Page 2 of Sweets and Sycamores
“What’s wrong?” Freya frowned.
The last thing Allie saw before the fire ignited was the curse-filled look that Lydia threw her. And knowing Lydia as well as she did now, it could have indeed been a curse.
The huge oak table burst into flames, tall and wild and sizzling hot. They reached for Allie as if they recognized her, as if they danced to a song she was wordlessly singing.
“Fire!” someone yelled. The Witches screamed and rushed to the door, racing up the stairs. The screams blared throughout the manor, and the entire coven hurried to bring buckets ofwater to the basement, cursing their lack of other elemental Witches.
Allie gaped at the fire until the first bucket of water diminished its flames. She flinched as if the water drenched her, the shock spurring her into action.
As she ran to fill a bucket of her own, she thought how wonderful it would have been to have a sister with power over water. Allie could have learned from her, and none of this would have happened. And if incidents still occurred, at least she’d have a sister to put out her fires.
But she didn’t.
She was alone, destined to burn until there were only ashes left in her wake.
The Silverbarks stood around the dining table in the parlor, twenty pairs of damning eyes fixed on her. Lydia braced the heel of her palms against the table on the opposite side of Allie.
“I have few words for today,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “You do not excel in anything pertaining to Witchcraft. Your partaking in rituals is shameful, your flying is subpar, and you don’t even have a knack for spells.” Lydia listed Allie’s shortcomings without blinking. She grimaced an ugly scowl, dark burgundy gloss dripping from the corners of her mouth. “I could have overlooked all of that, Alecsandra.”
Allie hated how her name sounded from Lydia’s mouth, entangled with her lie. The Magistra overlooked nothing. Allie just wanted to get this scolding over with, get her punishment, and go to bed.
“But you have put the lives of all your sisters in danger. You are incapable of controlling your power, and we cannot live safely around you.”
Allie’s breath froze in her throat.
“What?” she croaked.
“I’m sorry, Alecsandra, but I cannot allow you to be part of the Silverbarks any longer. All those in favor?—”
“No, please, wait,” Allie said, her eyes desperately roving between her sisters. “I will do better. I can do better. Please, please don’t kick me out!”
Nineteen arms shot up in an instant, with the twentieth only raising to Freya’s shoulder. She mouthed something to Allie that could have been an apology or another curse. Allie couldn’t tell; her vision was foggy and heavy, tears taking form in her eyes.
“Wait, please,” she insisted. “Can you give me one more chance? I know I can do better. Please. Please, Lydia.” Desperation was unbecoming, but it was Allie’s last resort. She could not get kicked out of the coven that Petra had so proudly been part of. There was nothing else for her outside of this place. Nothing, and no one.
The Magistra’s eyes turned to slits as she regarded Allie. Lydia’s pause was met with contempt from most of the Witches in the room. But they all fell silent at once, and Allie knew that Lydia was using her unparalleled gift of telepathy to communicate with the coven.
It could have been a minute or a day before she spoke again.
“All right. You have until Hallows Eve to prove that you can master your power. You can be part of the Silverbarks if you can show us that we are safe around you.” Allie felt a glimmer of hope bloom in her chest. “But you cannot live here until then. And we’ll keep your broom as insurance that you will be back once you control this wild fire. Don’t dare betray us for another coven.”
“But—”
“This is our final offer, Alecsandra. Do we have a deal?”
Allie had to think on her feet. Hallows Eve was in seven weeks. If she found a safe place to practice, or maybe even someone to help her, she could do it. She knew she could do it. She had to be a Silverbark, just like Petra.
The life of a Witch with no family amounted to nothing unless she was part of a coven. People were wary of Witches outside of procuring potions or other services from them, and they hated any display of power, especially from elemental Witches, as Allie had learned in Green Creek.
She had no one, and nowhere to go.
So Allie was left with only one choice.
“Deal,” she agreed on a watery breath.
Chapter 2
WELCOME TO SYCAMORE FALLS
