Freya leaned in the doorframe of their small shared room, arms crossed over her chest. Her short red hair was tousled and ruffled by the commotion and gave her a boyish look. Gaze down and shoulders slumped, she had apologized twice already while Allie packed her bag.
“It’s fine,” Allie said. What else could she say? Witches who joined a coven wanted to remain part of it for as long as possible. She couldn’t have jeopardized her position with the Silverbarks by siding with Allie. As much as the silent admission gnawed at her heart, Allie knew that if their places were reversed, she would have done the same. She wouldn’t have been better. And maybe that showed most Witches, even those from the same coven, were not meant to be friends. Just friendly.
Allie had few things to pack, which would all fit in a duffel bag. Pearls Fields, her hometown and the Silverbarks’ territory, was an unbearably hot place year-round, where even the thinnest dresses felt stifling. But this place had two things going for it. It made her feel closer to Petra, and it was a haven for old magic. Deep down, Allie knew there was no harm in new magic, and it came with so many opportunities, but Sam had tainted her experience, and…
No. He didn’t deserve her thinking about him at all.
She wanted to stay in Pearls Fields. But if Lydia kicked her out, then with no other covens sharing the territory, her choice to stay here meant a life by herself. The thought of such a lonely life, one her mother had so often warned her against, filled her chest with crumpled paper.
Allie wanted the sisterhood and friendship that her mother had had with the coven. Petra had left the coven’s manor for a small cottage in the same town when Allie grew up. She remembered her mother visiting the manor often, as well as Witches coming to visit them all the time. Petra and her friends would sit around the fire laughing, telling stories, and drinking weird, pungent liquids that tickled Allie’s nose.
So she had tried to be one of them, and she would keep trying. Maybe they would never befriend her, but accepting her would be enough.
Allie grabbed her dresses and personal items from the wardrobe she and Freya shared, gathered the objects from her side of the bathroom sink, and shoved everything into a lavender-patterned duffel bag. She packed her potion powders and stones, along with a few candles, tucked the crescent moon necklace inside the neckline of her dress, and checked her rings. Her mother had gifted her a stone ring for every five years of life, and Allie wore the amethyst and ruby ones on her left hand and the sapphire and emerald ones on her right. Petra had passed away four years ago, a year before she could gift Allie her fifth ring. But she’d left her the crescent moon necklace, which she had inherited from Allie’s grandmother. It hung around Allie’s neck like an iron weight, reminding her often that she had no one to pass it on to.
She zipped the bag and turned to leave, abandoning her thoughts with the movement. Freya was still blocking the doorframe.
“I really am sorry,” she said for the third time. Allie believed her. She would miss the only sister who had shown her a modicum of kindness. She gave her a side hug while slipping out of the room.
“I’ll see you in seven weeks,” Allie promised, more to herself than to Freya. The Witch accompanied her down the stairs and outside the manor and waved as Allie put distance between her and the place she had been reluctantly calling home for the past few months.
The dirt road was dry, and the sun would be fully out in about an hour. Allie dreaded walking through the heat, and she had no idea where to go, but she knew she wouldn’t be going south. South was hotter than here, and…Sam was south. Or at least that’s where they’d parted ways before she came to the Silverbarks’ manor.
She would go north, in search of cooler temperatures. Allie had never been anywhere other than Pearls Fields and Green Creek, so now it felt like a great opportunity for her to learn more about this world. As much as she could in the next seven weeks, anyway.
Her heart broke to leave her sycamore broom behind. She hadn’t earned one made of silverbark yet, but she had loved her broom. Allie and Petra had crafted it from a wild sycamore tree that grew behind their cottage. Strange for these parts, and all the more special because of it. They loved spending afternoons under that tree, reading stories and eating fresh plums and strawberries. As a little girl, Allie thought the tree was lonely, and Petra accompanied her daughter outside to spend time with it. In some ways, Allie was just like the sycamore tree.
