it. It’s what I would want in her position.
“Lee?” Ash says after my back’s turned. “Don’t tell Ember. She still can’t know I’m on the mainland.”
I nod.
“And,” she adds, eyeing me with disappointment. “You need to let her go.” She gestures at Farrah’s body lying on the cold ground. “Ember’s so much better than this.”
“I know,” I say. I know she is.
I sulk back to the academy and cast an Illusion on my hand before messaging Ember to come to my room. It’s time she remembers the man who stabbed her with a sedative, and time for me to give up dreaming of a world where she’s laughing contentedly in my arms.
* * *
Ember approaches my bed as I hang back by the door. I don’t know how she doesn’t notice my hand’s limp at my side. My knuckles are split. My busted pinky finger hangs at an odd angle. All of my left hand is swollen and red like I went through with the hit.
She gently rests her hand on the light-oak bed frame, her fingers trailing a straight line for as long as she can reach.
She rubs the smooth, polished wood, memorizing the feel of it.
Then she glances down and inspects the bed’s cylindrical, tapered legs.
Her eyes linger there as she visually measures the spacing between them.
“Can I sit on your bed?” she asks when she’s done.
“Sure.” Sit, lay, sleep on it.
Her hands pat around to gauge the mattress’s firmness, then she runs the fringe of my soft gray throw through her fingers. I have to turn my back to her. I’m supposed to be in a bad mood, but what she’s doing — how obvious she’s doing it — makes it hard not to smile at her.
“I’m just gonna lay down a second,” she says, and her head hits my pillow.
After I give her another minute to memorize what my bed feels like, I say, “I think you should be a Dark Witch.”
A rubber band snap stings me between my ribs, but the sensation’s gone in the time it takes for her hands to stop moving over my quilt.
I press my shoulder to the door for support, dropping my head back.
Even if she heard the lie, I know she believes it.
Maybe not that I want her to be a Dark Witch, but she would believe I’m pushing her away.
She’s going to think it’s her — that I don’t want her in Creatus. Actually, I know it’s what she thinks.
All the ease she walked in here with just evaporated. She was looking at me. Now I swear I see her eyes blur.
“I’m gonna go,” she says, quietly getting up.
I feel sick. There’s a knot tightening in my stomach, a punishment for not telling her the truth. I don’t want her to be a Dark Witch. I want her in Creatus. I want to be friends without worrying about killing each other. But I can’t get the words out.
“Um. Leland?” Ember asks. She can’t get by to leave.
She’s in leggings — those fucking leggings — and a Creatus shirt. Her long hair is loosely pulled back. She got here so quickly after my message, I’m guessing she came straight from the gym.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, and shifts her hefting satchel uncomfortably on her shoulder because, somehow, she’s made this her fault.
“I know it’s the right thing to do. The Council would allow me to go to Selection, and it would set you free.
But then I might live the rest of my life doing things I regret.
Tracking people down. Siphoning. I can’t take magic away from people.
Or investigate them. And Jaxan? You want me in his jurisdiction? ”
I shake my head. She’s so confused. I want to take it all back.
“Then why?” she asks, her sad and tired eyes filling in the answer even though I’ve said nothing.
I lift my hand, my instinct to grab her waist. But I don’t. I can’t.
“I just think it would be better,” I say.
She sees it then.
“What happened to your hand?” she asks.
“Fight.” I feel as dense as I sound. “I fought Farrah Prolix today.”
“Why?”
My stomach drops, but I don’t explain. What would I say? This is who I am? How I’ll always be. How I was raised?
“If you did it for me,” Ember says, “for last night — I’m fine, Leland. I Healed. I don’t need to be defended.”
“Farrah hurt you,” I remind her.
“So you hit her?” She stares at my hand like she doesn’t believe it.
I lift my brows. Look at me. Of course I did. “I was violent with her, yes.”
“But did you hit her?” she asks, her voice reaching. “Was it self-defense?”
“Ember.” I lick my lips. “I got angry. I hurt Farrah Prolix. Doesn’t matter why I did it.”
“Heal your hand,” she says.
I shake my head. I can’t Heal an Illusion. She’s probably asking because she knows this, or because when your Counterpart stubs a toe, it feels like the world’s ending.
“Heal it,” she repeats. I shake my head again. “Why won’t you Heal it?”
“I don’t know, Ember.” My voice is raised. I’m exhausted and I hate this. “Why do you honestly answer every single question?”
“To punish myself for lying,” she answers.
I lift my broken hand. There’s your answer. Punishment.
“No,” she insists. “You’re not like this.”
“I am,” I say. “I told you. I’m not nice. I hurt people. I gave Farrah Prolix a head injury.”
“Tell me what happened from start to finish.”
She still thinks we can fix this, so I open the door for her to leave, but she’s obstinate.
She wants more. She’s not giving up on me.
It isn’t right, the way she refuses to believe what I keep trying to tell her.
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted and impossible she’s even considering it when I’ve shown her so little of me.
It’s the one thing that could bring us too close together.
I slide down to the floor, no longer able to stand.
She drops, too, sitting beside me, bringing her face level with mine and scanning me. “Leland.”
I turn my head, my throat aching. “Will you get Rayne?” I ask.
“I — yeah? If that’s what you want.” She’s so softspoken, I feel like I kicked a puppy. She wants me to tell her to stay, and I want to, but . . . “You really want me to leave?”
No. I want you back in my bed. Under my sheets. I want to hold you and feel you breathe. I want to watch you read my letter. I want to tell you everything.
“I do,” I whisper, but she hears it and knows I’m lying.
“Leland.”
I turn my head to look at her. “Leave me alone, Ember. I mean it. Get Rayne. Be a Dark Witch. Stay away from me.”
Our eyes clash, and there’s a thousand moments where her face changes as she tries to fill in the blanks. A thousand moments I start to tell her everything. I fight the urge by looking up at the ceiling.
Rayne comes after Ember leaves. Still on the floor, I ask Rayne to bring me the pillow with Ember’s hair on it.
A few minutes later, there’s a knock. Ember brought me mint tea. She hands it to Rayne and leaves without saying anything. I don’t get up for a while.
* * *
Later, when I’m alone, I reread the letter I wrote in the morning.
Ember,
I haven’t been honest with you. Not how you’re honest with me. I don’t answer all your questions. I withhold things.
There’s so much I want to tell you. Like that Ash has been watching over you, and I hear from her occasionally.
Tally Leslie was never missing. Jaxan staged her disappearance so your trial would go differently.
He staged the coin from Arissa too. At least, he saw you slip it in your pocket (you’re Very cute when you’re obvious) and didn’t say anything.
You were right. It wasn’t a gold. It’s the key to the Allwitch temple. I’m sorry for the lies. I’m so sorry.
Lee
I want to add I saw her sister. I want to double underline Very cute and head up the spiral and give it to her. But I don’t deserve her or the chance to explain, so I stuff the letter back in the drawer and wait.