The quiet smothers me, broken by a drip of water somewhere in the darkness and the thunder of my pulse.
It feels like a lifetime ago that I lived here among the witches.
Hoping the coven would accept me.
Thinking I was making progress.
What if they never do?
What if I’m always just the non-magical girlfriend that Natalie has to keep rescuing? She’s a powerful witch with a birthright and a legacy, and somehow, I’m dating her.
My throat constricts. How long before the constant battles become too much for her? Before she realizes she can have a less complicated relationship with another witch? Someone who is already a part of her world. Someone she doesn’t have to protect or explain things to.
I shake my head to dislodge these thoughts like water from my ears. Nothing productive can come from drowning in that fear right now. I have one path forward: come up with a good defense at my trial.
But a chill descends over the dungeon, and a shiver runs through me. I rub my arms, trying to stay warm. I knew the witches took the oath seriously, but I didn’t think we’d come to such a firm disagreement on what upholding the oath means.
What if they find me guilty no matter what I say or do?
What if this cell is the beginning of a much longer imprisonment?
I hug my knees to my chest, wishing for Natalie. Or Hazel, or my family, or Ethel. Justsomeoneto talk to who is on my side.
The dungeon is so dark that spots bloom in my vision, dancing like ghosts. My chest tightens. I close my eyes and press the heels of my hands against my eyelids, trying to pretend I’m anywhere but here.
It was easy to picture my life with Natalie before all this—both of us working for the coven while I finish my degree. Moving in together, sharing her suite. Weekends spent exploring the mountains or cozying up with books in the lounge when it rains. More missions to neutralize curses and keep the world safe. Now that all feels like a fantasy.
There’s a bang, and I drop my hands to see light bathing the staircase. Footsteps thunder down. I jump to my feet, my heart in my throat.
“Katie!” Natalie’s voice hits me like a gust of warm air, tingling through my limbs. Even before I see her, that inner pull tugs at my core, and a warmth spreads through me that’s uniquely hers—like my body recognizes her on a deeper level than my other senses.
I scramble to meet her at the bars, our hands finding each other through the gaps. The moment our fingers intertwine, comfort rushesthrough me so fast I could melt into the floor. Her skin is warm, and that familiar current passes between us like she’s pouring her strength into me through our connected palms. It’s a ridiculous thought—I know magic doesn’t work like that. But I can’t help feeling like she’s given me something just by touching me.
“Let me see your wounds.” Her voice is urgent as she takes me in. She’s out of breath, her hair is a mess, and there’s a sheen of sweat on her brow—mirroring how I feel. “I can’t believe they hurt you. The people I’ve known my whole life.”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically, though we both know it couldn’t be further from the truth. “I mean, I guess I could use something to clean up these cuts, but—”
“I’ll have Doctor Sharma come down.” Natalie presses her forehead against the bars, and I lean in, wishing she could hold me.
“Can you pass through like with the steam clock?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
Sure enough, she gives her head a tiny shake. “Enchanted.”
I huff. “Of course.”
She squeezes my hands. “If I’d known, I—” The words catch. “I would’ve told you to stay in Toronto. They let me think it was safe.”
“I know.” I squeeze back. “Don’t blame yourself. It was my choice to set bio magic free.”
“Ourchoice. And I got off easy.” She shuts her eyes and takes a breath. When she opens them again, she fixes me with a serious stare. “I’ll have the trial moved up to tomorrow. I’m not letting you stay in here.”
The pain in her voice makes my chest ache. I nod, my eyes prickling.
Our hands are locked, our foreheads separated by cold iron, her lips close enough to kiss.
“I missed you so much,” I whisper, remembering all those video calls where I couldn’t touch her at all. At least I have this now, even if there are bars between us.
Her thumb traces circles on the back of my hand. “This isn’t how I pictured the evening going.”