Allie decided to take a detour and visit her old cottage and the lonely tree one more time. She had sold it to a lumberjack and his wife, and though they had been nice and polite to her, Allie hadn’t missed the wariness in their eyes or the sharpnessin their voices. Most people in Pearls Fields feared Witches and gave them a wide berth every time their paths crossed, unless they sought them out at the market. Or for other ungodly purposes.
The fiery red hair gave them away, and young Allie had tried many tricks to dye her hair a different color so other children would play with her. But it would never stick, her long red curls coming out victorious every time. The magic in her was strong enough not to allow her red hair to change, yet it had taken her twenty-eight years to manifest fire.
Allie walked down the winding path under the heating sunlight, through the river birches and the magnolia trees that scented the air with a sweet fragrance. She decided to pass by the cottage on the main road and keep to the far side, so no one would become suspicious of her lingering around.
She needed a plan if she were to master her fire in time to prove herself to Lydia. Her heart spasmed weirdly at the thought of returning to the manor, and Allie chided the silly organ. Joining the Silverbarks was her only option. If they didn’t accept her where she was a legacy, no other coven would take her in.
For the next seven weeks, Allie would have to find a way to earn her keep. Her pouch was half-full from selling potions at the market, but it would empty quickly if she had to pay for lodgings and food for almost two months. Allie didn’t dare hope that it would take her less than Lydia’s deadline to control her power, so she had to plan for the entire period the Magistra had granted her. So, she would look for work to earn some money and a place to stay, preferably close to a hidden clearing in the forest or an isolated meadow where she could practice without putting anyone else in danger.
Allie strolled down the path to the right, keeping on that side of the road, knowing that in a few steps her old cottage would come into view. Witches lived removed from the towns andvillages, although they often visited their shops and markets. Witches were and weren’t a part of society, so they created communities for themselves within covens that would accept and support them through life.
Except her.
But Allie didn’t want to be bitter about it. She inhaled the floral scent in the breeze, the air hot enough to chafe her throat even with the early morning hours. The cottage came into sight on the left, but Allie almost didn’t recognize it. The walls were bare without the ivy vines she and Petra had grown and trimmed for years, and the warm yellow brick was now painted a striking white. The roof was new, the garden was free of weeds, and there was a brown, boring door where the old blue one used to be.
Allie sighed as she passed by the house, a heavy glumness settling over her. She expected the new owners to make changes to the cottage, but it was as if her life with Petra had been erased with a white, meticulous sponge. Their happy, colorful life would always live in her memories, and that would have to do.
Allie turned to look at the house one more time, and from this farther angle she could see part of the backyard, too. Her breath caught when she noticed the patch of grass basking in the sunlight now where a familiar round shade had kept it cool before. The sycamore tree was gone.
Tears prickled her eyes as she regarded the place that had been her home, a peaceful slice of heaven where she grew up and became the woman she was today. Sadness pressed hot against her chest at the view she didn’t recognize, but it still hurt to leave behind the only home she’d ever known. She had to look forward, had to practice and become better, so she could go back to her coven and live her life, just like her mother had done. So Allie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and walked away.
And walked. And walked.
Allie walked until the sky turned pink and the moon came out. None of the wheeled wagons stopped to take her, and she didn’t even bother to ask for a ride in Pearls Fields before she left. Allie knew the villagers well enough, and they had never agreed to help a Witch.
She’d passed by two inns which had both been fully occupied but were looking for help. It had taken the owners only a quick glance at her red hair to come up with the excuse that the position had been filled, and the “Help Wanted” sign was old.
Allie had been walking for almost twelve hours. Her legs begged her to stop, but that was not an option. She had to end upsomewhere.At the second inn, she exchanged a coin for a plate of nearly-spoiled vegetable stew and a cup of mint tea, which she gulped down before setting on her way again.
The road got darker with every step, and Allie feared she’d have to camp outside in the fields if she didn’t find a room soon. A cot would do, too, or even a spot on someone’s floor. Anything that would give her a remote sense of safety for the night.
