“Intense,” Zara breathed.
“The protective wards around Thornwood went down completely. The building’s magical infrastructure was destabilized for weeks.” Ramona’s fingers curled against Zara’s skin. “The Magical Council launched an investigation. Everyone thought the High Priestess’s ears were permanent. For three days, the entire magical community believed I had permanently cursed the High Priestess of the Thornwood Coven.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Iris figured it out. She figured out how to reverse it. She’s good at what she does. She fixed the High Priestess. Fixed everyone.” Ramona paused, taking a deep breath, the guilt of the memory still heavy in her chest. “And she told the Council it was an accident. That I wasn’t dangerous if I didn’t cast. She convinced them not to strip my magic entirely. But they fired me from Thornwood. Expelled me from the coven. Put me on probationary status with the Magical Council.”
Outside, the sky was getting lighter, the gray dawn turning slowly toward actual morning.
“And everyone wasterrifiedof me,” Ramona said quietly. “And I couldn’t even argue with them. Because I didn’t know why it happened. I still don’t. I moved to Fernwick, where I could start over, and I feel like I’m failing at every turn. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Zara. I just know that every time I try to do real magic — magic that matters — something inside me breaks, and other people get hurt.”
Zara was very still beside her. Ramona could feel something through the tether — something sharp and carefully controlled, like Zara was holding back a flood.
“That’s why you stopped casting,” Zara said. Not a question.
“What use is a witch who can’t cast without destroying everything she touches?” Ramona’s laugh was hollow. “So I hung up the proverbial witch hat. Took the job at Mystic Moon. Sold crystals to non-mages who didn’t know enough to be afraid of me. Tried to forget that I’d ever been anything else.”
She gestured vaguely toward the window, toward the parking lot and the raccoons and the world beyond.
“And last night I was desperate to prove that I could still do it. That I wasn’t completely useless. That I could handle real magic without—” Her voice broke. She pressed her lips together, furious at herself for crying, for not being able to get through a single confession without falling apart. “Without hurting anyone.”
“But you didn’t hurt anyone,” Zara finished softly.
Ramona nodded. “I did temporarily get struck by something like lightning, if memory serves.”
“That could have happened to anyone,” Zara said, turning onto her side. She kissed Ramona’s bare shoulder. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of your magic.”
A coil of tension dissolved inside Ramona’s chest at the words.
“If the Council finds out I summoned a demon, they’ll fully strip my powers.”
They lay in silence for a long time. The radiator clanked. The raccoons had apparently resolved their dispute and moved on. The light through the curtains was getting stronger, less gray, more gold.
Zara hadn’t moved. Hadn’t pulled away. But the tether was warm between them — steady and present and achingly gentle, like Zara was pouring everything she felt into the connection between them.
“I’m sorry,” Ramona whispered finally. “For last night. For all of it. For being…” She gestured at herself. At the mess. “This.”
“Don’t,” Zara said. The single word was sharp enough to make Ramona look up.
Zara was watching her with an expression Ramona couldn’t quite read — fierce and sad and furious all at once. Not at Ramona. At something else.
“Don’t apologize,” Zara said quietly. “Don’t you dare.”
Ramona opened her mouth to argue — to say that she wasn’t apologizing for being alive, just for being broken, just for being dangerous.
But the words died in her throat. Because Zara was looking at her like she meant it. Like Ramona was worth defending even now, even after everything she’d just confessed.
They were quiet for another long moment. Then Zara shifted, her arm tightening around Ramona’s waist.
“I was about to be demoted,” Zara said.
Ramona blinked. “What?”
“When you summoned me. Hell was about to demote me.”
“Demoted? You?” Ramona turned to look at her properly. “Why?”
“Performance. Or lack thereof.” Zara’s laugh was dry. “I’d been coasting. For a while.”
