My jaw clenches. “I don’tfeelanything.”
“Then stop wanting tofeel.You’ve spent entirely too long being cautious or doing what you think you should be. Right now, you’re in control. You have the power. Now stand up straight and try again.”
I heave a weary sigh, fists balled at my sides. The air feels heavy, charged, but it’s just Betsy’s scolding and my audience’s commentary filling the clearing.
Obviously.
Calida flicks her tail lazily. ‘You’re sulking. Do something… dramatic.’
Isnort.
‘Taylor would be disappointed in you.’
“Shut up, lizard.” I mutter.
‘Drag-on.’
Annemarie snorts. “She’s right, though. You’re treating this like… detention. Or a shitty first date. Where’s the girl that survived Brett’s bullshit these last few months? She took care of herself. She went for it.” She gestures to the tinder. “So go for it.”
My cheeks flame hotter than it would if I actually managed to set it on fire. “That was different.”
“Why?” Betsy demands sharply, eyes gleaming.
“Because he–” I stop. “It wasn’t like I had a choice.”
“Exactly. You didn’t think. You acted. Magick isn’t necessarily about thinking. It’s about claiming. You are powerful. Now…”
For a long moment, silence presses down like another presence in the clearing.
I look from the tinder to Betsy, to Annemarie’s smirking face, Calida’s glittering eyes. She holds my gaze before rearranging on her branch.
No, not rearranging.
She’s trying to show me her bracelet.
Fuck. Fine.
I shove my hand in the direction of the wood, more in frustration than belief.
The wood doesn’t catch but a crackle shimmers across my palm, like the ghost of a flame trying to be born. A faint spark that leaps, dances once, and vanishes.
Betsy smiles, small, sharp. “Better. Again.”
Annemarie whoops, tossing the half eaten apple into the air. “Did you see that?! Bitch, you got a spark! Bad guys beware!”
‘If she doesn’t incinerate herself, or us, first,’Calida drawls.
I groan, hiding my face in my hands. “I hate you all.”
That fucking cane taps again. Merciless. “You’ll thank us when you can set all your enemies aflame without lifting a finger. Again.”
I exhale, square my shoulders, and raise my hand again.
For just an instant, another spark snaps across my palm — real, sharp, electric. But instead of leaping to the tinder, it shoots sideways.
Straight into the hem of Betsy’s skirts.
The fabric goes up with a hungry hiss.
