Chapter 28 Avine
TWENTY-EIGHT
AVINE
The wine flowed. The candles flickered. The mud masks began to dry, tightening pleasantly on their skin.
And Cassia, never one to let an opportunity pass, leaned forward with a gleam in her storm-colored eyes.
“You know what would really help your recovery?”
“If you say more wine, I’m cutting you off.”
“Better than wine.” Cassia raised her hands, fingers dancing with barely-contained magic. “A visual aid. For medicinal purposes.”
Before Avine could object, Cassia’s power flared. Light shimmered and coalesced in the center of the room, forming shapes, taking on color and texture until—
Theo stood before them. Or rather, an illusion of Theo—slightly translucent, definitely magical, and completely shirtless.
“Why?” Avine’s voice was barely a squeak. Her wine had gone bright, glowing scarlet.
“For healing!” Cassia cackled. “It’s medicinal! Scientifically proven to raise the spirits!”
“That’s not—that’s absolutely not—”
The illusion paused mid-swing. Turned. Flexed.
Avine grabbed a pillow and hurled it at the shimmering figure. It passed through harmlessly, but the illusion flickered in what might have been amusement.
“Make it stop!”
“You sure?” Cassia grinned. “You haven’t looked away once.”
Avine’s face burned. She was definitely not looking away. The illusion was very detailed. Very detailed. She wondered, briefly and inappropriately, how accurate it was. Whether the real Theo looked like that when he worked, all coiled strength and unconscious grace.
The liquid in her glass blazed scarlet, practically glowing.
She grabbed another pillow and covered her face with it.
“You’re all terrible. Every single one of you.”
Cassia dismissed the illusion with a wave. “We’re delightful and you love us.”
The worst part was, she did.
As the wine bottles emptied and the candles burned lower, the laughter faded into quieter conversation.
They’d removed the face masks, their skin glowing faintly in the aftermath of the magic.
Dahlia had curled up in the armchair, Marzipan in her lap.
Cassia stretched out on the floor, Gust tucked under her arm.
Junie sat cross-legged on the bed, Glimmer sleeping coiled around her wrist. And Narla remained in her corner, watchful and calm.
“You almost died protecting me.” Dahlia’s voice was quiet. The humor had drained from her face, leaving vulnerability behind. “I’m gonna be annoying about your health forever because of it. You know that, right?”
A tightness gripped Avine’s throat. “Dahlia—”
“I mean it.” Dahlia’s eyes glistened. “You threw yourself in front of that construct without even thinking. For me. I don’t know how to—” She stopped, swallowed. “Also, that man hasn’t left your side in days. At some point, you’ve gotta admit that means more than you’re willing to say.”
“She’s right.” Junie’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle. “I know you’re scared, Avine. You’re scared because the last time you let someone in, they made you small. They took everything you were and compressed it into what fit their expectations.”
The wine in her glass shifted to pale blue—vulnerability, maybe, or sadness. She stared into it, not trusting her voice.
“But Theo doesn’t want you small.” Junie continued. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Like you’re the most powerful thing he’s ever seen. Like your magic, your strength, your everything—it doesn’t scare him. It pulls him in.”
Cassia pushed herself up on her elbows. “Can you two please stop dancing around each other? Honestly! The tension between you is messing with the tides!”
“Cassia.” Dahlia’s voice held a warning.
“What? Someone had to say it. You were all being way too delicate.” Cassia waved a hand. “Look, I’m not good at the soft emotional stuff. But I know this—when you find a person who makes you feel more instead of less, you hold onto them. You don’t let fear talk you out of it.”
Narla spoke last, her voice quiet but carrying.
“I’ve been able to smell it since the start.
The way you respond to each other. The way your scents change when you’re near.
It’s already there, Avine. Whatever this is between you—it exists.
The question isn’t whether you want him.
It’s whether you’re brave enough to keep him. ”
The room fell quiet. Avine looked at each of them in turn—her coven, her family. Who saw through her walls and loved her anyway.
“I’m scared out of my mind.” The words came out small. “I came here to find myself again. And now there’s this man who makes me feel things I didn’t think I could feel… ever, and I don’t know if I’m ready—”
“You’re not.” Junie interrupted. “Nobody ever is. That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“Doing it anyway.” Junie smiled. “Being scared and wanting it and reaching for it even when you don’t know if you’ll fall. That’s what brave is, Avine. Not the absence of fear. The refusal to let it win.”